path: root/72262-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOMESTIC ANNALS OF SCOTLAND  ***


[Illustration: CANONGATE TOLBOOTH.]




                                DOMESTIC
                           ANNALS OF SCOTLAND
            =From the Revolution to the Rebellion of 1745.=


                          BY ROBERT CHAMBERS,

                        F.R.S.E., F.S.A.Sc., &c.

[Illustration: Bargarran House.]

                W. & R. CHAMBERS, EDINBURGH AND LONDON.

                               MDCCCLXI.




                               Edinburgh:
                     Printed by W. and R. Chambers.




                                PREFACE.


THE DOMESTIC ANNALS OF SCOTLAND FROM THE REFORMATION TO THE REVOLUTION
having experienced a favourable reception from the public, I have been
induced to add a volume containing similar details with regard to the
ensuing half-century. This is in many respects an interesting period
of the history of Scotland. It is essentially a time of
transition—transition from harsh and despotic to constitutional
government; from religious intolerance and severity of manners to
milder views and the love of elegance and amusement; from pride,
idleness, and poverty, to industrious courses and the development of
the natural resources of the country. At the same time, the tendency
to the wreaking out of the wilder passions of the individual is found
gradually giving place to respect for law. We see, as it were, the
dawn of our present social state, streaked with the lingering romance
of earlier ages. On these considerations, I am hopeful that the
present volume will be pronounced in no respect a falling off in
contrast with the former two.

It will be found that the plan and manner of treatment pursued in the
two earlier volumes are followed here. My object has still been to trace
the moral and economic progress of Scotland through the medium of
domestic incidents—whatever of the national life is overlooked in
ordinary history; allowing the tale in every case to be told as much as
possible in contemporary language. It is a plan necessarily
subordinating the author to his subject, almost to the extent of
neutralising all opinion and sentiment on his part; yet, feeling the
value of the self-painting words of these dead and gone generations—so
quaint, so unstudied, so true—so corrective in their genuineness of the
glozing idolatries which are apt to arise among descendants and party
representatives—I become easily reconciled to the restricted character
of the task. If the present and future generations shall be in any
measure enabled by these volumes to draw from the errors and
misjudgments of the past a lesson as to what is really honourable and
profitable for a people, the _tenuis labor_ will not have been undergone
in vain.

  EDINBURGH, _January 1861_.




                               CONTENTS.


                                                     PAGE
               REIGN OF WILLIAM AND MARY: 1689–1694,    1
               REIGN OF WILLIAM III.: 1695–1702,      107
               REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE: 1702–1714,        257
               REIGN OF GEORGE I.: 1714–1727,         389
               REIGN OF GEORGE II.: 1727–1748,        535
               APPENDIX,                              619
               INDEX,                                 627




                            =Illustrations.=


             _Frontispiece_—CANONGATE TOLBOOTH, EDINBURGH.
                      _Vignette_—BARGARRAN HOUSE.
                                                           PAGE
        THE BASS,                                           106
        AFRICAN COMPANY’S HOUSE AT BRISTO PORT, EDINBURGH,  123
        PORTRAIT OF DR PITCAIRN,                            224
        MACPHERSON’S SWORD,                                 234
        HOUSE OF LORD ADVOCATE STEUART,                     256
        DRESSES OF THE PEOPLE OF SCOTLAND, 1676,            270
        BARGARRAN COAT OF ARMS,                             511
        LADY PLAYING ON SPINET,                             574
        OLD TOLBOOTH, EDINBURGH,                            638




                                DOMESTIC
                          ANNALS OF SCOTLAND.




                 REIGN OF WILLIAM AND MARY: 1689–1694.


Our narrative takes up the political story of Scotland at the crisis of
the Revolution, when, King James having fled in terror to France, his
nephew and daughter, the Prince and Princess of Orange, were proclaimed
king and queen as William and Mary, and when the Episcopacy established
at the Restoration, after a struggling and unhonoured existence of
twenty-eight years, gave way to the present more popular Presbyterian
Church. It has been seen how the populace of the west rabbled out the
alien clergy established among them; how, notwithstanding the gallant
insurrection of my Lord Dundee in the Highlands, and the holding out of
Edinburgh Castle by the Duke of Gordon, the new government quickly
gained an ascendency. It was a great change for Scotland. Men who had
lately been in danger of their lives for conscience’ sake, or starving
in foreign lands, were now at the head of affairs—the Earl of Melville,
Secretary of State; Crawford, President of Parliament; Argyle restored
to title and lands, and a privy-councillor; Dalrymple of Stair, Hume of
Marchmont, Steuart of Goodtrees, and many other exiles, come back from
Holland to resume prominent positions in the public service at
home—while the instruments of the late unhappy government were either
captives under suspicion, or living terror-struck at their
country-houses. Common sort of people, who had last year been skulking
in mosses from Claverhouse’s dragoons, were now marshalled in a
regiment, and planted as a watch on the Perth and Forfar gentry. There
were new figures in the Privy Council, and none of them ecclesiastical.
There was a wholly new set of senators on the bench of the Court of
Session. It looked like the sudden shift of scenes in a pantomime,
rather than a series of ordinary occurrences.

Almost as a necessary consequence of the Revolution, a war with France
commenced in May 1689. Part of the operations took place in Ireland,
where James II., assisted with troops by King Louis, and supported by
the Catholic population, continued to exercise sovereignty till his
defeat at the Boyne (July 1, 1690). The subjugation of Ireland to the
new government was not completed till the surrender of Limerick and
other fortified places by treaty (October 3, 1691). Long before this
time, the Jacobite movement in Scotland had come to a close by the
dispersion of the Highlanders at Cromdale (April 1690). A fortress and
garrison were then planted at Inverlochy (Fort William), in order to
keep the ill-affected clans Cameron, Macdonald, and others, in check. At
the same time, the Earl of Breadalbane was intrusted with the sum of
twelve thousand pounds, with which he undertook to purchase the
pacification of the Highlands. In 1691, there were still some chiefs in
rebellion, and a threat was held out that they would be visited with the
utmost severities if they did not take the oaths to the government
before the 1st of January next. This led to the massacre of the
Macdonalds of Glencoe (February 13, 1692), an affair which has left a
sad shade upon the memory of King William.

In Scotland, it gradually became apparent that, though the late changes
had diffused a general sense of relief, and put state control more in
accordance with the feelings of the bulk of the people, there was a
large enough exception to embarrass and endanger the new order of
things. There certainly was a much larger minority favourable to
Episcopacy than was at first supposed; whole provinces in the north, and
a majority of the upper classes everywhere, continued to adhere to it. A
very large portion of the nobility and gentry maintained an attachment
to the ex-king, or, like the bishops, scrupled to break old oaths in
order to take new. Even amongst those who had assisted in the
Revolution, there were some who, either from disappointment of personal
ambition, or a recovery from temporary fears, soon became its enemies.
Feelings of a very natural kind assisted in keeping alive the interest
of King James. It was by a nephew (and son-in-law) and a daughter that
he had been displaced. A frightful calumny had assisted in his downfall.
According to the ideas of that age, in losing a crown he had been
deprived of a birthright. If he had been guilty of some illegal doings,
there might be some consideration for his age. Anyhow, his infant son
was innocent; why punish him for the acts of his father? These
considerations fully appear as giving point and strength to the Jacobite
feeling which soon began to take a definite form in the country. The
government was thus forced into severities, which again acted to its
disadvantage; and thus it happened that, for some years after the
deliverance of Scotland from arbitrary power, we have to contemplate a
style of administration in which arbitrary power and all its abuses were
not a little conspicuous.

In the very first session of the parliament (summer of 1689), there was
a formidable opposition to the government, headed chiefly by politicians
who had been disappointed of places. The discontents of these persons
ripened early next year into a plot for the restoration of the ex-king.
It gives a sad view of human consistency, that a leading conspirator was
Sir James Montgomery of Skelmorley, who was one of the three
commissioners sent by the Convention in spring to offer the crown to
William and Mary. The affair ended in Montgomery, the Earl of Annandale,
and Lord Ross, informing against each other, in order to escape
punishment. Montgomery had to flee to the continent, where he soon after
died in poverty. The offences of the rest were overlooked.

Amongst the events of this period, the ecclesiastical proceedings bear a
prominent place—efforts of statesmen for moderate measures in the
General Assembly—debates on church-patronage and oaths of
allegiance—tramplings out of old and rebellious Episcopacy; but the
details must be sought for elsewhere.[1] During 1693, there were great
alarms about invasion from France, and the forcible restoration of the
deposed king; and some considerable severities were consequently
practised on disaffected persons. By the death of the queen (December
28, 1694), William was left in the position of sole monarch of these
realms.

                  *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: 1688. Nov.]

The first emotions of the multitude on attaining confidence that the
Prince of Orange would be able to maintain his ground, and that the
reigning monarch would be brought low, that the Protestant religion
would be safe, and that perhaps there would be good times again for
those who loved the Presbyterian cause, were, of course, very
enthusiastic. So early as the close of November, the populace of
Edinburgh began to call out ‘No pope, No papist,’ as they walked the
streets, even when passing places where guards were stationed. The
students, too, whose pope-burning enthusiasm had been sternly dealt with
eight years back, now broke out of all bounds, and had a merry cremation
of the pontiff’s effigy at the cross, ending with its being ‘blown up
with art four stories high.’ This, however, was looked upon as a hasty
[Sidenote: 1688.]business, wanting in the proper solemnity; so, two days
after, they went to the law-court in the Parliament Close, and there
subjected his Holiness to a mock-trial, and condemned him to be burned
ceremoniously on Christmas Day, doubtless meaning by the selection of
the time to pass an additional slight upon the religion over which they
were now triumphing.

On the appointed day, the students had a solemn muster to execute the
sentence. Arranged in bands according to their standing, each band with
a captain, they marched, sword in hand, to the cross, preceded by the
janitor of the college, carrying the mace, and having a band of hautbois
also before them. There, in presence of the magistrates and some of the
Privy Council, they solemnly burned the effigy, while a huge multitude
looked on delighted.[2]

There were similar doings in other parts of the country; but I select
only those of one place, as a specimen of the whole, and sufficient to
shew the feeling of the time.

[Sidenote: 1689. JAN. 11.]

A Protestant town-council being elected at Aberdeen, the boys of the
Marischal College resolved to celebrate the occasion with a burlesque
_Pope’s Procession_. They first thought proper to write to the new
magistrates, protesting that their design was not ‘tumultuary,’ neither
did they intend to ‘injure the persons or goods of any.’ The ceremonial
reminds us slightly of some of the scenes in Lyndsay’s _Satire of the
Three Estates_. Starting from the college-gate at four in the afternoon,
there first went a company of men carrying links, six abreast; next, the
janitor of the college, with the college-mace, preceding six judges in
scarlet robes. Next marched four fifers playing; then, in succession,
four priests, four Jesuits, four popish bishops, and four cardinals, all
in their robes; then a Jesuit in embroidered robes, carrying a great
cross. Last came the pope, carried in his state-chair, in scarlet robes
lined with ermine, his triple crown on his head, and his keys on his
arm; distributing pardons and indulgences as he moved along.

Being arrived at the market-cross, the pope placed himself on a theatre,
where a dialogue took place between him and a cardinal, expressing the
pretensions commonly attributed to the head of the Catholic Church, and
announcing a doom to all heretics. In the midst of the conference,
Father Peter, the ex-king’s confessor, entered with a letter understood
to convey intelligence of the late [Sidenote: 1689.] disastrous changes
in London; whereupon his holiness fell into a swoon, and the devil came
forward, as to help him. The programme anticipates that this would be
hailed as a merry sight by the people. But better remained. The pope, on
recovering, began to vomit ‘plots, daggers, indulgences, and the blood
of martyrs,’ the devil holding his head all the time. The devil then
tried in rhyme to comfort him, proposing that he should take refuge with
the king of France; to which, however, he professed great aversion, as
derogatory to his dignity; whereupon the devil appeared to lose
patience, and attempted to throw his friend into the fire. But this he
was prevented from doing by the entry of one ordering that the pope
should be subjected to a regular trial.

The pontiff was then arraigned before the judges as guilty of high
treason against Omnipotence, in as far as he had usurped many of its
privileges, besides advancing many blasphemous doctrines. ‘The court
adduced sufficient proofs by the canons of the church, bulls, pardons,
and indulgences, lying in process;’ and he was therefore pronounced
guilty, and ordered to be immediately taken to the public place of
execution, and burned to ashes, his blood to be attainted, and his
honours to be blotted out of all records. The procession was then formed
once more, and the sentence was read from the cross; after which ‘his
holiness was taken away from the theatre, and the sentence put in
execution against him. During the time of his burning, the spectators
were entertained with fireworks and some other divertisements.

‘After all was ended, the Trinity Church bell—which was the only church
in Scotland taken from the Protestants and given to the papists, wherein
they actually had their service—was rung all the night.’[3]


[Sidenote: MAR. 14.]

Patrick Walker relates,[4] with great relish, the close of the political
existence of the unhappy episcopate of Scotland, amidst the tumults
attending the sitting of the Convention at Edinburgh, during the process
of settling the crown on William and Mary. For a day or two after this
representative body sat down, several bishops attended, as a part of the
parliamentary constitution of the country, and by turns took the duty of
saying prayers. The last who did so, the Bishop of Dunkeld, spoke
pathetically of the [Sidenote: 1689.] exiled king as the man for whom
they had often watered their couches, and thus provoked from the
impetuous Montgomery of Skelmorley a jest at their expense which will
not bear repetition. They were ‘put out with disdain and contempt,’
while some of the members expressed a wish that the ‘honest lads’ knew
of it, ‘for then they would not win away with hale gowns.’ And so
Patrick goes on with the triumph of a vulgar mind, describing how they
‘gathered together with pale faces, and stood in a cloud in the
Parliament Close. James Wilson, Robert Neilson, Francis Hislop, and
myself were standing close by them. Francis Hislop with force thrust
Robert Neilson upon them; their heads went hard upon one another. But
there being so many enemies in the city, fretting and gnashing their
teeth, waiting for an occasion to raise a mob, where undoubtedly blood
would have been shed; and we having laid down conclusions among
ourselves to guard against giving the least occasion to all mobs; kept
us from tearing off their gowns.

‘Their graceless graces went quickly off; and neither bishop nor curate
was seen in the streets; this was a surprising change not to be
forgotten. Some of us would have been rejoiced more than in great sums,
to see these bishops sent legally down the Bow, that they might have
found the weight of their tails in a tow, to dry their hose-soles, that
they might know what hanging was; they having been active for
themselves, and the main instigators to all the mischiefs, cruelties,
and bloodshed of that time, wherein the streets of Edinburgh, and other
places of the land, did run with the innocent, precious, dear blood of
the Lord’s people.’

A more chivalric adversary might have, after all, found something to
admire in these poor prelates, who permitted themselves to be so
degraded, purely in consequence of their reverence for an oath, while
many good Presbyterians were making little of such scruples. On the
other hand, a more enlightened bench of bishops might have seen that the
political status which they now forfeited had all along been a worldly
distinction working against the success of spiritual objects, and might
thus have had some comfortable re-assurances for the future, as they
‘stood in a cloud in the Parliament Close,’ to receive the concussion of
Robert Neilson pushed on by Francis Hislop.

Since Christmas of the past year, there had been constant mob-action
against the Episcopal clergy, especially in the western shires, about
three hundred having been rudely expelled or forced to [Sidenote: 1689.]
flee for safety of their lives. On the rebound of such a spring, nothing
else was to be expected; perhaps there is even some force in the defence
usually put forward for the zealous Presbyterians on this occasion, that
their violences towards those obnoxious functionaries were _less_ than
might have been expected. I do not therefore deem it necessary to go
into ‘the Case of the present Afflicted Clergy,’[5] or to call attention
to the similar case of the faithful professors of the Edinburgh
University, expelled by a commission in the autumn of 1690. There is,
however, one anecdote exemplifying Christian feeling on this occasion,
which it must be pleasant to all to keep in green remembrance. ‘The last
Episcopal clergyman of the parish of Glenorchy, Mr David Lindsay, was
ordered to surrender his charge to a Presbyterian minister then
appointed by the Duke [Earl] of Argyle. When the new clergyman reached
the parish to take possession of his living, not an individual would
speak to him [public feeling on the change of church being here
different] except Mr Lindsay, who received him kindly. On Sunday, the
new clergyman went to church, accompanied by his predecessor. The whole
population of the district were assembled, but they would not enter the
church. No person spoke to the new minister, nor was there the least
noise or violence till he attempted to enter the church, when he was
surrounded by twelve men fully armed, who told him he must accompany
them; and, disregarding all Mr Lindsay’s prayers and entreaties, they
ordered the piper to play the march of death, and marched away the
minister to the confines of the parish. Here they made him swear on the
Bible that he would never return, or attempt to disturb Mr Lindsay. He
kept his oath. The synod of Argyle were highly incensed at this
violation of their authority; but seeing that the people were fully
determined to resist, no further attempt was made, and Mr Lindsay lived
thirty years afterwards, and died Episcopal minister of Glenorchy, loved
and revered by his flock.’[6]


[Sidenote: APR.]

A little incident connected with the accession of King William and Queen
Mary was reported to Wodrow as ‘beyond all question.’ When the
magistrates of Jedburgh were met at their market-cross to proclaim the
new sovereigns, and drink their healths, a Jacobite chanced to pass by.
A bailie asked him if he [Sidenote: 1689.] would drink the king’s
health; to which he answered no, but he was willing to take a glass of
the wine. They handed him a little round glass full of wine; and he
said: ‘As surely as this glass will break, I drink confusion to him, and
the restoration of our sovereign and his heir;’ then threw away the
glass, which alighted on the tolbooth stair, and rolled down unbroken.
The bailie ran and picked up the glass, took them all to witness how it
was quite whole, and then dropping some wax into the bottom, impressed
his seal upon it, as an authentication of what he deemed little less
than a miracle.

Mr William Veitch happening to relate this incident in Edinburgh, it
came to the ears of the king and queen’s commissioner, the Earl of
Crawford, who immediately took measures for obtaining the glass from
Jedburgh, and ‘sent it up with ane attested account to King William.’[7]


[Sidenote: APR. 28.]

The sitting of the Convention brought out a great amount of volunteer
zeal, in behalf of the Revolution, amongst those extreme Presbyterians
of the west who had been the greatest sufferers under the old
government. They thought it but right—while the Highlanders were rising
for James in the north—that they should take up arms for William in the
south. The movement centered at the village of Douglas in Lanarkshire,
where the representative of the great House of that name was now devoted
to the Protestant interest. On the day noted, a vast crowd of people
assembled on a holm or meadow near the village, where a number of their
favourite preachers addressed them in succession with suitable
exhortations, and for the purpose of clearing away certain scruples
which were felt regarding the lawfulness of their appearing otherwise
than under an avowed prosecution of the great objects of the Solemn
League and Covenant.

After some difficulties on these and similar points, a regiment was
actually constituted on the 14th of May, and nowhere out of Scotland
perhaps could a corps have been formed under such unique regulations.
They declared that they appeared for the preservation of the Protestant
religion, and for ‘the work of reformation in Scotland, in opposition to
popery, prelacy, and arbitrary power.’ They stipulated that their
officers should exclusively be men such as ‘in conscience’ they could
submit to. A minister was appointed for the regiment, and an elder
nominated [Sidenote: 1689.] for each company, so that the whole should
be under precisely the same religious and moral discipline as a parish,
according to the standards of the church. A close and constant
correspondence with the ‘United Societies’—the _Carbonari_ of the late
evil times—was settled upon. A Bible was a part of the furniture of
every private’s knapsack—a regulation then quite singular. Great care
was taken in the selection of officers, the young Earl of Angus, son of
the Marquis of Douglas, being appointed colonel; while the second
command was given to William Cleland, a man of poetical genius and
ardent soldierly character, who had appeared for God’s cause at
Bothwell-brig. It is impossible to read the accounts that are given of
this Cameronian Regiment, as it was called, without sympathising with
the earnestness of purpose, the conscientious scrupulosity, and the
heroic feelings of self-devotion, under which it was established, and
seeing in these demonstrations something of what is highest and best in
the Scottish character.

It is not therefore surprising to learn that in August, when posted at
Dunkeld, it made a most gallant and successful resistance to three or
four times the number of Highlanders, then fresh from their victory at
Killiecrankie; though, on this occasion, it lost its heroic
lieutenant-colonel. Afterwards being called to serve abroad, it
distinguished itself on many occasions; but, unluckily, the pope being
concerned in the league for which King William had taken up arms, the
United Societies from that time withdrew their countenance from the
regiment. The Cameronians became the 26th Foot in the British army, and,
long after they had ceased to be recruited among the zealous in
Scotland, and ceased to exemplify Presbyterian in addition to military
discipline, they continued to be singular in the matter of the Bible in
the knapsack.[8]


[Sidenote: JUNE 7.]

There had been for some time in Scotland a considerable number of French
Protestants, for whom the charity of the nation had been called forth.
To these was now added a multitude of poor Irish of the same faith,
refugees from the cruel wars going on in their own country, and many of
whom were women, children, and infirm persons. Slender as the resources
of Scotland usually were, and sore pressed upon at present by the
exactions necessary for supporting the new government, a collection was
going on in behalf of the refugee Irish. It was [Sidenote: 1689.] now,
however, represented, that many in the western counties were in such
want, that they could not wait till the collection was finished; and so
the Lords of the Privy Council ordered that the sums gathered in those
counties be immediately distributed in fair proportions between the
French and Irish, and enjoining the distributors ‘to take special care
that such of those poor Protestants as stays in the remote places of
those taxable bounds and districts be duly and timeously supplied.’
Seventy pounds in all was distributed.

Five days before this, we hear of John Adamson confined in Burntisland
tolbooth as a papist, and humanely liberated, that he might be enabled
to depart from the kingdom.[9]


[Sidenote: JUNE 23.]

This morning, being Sunday, the royal orders for the appointment of
fifteen new men to be Lords of Session reached Edinburgh, all of them
being, of course, persons notedly well affected to the new order of
things. Considering the veneration professed for the day by zealous
Presbyterians in Scotland, and how high stood the character of the Earl
of Crawford for a religious life, one is rather surprised to find one of
the new judges (Crossrig) bluntly telling that that earl ‘sent for me in
the morning, and intimated to me that I was named for one of them.’ He
adds a curious fact. ‘It seems the business had got wind, and was talked
some days before, for Mr James Nasmyth, advocate, who was then concerned
for the Faculty’s Library, spoke to me to pay the five hundred merks I
had given bond for when I entered advocate; which I paid. It may be he
thought it would not be so decent to crave me after I was preferred to
the bench.’[10]


It is incidental to liberating and reforming parties that they seldom
escape having somewhat to falsify their own professions. The Declaration
of the Estates containing the celebrated Claim of Right (April 1689)
asserted that ‘the imprisoning of persons, without expressing the
reasons thereof, and delaying to put them to trial, is contrary to law.’
It also pronounced as equally illegal ‘the using of torture without
evidence in ordinary crimes.’ Very good as a party condemnation of the
late government, or as a declaration of general principles; but, for a
time, nothing more.

One of the first acts of the new government was for the ‘securing of
suspect persons.’ It could not but be vexing to [Sidenote: 1689.] the
men who had delivered their country ‘from thraldom and poperie, and the
pernicious inconveniences of ane absolute power,’ when they found
themselves—doubtless under a full sense of the necessity of the
case—probably as much so as their predecessors had ever felt—ordering
something like half the nobility and gentry of the country, and many
people of inferior rank, into ward, there to lie without trial—and in at
least one notorious case, had to resort to torture to extort confession;
thus imitating those very proceedings of the late government which they
themselves had condemned.

All through the summer of 1689, the register of the Privy Council is
crammed with petitions from the imprisoned, calling for some degree of
relief from the miseries they were subjected to in the Edinburgh
Tolbooth, Stirling Castle, Blackness Castle, and other places of
confinement, to which they had been consigned, generally without
intimation of a cause. The numbers in the Edinburgh Tolbooth were
particularly great, insomuch that one who remembers, as the author does,
its narrow gloomy interior, gets the idea of their being packed in it
much like the inmates of an emigrant ship.

Men of the highest rank were consigned to this frightful place. We find
the Earl of Balcarres petitioning (May 30) for release from it on the
plea that his health was suffering, ‘being always, when at liberty,
accustomed to exercise [his lordship was a great walker];’ and,
moreover, he had given security ‘not to escape or do anything in
prejudice of the government.’ The Council ordained that he should be
‘brought from the Tolbooth to his own lodging in James Hamilton’s house
over forgainst the Cross of Edinburgh,’ he giving his parole of honour
‘not to go out of his lodgings, nor keep correspondence with any persons
in prejudice or disturbance of the present government.’ With the like
humanity, Lord Lovat was allowed to live with his relative the Marquis
of Athole in Holyroodhouse, but under surveillance of a sentinel.

Sir Robert Grierson of Lagg—who, having been an active servant of the
late government in some of its worst work, is the subject of high
popular disrepute as a _persecutor_—was seized in his own house by Lord
Kenmure, and taken to the jail of Kirkcudbright—thence afterwards to the
Edinburgh Tolbooth. He seems to have been liberated about the end of
August, on giving security for peaceable behaviour.

The most marked and hated instrument of King James was [Sidenote: 1689.]
certainly the Chancellor Earl of Perth. He had taken an early
opportunity of trying to escape from the country, so soon as he learned
that the king himself had fled. It would have been better for all
parties if his lordship had succeeded in getting away; but some
officious Kirkcaldy boatmen had pursued his vessel, and brought him
back; and after he had undergone many contumelies, the government
consigned him to close imprisonment in Stirling Castle, ‘without the use
of pen, ink, or paper,’ and with only one servant, who was to remain
close prisoner with him. Another high officer of the late government,
John Paterson, Archbishop of Glasgow, was placed in close prison in
Edinburgh Castle, and not till after many months, allowed even to
converse with his friends: nor does he appear to have been released till
January 1693.

Among the multitude of the incarcerated was an ingenious foreigner, who
for some years had been endeavouring to carve a subsistence out of
Scotland, with more or less success. We have heard of Peter Bruce
before[11] as constructing a harbour, as patentee for a home-manufacture
of playing-cards, and as the conductor of the king’s Catholic
printing-house at Holyrood. It ought likewise to have been noted as a
favourable fact in his history, that the first system of water-supply
for Edinburgh—by a three-inch pipe from the lands of Comiston—was
effected by this clever Flandrian. At the upbreak of the old government
in December, Bruce’s printing-office was destroyed by the mob, and his
person laid hold of. We now (June 1689) learn, by a petition from him to
the Privy Council, that he had been enduring ‘with great patience and
silence seven months’ imprisonment, for no other cause or crime but the
coming of one Nicolas Droomer, skipper at Newport, to the petitioner’s
house, which Droomer was likewise on misinformation imprisoned in this
place, but is released therefra four weeks ago,’ He adds that he looks
on his imprisonment to be ‘but ane evil recompense for all the good
offices of his art, has been performed by him not only within the town
of Edinburgh, but in several places of the kingdom, to which he was
invited from Flanders. He, being a stranger, yet can make it appear [he]
has lost by the rabble upwards of twenty thousand merks of writs and
papers, besides the destruction done to his house and family, all being
robbed, pillaged, and plundered from him, and not so much as a shirt
left him or his wife.’ He [Sidenote: 1689.] thinks ‘such barbarous usage
has scarce been heard [of]; whereby, and through his imprisonment, he is
so out of credit, that himself was like to starve in prison, [and] his
family at home in the same condition.’ Peter’s petition for his freedom
was acceded to, on his granting security to the extent of fifty pounds
for peaceable behaviour under the present government.

Another sufferer was a man of the like desert—namely, John Slezer, the
military engineer, to whom we owe that curious work the _Theatrum
Scotiæ_. The Convention was at first disposed to put him into his former
employment as a commander of the artillery; but he hesitated about
taking the proper oath, and in March a warrant was issued for securing
him ‘untill he find caution not to return to the Castle [then held out
for King James].’[12] He informed the Council (June 3) that for some
weeks he had been a close prisoner in the Canongate Tolbooth by their
order, till now, his private affairs urgently requiring his presence in
England, he was obliged to crave his liberation, which, ‘conceiving that
he knew himself to be of a disposition peaceable and regular,’ he
thought they well might grant. They did liberate him, and at the same
time furnished him with a pass to go southward.

One of the petitioning prisoners, Captain Henry Bruce, states that he
had been in durance for nine months, merely because, when the rabble
attacked Holyroodhouse, he obeyed the orders of his superior officer for
defending it. That superior officer himself, Captain John Wallace, was
in prison on the same account. He presented a petition to the
Council—February 5, 1691—setting forth how he had been a captive for
upwards of a year, though, in defending Holyrood from the rabble, he had
acted in obedience to express orders from the Privy Council of the day,
and might have been tried by court-martial and shot if he had not done
as he did. He craved liberation on condition of self-banishment. The
Council ordered their solicitor to prosecute him; and on a reclamation
from him, this order was repeated. In the ensuing November, however, we
find Wallace still languishing in prison, and his health
decaying—although, as he sets forth in a petition, ‘by the 13th act of
the Estates of this kingdom, the imprisoning persons without expressing
the reasons, and delaying to put them to a trial, is utterly and
directly contrary to the known statutes, laws, and freedoms of this
kingdom.’ He was not [Sidenote: 1689.] subjected to trial till August 6,
1692, when he had been nearly four years a prisoner. The laborious
proceedings, extending over several days, and occupying many wearisome
pages of the Justiciary Record, shew the anxiety of the Revolution
government to be revenged on this gallant adversary; but the trial ended
in a triumphant acquittal.

Several men and women were imprisoned in the Tolbooth for giving signals
to the garrison holding out the Castle. One Alexander Ormiston
petitioned for his liberation as innocent of the charge. He had merely
wiped his eyes, which were sore from infancy, with his napkin, as he
passed along the Grassmarket; and this had been interpreted into his
giving a signal. After a confinement of twelve days, Alexander obtained
his liberation, ‘free of house-dues.’

John Lothian petitioned, August 19, for liberation, having been
incarcerated on the 8th of July. He declared himself unconscious of
anything that ‘could have deserved his being denied the common liberty
of a subject,’ A most malignant fever had now broken out in the
Tolbooth, whereof one prisoner died last night, and on all hands there
were others infected beyond hope of recovery. He, being reduced to great
weakness by his long confinement, was apprehensive of falling a victim.
John Rattray, on the ensuing day, sent a like petition, stating that he
had lain six weeks ‘in close prison, in a most horrible and starving
condition, for want of meat, drink, air, and bedding,’ A wife and large
family of small children were equally destitute at home, and likely to
starve, ‘he not having ane groat to maintain either himself or them.’
Lothian was liberated, but the wretched Rattray was only transferred to
‘open prison’—that is, a part of the jail where he was accessible to his
family and to visitors.

Amongst the multitude of political prisoners was one James Johnstone,
who had been put there two years before, without anything being laid to
his charge. The new government had ordered his liberation in June, but
without paying up the aliment due to him; consequently, he could not
discharge his prison-dues; and for this the Goodman—so the head-officer
of the jail was styled—had detained him. He was reduced to the most
miserable condition, often did not break bread for four or five days,
and really had no dependence but on the charity of the other scarcely
less miserable people around him. The Council seem to have felt ashamed
that a friend of their own should have been allowed to lie nine months
in jail after the Revolution; so they ordered [Sidenote: 1689.] his
immediate dismissal, with payment of aliment for four hundred and two
days in arrear.[13]

Christopher Cornwell, servitor to Thomas Dunbar, stated to the Privy
Council, March 19, 1690, that he had been in the Edinburgh Tolbooth
since June last with his master, ‘where he has lived upon credit given
him by the maid who had the charge of the provisions within the prison,
and she being unable as well as unwilling to furnish him any more that
entertainment, mean as it was, his condition hardly can be expressed,
nor could he avoid starving.’ He was liberated upon his parole.

David Buchanan, who had been clerk to Lord Dundee’s regiment, was seized
in coming northward, with some meal believed to be the property of his
master, and he was thrown in among the crowd of the Tolbooth. For weeks
he petitioned in vain for release.

The Privy Council, on the 13th May 1690, expressed anxiety about the
prisoners; but it was not regarding their health or comfort. They sent a
committee to consider how best the Tolbooth might be made secure—for
there had been an escape from the Canongate jail—and for this purpose it
was decreed that close prisoners should be confined within the inner
rooms; that the shutters towards the north should be nightly locked, to
prevent communications with the houses in that direction; and that
‘there should be a centinel all the daytime at the head of the iron
ravell stair at the Chancellary Chamber, lest letters and other things
may be tolled up.’[14]


[Sidenote: JUNE.]

The chief of the clan Mackintosh, usually called the Laird of
Mackintosh, claimed rights of property over the lands of Keppoch,
Glenroy, and Glenspean, in Inverness-shire, ‘worth five thousand merks
of yearly rent’—a district interesting to modern men of science, on
account of the singular impress left upon it by the hand of nature in
the form of water-laid terraces, commonly called the Parallel Roads of
Glenroy, but then known only as the haunt of a wild race of Macdonalds,
against whom common processes of law were of no avail. Mackintosh—whose
descendant is now the peaceable landlord of a peaceable tenantry in this
[Sidenote: 1689.] country—had in 1681 obtained letters of fire and sword
as a last desperate remedy against Macdonald of Keppoch and others; but
no good had come of it.

In the year of the Revolution, these letters had been renewed, and about
the time when Seymour and Russell were inviting over the Prince of
Orange for the rescue of Protestantism and liberty, Mackintosh was
leading a thousand of his people from Badenoch into Glenspean, in order
to wreak the vengeance of the law upon his refractory tenants. He was
joined by a detachment of government troops under Captain Mackenzie of
Suddy; but Keppoch, who is described by a contemporary as ‘a gentleman
of good understanding, and of great cunning,’ was not dismayed. With
five hundred men, he attacked the Mackintosh on the brae above Inverroy,
less than half a mile from his own house, and gained a sanguinary
victory. The captain of the regular troops and some other persons were
killed; the Laird of Mackintosh was taken prisoner, and not liberated
till he had made a formal renunciation of his claims; two hundred horses
and a great quantity of other spoil fell into the hands of the
victors.[15] The Revolution, happening soon after, caused little notice
to be taken of this affair, which is spoken of as the last clan-battle
in the Highlands.

Now that Whiggery was triumphing in Edinburgh, it pleased Keppoch to
rank himself among those chiefs of clans who were resolved to stand out
for King James. Dundee reckoned upon his assistance; but when he went
north in spring, he found this ‘gentleman of good understanding’ laying
siege to Inverness with nine hundred men, in order to extort from its
burghers at the point of the sword some moneys he thought they owed him.
The northern capital—a little oasis of civilisation and hearty
Protestantism in the midst of, or at least close juxtaposition to, the
Highlands—was in the greatest excitement and terror lest Keppoch should
rush in and plunder it. There were preachings at the cross to animate
the inhabitants in their resolutions of defence; and a collision seemed
imminent. At length the chieftain consented, for two thousand dollars,
to retire. It is alleged that Dundee was shocked and angry at the
proceedings of this important partisan, but unable or unwilling to do
more than expostulate with him. Keppoch by and by joined him in earnest
with his following, while Mackintosh held off in a state of indecision.

[Sidenote: 1689.]

This gave occasion for a transaction of private war, forming really a
notable part of the Scottish insurrection for King James, though it has
been scarcely noticed in history. It was when Dundee, in the course of
his marching and countermarching that summer, chanced to come within a
few miles of Mackintosh’s house of Dunachtan, on Speyside, that Keppoch
bethought him of the opportunity it afforded for the gratification of
his vengeful feelings. He communicated not with his commander. He took
no counsel of any one; he slipped away with his followers unobserved,
and, stooping like an eagle on the unfortunate Mackintosh, burned his
mansion, and ravaged his lands, destroying and carrying away property
afterwards set forth as of the value of two thousand four hundred and
sixty-six pounds sterling.

This independent way of acting was highly characteristic of Dundee’s
followers; but he found it exceedingly inconvenient. Being informed of
the facts, he told Keppoch, in presence of his other officers, that ‘he
would much rather choose to serve as a common soldier among disciplined
troops, than command such men as he; that though he had committed these
outrages in revenge of his own private quarrel, it would be generally
believed he had acted by authority; that since he was resolved to do
what he pleased, without any regard to command and the public good, he
begged that he would immediately be gone with his men, that he might not
hereafter have an opportunity of affronting the general at his pleasure,
or of making him and the better-disposed troops a cover to his
robberies. Keppoch, who did not expect so severe a rebuke, humbly begged
his lordship’s pardon, and told him that he would not have abused
Mackintosh so, if he had not thought him an enemy to the king as well as
to himself; that he was heartily sorry for what was past; but since that
could not be amended, he solemnly promised a submissive obedience for
the future.’[16]

The preceding was not a solitary instance of private clan-warfare,
carried on under cover of Dundee’s insurrection. Amongst his notable
followers were the Camerons, headed by their sagacious chief, Sir Ewen
of Locheil, who was now well advanced in years, though he lived for
thirty more. A few of this clan having been hanged by the followers of
the Laird of Grant—a chief strong in the Whig cause—it was deemed right
[Sidenote: 1689.] that a revenge should be taken in Glen Urquhart. ‘They
presumed that their general would not be displeased, in the
circumstances he was then in, if they could supply him with a drove of
cattle from the enemy’s country.’ Marching off without leave, they found
the Grants in Glen Urquhart prepared to receive them; but before the
attack, a Macdonald came forward, telling that he was settled amongst
the Grants, and claiming, on that account, that none of the people
should be injured. They told him that, if he was a true Macdonald, he
ought to be with his chief, serving his king and country in Dundee’s
army; they could not, on his account, consent to allow the death of
their clansmen to remain unavenged. The man returned dejected to his
friends, the Grants, and the Camerons made the attack, gaining an easy
victory, and bearing off a large spoil to the army in Lochaber.

Dundee consented to overlook this wild episode, on account of the
supplies it brought him; but there was another person grievously
offended. The Macdonald who lived among the Grants was one of those who
fell in the late skirmish. By all the customs of Highland feeling, this
was an event for the notice of his chief Glengarry, who was one of the
magnates in Dundee’s army. Glengarry appeared to resent the man’s death
highly, and soon presented himself before the general, with a demand for
satisfaction on Locheil and the Camerons. ‘Surprised at the oddness of
the thing, his lordship asked what manner of satisfaction he wanted;
“for,” said he, “I believe it would puzzle the ablest judges to fix upon
it, even upon the supposition that they were in the wrong;” and added,
that “if there was any injury done, it was to him, as general of the
king’s troops, in so far as they had acted without commission.”
Glengarry answered that they had equally injured and affronted both, and
that therefore they ought to be punished, in order to deter others from
following their example.’ To this Dundee replied with further excuses,
still expressing his inability to see what offence had been done to
Glengarry, and remarking, that ‘if such an accident is a just ground for
raising a disturbance in our small army, we shall not dare to engage the
king’s enemies, lest there may chance to be some of your name and
following among them who may happen to be killed.’ Glengarry continued
to bluster, threatening to take vengeance with his own hand; but in
reality he was too much a man of the general world to be himself under
the influence of these Highland feelings—he only wished to appear before
his people as eager to avenge [Sidenote: 1689.] what they felt to be a
just offence. The affair, therefore, fell asleep.[17]


[Sidenote: JULY 4.]

The Earl of Balcarres, having failed to satisfy the government about his
peaceable intentions, was put under restraint in Edinburgh Castle, which
was now in the hands of the government. There, he must have waited with
great anxiety for news of his friend Lord Dundee.

‘After the battle of Killiecrankie, where fell the last hope of James in
the Viscount of Dundee, the ghost of that hero is said to have appeared
about daybreak to his confidential friend, Lord Balcarres, then confined
to Edinburgh Castle. The spectre, drawing aside the curtain of the bed,
looked very steadfastly upon the earl, after which it moved towards the
mantel-piece, remained there for some time in a leaning posture, and
then walked out of the chamber without uttering one word. Lord
Balcarres, in great surprise, though not suspecting that which he saw to
be an apparition, called out repeatedly to his friend to stop, but
received no answer, and subsequently learned that at the very moment
this shadow stood before him, Dundee had breathed his last near the
field of Killiecrankie.’[18]

On the news of the defeat of the government troops, his lordship had
some visits from beings more substantial, but perhaps equally pale of
countenance. In his Memoirs, he tells us of the consternation of the new
councillors. ‘Some were for retiring to England, others to the western
shires of Scotland ... they considered whether to set at liberty all the
prisoners, or make them more close; the last was resolved, and we were
all locked up and debarred from seeing our friends, but _never had so
many visits from our enemies_, all making apologies for what was past,
protesting they always wished us well, as we should see whenever they
had an opportunity.’

Lord Balcarres was liberated on the 4th of March 1690, on giving caution
for peaceable behaviour, the danger of Jacobite reaction being by that
time abated.


[Sidenote: JULY 10.]

A poor young woman belonging to a northern county, wandering southwards
in search of a truant lover, like a heroine of one of the old ballads,
found herself reduced to the last extremity of distress [Sidenote:
1689.] when a few miles south of Peebles. Bewildered and desperate, she
threw her babe into the Haystown Burn, and began to wander back towards
her own country. A couple of the inhabitants of Peebles, fishing in the
burn, soon found the body of the infant, and, a search being made, the
wretched mother was discovered at a place called Jedderfield, brought
into town, and put in confinement, as a suspected murderess. The
magistrates of the burgh applied to the sheriff, John Balfour of
Kailzie, to have the supposed culprit taken off their hands, and tried;
but he refused to interfere, owing to ‘the present surcease of justice’
in the country. Consequently, the magistrates were ‘necessitate to cause
persons constantly guard the murderer, the prison not being strong
enough to secure her.’ On their petition, the Privy Council allowed the
Peebles authorities to send Margaret Craig, with a guard, to Edinburgh,
and ordained her to be received into the Tolbooth of Leith, till she be
processed for the murder.[19]

This miserable young woman must have lain in prison three years, for she
was tried by the Court of Justiciary in June 1692, and condemned to be
hanged.[20]


[Sidenote: JULY 26.]

There is something interesting in the early difficulties of so valuable
an institution as the Post-office. John Graham had been appointed
postmaster-general for Scotland in 1674, with a salary of a thousand
pounds Scots (£83, 6_s._ 8_d._ sterling), and had set about his duty
with great spirit. He had travelled to many towns for the purpose of
establishing local offices, thus incurring expenses far beyond what his
salary could repay. He had been obliged on this account to encroach on
money belonging to his wife; also to incur some considerable debts; nor
had he ever been able to obtain any relief, or even the full payment of
his salary from the late state-officers. He was now dead, and his widow
came before the Privy Council with a petition setting forth how she had
been left penniless by her husband through his liberality towards a
public object. It was ordained that Mrs Graham should get payment of all
debts due by provincial offices to her husband, and have the income of
the general office till Martinmas next.

It is to be feared that Mrs Graham did not profit much by this order, as
on the subsequent 19th of October we find her complaining that William
Mean of the Edinburgh letter-office, and others, [Sidenote: 1689.] had
refused to pay her the arrears declared to be due to her; wherefore the
order was renewed.

The general post-mastership was at this time put upon a different
footing, being sold by roup, July 24, 1689, to John Blair, apothecary in
Edinburgh, he undertaking to carry on the entire business on various
rates of charge for letters, and to pay the government five thousand one
hundred merks (about £255 sterling) yearly, for seven years. The rates
were, for single letters to Dumfries, Glasgow, and Ayr, Dundee, Perth,
Kelso, and Jedburgh, two shillings; to Carlisle, Portpatrick, Aberdeen,
and Dunkeld, three shillings; to Kirkcudbright and Inverness, four
shillings, all Scots money.

[Sidenote: OCT. 8.]

In October of this year, the above-mentioned William Mean was sent with
a macer to the Tolbooth for keeping up letters sent from Ireland ‘untill
payment of the letters were paid to him, albeit the postage were
satisfied in England, and that he had sent back packets to London which
were directed for Ireland.’ Also, ‘notwithstanding the former order of
Council appointing him to deliver in to them any letters directed for
James Graham, vintner, he had kept up the same these eight or ten days,
and had never acquainted any member of Council therewith.’ He was
liberated two days after, on caution for reappearance under 500 merks.
It may be surmised that William Mean was disposed to take advantage of
some regulations of his office in order to give trouble to the existing
government.

In the course of 1690, besides a deliberate robbery of the post-boy on
the road between Cockburnspath and Haddington (see under August 16th of
that year), the fact of the bag frequently coming with the seals broken,
is adverted to in angry terms by the Privy Council. An edict for the use
of official seals and the careful preservation of these was passed;
nevertheless, we soon after hear of the bag or box coming once more into
Edinburgh with the seals broken, Mrs Gibb, the post-mistress at the
Canongate post,[21] sent for, Mrs Mean of the letter-office also called
up, and much turmoil and fume for a while, but no sort of decisive step
taken in consequence. It is to be observed that the post from the
English to the Scottish capital was at this time carried on horseback
with a fair degree of speed. English parliamentary proceedings of
Saturday are noted to be in the hands of the Edinburgh public on the
ensuing Thursday.[22]

[Sidenote: 1689. SEP.]

Alexander Irvine of Drum, the representative of a distinguished
historical family in Aberdeenshire, was unfortunately weak both in mind
and body, although it is related that he could play well on the viol,
and had picked up the then popular political tune of _Lullibullero_ in
the course of a few days. Under sanction of the Privy Council, Dr David
Mitchell of Edinburgh undertook to keep him in his house in a style
befitting his quality, and with the care required by his weakly
condition, and for this purpose hired some additional rooms, and made
other necessary furnishings and preparations. The laird came to him at
the close of July, but before the end of August, Marjory Forbes had
induced the laird to own her as his wife, and it became necessary that
Drum should leave his medical protector. A petition being presented by
Dr Mitchell for payment of board and recompense for charges thus
needlessly incurred, he was allowed by the Lords £500 Scots, or £41,
13_s._ 4_d._ sterling, over and above twenty pieces he had received for
a professional visit paid to the laird’s Aberdeenshire castle, to
arrange for his migration to Edinburgh.[23]


James Broich, skipper of Dundee, was proceeding in his scout to Norway
with a small parcel of goods, and a thousand pounds Scots wherewith to
buy a larger vessel. In mid-sea he fell in with a French privateer, who,
after seizing cargo and money, having no spare hands to leave on board,
proceeded to cut holes in the vessel, in order to sink her, proposing to
put the unfortunate crew to their boat, in which case they must have
perished, ‘there being then a great stress.’ By the prayers and tears of
the skipper and his people, the privateer was at length induced to let
them go in their vessel, but not without first obtaining a bond from
Broich, undertaking to remit six hundred guelders to Dunkirk by a
particular day. As a guarantee for this payment, the rover detained and
carried off the skipper’s son, telling him he would hear no good of him
if the money should fail to be forthcoming.

Poor Broich got safe home, where his case excited much commiseration,
more particularly as he had suffered from shipwreck and capture four
times before in the course of his professional life. He was penniless,
and unable to support his family; his son, also—‘the stay and staff of
his old age’—had a wife and small children of his own left desolate.
Here was a little [Sidenote: 1689.] domestic tragedy very naturally
arising out of the wars of the _Grand Monarque_! Beginning in the
council-room of Versailles, such was the way they told upon humble
industrial life in the port of Dundee in Scotland. It was considered,
too, that the son was in ‘as bad circumstances, in being a prisoner to
the French king, as if he were a slave to the Turks.’

[Sidenote: SEP. 2.]

On the petition of Broich, the Privy Council ordained a voluntary
contribution to be made for his relief in Edinburgh, Leith,
Borrowstounness, and Queensferry, and in the counties of Fife and
Forfar.

In a contemporary case, that of a crew of Grangepans, carried by a
privateer to Dunkirk, and confined in Rochefort, it is stated that they
were each allowed half a sous _per diem_ for subsistence, and were daily
expecting to be sent to the galleys.[24]


[Sidenote: OCT. 10.]

It was now acknowledged of the glass-work at Leith, that it was carried
on successfully in making green bottles and ‘chemistry and apothecary
glasses.’ It produced its wares ‘in greater quantity in four months than
was ever vended in the kingdom in a year, and at as low rates as any
corresponding articles from London or Newcastle.’ The Privy Council
therefore gave it the privileges of a manufactory, and forbade
introduction of foreign bottles, only providing that the Leith work
should not charge more than half-a-crown a dozen.


[Sidenote: DEC. 2.]

The magistrates of Edinburgh were ordered to put William Mitchell upon
the Tron, ‘and cause the hangman nail his lug [ear] thereto,’ on
Wednesday the 4th instant, between eleven and twelve in the forenoon,
with a paper on his breast, bearing ‘that he stands there for the
insolencies committed by him on the Guards, and for words of reflection
uttered by him against the present government.’[25]


[Sidenote: 1690. FEB. 2.]

A large flock of _mere-swine_ (porpoises?) having entered the Firth of
Forth, as often happens, and a considerable number having come ashore,
as seldom happens, at Cramond, the tenants of Sir John Inglis,
proprietor of the lands there, fell upon them with all possible
activity, and slew twenty-three, constituting a prize of no
inconsiderable value. After fastening the animals with ropes, so as to
prevent their being carried out to sea—for the [Sidenote: 1690.] scene
of slaughter was half a mile in upon a flat sandy beach—the captors sold
them for their own behoof to Robert Douglas, soapboiler in Leith, fully
concluding that they had a perfect right to do so, seeing that
mere-swine are not royal fish, and neither had they been cast in dead,
in which case, as wrack, I presume, they would have belonged to the
landlord.

The greater part of the spoil had been barrelled and transported to
Leith—part of the price paid, too, to the captors—when John Wilkie,
surveyor there, applied to the Privy Council for a warrant to take the
mere-swine into his possession and dispose of them for the benefit of
such persons as they should be found to belong to. He accordingly seized
upon the barrels, and disposed of several of them at eleven pounds four
shillings per barrel, Douglas protesting loudly against his procedure.
On a petition, representing how the animals had been killed and secured,
Wilkie was ordained to pay over the money to Douglas, deducting only his
reasonable charges.


[Sidenote: FEB. 28.]

A few hot-headed Perthshire Jacobites, including [George] Graham of
Inchbrakie, David Oliphant of Culteuchar, and George Graham of
Pitcairns, with two others designed as ensigns, met to-day at the
village of Dunning, with some other officers of the government troops,
and, getting drink, began to utter various insolencies. They drank the
health of King James, ‘without calling him the late king,’ and further
proceeded to press the same toast upon the government officers. One of
these, Ludovick Grant, quarter-master of Lord Rollo’s troop, was
prudentially retiring from this dangerous society, when Ensign Mowat
cocked a pistol at him, saying: ‘Do you not see that some of us are King
William’s officers as well as you, and why will ye not drink the health
as well as we?’ Grant having asked him what he meant by that, Inchbrakie
took the pistol, and fired it up the chimney—which seems to have been
the only prudential proceeding of the day. The party continued drinking
and brawling at the place, till James Hamilton, cornet of Rollo’s troop,
came with a party to seize them, when, drawing their swords, they beat
back the king’s officer, and were not without great difficulty taken
into custody. Even now, so far from being repentant, Inchbrakie ‘called
for a dishful of aqua vitæ or brandy, and drank King James’s health,’
saying ‘they were all knaves and rascals that would refuse it.’ He said
‘he hoped the guise would turn,’ when Lord Rollo would not be able to
keep Scotland, and he would get [Sidenote: 1690.] Duncrub [Lord Rollo’s
house and estate] to himself. His fury against the soldiers extended so
far, that he called for powder and ball to shoot the sentinels placed
over him, and ‘broke Alexander Ross’s face with ane pint-stoup.’ Even
when borne along as prisoners to Perth, and imprisoned there, these
furious gentlemen continued railing at Lord Rollo and his troop, avowing
and justifying all they had done at Dunning.

The offenders, being brought before the Privy Council, gave in defences,
which their counsel, Sir David Thores, advocated with such rash
insolency that he was sent away to prison. The culprits were punished by
fines and imprisonment. We find them with great difficulty clearing
themselves out of jail six months after.[26]


In religious contentions, there is a cowardice in the strongest
ascendency parties which makes them restlessly cruel towards
insignificant minorities. The Roman Catholics in Scotland had never
since the Reformation been more than a handful of people; but they had
constantly been treated with all the jealous severity due to a great and
threatening sect. Even now, when they were cast lower than at any former
time, through the dismal failure of King James to raise them, there was
no abatement of their troubles.

It was at this time a great inconveniency to any one to be a Catholic.
As a specimen—Alexander Fraser of Kinnaries, on the outbreak of the
Revolution, to obviate any suspicion that might arise about his
affection to the new government, came to Inverness, and put himself
under the view of the garrison there. Fears being nevertheless
entertained regarding him, he was sent to prison. Liberated by General
Mackay upon bail, he remained peaceably in Inverness till December last,
when he was sent to Edinburgh, and there placed under restraint, not to
move above a mile from town. [Sidenote: MAR. 2.] He now represented the
hardship he thus suffered, ‘his fortune being very small, and the most
of his living being only by his own labouring and industry.’ ‘His
staying here,’ he added, ‘any space longer must of necessity tend to his
own and his family’s utter ruin.’ With difficulty, the Lords were
induced to liberate him under caution.

Mr David Fairfoul, a priest confined in prison at Inverness, only
regained his liberty by an extraordinary accident. James Sinclair of
Freswick, a Caithness gentleman, had chanced a [Sidenote: 1690.]
twelvemonth before to be taken prisoner by a French privateer, as he was
voyaging from his northern home to Edinburgh. Having made his case known
to the Scottish Privy Council, he was relieved in exchange for Mr
Fairfoul (June 5, 1690).

About the end of the year, we find a considerable number of Catholics
under government handling. Steven Maxwell, who had been one of the two
masters in the Catholic college at Holyroodhouse, lay in durance at
Blackness. John Abercrombie, ‘a trafficker,’ and a number of other
priests recently collected out of the Highlands, were immured in the
Tolbooth of Edinburgh. Another, named Mr Robert Davidson, of whom it was
admitted that ‘his opinion and deportment always inclined to sobriety
and moderation, shewing kindness and charity to all in distress, even of
different persuasions, and that he made it no part of his business to
meddle in any affairs, but to live peaceably in his native country for
his health’s sake,’ had been put into Leith jail, with permission to go
forth for two hours a day, under caution to the amount of fifty pounds,
lest his health should suffer.

At this very time, a fast was under order of the General Assembly, with
sanction of the government, with a reference to the consequences of the
late oppressive government, citing, among other things, ‘the sad
persecutions of many for their conscience towards God.’[27]


[Sidenote: APR. 25.]

It was declared in the legislature that there were ‘frequent murders of
innocent infants, whose mothers do conceal their pregnancy, and do not
call for necessary assistance in the birth.’ It was therefore statute,
that women acting in this secretive manner, and whose babes were dead or
missing, should be held as guilty of murder, and punished
accordingly.[28] That is to say, society, by treating indiscretions with
a puritanic severity, tempted women into concealments of a dangerous
kind, and then punished the crimes which itself had produced, and this
upon merely negative evidence.

Terrible as this act was, it did not wholly avail to make women brave
the severity of that social punishment which stood on the other side. It
is understood to have had many victims. In January 1705, no fewer than
four young women were in the Tolbooth of Aberdeen at once for concealing
pregnancy and [Sidenote: 1690.] parturition, and all in a state of such
poverty that the authorities had to maintain them. On the 23d July 1706,
the Privy Council dealt with a petition from Bessie Muckieson, who had
been two years ‘incarcerat’ in the Edinburgh Tolbooth on account of the
death of a child born by her, of which Robert Bogie in Kennieston, in
Fife, was the father. She had not concealed her pregnancy, but the
infant being born in secret, and found dead, she was tried under the
act.

At her trial she had made ingenuous confession of her offence, while
affirming that the child had not been ‘wronged,’ and she protested that
even the concealment of the birth was ‘through the treacherous dealing
and abominable counsel of the said Robert Bogie.’ ‘Seeing she was a poor
miserable object, and ane ignorant wretch destitute of friends, throwing
herself at their Lordships’ footstool for pity and accustomed
clemency’—petitioning that her just sentence might be changed into
banishment, ‘that she might be a living monument of a true penitent for
her abominable guilt’—the Lords looked relentingly on the case, and
adjudged Bessie to pass forth of the kingdom for the remainder of her
life.[29]

It was seldom that such leniency was shewn. In March 1709, a woman named
Christian Adam was executed at Edinburgh for the imputed crime of
child-murder, and on the ensuing 6th of April, two others suffered at
the same place on the same account. In all these three cases, occurring
within four weeks of each other, the women had allowed their pregnancy
and labour to pass without letting their condition be known, or calling
for the needful assistance, Adam acting thus at the entreaty of her
lover, ‘a gentleman,’ who said it would ruin him if she should declare
her state. Another, named Bessie Turnbull, had been entirely successful
in concealing all that happened; but the consciousness of having killed
her infant haunted her, till she came voluntarily forward, and gave
herself up. At the scaffold, Adam ‘gave the ministers much
satisfaction;’ Margaret Inglis ‘did not give full satisfaction to the
ministers;’ Turnbull ‘seemed more affected than her comrade, but not so
much as could be wished.’[30]


[Sidenote: JULY 5.]

Our old acquaintance, Captain John Slezer, turns up at this time in an
unexpected way. Three or four months before, he [Sidenote: 1690.] had
obtained a commission as captain of artillery from their majesties, and
now he was about to leave Edinburgh on duty; but, lo, John Hamilton,
wright, burgess of Edinburgh, ‘out of a disaffection to their majesties
and the present government,’ gave orders to George Gilchrist, messenger,
to put in execution letters of caption against the captain, for a debt
due by him, ‘albeit he [Slezer] the night before offered him
satisfaction of the first end of the money.’ The Council, ‘understanding
that the same has been done out of a design to retard their majesties’
service, called for Hamilton, and, in terms of the late act of
parliament, desired him to take the oath of allegiance and assurance,
which he refused to do.’ They therefore ordained him to be committed
prisoner to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and ‘declares Captain Slezer to
be at liberty to prosecute his majesty’s service.’ The debtor and
creditor might thus be said to have changed places: one can imagine what
jests there would be about the case among the Cavalier wits in the Laigh
Coffee-house—how it would be adduced as an example of that vindication
of the laws which the Revolution professed to have in view—how it would
be thought in itself a very good little Revolution, and well worthy of a
place in the child’s toy picture of The World Turned Upside Down.

After a six weeks’ imprisonment, Hamilton came before the Council with
professions of peaceable inclination to the present government, and
pleaded that he was valetudinary with gravel, much increased by reason
of his confinement, ‘and, being a tradesman, his employment, which is
the mean of his subsistence, is altogether neglected by his continuing a
prisoner,’ and he might be utterly ruined in body, family, and estate,
if not relieved. Therefore the Lords very kindly liberated this
delinquent creditor, he giving caution to live inoffensively in future,
and reappear if called upon.

We find a similar case a few years onward. Captain William Baillie of
Colonel Buchan’s regiment was debtor to Walter Chiesley, merchant in
Edinburgh, to the extent of three thousand merks, for satisfaction of
which he had assigned his estate, with power to uplift the rents. He was
engaged in Edinburgh on the recruiting service, when Chiesley, out of
malice, as was insinuated, towards the government of which Baillie was
the commissioned servant, had him apprehended on caption for the debt,
and put into the Tolbooth of Edinburgh. Thus, as his petition to the
Privy Council runs (February 7, 1693), ‘he is rendered incapable of
executing that important duty he is upon, which will many [Sidenote:
1690.] ways prejudice their majesties’ service;’ for, ‘if such practices
be allowed, and are unpunished, there should not ane officer in their
majesties’ forces that owes a sixpence dare adventure to come to any
mercat-town, either to make their recruits or perform other duty.’ For
these good reasons, Baillie craved that not only he be immediately
liberated, but Walter Chiesley be censured ‘for so unwarrantable ane
act, to the terror of others to do the like.’

The Council recommended the Court of Session to expede a suspension, and
put at liberty the debtor; but they seem to have felt that it would be
too much to pass a censure on the merchant for trying to recover what
was justly owing to him.

But for our seeing creditors treated in this manner for the conveniency
of the government, it would be startling to find that the old plan of
the _supersedere_, of which we have seen some examples in the time of
James VI., was still thought not unfit to be resorted to by that
_régime_ which had lately redeemed the national liberties.

James Bayne, wright in Edinburgh—the same rich citizen whose daughter’s
clandestine nuptials with Andrew Devoe, the posture-master, made some
noise a few years back[31]—had executed the carpentry-work of
Holyroodhouse; but, like Balunkin in the ballad, ‘payment gat he nane.’
To pay for timber and workmen’s wages, he incurred debts to the amount
of thirty-five thousand merks (about £1944 sterling), which soon
increased as arrears of interest went on, till now, after an interval of
several years, he was in such a position, that, supposing he were paid
his just dues, and discharged his debts, there would not remain to him
‘one sixpence’ of that good stock with which he commenced the
undertaking.

At the recommendation of ‘his late majesty [Charles II.?],’ the Lords of
the Treasury had considered the case, and found upwards of £2000
sterling to be due to James Bayne, ‘besides the two thousand pounds
sterling for defalcations and losses, which they did not fully
consider,’ and they consequently ‘recommended him to the Lords of
Session for a suspension against his creditors, ay, and while the money
due to him by the king were paid.’ This he obtained; ‘but at present no
regard is had to it.’ Recently, to satisfy some of his most urgent
creditors, the Lords of the Treasury gave him an order [Sidenote: 1690.]
for £500 upon their receiver, Maxwell of Kirkconnel; but no funds were
forthcoming. His creditors then fell upon him with great rigour, and
Thomas Burnet, merchant in Edinburgh, from whom he had been a borrower
for the works at the palace, had now put him in jail, where he lay
without means to support himself and his family.

Bayne craved from the Privy Council that the two thousand pounds already
admitted might as soon as possible be paid to him, and that, meanwhile,
he should be liberated, and receive a protection from his creditors,
‘whereby authority will appear in its justice, the petitioner’s
creditors be paid, and no tradesman discouraged to meddle in public
works for the advancement of what is proper for the government to have
done.’ The Privy Council considered the petition, and recommended the
Lords of Session ‘to expede ane suspension and charge to put to liberty’
in favour of James Bayne, on his granting a disposition of his effects
in favour of his creditors.[32]

It was, after all, fitting that the government which interfered, for its
own conveniency, to save its servants from the payment of their just
debts, should stave off the payment of their own, by similar
interpositions of arbitrary power.


[Sidenote: AUG.]

The ‘happie revolution’ had not made any essential change in the habits
of those Highlanders who lived on the border of the low countries. It
was still customary for them to make periodical descents upon Morayland,
Angus, the Stormont, Strathearn, and the Lennox, for ‘spreaths’ of
cattle and other goods.

Sir Robert Murray of Abercairney, having lands in Glenalmond and
thereabouts, employed six men, half of whom were Macgregors, as a watch
or guard for the property of his tenants. These men, coming one day to
the market of Monzie, were informed that a predatory party had gone down
into the low country, and ‘fearing that they might, in their return,
come through Sir Robert’s lands, and take away ane hership from his
tenants,’ they lost no time in getting the land, over which they were
likely to pass, cleared of bestial. They were refreshing themselves
after their toil at the kirk-town of Monzie, when the caterans came past
with their booty. Enraged at finding the ground cleared, the robbers
seized the six men, and carried them away as prisoners.

A few days after, having regained their liberty, they were [Sidenote:
1690.] apprehended by Lord Rollo, on a suspicion of having been
accomplices of the robbers, by whom it appeared his lordship’s tenants
had suffered considerably; and they were immediately dragged off to
Edinburgh, and put into the Canongate jail. There they lay for two
months, ‘in a very starving condition, and to the ruin of their poor
families at home;’ when at length, Lord Rollo having failed to make good
anything against them, and Sir Robert Murray having undertaken for their
appearance if called upon, they were allowed to go home, with an order
to the governor of Drummond Castle for the restoration of their arms.

On the 22d January 1691, Lord Rollo represented to the Privy Council
that ‘in the harvest last, the Highland robbers came down and plundered
his ground, and because of his seeking redress according to law, they
threaten his tenants with ane other depredation, and affrights them so
as they are like to leave the petitioner’s lands, and cast them
waste.’[33] The matter was remitted to the Commander of the Forces.[34]

[Sidenote: 1690. AUG. 16.]

Andrew Cockburn, the post-boy[35] who carried the packet or letter-bag
on that part of the great line of communication which lies between
Cockburnspath and Haddington, had this day reached a point in his
journey between the Alms-house and Hedderwick Muir, when he was assailed
by two gentlemen in masks; one of them ‘mounted on a blue-gray horse,
wearing a stone-gray coat with brown silk buttons;’ the other ‘riding on
a white horse, having a white English gray cloak coat with wrought
silver thread buttons.’ Holding pistols to his breast, they threatened
to kill him if he did not instantly deliver up ‘the packet, black box,
and by-bag’ which he carried; and he had no choice but to yield. They
then bound him, and, leaving him tied by the foot to his horse, rode off
with their spoil to Garlton House near Haddington.

As the packet contained government communications besides the
correspondence of private individuals, this was a crime of a very high
nature, albeit we may well believe it was committed on political impulse
only. Suspicion seems immediately to have alighted on James Seton,
youngest son of the Viscount Kingston, and John Seton, brother of Sir
George Seton of Garlton; and Sir Robert Sinclair, the sheriff of the
county, immediately sought for these young gentlemen at their father’s
and brother’s houses, but found them not. With great hardihood, they
came to Sir Robert’s house next morning, to inquire as innocent men why
they were searched for; when Sir Robert, after a short examination in
presence of the post-boy, saw fit to have them disarmed and sent off to
Haddington. It was Sunday, and Bailie Lauder, to whose house they came
with their escort, was about to go to church. If the worthy bailie is to
be believed, he thought their going to the sheriff’s a great presumption
of their innocence. He admitted, too, that Lord Kingston had come and
spoken to him that morning.[36] Anyhow, he concluded that it might be
enough in the meantime if he afforded them a room in his house, secured
[Sidenote: 1690.] their horses in his stable, and left them under charge
of two of the town-officers. Unluckily, however, he required the
town-officers, as usual, to walk before him and his brother-magistrates
to church; which, it is obvious, interfered very considerably with their
efficiency as a guard over the two gentlemen. While things were in this
posture, Messrs Seton took the prudent course of making their escape. As
soon as the bailie heard of it, he left church, and took horse after
them with some neighbours, but he did not succeed in overtaking them.

The Privy Council had an extraordinary meeting, to take measures
regarding this affair, and their first step was to order Bailie Lauder
and the two town-officers into the Tolbooth of Edinburgh as close
prisoners. A few days afterwards, the magistrate was condemned by the
Council as guilty of plain fraud and connivance, and declared incapable
of any public employment. William Kaim, the smith at Lord Kingston’s
house of Whittingham, was also in custody on some suspicion of a concern
in this business; but he and the town-officers were quickly
liberated.[37]

John Seton was soon after seized by Captain James Denholm on board a
merchant-vessel bound for Holland, and imprisoned in the Castle of
Edinburgh. He underwent trial in July 1691, and by some means escaped
condemnation. A favourable verdict did not procure his immediate
liberation; but, after three days, he was dismissed on caution to return
into custody if called upon. This final result was the more remarkable,
as his father was by that time under charge of having aided in the
betrayal of the Bass.[38]


[Sidenote: AUG. 16.]

William Bridge, an Englishman, had come to Scotland about ten years ago,
at the invitation of a coppersmith and a founder in Edinburgh, to ‘give
them his insight in the airt of casting in brass;’ and now they had
imparted their knowledge to James Miller, brasier in the Canongate.
Bridge petitioned the Privy Council for some charity, ‘seeing he left
his own kingdom for doing good to this kingdom and the good town of
Edinburgh.’ The Council took that way of proving their benevolence on
which Mr Sidney Smith once laid so much stress—‘they recommend to
[Sidenote: 1690.] the magistrates of Edinburgh to give the petitioner
such charity as he deserves.’[39]


[Sidenote: AUG. 26.]

The monopoly of the manufacture and sale of playing-cards, which was
conferred some years back on Peter Bruce, engineer, had been transferred
by him to James Hamilton of Little Earnock, together with a paper-mill
which he had built at Restalrig, and two machines for friezing cloth.
Hamilton now petitioned for, and obtained the Privy Council’s
confirmation of this exclusive right, in consideration of his great
expenses in bringing home foreign workmen, and putting his little
manufactory in order.[40]


[Sidenote: AUG.]

Many gentlemen and others, who for several months had been prisoners in
the Edinburgh Tolbooth, were transported to Blackness, Leith, and Bass,
leaving George Drummond, the ‘Goodman’ of the prison, unpaid for their
aliment and house-dues. The Council ordained the keepers of the prisons
of Blackness and Bass to detain these gentlemen till they had satisfied
Drummond, whatever orders might come for their enlargement.

In another case, which came before them in the ensuing January, the
Council acted much in the spirit of their late ordinance in favour of
William Bridge the brass-founder. Gavin Littlejohn, a prisoner in the
Edinburgh Tolbooth, had been ordered by them to be set at liberty, but
he was detained by his jailer for fourscore pounds Scots of house-dues.
Being poor, ‘he was no ways able to make payment, albeit he should die
in prison,’ and he therefore craved the Lords that they would, as usual
in such cases, recommend the discharge of his debt by the treasury. The
Lords, having considered this petition, ‘recommend to George Drummond,
master of the Tolbooth, _to settle with the petitioner_, that he may be
set at liberty.’[41]


[Sidenote: SEP.]

Law had not yet so well asserted her supremacy in Scotland as to
entirely banish the old inclination to enforce an assumed right by the
strong hand. Of the occasional violences still used in debatable matters
of property, a fair specimen is presented by a case which occurred at
this time between Andrew Johnstone of Lockerby and Mrs Margaret
Johnstone, the widow of his eldest [Sidenote: 1690.] son. For a year or
two past, Mrs Margaret, supported by her father, Sir James Johnstone of
Westerhall, and with the aid of sundry servants of her own and her
father, had been accustomed to molest Andrew Johnstone, his friends and
tenants, in the possession of their lands, and to threaten them with
acts of violence. They had been obliged to take out a writ of lawborrows
against the wrathful lady and her ‘accomplices;’ but it had proved of no
avail in inducing peaceful measures.

One day in the last spring, as Johnstone’s tenants were labouring their
lands at Turrie-muir, his furious daughter-in-law and her ‘accomplices’
came upon them, loosed the horses from their ploughs and harrows, cut
the harness, and beat the workmen. James Johnstone, a younger son of
Lockerby, was present, and on his trying to prevent these outrages, they
fell upon him violently, and wounded him under the eye with a penknife,
‘to the great hazard of the loss of his eye.’

In June, a set of Mrs Margaret’s friends, headed by David Carlyle, and
his sons William and Robert, took an opportunity of making a deadly
personal assault upon Mrs Mary Johnstone, wife of the Laird of Lockerby.
The poor lady was cut down, and left as dead, while her friend, Mrs
Barbara Hill, was run through the thigh with a sword. These ladies had
since lain under the care of surgeons, and it was uncertain whether they
would live or die. Janet Geddes, servant of Mungo Johnstone of
Netherplace, a friend of Lockerby, had also been assailed by the
Carlyles, pulled to the ground by the hair of her head, cruelly beaten
and wounded, and nearly choked with a horn snuff-box which they
endeavoured to force down her throat.

In May, a group of Mrs Margaret’s friends came armed to the lands of
Hass and Whitwyndhill, with ‘horrid and execrable oaths,’ and
‘masterfully drove away the sheep and bestial.’ The poor tenants and
their wives came to rescue their property, when the assailing party rode
them down, and beat them so sore, that several had to be taken home in
blankets. Not long after, Westerhall’s servants came to the same lands,
and took by violence from Robert Johnstone of Roberthill fourteen kine
and oxen, ‘which were reset by Sir James, being carried home to his
house and put in his byres, and set his mark upon them, and thereafter
sold ten of the said beasts, ilk ane being worth forty pounds.’

Last, and worst of all, Walter Johnstone, brother of Mrs Margaret, had
come with attendants to the house of Netherplace by night, broke in, and
beat the owner, Mungo Johnstone, in a [Sidenote: 1690.] most outrageous
manner, besides squeezing the hands of his son, a boy, that the blood
sprung below his nails.

The matter was brought before the Privy Council by complaints from both
parties, and as the awards went rather against Lockerby and his son for
keeping his daughter-in-law out of her rights, than against her and her
friends for their violent procedure on the other side, we may reasonably
infer that the James VI. style of justice was far from extinct in the
land.

A case of violent procedure on the part of a landlord towards a tenant
occurred about the same time. Catherine Herries possessed the lands of
Mabie, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in liferent. In the early part
of 1689, she entered into a communing with one Robert Sturgeon, to set
to him the small farm of Crooks, promising him a nine years’ lease; and
he was admitted to possession, though upon a verbal agreement only. He
immediately addressed himself to the improvement of the ground by
ditching and draining, and in a year laid out upon it two hundred merks,
or something more than eleven pounds sterling. Meanwhile, the lady
united herself to John Maxwell of Carse, ‘a notorious papist,’ who had
not long before been searched for as a person dangerous to the new
government. When the lady learned that Sturgeon had been active among
the searchers, she seems to have resolved to discontinue his connection
with her estate. At Lammas 1690, alleging that he had been warned away
at the preceding Pasch, she caused him to be summoned before the
steward-depute of Kirkcudbright, who decreed him to remove within an
irregularly brief period. He had no resource but to go to Edinburgh, and
sue for a suspension of the decree; but when he returned with this
document, he found that the lady, the day before, had violently ejected
his wife, bairns, and bestial, ‘whereof many were lost.’ He intimated
the suspension; but Lady Mabie, disregarding it, obtained a precept from
the steward-depute, ordering him to answer for a thousand merks on
account of his unlawful intrusion upon her estate, and authorising his
imprisonment till this was paid. Without any other warrant, as Sturgeon
complains to the Council, the lady, under cloud of night, sends fifteen
or sixteen persons, whereof John Lanerick, writer in Dumfries, was
ringleader, with swords and staves, and takes the complainer out of his
bed, as if he had been a notorious malefactor, and carries him bound
prisoner to the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright, where he lay six weeks, his
wife, bairns, and goods being again ejected, and his house shut up.

[Sidenote: 1690.]

In such a relation of parties, even had the proceedings of Lady Mabie
and her husband been more regular, the Lords of the Privy Council could
have no difficulty in deciding. They fined the lady and her husband in
two hundred merks, one half to go as compensation to the ejected
tenant.[42]


[Sidenote: SEP.]

If the author could be allowed to indulge in a little personality, he
would recall a walk through the streets of Edinburgh with Sir Walter
Scott in the year 1824—one of many which he was privileged to enjoy, and
during which many old Scottish matters, such as fill this work, were
discussed. Sir Walter, having stopped for a moment in the crowd to
exchange greetings with a portly middle-aged man, said, on coming up to
continue his walk: ‘That was Campbell of Blythswood—we always shake
hands when we meet, for there is some old _cousinred_ between us.’ Let
this occurrence, only redeemed from triviality by its bringing up a
peculiar Scotch phrase unknown to Jamieson, be introduction to a
characteristic letter of the year 1690, which seems worthy of a place
here. First be it noted, the ‘cousinred’ between the illustrious
fictionist of our century and the great laird of the west, took its
origin two centuries earlier, thus forming a curious example of the
tenacity of the Scottish people regarding relationships. The paternal
great-grandfather of Sir Walter Scott was a person of his own name, the
younger of the two sons of that Scott of Raeburn whom we have seen in
1665 set aside from the use of his property, the education of his
family, and the enjoyment of his liberty, in consequence of his becoming
a Quaker. The young Walter Scott spent his mature life in Kelso; we find
him spoken of in a case under the attention of the Privy Council as a
‘merchant’ there: from devotion to the House of Stuart, he never shaved
after the Revolution, and consequently acquired the nickname of
_Beardie_. It was his fortune, in the month of September 1690, to ride
to Glasgow, and there wed a lady of a noted mercantile family, being
daughter to Campbell of Silvercraigs, whose uncle was the first Campbell
of Blythswood, provost of Glasgow in 1660. The house of the Campbells of
Silvercraigs in the Saltmarket was a handsome and spacious one, which
Cromwell had selected for his residence when he visited Glasgow.[43]
Here, of course, took place the wedding of this young offshoot of
Roxburghshire gentility [Sidenote: 1690.] with Mary Campbell, the niece
of Blythswood, the result, most probably, of a line of circumstances
originating in that tyrannical decreet of the Privy Council which
ordained the Quaker Raeburn’s bairns to be taken from him, and educated
in a sound faith at the schools of Glasgow (see under July 5, 1666).

The letter in question is one which Walter Scott wrote to his mother
immediately after his marriage, stating the fact, and giving her
directions about horses and certain articles to be sent to him against
his intended return home with his bride. It is merely curious as
illustrating the personal furnishings of a gentleman in that age, and
the manner in which he travelled.

‘DEAR MOTHER—The long designed marriadge betwixt Mary Campbell and mee
was accomplished upon the 18th of this instant, and I having stayed here
longer than I thought to doe, thought fitt to lett you know soe much by
this. I have sent home Mr Robert Ellott his mare with many thanks, and
tell him she has been fed since I came from home with good hay and
corne, and been more idle as rideing. I have sent you the key of the
studdy, that you may send mee with Rob^t Paterson and my horses my two
cravatts that are within, and one pare      I suppose within my desk the
key      and keep till I come home. As also send mee ane clene shirt, my
hatt that is within my trunk send hither, and give to Robert Paterson,
to putt one, another hat that is in itt—the trunk is open already. Send
me out of ane bagge of rix dollars that you shall find in my desk, 30
rix dollars, and my little purse with the few pieces of gold. You will
find there also two pairs of sleives and a plain cravatt: give with my
hatts to Rot. my coat and old     , to putt one, if they bee meet for
him. Let Rot. come in by Ed^r and call at Dykes the shoe maker for my
boots and one of the pairs of the shoes he has making for me, if they be
ready, and bring them with him hither. Let him bring my own sadle and
pistolls upon the one horse, and borrow my good sisters[44] syde sadle
and bring upon the other. Lett him be sure to bee here upon Tuesday the
thirteenth [thirtieth?] instant and desire him to be careful of all thir
things. William Anderson[45] says he will come home with us. We are all
in good health here. My wife with all the rest of us gives our service
to you. Wee hope to see you upon the Saturday night after Rot. Paterson
comes hither. We pray for God’s blessing [Sidenote: 1690.] and yours. I
have writt to desire my brother to come again thatt time hither and come
home with us. God be with you, dear mother. I am your loving sonne,

                                                              ‘W. SCOTT.

  ‘GLASGOW, _Sept. 22^o, 1690_.


‘Iff my brother could bee here sooner, I wish he would come, and Robt.
also, for I mean to stay from home, and our time will much depend on
their coming.’

For a notice of a visit paid by Beardie to Glasgow in February 1714, on
the occasion of the death of his father-in-law, see under that date.


[Sidenote: NOV. 11.]

The Bible, New Testament, and a catechism, having recently been prepared
in the Irish language, mainly for the use of the Irish population, it
was thought by some religiously disposed persons in England, including
some of Scottish extraction, that the same might serve for the people of
the Highlands of Scotland, whose language was very nearly identical. It
was accordingly part of the duty of the General Assembly to-day to make
arrangements for receiving and distributing throughout the Highlands a
gift of three thousand Bibles, one thousand New Testaments, and three
thousand catechisms, which was announced to be at their disposal in
London. A thousand pounds Scots was petitioned for from the Privy
Council, to pay the expense of transporting the books from London and
sending them to the various northern parishes.[46] It is to be regretted
that so important an event as the first introduction of an intelligible
version of the Scriptures to a large section of our population should be
so meagrely chronicled. We shall hereafter have much to tell regarding
further operations of the same kind in the northern portion of Scotland.


[Sidenote: DEC.]

The domestic condition of the people is so much affected by certain
sacred principles of law, that the history and progress of these becomes
a matter of the first consequence. We have seen how the new rulers acted
in regard to the sacredness of the subject from imprisonment not meant
to issue in trial; we shall now see how they comported themselves
respecting the unlawfulness of torture, which they had proclaimed as
loudly in their Declaration or Claim of Rights.[47] We find the Duke of
Hamilton, within three months of his presiding at the passing of this
‘Declaration,’ [Sidenote: 1690.] writing to Lord Melville about a little
Jacobite conspiracy—‘Wilson can discover all: if he does not confess
freely, it’s like he may get either the boots or the thumbikens.’[48]
When, at the crisis of the battle of the Boyne, the plot of Sir James
Montgomery of Skelmorley, the Earl of Annandale, Lord Ross, and Robert
Fergusson, for the restoration of King James, broke upon the notice of
the new government, a Catholic English gentleman named Henry Neville
Payne, who had been sent down to Scotland on a mission in connection
with it, was seized by the common people in Dumfriesshire, and brought
to Edinburgh. Sir William Lockhart, the solicitor-general for Scotland,
residing in London, then coolly wrote to the Earl of Melville, secretary
of state at Edinburgh, regarding Payne, that there was no doubt he knew
as much as would hang a thousand; ‘but,’ says he, ‘except you put him to
the torture, he will shame you all. Pray you _put him in such hands as
will have no pity on him_; for, in the opinion of all, he is a desperate
cowardly fellow.’

The Privy Council had in reality by this time put Payne to the torture;
but the ‘cowardly fellow’ proved able to bear it without confession. On
the 10th of December, under instructions signed by the king, and
countersigned by the Earl of Melville, the process was repeated
‘gently,’ and again next day after the manner thus described by the Earl
of Crawford, who presided on the occasion: ‘About six this evening, we
inflicted [the torture] on both thumbs and one of his legs, with _all
the severity that was consistent with humanity_, even unto that pitch
that _we could not preserve life and have gone further_, but without the
least success.... He was so manly and resolute under his suffering, that
such of the Council as were not acquainted with all the evidences, were
brangled and began to give him charity, that he might be innocent. It
was surprising to me and others, that flesh and blood could, without
fainting, and in contradiction to the grounds we had insinuat of our
knowledge of his accession in matters, _endure the heavy penance he was
in for two hours_.... My stomach is truly so far out of tune, by being a
witness to an act so far cross to my natural temper, that I am fitter
for rest than anything else.’

The earl states, that he regarded Payne’s constancy under the torture as
solely owing to his being assured by his religion that it would save his
soul and place him among the saints. His [Sidenote: 1690.] lordship
would never have imagined such self-consideration as supporting a
westland Whig on the ladder in the Grassmarket.[49] The conviction
doubtless made him the more resolute in acting as ‘the prompter of the
executioner to increase the torture to so high a pitch’—his own
expression regarding his official connection with the affair. It is
curious that none ever justly apprehend, or will admit, the martyrdoms
of an opposite religious party. Always it is obstinacy, vanity,
selfishness, or because they have no choice. Sufferings for conscience’
sake are only acknowledged where one’s own views are concerned. It must
be admitted as something of a deduction from the value of martyrdom in
general.

We after this hear of Payne being in a pitiable frame of body under
close confinement in Edinburgh Castle, no one being allowed to have
access to him but his medical attendants. For a little time there was a
disposition to give him the benefit of the rule of the Claim of Rights
regarding imprisonment, and on the 6th January 1691, it was represented
to King William that to keep Payne in prison without trial was ‘contrare
to law.’ Nevertheless, and notwithstanding repeated demands for trial
and petitions for mercy on his part, Neville Payne was kept in durance
more or less severe for year after year, until _ten_ had elapsed! During
this time, he became acquainted with the principal state-prisons of
Scotland, including the Edinburgh Tolbooth.

At length, on the 4th of February 1701, the wretched man sent a petition
to the Privy Council, shewing ‘that more than ten years’ miserable
imprisonment had brought [him] to old age and extreme poverty,
accompanied with frequent sickness and many other afflictions that are
the constant attendants of both.’ He protested his being all along
wholly unconscious of any guilt. He was then ordered to be liberated,
without the security for reappearance which was customary in such
cases.[50]


[Sidenote: 1691. JAN.]

Scotland is sometimes alluded to in the south, with an imperfect kind of
approbation, as an excessively strait-laced country; but if our
neighbours were to consult the records of the General Assembly
[Sidenote: 1691.] on the subject, they would find it powerfully defended
from all such charges. An act was passed by that venerable body for a
national fast to be held on the second Thursday of this month, and the
reasons stated for the pious observance are certainly of a kind to leave
the most free-living Englishman but little room for reproach. It is
said: ‘There hath been a great neglect of the worship of God in public,
but especially in families and in secret. The wonted care of sanctifying
the Lord’s day is gone ... cities full of violence ... so that blood
touched blood. Yea, Sodom’s sins have abounded amongst us, pride,
fulness of blood, idleness, vanities of apparel, and shameful
sensuality.’ Even now, it is said, ‘few are turned to the Lord; the
wicked go on doing wickedly, and there is found among us to this day
shameful ingratitude for our mercies [and] horrid impenitency under our
sins.... There is a great contempt of the gospel, and great barrenness
under it ... great want of piety towards God and love towards man, with
a woful selfishness, every one seeking their own things, few the public
good or ane other’s welfare.’

The document concludes with one noble stroke of, shall we say,
self-portraiture?—‘the most part more ready to censure the sins of
others, than to repent of their own.’[51]


[Sidenote: JAN. 20.]

John Adair, mathematician, had been proceeding for some years, under
government patronage and pay, in his task of constructing maps of the
counties of Scotland, ‘expressing therein the seats or houses of the
nobility and gentry, the most considerable rivers, waters, lochs, bays,
firths, roads, woods, mountains, royal burghs, and other considerable
towns of each shire’—a work ‘honourable, useful, and necessary for
navigation.’ He was now hindered in his task, as he himself expressed
the matter, ‘by the envy, malice, and oppression of Sir Robert Sibbald,
Doctor of Medicine, who, upon pretence of a private paction and
contract, extorted through the power he pretended, took the petitioner
[Adair] bound not to survey any shire or pairt thereof without Sir
Robert his special advice and consent, and that he should not give
copies of these maps to any other person without Sir Robert his special
permission, under a severe penalty.’

The Lords of the Privy Council, on Adair’s petition, were at no loss to
see how unjust the Jacobite Sir Robert’s proceedings [Sidenote: 1691.]
were towards the nation, which, by parliamentary grant, was paying Adair
for his work. They therefore ordered the hydrographer to go on with his
work, notwithstanding Sibbald’s opposition, ordering the latter to
deliver up the contract on which it rested.

Sir Robert Sibbald afterwards reclaimed against the award of the Privy
Council, setting forth a great array of rights connected with the case;
but he spoke from the wrong side of the hedge, and his claim was
refused.[52]


[Sidenote: JAN. 21.]

Captain Burnet of Barns was now recruiting in Edinburgh for a regiment
in Holland. As the service was so much to be approved of, it was the
less important to be scrupulous about the means of promoting it. A
fatherless boy of fourteen, named George Miller, was taken up to
Burnet’s chamber, and there induced to accept a piece of money of the
value of fourteen shillings Scots, which made him a soldier in the
captain’s regiment. He seems to have immediately expressed unwillingness
to be a soldier; but the captain caused him instantly to be dragged to
the Canongate Tolbooth, and there kept in confinement. Some friend put
in a petition for him to the Privy Council, setting forth that he had
been trepanned, and ‘had no inclination to be a soldier, but to follow
his learning, and thereafter other virtuous employments for his
subsistence.’ It was even hinted that the boy’s father, Robert Miller,
apothecary in Edinburgh, had been ‘a great sufferer in the late times.’
All was in vain; two persons having given evidence that the boy had
‘taken on willingly’ with Captain Burnet, the Council ordained him to be
delivered to that gentleman, ‘that he may go alongst with him to Holland
in the said service.’

Burnet’s style of recruiting was by no means a singularity. A few days
after the above date, as John Brangen, servant to Mr John Sleigh,
merchant in Haddington, was going on a message to a writer’s chamber in
Edinburgh with his master’s cloak over his arm, he was seized by
Sergeant Douglas, of Douglas of Kelhead’s company, carried to the
Canongate Tolbooth, and thence hurried like a malefactor on board a ship
in the road of Leith bound for Flanders. This man, though called
servant, was properly clerk and shopman to his master, who accordingly
felt deeply aggrieved by his abduction. At the same time, Christian
Wauchope [Sidenote: 1691.] petitioned for the release of her husband,
William Murdoch, who had been ‘innocently seized’ and carried off eight
days ago by Captain Douglas’s men, ‘albeit he had never made any paction
with them;’ ‘whereby the petitioner and her poor children will be
utterly starved.’ Even the town-piper of Musselburgh, James Waugh by
name, while playing at the head of the troop, and thinking of no harm,
had been carried off for a soldier. ‘If it was true,’ said his masters
the magistrates, ‘that he had taken money from the officers, it must
have been through the ignorance and inadvertency of the poor man,
thinking it was given him for his playing as a piper.’ He had, they
continued, been ‘injuriously used in the affair by sinistrous designs
and contrair to that liberty and freedom which all peaceable subjects
ought to enjoy under the protection of authority.’

The government seems to have felt so far the necessity of acting up to
their professions as the destroyers of tyranny that, in these and a few
other cases, they ordered the liberation of the prisoners.

A few months later, occurred a private case in which something very like
manstealing was committed by one of the parties in connection with this
unscrupulous recruiting system.

[Sidenote: AUG.]

Robert Wilson, son of Andrew Wilson in Kelso, was servant to Mrs
Clerkson, a widow, at Damhead (near Edinburgh?). On finding that his
mistress was about to take a second husband, he raised a scandal against
her, in which his own moral character was concerned, and she immediately
appealed for redress to Master David Williamson, minister of St
Cuthbert’s parish. Two elders came to inquire into the matter—Wilson
evaded them, and could not be found. Then she applied for, and obtained
a warrant from a justice of peace to apprehend Wilson, who now took to
hiding. Four friends of hers, James Bruntain, farmer at Craig Lockhart;
David Rainie, brewer in Portsburgh; James Porteous, gardener at
Saughton; and James Borthwick, weaver at Burrowmuirhead, accompanied by
George Macfarlane, one of the town-officers of Edinburgh, came in search
of Wilson, and finding him sleeping in the house of William Bell, smith
in Merchiston, dragged him from bed, and in no gentle manner hurried him
off to Macfarlane’s house, where they kept him _tanquam in privato
carcere_ for twenty-four hours. On his pleading for permission to go to
the door for but a minute, swords were drawn, and he was threatened with
instant death, if he offered to stir. Professedly, they were to take him
before the justices; but a better conclusion to the adventure occurred
to them. Captain Hepburn, an officer [Sidenote: 1691.] about to sail
with his corps to Holland, was introduced to the terror-stricken lad,
who readily agreed to enlist with him, and accepted a dollar as earnest.
Before he quitted the care of his captors, he signed a paper owning the
guilt of raising scandal against his late mistress.

The father of the young man complained before the Privy Council of the
outrage committed on his son, as an open and manifest riot and
oppression, for which a severe punishment ought to be inflicted. He
himself had been ‘bereaved of a son whom he looked upon to be a comfort,
support, and relief to him in his old age.’ On the other hand, the
persons complained of justified their acts as legal and warrantable. The
Lords decided that Robert Wilson had ‘unjustly been kept under
restraint, and violence done to him;’ but the reparation they allowed
was very miserable—a hundred merks to the aggrieved father.[53]


[Sidenote: JAN. 29.]

Nothing, in the former state of the country, is more remarkable in
contrast with the present, than the miserable poverty of the national
exchequer. The meagreness and uncertainty of the finances required for
any public purpose prior to those happy times when a corrupt House of
Commons was ready to vote whatever the minister wanted—the difficulties
consequently attendant upon all administrative movements—it is
impossible for the reader to imagine without going into an infinity of
details. At a time, of course, when Scotland had a revenue of only a
hundred thousand pounds a year, and yet a considerable body of troops to
keep up for the suppression of a discontented portion of the people, the
troubles arising from the lack of money were beyond description. The
most trivial furnishings for the troops and garrisons remained long
unpaid, and became matter of consideration for the Lords of the Privy
Council. A town where a regiment had lain, was usually left in a state
of desolation from unpaid debt, and had to make known its misery in the
same quarter with but small chance of redress; and scores of
state-prisoners in Edinburgh, Blackness, Stirling, and the Bass, were
starving for want of the common necessaries of life.

[Sidenote: 1690.]

On the 18th of April 1690, the inhabitants of Kirkcaldy, Dysart, and
Pathhead complained to the Privy Council, that for ten weeks of this
year they had had Colonel Cunningham’s regiment quartered amongst them.
The soldiers, ‘having nothing [Sidenote: 1690.] to maintain themselves,
were maintained and furnished in meat and drink, besides all other
necessars, by the petitioners,’ who, ‘being for the most part poor and
mean tradesmen, seamen, and workmen, besides many indigent widows and
orphans,’ were thus ‘reduced to that extreme necessity as to sell and
dispose of their household plenishing, after their own bread and
anything else they had was consumed for maintenance of the soldiers.’
They regarded the regiment as in their debt to the extent of £336, 6_s._
sterling, of which sum they craved payment, ‘that they might not be
utterly ruined, and they and their families perish for want of bread.’
Payment was ordered, but when, or whether at all, it was paid, we cannot
tell.

Another case of this nature, going far to justify the jokes indulged in
by the English regarding the contemporary poverty of Scotland, occurs in
the ensuing August, when the Council took up the case of James Wilkie of
Portsburgh (a suburb of Edinburgh), complaining that the soldiers of
three regiments lately quartered there, had gone away indebted to him
for meat and drink to the extent of seventeen pounds Scots (£1, 8_s._
4_d._). ‘Seeing the petitioner is very mean and poor, and not in a
capacity to want that small sum, having nothing to live by but the trust
of selling a tree of ale, his credit would be utterly broke for want
thereof, unless the Council provide a remeed.’ The Council ordained that
the commanders of the regiments should see the petitioner satisfied by
their soldiers.

In January 1691, the Council is found meditating on means for the
satisfaction of James Hamilton, innkeeper, Leith, who had sent in
accounts against officers of Colonel Cunningham’s regiment for board and
lodging, amounting to such sums as eight pounds each. At the same time,
it had to treat regarding shoemakers’ accounts owing by the same
officers, to the amount of two and three pounds each. Even Ensign
Houston’s hotel-bill for ‘thretteen shillings’ is gravely deliberated
on. And all these little bills were duly recommended to the lords of
their majesties’ treasury, in hopes they might be paid out of ‘the three
months’ cess and hearth money.’[54]

That such small bills, however, might infer a considerable amount of
entertainment, would appear by no means unlikely, if we could believe a
statement of Mr Burt, that General Mackay himself was accustomed, during
his commandership in Scotland, [Sidenote: 1690.] to dine at
public-houses, ‘where he was served with great variety, and paid only
two shillings and sixpence Scots—that is, twopence half-penny—for his
ordinary.’[55] The fact has been doubted; but I can state as certain,
that George Watson, the founder of the hospital in Edinburgh, when a
young man residing in Leith, about 1680, used to dine at a tavern for
fourpence. Even in the middle of the eighteenth century, Mr Colquhoun
Grant, writer to the Signet, and a friend who associated with him, dined
every day in a tavern in the Lawnmarket, for ‘twa groats the piece,’ as
they used to express it.

Amongst other claims on which the Council had to deliberate, was a very
pitiable one from Mr David Muir, surgeon at Stirling. When General
Mackay retreated to that town from ‘the ruffle at Killiecrankie,’[56]
Muir had taken charge of the sick and wounded of the government troops,
‘there being none of their own chirurgeons present,’ He ‘did several
times send to Edinburgh for droggs and other necessaries,’ and was
‘necessitat to buy a considerable quantity of claret wine for bathing
and fomenting of their wounds.’ His professional efforts had been
successful; but as yet—after the lapse of eighteen months—he had
received no remuneration; neither had he been paid for the articles he
had purchased for the men; at the same time, the salary due to him, of
ten pounds a year as chirurgeon of the castle, was now more than two
years in arrear. It was the greater hardship, as those who had furnished
the drugs and other articles were pressing him for the debt, ‘for which
he is like to be pursued.’ Moreover, he protested, as something
necessary to support a claim of debt against the state, that ‘he has
been always for advancing of his majesty’s interest, and well affected
to their majesties’ government.’

The Council, in this case too, could only recommend the accounts to the
lords of the treasury.[57]

[Sidenote: 1691. MAR. 8.]

Sinclair of Mey, and a friend of his named James Sinclair, writer in
Edinburgh, were lodging in the house of John Brown, vintner, in the
Kirkgate of Leith, when, at a late hour, the Master of Tarbat and Ensign
Andrew Mowat came to join the party. The Master, who was eldest son of
the Viscount Tarbat, a statesman of no mean note, was nearly related to
Sinclair of Mey. There was no harm meant by any one that night in the
hostelry of John Brown; but before midnight, the floor was reddened with
slaughter.

The Master and his friend Mowat, who are described on the occasion as
excited by liquor, but not beyond self-control, were sitting in the hall
drinking a little ale, while beds were getting ready for them. A girl
named Jean Thomson, who had brought the ale, was asked by the Master to
sit down beside him, but escaped to her own room, and bolted herself in.
He, running in pursuit of her, blunderingly went into a room occupied by
a Frenchman named George Poiret, who was quietly sleeping there. An
altercation took place between Poiret and the Master, and Mowat, hearing
the noise, came to see what was the matter. The Frenchman had drawn his
sword, which the two gentlemen wrenched out of his hand. A servant of
the house, named Christian Erskine, had now also arrived at the scene of
strife, besides a gentleman who was not afterwards identified. At the
woman’s urgent request, Mowat took away the Master and the other
gentleman, the latter carrying the Frenchman’s sword. There might have
now been an end to this little brawl, if the Master had not deemed it
his duty to go back to the Frenchman’s room to beg his pardon. The
Frenchman, finding a new disturbance at his door, which he had bolted,
seems to have lost patience. He knocked on the ceiling of his room with
the fire-tongs, to awaken two brothers, Elias Poiret, styled Le Sieur de
la Roche, and Isaac Poiret, who were sleeping there, and to bring them
to his assistance.

These two gentlemen presently came down armed with swords and pistols,
and spoke to their defenceless and excited brother at [Sidenote: 1691.]
his door. Presently there was a hostile collision between them and the
Master and Mowat in the hall. Jean Thomson roused her master to come and
interfere for the preservation of the peace; but he came too late. The
Master and Mowat were not seen making any assault; but a shot was heard,
and, in a few minutes, it was found that the Sieur de la Roche lay dead
with a swordwound through his body, while Isaac had one of his fingers
nearly cut off. A servant now brought the guard, by whom Mowat was soon
after discovered hiding under an outer stair, with a bent sword in his
hand, bloody from point to hilt, his hand wounded, and the sleeves of
his coat also stained with blood. On being brought where the dead man
lay, he viewed the body without apparent emotion, merely remarking he
wondered who had done it.

The Master, Mowat, and James Sinclair, writer, were tried for the murder
of Elias Poiret; but the jury found none of the imputed crimes proven.
The whole affair can, indeed, only be regarded as an unfortunate scuffle
arising from intemperance, and in which sudden anger caused weapons to
be used where a few gentle and reasonable words might have quickly
re-established peace and good-fellowship.[59]

The three Frenchmen concerned in this affair were Protestant refugees,
serving in the king’s Scottish guards. The Master of Tarbat in due time
succeeded his father as Earl of Cromarty, and survived the slaughter of
Poiret forty years. He was the father of the third and last Earl of
Cromarty, so nearly brought to Tower-hill in 1746, for his concern in
the rebellion of the preceding year, and who on that account lost the
family titles and estates.


[Sidenote: APR.]

Down to this time, it was still customary for gentlemen to go armed with
walking-swords. On the borders of the Highlands, dirks and pistols seem
to have not unfrequently been added. Accordingly, when a quarrel
happened, bloodshed was very likely to take place. At this time we have
the particulars of such a quarrel, serving to mark strongly the
improvements effected by modern civilisation.

Some time in August 1690, a young man named William Edmondstone,
described as apprentice to Charles Row, writer to the Signet, having
occasion to travel to Alloa, called on his master’s brother, William Row
of Inverallan in passing, and had an interview [Sidenote: 1691.] with
him at a public-house in the hamlet of Bridge of Allan. According to a
statement from him, not proved, but which it is almost necessary to
believe in order to account for subsequent events, Inverallan treated
him kindly to his face, but broke out upon him afterwards to a friend,
using the words rascal and knave, and other offensive expressions. The
same unproved statement goes on to relate how Edmondstone and two
friends of his, named Stewart and Mitchell, went afterwards to inquire
into Inverallan’s reasons for such conduct, and were violently attacked
by him with a sword, and two of them wounded.

The proved counter-statement of Inverallan is to the effect that
Edmondstone, Stewart, and Mitchell tried, on the 21st of April 1691, to
waylay him, with murderous intent, as he was passing between Dumblane
and his lands near Stirling. Having by chance evaded them, he was in a
public-house at the Bridge of Allan, when his three enemies unexpectedly
came in, armed as they were with swords, dirks, and pistols, and began
to use despiteful expressions towards him. ‘He being all alone, and
having no arms but his ordinary walking-sword, did rise up in a
peaceable manner, of design to have retired and gone home to his own
house.’ As he was going out at the door, William Edmondstone insolently
called to him to come and fight him, a challenge which he disregarded.
They then followed him out, and commenced an assault upon him with their
swords, Mitchell, moreover, snapping a pistol at him, and afterwards
beating him over the head with the but-end. He was barely able to
protect his life with his sword, till some women came, and drew away the
assailants.

A few days after, the same persons came with seven or eight other
‘godless and graceless persons’ to the lands of Inverallan, proclaiming
their design to burn and destroy the tenants’ houses and take the
laird’s life, and to all appearance would have effected their purpose,
but for the protection of a military party from Stirling.

For these violences, Edmondstone and Mitchell were fined in five hundred
merks, and obliged to give large caution for their keeping the
peace.[60]


[Sidenote: JUNE 25.]

Upon petition, Sir James Don of Newton, knight-baronet, with his lady
and her niece, and a groom and footman, were permitted [Sidenote: 1691.]
‘to travel with their horses and arms from Scotland to Scairsburgh Wells
in England, and to return again, without trouble or molestation, they
always behaving themselves as becometh.’[61]

This is but a single example of the difficulties attending personal
movements in Scotland for some time after the Revolution. Owing to the
fears for conspiracy, the government allowed no persons of eminence to
travel to any considerable distance without formal permission.


[Sidenote: JULY 8.]

An act, passed this day in the Convention of Royal Burghs for a
commission to visit the burghs as to their trade, exempted Kirkwall,
Wick, Inverary, and Rothesay, _on account of the difficulty of access to
these places_!

The records of this ancient court present many curious details. A
tax-roll of July 1692, adjusting the proportions of the burghs in making
up each £100 Scots of their annual expenditure on public objects,
reveals to us the comparative populousness and wealth of the principal
Scottish towns at that time. For Edinburgh, it is nearly a third of the
whole, £32, 6_s._ 8_d._; for Glasgow, less than a half of Edinburgh,
£15; Perth, £3; Dundee, £4, 13_s._ 4_d._; Aberdeen, £6; Stirling, £1,
8_s._; Linlithgow, £1, 6_s._; Kirkcaldy, £2, 8_s._; Montrose, £2;
Dumfries, £1, 18_s._ 4_d._; Inverness, £1, 10_s._; Ayr, £1, 1_s._ 4_d._;
Haddington, £1, 12_s._

All the rest pay something less than one pound. In 1694, Inverary is
found petitioning for ‘ease’ from the four shillings Scots imposed upon
them in the tax-roll, as ‘they are not in a condition by their poverty
and want of trade to pay any pairt thereof.’ The annual outlay of the
Convention was at this time about £6000 Scots. Hence the total impost on
Inverary would be £240, or twenty pounds sterling. For the ‘ease’ of
this primitive little Highland burgh, its proportion was reduced to a
fourth.

The burghs used to have very curious arrangements amongst themselves:
thus, the statute Ell was kept in Edinburgh; Linlithgow had charge of
the standard Firlot; Lanark of the Stoneweight; while the regulation
_Pint-stoup_ was confided to Stirling. A special measure for coal, for
service in the customs, was the _Chalder of Culross_. The burgh of
Peebles had, from old time, the privilege of seizing ‘all light weights,
short ellwands, and [Sidenote: 1691.] other insufficient goods, in all
the fairs and mercats within the shire of Teviotdale.’ They complained,
in 1696, of the Earl of Traquair having interfered with their rights,
and a committee was appointed to deal with his lordship on the
subject.[62]

To these notices it may be added that the northern burgh of Dingwall,
which is now a handsome thriving town, was reduced to so great poverty
in 1704 as not to be able to send a commissioner to the Convention.
‘There was two shillings Scots of the ten pounds then divided amongst
the burghs, added to the shilling we used formerly to be in the taxt
roll [that is, in addition to the one shilling Scots we formerly used to
pay on every hundred pounds Scots raised for general purposes, we had to
pay two shillings Scots of the new taxation of ten pounds then assessed
upon the burghs], the stenting whereof was so heavy upon the
inhabitants, that a great many of them have deserted the town, which is
almost turned desolate, as is weel known to all our neighbours; and
there is hardly anything to be seen but the ruins of old houses, and the
few inhabitants that are left, having now no manner of trade, live only
by labouring the neighbouring lands, and our inhabitants are still daily
deserting us.’ Such was the account the town gave of itself in a
petition to the Convention of Burghs in 1724.[63]

Though Dingwall is only twenty-one and a half miles to the northward of
Inverness, so little travelling was there in those days, that scarcely
anything was known by the one place regarding the other. It is at this
day a subject of jocose allusion at Inverness, that they at one time
sent a deputation to _see_ Dingwall, and inquire about it, as a person
in comfortable circumstances might send to ask after a poor person in a
neighbouring alley. Such a proceeding actually took place in 1733, and
the report brought back was to the effect, that Dingwall had no trade,
though ‘there were one or two inclined to carry on trade if they had a
harbour;’ that the place had _no prison_; and for want of a bridge
across an adjacent lake, the people were kept from both kirk and
market.[64]


[Sidenote: JULY 23.]

Licence was granted by the Privy Council to Dr Andrew Brown to print,
and have sole right of printing, a treatise he had written, entitled _A
Vindicatorie Schedule about the New Cure of Fevers_.[65]

[Sidenote: 1691.]

This Dr Andrew Brown, commonly called _Dolphington_, from his estate in
Lanarkshire, was an Edinburgh physician, eminent in practice, and
additionally notable for the effort he made in the above-mentioned work
to introduce Sydenham’s treatment of fevers—that is, to use antimonial
emetics in the first stage of the disorder. ‘This book and its author’s
energetic advocacy of its principles by his other writings and by his
practice, gave rise to a fierce controversy, and in the library of the
Edinburgh College of Physicians there is a stout shabby little volume of
pamphlets on both sides—“Replies” and “Short Answers,” and
“Refutations,” and “Surveys,” and “Looking-glasses,” “Defences,”
“Letters,” “Epilogues,” &c., lively and furious once, but now resting as
quietly together as their authors are in the Old Greyfriars’ Churchyard,
having long ceased from troubling. There is much curious, rude,
hard-headed, bad-Englished stuff in them, with their wretched paper and
print, and general ugliness; much also to make us thankful that we are
in our own _now_, not their _then_. Such tearing away, with strenuous
logic and good learning, at mere clouds and shadows, with occasional
lucid intervals of sense, observation, and wit!’[66]

Dolphington states in his book that he visited Dr Sydenham in London, to
study his system under him, in 1687, and presently after returning to
Edinburgh, introduced the practice concerning fevers, with such success,
that of many cases none but one had remained uncured.

Some idea of an amateur unlicensed medical practice at this time may be
obtained from a small book which had a great circulation in Scotland in
the early part of the eighteenth century. It used to be commonly called
_Tippermallochs Receipts_, being the production of ‘the Famous John
Moncrieff of Tippermalloch’ in Strathearn, ‘a worthy and ingenious
gentleman,’ as the preface describes him, whose ‘extraordinary skill in
physic and successful and beneficial practice therein’ were so well
known, ‘that few readers, in this country at least, can be supposed
ignorant thereof.’[67]

When a modern man glances over the pages of this dusky [Sidenote: 1691.]
ill-printed little volume, he is at a loss to believe that it ever could
have been the medical _vade-mecum_ of respectable families, as we are
assured it was. It has a classification of diseases under the parts of
the human system, the head, the breast, the stomach, &c., presenting
under each a mere list of cures, with scarcely ever a remark on special
conditions, or even a tolerable indication of the quantity of any
medicine to be used. The therapeutics of Tippermalloch include simples
which are now never heard of in medicine, and may be divided into things
capable of affecting the human system, and things of purely imaginary
efficacy, a large portion of both kinds being articles of such a
disgusting character as could not but have doubled the pain and hardship
of all ailments in which they were exhibited. For cold distemper of the
brain, for instance, we have snails, bruised in their shells, to be
applied to the forehead; and for pestilential fever, a cataplasm of the
same stuff to be laid on the soles of the feet. Paralysis calls for the
parts being anointed with ‘convenient ointments’ of (among other things)
earthworms. For decay of the hair, mortals are enjoined to ‘make a lee
of the burnt ashes of dove’s dung, and wash the head;’ but ‘ashes of
little frogs’ will do as well. Yellow hair, formerly a desired
peculiarity, was to be secured by a wash composed of the ashes of the
ivy-tree, and a fair complexion by ‘the distilled water of snails.’ To
make the whole face well coloured, you are coolly recommended to apply
to it ‘the liver of a sheep fresh and hot.’ ‘Burn the whole skin of a
hare with the ears and nails: the powder thereof, being given hot,
cureth the lethargy perfectly.’ ‘Powder of a man’s bones burnt, chiefly
of the skull that is found in the earth, cureth the epilepsy: the bones
of a man cure a man; the bones of a woman cure a woman.’ The excreta of
various animals figure largely in Tippermalloch’s pharmacopœia, even to
a bath of a certain kind for iliac passion: ‘this,’ says he,
‘marvellously expelleth wind.’ It is impossible, however, to give any
adequate idea of the horrible things adverted to by the sage Moncrieff,
either in respect of diseases or their cures. All I will say further on
this matter is, that if there be any one who thinks modern delicacy a
bad exchange for the plain-spokenness of our forefathers, let him glance
at the pages of John Moncrieff of Tippermalloch, and a change of opinion
is certain.

In the department of purely illusive recipes, we have for wakefulness or
_coma_, ‘living creatures applied to the head to dissolve the humour;’
for mania, amulets to be worn about the neck; and a girdle of wolf’s
skin certified as a complete preventive of [Sidenote: 1691.] epilepsy.
We are told that ‘ants’ eggs mixed with the juice of an onion, dropped
into the ear, do cure the oldest deafness,’ and that ‘the blood of a
wild goat given to ten drops of carduus-water doth powerfully discuss
the pleurisy.’ It is indicated under measles, that ‘many keep an ewe or
wedder in their chamber or on the bed, because these creatures are
easily infected, and draw the venom to themselves, by which means some
ease may happen to the sick person.’ In like manner, for colic a live
duck, frog, or sucking-dog applied to the part, ‘draweth all the evil to
itself, and dieth.’ The twenty-first article recommended for bleeding at
the nose is hare’s hair and vinegar stuffed in; ‘I myself know this to
be the best of anything known.’ He is equally sure that the flowing
blood of a wound may be repelled by the blood of a cow put into the
wound, or by carrying a jasper in the hand; while for a depraved
appetite nothing is required but the stone _ætites_ bound to the arm.
_Sed jam satis._

In _Analecta Scotica_ is to be found a dream about battles and
ambassadors by Sir J. Moncrieff of Tippermalloch, who at his death in
1714, when eighty-six years of age, believed it was just about to be
fulfilled. The writer, who signs himself William Moncrieff, and dates
from Perth, says of Tippermalloch: ‘The gentleman was, by all who knew
him, esteemed to be eminently pious. He spent much of his time in
reading the Scripture—his delight was in the law of the Lord. The
character of the blessed man did belong to him, for in that he did
meditate day and night, and his conversation was suitable thereto—his
leaf did not wither—he was fat and flourishing in his old age.’[68]


[Sidenote: AUG. 11.]

Dame Mary Norvill, widow of Sir David Falconer, president of the Court
of Session, and now wife of John Home of Ninewells, was obliged to
petition the Privy Council for maintenance to her children by her first
husband, their uncle, the Laird of Glenfarquhar, having failed to make
any right arrangement in their behalf. From what the lords ordained, we
get an idea of the sums then considered as proper allowances for the
support and education of a set of children of good fortune. David, the
eldest son, ten years of age, heir to his father’s estate of 12,565
merks (about £698 sterling) per annum, over and above the widow’s
jointure, was to be allowed ‘for bed and board, clothing, and other
necessaries, and for educating him at schools and colleges as becomes
[Sidenote: 1691.] his quality, with a pedagogue and a boy to attend him,
the sum of a thousand merks yearly (£55, 11_s._ 1⅓_d._ sterling).’ To
Mistress Margaret, twelve and a half years old, whose portion is twelve
thousand merks, they assigned an aliment for ‘bed and board, clothing,
and other necessaries, and for her education at schools and otherwise as
becomes her quality,’ five hundred merks per annum (£27, 15_s._ 6½_d._
sterling). Mistress Mary, the second daughter, eleven years of age, with
a portion of ten thousand merks, was allowed for ‘aliment and education’
four hundred and fifty merks. For Alexander, the second son, nine years
of age, with a provision of fifteen thousand merks, there was allowed,
annually, six hundred merks. Mistress Katherine, the third daughter,
eight years of age, and Mistress Elizabeth, seven years of age, with
portions of eight thousand merks each, were ordained each an annual
allowance of three hundred and sixty merks. George, the third son, six
years old, with a provision of ten thousand merks, was to have four
hundred merks per annum. These payments to be made to John Home and his
lady, while the children should dwell with them.[69]

‘Mistress Katherine’ became the wife of Mr Home’s son Joseph, and in
1711 gave birth to the celebrated philosopher, David Hume. Her brother
succeeded a collateral relative as Lord Falconer of Halkerton, and was
the lineal ancestor of the present Earl of Kintore. It is rather
remarkable that the great philosopher’s connection with nobility has
been in a manner overlooked by his biographers.

That the sums paid for the young Falconers, mean as they now appear,
were in accordance with the ideas of the age, appears from other
examples. Of these, two may be adduced:

The Laird of Langton, ‘who had gotten himself served tutor-of-law’ to
two young persons named Cockburn, fell about this time into ‘ill
circumstances.’ There then survived but one of his wards—a girl named
Ann Cockburn—and it appeared proper to her uncle, Lord Crossrig, that
she should not be allowed to stay with a broken man. He accordingly,
though with some difficulty, and at some expense, got the tutory
transferred to himself. ‘When Ann Cockburn,’ he says, ‘came to my house,
I did within a short time put her to Mrs Shiens, mistress of manners,
where she was, as I remember, about two years, at £5 sterling in the
quarter, besides presents. Thereafter she [Sidenote: 1691.] stayed with
me some years, and then she was boarded with the Lady Harvieston, then
after with Wallyford, where she still is, at £3 sterling per
quarter.’[70]

In 1700, the Laird of Kilravock, in Nairnshire, paid an account to
Elizabeth Straiton, Edinburgh, for a quarter’s education to his daughter
Margaret Rose; including, for board, £60; dancing, £14, 10_s._; ‘singing
and playing and virginalls,’ £11, 12_s._; writing, £6; ‘satin seame,’
£6; a set of wax-fruits, £6; and a ‘looking-glass that she broke,’ £4,
16_s._; all Scots money.[71]

It thus appears that both Mrs Shiens and Mrs Straiton charged only £5
sterling per quarter for a young lady’s board.

The subject is further illustrated by the provision made by the Privy
Council, in March 1695, for the widowed Viscountess of Arbuthnot (Anne,
daughter of the Earl of Sutherland), who had been left with seven
children all under age, and whose husband’s testament had been
‘reduced.’ In her petition, the viscountess represented that the estate
was twenty-four thousand merks per annum (£1333 sterling). ‘My lord,
being now eight years of age, has a governor and a servant; her two
eldest daughters, the one being eleven, and the other ten years of age,
and capable of all manner of schooling, they must have at least one
servant; as for the youngest son and three youngest daughters, they are
yet within the years of seven, so each of them must have a woman to wait
upon them.’ Lady Arbuthnot was provided with a jointure of twenty-five
chalders of victual; and as her jointure-house was ruinous, she desired
leave to occupy the family mansion of Arbuthnot House, which her son was
not himself of an age to possess.

The Lords, having inquired into and considered the relative
circumstances, ordained that two thousand pounds Scots (£166, 13_s._
4_d._ sterling) should be paid to Lady Arbuthnot out of the estate for
the maintenance of her children, including the young lord.

The lady soon after dying, the earl her father came in her place as
keeper of the children at the same allowance.[72]


[Sidenote: DEC.]

The Quakers residing at Glasgow gave in to the Privy Council a
representation of the treatment they received at the hands of their
neighbours. It was set forth, that the severe dealings with [Sidenote:
1691.] the consciences of men under the late government had brought
about a revolution, and some very tragical doings. Now, when at last the
people had wrestled out from beneath their grievances, ‘it was matter of
surprise that those who had complained most thereupon should now be
found acting the parts of their own persecutors against the petitioners
[the Quakers].’ It were too tedious to detail ‘what they have suffered
since the change of the government, through all parts of the nation, by
beating, stoning, and other abuses,’ In Glasgow, however, ‘their usage
had been liker French dragoons’ usage, and furious rabbling, than
anything that dare own the title of Christianity.’ Even there they would
have endured in silence ‘the beating, stoning, dragging, and the like
which they received from the rabble,’ were it not that magistrates
connived at and homologated these persecutions, and their continued
silence might seem to justify such doings. They then proceeded to
narrate that, on the 12th of November, ‘being met together in their
hired house for no other end under heaven than to wait upon and worship
their God,’ a company of Presbyterian church elders, ‘attended with the
rude rabble of the town, haled them to James Sloss, bailie, who, for no
other cause than their said meeting, dragged them to prison, where some
of them were kept the space of eight days.’ During that time, undoubted
bail was offered for them, but refused, ‘unless they should give it
under their hand [that] they should never meet again there.’ At the same
time, their meeting-house had been plundered, and even yet the
restoration of their seats was refused. ‘This using of men that are free
lieges would, in the case of others, be thought a very great riot,’ &c.

The feeling of the supreme administrative body in Scotland on this set
of occurrences, is chiefly marked by what they did not do. They
recommended to the Glasgow magistrates that, if any forms had been taken
away from the Quakers, they should be given back![73]

There were no bounds to the horror with which sincere Presbyterians
regarded Quakerism in those days. Even in their limited capacity as
disowners of all church-politics, they were thought to be most
unchristian. Patrick Walker gravely relates an anecdote of the
seer-preacher, Peden, which powerfully proves this feeling. This person,
being in Ireland, was indebted one night to a Quaker for lodging.
Accompanying his host to the meeting, Peden [Sidenote: 1691.] observed a
raven come down from the ceiling, and perch itself, to appearance, on a
particular person’s head, who presently began to speak with great
vehemence. From one man’s head, the appearance passed to another’s, and
thence to a third. Peden told the man: ‘I always thought there was
devilry amongst you, but I never thought he appeared visibly to you; but
now I see it.’ The incident led to the conversion of the Quaker unto
orthodox Christianity.[74]

On the 5th of April 1694, there was a petition to the Privy Council from
a man named James Macrae, professing to be a Quaker, setting forth that
he had been pressed as a soldier, but could not fight, as it was
contrary to his principles and conscience; wherefore, if carried to the
wars, he could only be miserable in himself, while useless to others. He
was ordered to be liberated, provided he should leave a substitute in
his place.[75]

It would have been interesting to see a contemporary Glasgow opinion on
this case.


[Sidenote: 1692.]

Irregularities of the affections were not now punished with the furious
severity which, in the reign of Charles I., ordained beheading to a
tailor in Currie for wedding his _first wife’s half-brother’s
daughter_.[76] But they were still visited with penalties much beyond
what would now be thought fitting. For example, a woman of evil repute,
named Margaret Paterson, having drawn aside from virtue two very young
men, James and David Kennedy, sons of a late minister of the Trinity
College Church, was adjudged to stand an hour in the jougs at the Tron,
and then to be scourged from the Castle Hill to the Netherbow, after
which a life of exile in the plantations was her portion. The two young
men, having been bailed by their uncle, under assurance for five
thousand merks, the entire amount of their patrimony, broke their bail
rather than stand trial with their associate in guilt. There was
afterwards a petition from the uncle setting forth the hardship of the
case, and this was replied to with a recommendation from the lords of
Justiciary to the lords of the treasury for a modification of the
penalty, ‘if their lordships shall think fit.’ In the case of Alison
Beaton, where the co-relative offender was a man who had married her
mother’s sister, the poor woman was condemned to be scourged in like
manner with [Sidenote: 1692.] Paterson, and then transported to the
plantations. It was a superstitious feeling which dictated such
penalties for this class of offences. The true aim of jurisprudence, to
repress disorders which directly affect the interests of others, and
these alone, was yet far from being understood.

In January 1694, there came before the notice of the Court of Justiciary
in Edinburgh, a case of curiously complicated wickedness. Daniel
Nicolson, writer, and a widow named Mrs Pringle, had long carried on an
infamous connection, with little effort at concealment. Out of a bad
spirit towards the unoffending Jean Lands, his wife, Nicolson and
Pringle, or one or other of them, caused to be forged a receipt as from
her to Mr John Elliot, doctor of medicine, for some poison, designing to
raise a charge against her and a sister of hers, of an attempt upon her
husband’s life. The alleged facts were proved to the satisfaction of a
jury, and the court, deeming the adultery aggravated by the forgery,
adjudged the guilty pair to suffer in the Grassmarket—Nicolson by
hanging, and Pringle by ‘having her head severed from her body.’

There were, however, curious discriminations in the judgments of the
Justiciary Court. A Captain Douglas, of Sir William Douglas’s regiment,
assisted by another officer and a corporal of the corps, was found
guilty of a shocking assault upon a serving-maid in Glasgow, in 1697. A
meaner man, or an equally important man opposed to the new government,
would have, beyond a doubt, suffered the last penalty for this offence;
Captain Douglas, being a gentleman, and one engaged in the king’s
service, escaped with a fine of three hundred merks.[77]


[Sidenote: FEB. 13.]

King William felt impatient at the unsubmissiveness of the Jacobite
clans, chiefly Macdonalds of Glengarry, Keppoch, and Glencoe, the Grants
of Glenmoriston, and the Camerons of Locheil, because it caused troops
to be kept in Scotland, which he much wanted for his army in Flanders.
His Scottish ministers, and particularly Sir John Dalrymple, Master of
Stair, the Secretary of State, carried towards those clans feelings of
constantly growing irritation, as latterly the principal obstacle to a
settlement of the country under the new system of things. At length, in
August 1691, the king issued an indemnity, promising pardon to all that
had been in arms against him [Sidenote: 1692.] before the 1st of June
last, provided they should come in any time before the 1st of January
next year, and swear and sign the oath of allegiance.

The letters of Sir John Dalrymple from the court at London during the
remainder of the year, shew that he grudged these terms to the Highland
Jacobites, and would have been happy to find that a refusal of them
justified harsher measures. It never occurred to him that there was
anything but obstinacy, or a hope of immediate assistance from France to
enable them to set up King James again, in their hesitation to swear
that they sincerely in their hearts accepted King William and Queen Mary
as the sovereigns of the land equally by right and in fact. He really
_hoped_ that at least the popish clan of the Macdonalds of Glencoe would
hold out beyond the proper day, so as to enable the government to make
an example of them. It was all the better that the time of grace expired
in the depth of winter, for ‘that,’ said he (letter to Colonel Hamilton,
December 3, 1691), ‘is the proper season to maul them, in the cold long
nights.’ On the 9th of January, under misinformation about their having
submitted, he says: ‘I am sorry that Keppoch and M‘Ian of Glencoe[78]
are safe.’ It was the sigh of a savage at the escape of a long-watched
foe. Still he understood Glengarry, Clanranald, and Glenmoriston to be
holding out, and he gave orders for the troops proceeding against them,
granting them at the utmost the terms of prisoners of war. In the midst
of a letter on the subject, dated the 11th January,[79] he says: ‘Just
now my Lord Argyle tells me that Glencoe hath not taken the oaths; at
which _I rejoice_—it’s a great work of charity to be exact in _rooting
out that damnable sect_, the worst in all the Highlands.’ Delighted with
the intelligence—‘it is very good news here,’ he elsewhere says—he
obtained that very day a letter from the king anent the Highland rebels,
commanding the troops to cut them off ‘_by all manner of hostility_,’
and for this end to proclaim high penalties to all who should give them
assistance or protection. Particular instructions subscribed by the king
followed on the 16th, permitting terms to be offered to Glengarry, whose
house was strong enough to give trouble, but adding: ‘_If M‘Ian of
Glencoe and that tribe can be well separated from the rest, it will be a
proper vindication of the public justice to extirpate that sect of
thieves._’ On the same day, Dalrymple himself wrote to Colonel
[Sidenote: 1692.] Hill, governor of Inverlochy, ‘I shall entreat you
that, for a just vengeance and public example, the thieving tribe of
Glencoe be _rooted out to purpose_. The Earls of Argyle and Breadalbane
have promised they shall have no retreat in their bounds.’ He felt,
however, that it must be ‘quietly done;’ otherwise they would make shift
both for their cattle and themselves. There can be no doubt what he
meant; merely to _harry_ the people, would make them worse thieves than
before—they must be, he elsewhere says, ‘_rooted out and cut off_.’

In reality, the old chief of the Glencoe Macdonalds had sped to
Inverlochy or Fort William before the end of the year, and offered his
oath to the governor there, but, to his dismay, found he had come to the
wrong officer. It was necessary he should go to Inverary, many miles
distant, and there give in his submission to the sheriff. In great
anxiety, the old man toiled his way through the wintry wild to Inverary.
He had to pass within a mile of his own house, yet stopped not to enter
it. After all his exertions, the sheriff being absent for two days after
his arrival, it was not till the 6th of January that his oath was taken
and registered. The register duly went thereafter to the Privy Council
at Edinburgh; but the name of Macdonald of Glencoe was not found in it:
it was afterwards discovered to have been by special pains obliterated,
though still traceable.

Here, then, was that ‘sect of thieves’ _formally_ liable to the
vengeance which the secretary of state meditated against them. The
commander, Livingstone, on the 23d January, wrote to Colonel Hamilton of
Inverlochy garrison to proceed with his work against the Glencoe men. A
detachment of the Earl of Argyle’s regiment—Campbells, hereditary
enemies of the Macdonalds of Glencoe—under the command of Campbell of
Glenlyon, proceeded to the valley, affecting nothing but friendly
intentions, and were hospitably received. Glenlyon himself, as uncle to
the wife of one of the chief’s sons, was hailed as a friend. Each
morning, he called at the humble dwelling of the chief, and took his
morning-draught of usquebaugh. On the evening of the 12th of February,
he played at cards with the chief’s family. The final orders for the
onslaught, written on the 12th at Ballachulish by Major Robert Duncanson
(a Campbell also), were now in Glenlyon’s hands. They bore—‘You are to
put all to the sword under seventy. You are to have a special care that
the old fox and his son do on no account escape your hands. You’re to
secure all avenues, that none escape; this you are to put in execution
at five o’clock [Sidenote: 1692.] precisely, and by that time, or very
shortly after it, I’ll strive to be at you with a stronger party. If I
do not come to you at five, you are not to tarry for me, but to fall
on.’

Glenlyon was but too faithful to his instructions. His soldiers had
their orders the night before. John Macdonald, the chief’s eldest son,
observing an unusual bustle among the soldiers, took an alarm, and
inquired what was meant. Glenlyon soothed his fears with a story about a
movement against Glengarry, and the lad went to bed. Meanwhile, efforts
were making to plant guards at all the outlets of that alpine glen; but
the deep snow on the ground prevented the duty from being fully
accomplished. At five, Lieutenant Lindsay came with his men to the house
of the chief, who, hearing of his arrival, got out of bed to receive
him. He was shot dead as he was dressing himself. Two of his people in
the house shared his fate, and his wife, shamefully treated by the
soldiers, died next day. At another hamlet called Auchnaion, the
tacksman and his family received a volley of shot as they were sitting
by their fireside, and all but one were laid dead or dying on the floor.
The survivor entreated to be killed in the open air, and there succeeded
in making his escape. There were similar scenes at all the other
inhabited places in the glen, and before daylight, thirty-eight persons
had been murdered. The rest of the people, including the chief’s eldest
son, fled to the mountains, where many of them are believed to have
perished. When Colonel Hamilton came at breakfast-time, he found one old
man alive mourning over the bodies of the dead; and this person, though
he might have been even formally exempted as above seventy, was slain on
the spot. The only remaining duty of the soldiers was to burn the houses
and harry the country. This was relentlessly done, two hundred horses,
nine hundred cattle, and many sheep and goats being driven away.

A letter of Dalrymple, dated from London the 5th March, makes us aware
that the Massacre of Glencoe was already making a sensation there. It
was said that the people had been murdered in their beds, after the
chief had made the required submission. The secretary professed to have
known nothing of the last fact, but he was far from regretting the
bloodshed. ‘All I regret is that any of the sect got away.’ When the
particulars became fully known—when it was ascertained that the
Campbells had gone into the glen as friends, and fallen upon the people
when they were in a defenceless state and when all suspicion was lulled
asleep—the transaction assumed the character which it has ever
[Sidenote: 1692.] since borne in the public estimation, as one of the
foulest in modern history.

The Jacobites trumpeted it as an offset against the imputed severities
of the late reigns. Its whole details were given in the French gazettes,
as an example of the paternal government now planted in Britain. The
government was compelled, in self-defence, to order an inquiry into the
affair, and the report presented in 1695 fully brought out the facts as
here detailed, leaving the principal odium to rest with Dalrymple. The
king himself, whose signature follows close below the savage sentence,
‘If M‘Ian of Glencoe,’ &c., did not escape reproach. True it is, that so
far from punishing his secretary, he soon after this report gave him a
full remission, and conferred on him the teinds of the parish in which
lay his principal estates.[80]


[Sidenote: FEB. 16.]

The Privy Council had before them a petition from Lieutenant Brisbane of
Sir Robert Douglas’s regiment, regarding one Archibald Baird, an Irish
refugee, imprisoned at Paisley for housebreaking. The sheriff thought
the probation ‘scrimp’ (scanty), and besides, was convinced that
‘extreme poverty had been a great temptation to him to commit the said
crime.’ Seeing he was, moreover, ‘a proper young man fit for service,’
and ‘willing and forward to go over to Flanders to fight against the
French,’ the sheriff had hitherto delayed to pronounce sentence upon
him. Without any ceremony, the Council ordered that Baird be delivered
to Brisbane, that he might be transported to Flanders as a soldier.

The reader will probably be amused by the sheriff’s process of
ideas—first, that the crime was not proved; and, second, that it had
been committed under extenuating circumstances. The leniency of the
Privy Council towards such a culprit, in ordering him out of the country
as a soldier, is scarcely less characteristic. The truth is, the
exigencies of the government for additional military force were now
greater than ever, so that scruples about methods of recruiting had come
to be scarcely recognisable. Poor people confined in jail on suspicion
of disaffection, were in many instances brought to a purchase of liberty
by taking on as soldiers; criminals, who had pined there for months or
years, half-starved, were glad to take soldiering as their punishment.
Sturdy vagrants [Sidenote: 1692.] were first gathered into the jails for
the offence of begging, and then made to know that, only by taking their
majesties’ pay, could they regain their freedom. But freedom was not to
be instantly gained even in this way. The recruits were kept in jail, as
well as the criminals and the disaffected—little distinction, we may
well believe, observed between them. Not till ready to go on board for
Flanders, were these gallant Britons permitted to breathe the fresh air.

An appearance of regard for the liberty of the subject was indeed kept
up, and on the 23d February 1692, a committee of the Privy Council was
appointed to go to the prisons of Edinburgh and Canongate, and inspect
the recruits kept there, so as to ascertain if there were any who were
unjustly detained against their will. But this was really little more
than an appearance for decency’s sake, the instances of disregard for
individual rights being too numerous even in their own proceedings to
allow any different conclusion being arrived at.[81]


[Sidenote: FEB.]

Two ministers at Dumfries, who had been ‘preachers before prelacy was
abolished,’ gave displeasure to the populace by using the Book of Common
Prayer. On a Sunday, early in this month, a party of about sixteen ‘mean
country persons living about four or five miles from Dumfries, who
disowned both Presbyterian and Episcopal ministers, and acknowledged
none but Mr Houston,’ came and dragged these two clergymen out of the
town, took from each his prayer-book, and gave them a good beating,
after which they were liberated, and allowed to return home. At an early
hour next morning, the same party came into the town and burned one of
the books at the Cross, on which they affixed a placard, containing, we
may presume, a declaration of their sentiments. The Privy Council
indignantly called the provost of Dumfries before them, and while
censuring him for allowing such a riot to take place, enjoined him to
take care ‘that there be no occasions given for the like disorders in
time coming.’ That is to say, the Privy Council did not desire the
Dumfries magistrates to take any measures for preventing the attacks of
‘mean country persons’ upon unoffending clergymen using the forms of
prayer sanctioned in another and connected kingdom not thirty miles
distant, but to see that such clergymen were not allowed to give
provocations of that kind to ‘mean country persons.’

[Sidenote: 1699. MAR.]

Dumfries had at this time another trouble on its hands. Marion Dickson
in Blackshaw, Isobel Dickson in Locherwood, Agnes Dickson (daughter of
Isobel), and Marion Herbertson in Mousewaldbank, had for a long time
been ‘suspected of the abominable and horrid crime of witchcraft,’ and
were believed to have ‘committed many grievous malefices upon several
persons their neighbours and others.’ It was declared to be damnifying
‘to all good men and women living in the country thereabouts, who cannot
assure themselves of safety of their lives by such frequent malefices as
they commit.’

Under these circumstances, James Fraid, John Martin, William Nicolson,
and Thomas Jaffrey in Blackshaw, John Dickson in Slop of Locherwoods,
John Dickson in Locherwoods, and John Dickson in Overton of Locherwoods,
took it upon them to apprehend the women, and carried them to be
imprisoned at Dumfries by the sheriff, which, however, the sheriff did
not consent to till after the six men had granted a bond engaging to
prosecute. Fortified with a certificate from the presbytery of Dumfries,
who were ‘fully convinced of the guilt [of the women] and of the many
malefices committed by them,’ the men applied to the Privy Council for a
commission to try the delinquents.

The Lords ordered the women to be transported to Edinburgh for
trial.[82]


[Sidenote: MAR. 29.]

The government beginning to relax a little the severity it had hitherto
exercised towards captive Jacobites, the Earl of Perth, on a showing of
the injury his health was suffering from long imprisonment in Stirling
Castle, was liberated on a caution for five thousand pounds sterling,
being a sum equal to the annual income of the highest nobles of the
land.

William Livingstone, brother to the Viscount Kilsyth, and husband of
Dundee’s widow, had been a prisoner in the Edinburgh Tolbooth from June
1689 till November 1690—seventeen months—thereafter, had lived in a
chamber in Edinburgh under a sentry for a year—afterwards was allowed to
live in a better lodging, and to go forth for a walk each day, but still
under a guard. In this condition he now continued. The consequence of
his being thus treated, and of his rents being all the time
sequestrated, was a great confusion of his affairs, threatening the
entire ruin of his [Sidenote: 1692.] fortune. On his petition, the
Council now allowed him ‘to go abroad under a sentinel each day from
morning to evening furth of the house of Andrew Smith, periwig-maker, at
the head of Niddry’s Wynd, in Edinburgh, to which he is confined,’ he
finding caution under fifteen hundred pounds sterling to continue a true
prisoner as heretofore; at the same time, the sequestration of his rents
was departed from.

On the 19th April, Mr Livingstone was allowed to visit Kilsyth under a
guard of dragoons, in order to arrange some affairs. But this leniency
was of short duration. We soon after find him again in strict
confinement in Edinburgh Castle; nor was it till September 1693, that,
on an earnest petition setting forth his declining health, he was
allowed to be confined to ‘a chamber in the house of Mistress Lyell, in
the Parliament Close,’ he giving large bail for his peaceable behaviour.
This, again, came to a speedy end, for, being soon after ordered to
re-enter his strait confinement in the Castle, he petitioned to be
allowed the Canongate Jail instead, and was permitted, as something a
shade less wretched than the Castle, to become a prisoner in the
Edinburgh Tolbooth. On the 4th of January 1693, he was again allowed the
room in the Parliament Close, but on the 8th of February this was
exchanged for Stirling Castle. In the course of the first five years of
British liberty, Mr Livingstone must have acquired a tolerably extensive
acquaintance with the various forms and modes of imprisonment, so far as
these existed in the northern section of the island.

Captain John Crighton, once a dragoon in the service of King James, and
whose memoirs were afterwards written from his own information by Swift,
was kept in jail for twenty-one months after June 1689; then for ten
months in a house under a sentinel; since that time in a house, with
permission to get a daily walk; ‘which long imprisonment and restraint
has been very grievous and expensive to the petitioner (Crighton),’ and
‘has redacted him and his small family to a great deal of misery and
want, being a stranger in this kingdom.’ His restraint was likewise
relaxed on his giving caution to the extent of a hundred pounds to
remain a true prisoner.

Soon after arose the alarm of invasion from France, and all the
severities against the suspected Jacobites were renewed. William
Livingstone was, in June, confined once more to his chamber at the
periwig-maker’s, and Captain John Crighton had to return to a similar
restraint. The Earl of Perth, so recently liberated from [Sidenote:
1691.] Stirling Castle, was again placed there. At that time, there were
confined in Edinburgh Castle the Earls of Seaforth and Home, the Lord
Bellenden, and Paterson, Ex-archbishop of Glasgow. In Stirling Castle,
besides Lord Perth, lay his relation, Sir John Drummond of Machany,[83]
and the Viscount Frendraught, the latter having only six hundred merks
per annum (about £34), so that it became of importance that his wife
should be allowed to come in and live with him, instead of requiring a
separate maintenance; to so low a point had civil broils and private
animosities brought this once flourishing family. Neville Payne lay a
wretched prisoner in Edinburgh Castle. Sir Robert Grierson of Lagg was
contracting sore ailments under protracted confinement in the Canongate
Jail. A great number of other men were undergoing their second, and even
their third year of confinement, in mean and filthy tolbooths, where
their health was unavoidably impaired.

On the 2d of June, Crighton gave in a petition reciting that he had been
again put under restraint, and for no just cause, as he had always since
the Revolution been favourable to the new government, and on the
proclamation of the Convention, had deserted his old service in the
Castle, bringing with him thirty-nine soldiers. He was relieved from
close confinement, and ordered to be subjected to trial. On the 10th of
June, he was ordered to be set at liberty, on caution. Less than two
months after, failing to appear on summons, his bond for £100 was
forfeited, and the money, when obtained from his security, to be given
to Adair the geographer.

On the 14th of June 1692, Captain Wallace represented that he had now
been three years a captive, ‘whereby his health is impaired, his body
weakened, and his small fortune entirely ruined.’ ‘Yet hitherto, there
has been no process against him.’ He entreated that he might be
liberated on signing ‘a volunteer banishment,’ and he would ‘never cease
to pray that God may bless the nation with ane lasting peace, of [which]
he would never be a disturber.’ An order for a process against him was
issued.

It was difficult, however, even for the Scottish Privy Council to make a
charge of treason against an officer whose only fault was that, being
appointed by a lawful authority to defend a post, he had performed the
duty assigned to him, albeit at the expense [Sidenote: 1692.] of a few
lives to the rabble which he was commanded to resist. Still, when the
solicitor-general, Lockhart, told them he could not process Captain
Wallace for treason ‘without a special warrant to that effect,’ they
divided on the subject, and the negative was only carried by a
majority.[84]


[Sidenote: APR. 25.]

Happened an affair of private war and violence, supposed to be the last
that took place in the county of Renfrew. John Maxwell of Dargavel had
ever since the Reformation possessed a seat and desk in the kirk of
Erskine, along with a right to bury in the subjacent ground. William
Hamilton of Orbieston, proprietor of the estate of Erskine, disputed the
title of Dargavel to these properties or privileges, and it came to a
high quarrel between the two gentlemen. Finding at length that Dargavel
would not peaceably give up what he and his ancestors had so long
possessed, Orbieston—who, by the way, was a partisan of the old dynasty,
and perhaps generally old-fashioned in his ideas—resolved to drive his
neighbour out of it by force. A complaint, afterwards drawn up by
Dargavel for the Privy Council, states that William Hamilton of
Orbieston, George Maxwell, bailie of Kilpatrick, Robert Laing, miller in
Duntocher, John Shaw of Bargarran, Gavin Walkingshaw, sometime of that
ilk, came, with about a hundred other persons, ‘all armed with guns,
pistols, swords, bayonets, and other weapons invasive,’ and, having
appointed George Maxwell, ‘Orbieston’s own bailie-depute,’ to march at
their head, they advanced in military order, and with drums beating and
trumpets sounding, to the parish kirk of Erskine, where, ‘in a most
insolent and violent manner, they did, at their own hand, and without
any order of law, remove and take away the complainer’s seat and dask,
and sacrilegiously bring away the stones that were lying upon the graves
of the complainer’s predecessors, and beat and strike several of the
complainer’s tenants and others, who came in peaceable manner to
persuade them to desist from such unwarrantable violence.’

Dargavel instantly proceeded with measures for obtaining redress from
the Privy Council, when his chief, Sir John Maxwell of Pollock, a member
of that all-powerful body, interfered to bring about an agreement
between the disputants. With the consent of the Earl of Glencairn,
principal heritor of the parish, Dargavel ‘yielded for peace-sake to
remove his seat from that [Sidenote: 1692.] place of the kirk, where it
had stood for many generations;’ while Orbieston on his part agreed that
Dargavel ‘should retain his room of burial-place in the east end of the
kirk, with allowance to rail it in, and strike out a door upon the gable
of it, as he should see convenient.’ This did not, however, end the
controversy.

The first glimpse of further procedure which we obtain is from a letter
of John Shaw of Bargarran, professing to be a friend of both parties,
though he had appeared amongst the armed party led by Orbieston’s
bailie-depute. He writes, 23d August, as follows to William Cunningham
of Craigends, a decided friend of Dargavel: ‘SIR—The Laird of Orbieston
heard when he was last here that Dargavel was intendit to put through a
door to his burial-place, which will be (as he says) very inconvenient
for Orbieston’s laft [gallery]; so he desired me to acquaint you
therewith, that ye wold deall with Dargavel to forbear; otherways he
wold take it very ill, and has given orders to some people here to stop
his design, if he do it not willingly; wherefor, to prevent further
trouble and emulation betwixt the two gentlemen, ye wold do well to
advyse him to the contrair either by a lyn or advyse, as ye think most
proper. I desyre not to be seen in this, because they are both my
friends, and I a weel-wisher to them both. I thought to have waited on
you myself; bot, being uncertain of your being at home, gives you the
trouble of this lyne, which is all from, sir, your most humble servant,
J. SHAW. Ye wold do this so soon as possible.’

There are letters from Craigends to Dargavel, strongly indicating the
likelihood that violent measures would again be resorted to by
Orbieston, and advising how these might best be met and resisted. But
the remainder of the affair seems to have been peaceable. Orbieston
applied to the Privy Council for an order to stop Dargavel, apparently
proceeding upon the rule long established, but little obeyed, against
burying in churches; and the Council did send an order, dated the 29th
August, ‘requiring you to desist from striking any door or breaking any
part of the church-wall of Erskine, until your right and Orbieston’s
right be discusst by the judges competent for preventing further abuse.’
Dargavel immediately sent a petition, shewing how he was only acting
upon an agreement with Orbieston, and hereupon the former order was
recalled, and Dargavel permitted to have the access he required, however
incommodious it might be to Orbieston’s ‘laft.’[85]

[Sidenote: 1692. MAY 10.]

The prisoners in the Canongate Tolbooth forced the key from the jailer,
and took possession of their prison, which they held out against the
magistrates for a brief space. A committee of Privy Council was ordered
to go and inquire who had been guilty of this act of rebellion.[86]
Viewing the manner in which jails were provided, there can be no doubt
that it was a rebellion of the stomach.


[Sidenote: MAY 17.]

Under our present multiplication of newspapers, a piece of false
intelligence is so quickly detected, that there is no temptation for the
most perverse politician to put such a thing in circulation. In King
William’s days, when the printed newspaper barely existed, and the few
who were curious about state-affairs had to content themselves with what
was called a _news-letter_—a written circular emanating from a centre in
London—a falsehood would now and then prove serviceable to a party,
particularly a depressed one.

We get an idea of a piece of the social economy of the time under
notice, from a small matter which came under the attention of the Privy
Council. William Murray kept a tavern in the Canongate. Each post
brought him a news-letter for the gratification of his customers, and
which doubtless served to maintain their allegiance to his butt of
claret. Just at this time, when there were alarms of an invasion from
France, a lie about preparations on the French shore was worth its ink.
The lord high chancellor now informed the Council that Murray’s letter
was generally full of false news; that he caused destroy the one brought
by last post, merely to keep Murray out of trouble; and he had kept up
the one just come, ‘in respect there is a paper therein full of cyphers
which cannot be read.’ Matters having now become so serious, he had
caused Murray to be brought before the Council.

Murray declared before a committee ‘he knows not what person writes the
news-letter to him ... he never writes any news from this to London ...
he knows not what the cyphers in the paper sent in his letter with this
post does signify.’ They sent him under care of a macer to the Tolbooth,
to be kept there in close prison, and his papers at home to be searched
for matter against their majesties or the government.

On the 2d of June, William Murray represented that he had [Sidenote:
1692.] now been a fortnight in jail, and his poor family would be ruined
if he did not immediately regain his liberty. The Council caused him to
be examined about the cypher-letter, and asked who was his
correspondent. We do not learn what satisfaction he gave on these
points; but a week later, he was liberated.

On the 15th November, the Privy Council ordered the magistrates of
Edinburgh to shut up the Exchange Coffee-house, and bring the keys to
them, ‘in respect of the seditious news vented in and dispersed from the
said coffee-house.’ A month after, the owners, Gilbert Fyfe and James
Marjoribanks, merchants, shewed that, some of their news-letters having
once before been kept up from them on account of the offensive contents,
they had changed their correspondent, in order that the government might
have no such fault to find with them. Moved, however, by malice against
them, their old correspondent had addressed to them a letter sure by its
contents to bring them into trouble with the officers of state, and it
had been the cause of their house being shut up accordingly. Seeing how
innocently on their part this had come about, and how prejudicial it was
to their interest, the men petitioned for re-possession of their house,
which was granted, under caution that they were to vent no news until it
was approved of by their majesties’ solicitor, or whoever the Privy
Council might appoint, ‘the reviser always setting his name thereto, or
at least ane other mark, as having revised the same.’

Not long after, we find the Council in such trouble on account of false
news as to be under the necessity of considering some general measure on
the subject.

In December, one William Davidson, described as a ‘writer,’ was taken up
and put into the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, ‘for writing and spreading of
lies and false news;’ and the Privy Council issued an order ‘for
delivering of the said William to ane of the officers come from
Flanders, to have been carried there as a soldier.’ On its appearing,
however, that William ‘is but a silly cripple boy, having had his leg
and thigh-bones broke,’ they ordered the magistrates of Edinburgh to
banish him from their city, ‘in case they shall find him guilty of the
said crime.’

On the 12th of July 1694, we hear something more of this William
Davidson. For inadvertently adding to a news-letter a postscript
‘bearing some foolish thing offensive to the government, without
affirming whether it was true or false, but only that it was reported,’
he had been condemned to banishment from the city, and also disinherited
by a Whiggish father, now [Sidenote: 1692.] deceased. He had since lived
upon the charity of his relations and acquaintances; but these were now
weary of maintaining him, and he was consequently ‘redacted to extream
misery.’ Having broken his thigh-bone six several times, he was
incapable of any employment but that of writing in a chamber, from
which, however, he was debarred by his banishment from Edinburgh. He
therefore craved a relaxation of his sentence, offering ‘to take the
oath of allegiance and subscribe the assurance, to evidence his
sincerity towards the government.’ The poor lad’s petition was complied
with.[87]


[Sidenote: JULY.]

Sir James Carmichael of Bonnyton, a minor, was proprietor of the lands
of Thankerton, lying on the north side of the river Clyde, in the upper
ward of Lanarkshire. The Clyde had been the march between his estate and
those of the adjacent proprietors—Chancellor of Shieldhill, and George
Kellie in Quothquan; but ‘rivers are bad neighbours and unfaithful
boundaries, as Lucan says of the Po,’[88] and there had happened a
_mutatio alvei_ about fifty years before, in consequence of a violent
flood, and now a part of Bonnyton lands was thrown on the opposite side.
Under the name of the Park-holm, it had lain neglected for many years;
but at length, in 1688, the present laird’s father sowed and reaped it;
whereupon the opposite neighbours, considering it as theirs, resolved to
assert their right to it. At the date noted, they came eighty strong,
‘resolved to take advantage of Sir James his infancy, and by open
bangstry and violence to turn him and his tenants out of his
possession.’ Their arms were ‘pitchforks, great staves, scythes,
pistols, swords, and mastive dogs.’ In a rude and violent manner, they
cut down ‘the whole growth of fourteen bolls sowing of corn or thereby,’
drove it home to their own houses, and there made use of it in bedding
their cattle, or threw it upon the dunghills. Thus, ‘corns which would
have yielded at least nine hundred bolls oats at eight pounds Scots the
boll, were rendered altogether useless for man or beast.’ During the
progress of this plunder, the tenants were confined to their houses
under a guard. So it was altogether a riot and oppression, inferring
severe punishment, which was accordingly called for by the curators of
the young landlord.

The Council, having heard both parties, found the riot proven, and
ordained Chancellor of Shieldhill to pay three hundred merks [Sidenote:
1692.] to the pursuer.[89] Afterwards (December 26, 1695), the Lords of
Session confirmed the claim of Bonnyton to the Park-holm.[90]


In this year died the Viscountess Stair—born Margaret Ross of Balniel,
in Wigtonshire—the wife of the ablest man of his age and country, and
mother of a race which has included an extraordinary number of men of
talent and official distinction. The pair had been married very nearly
fifty years, and they were tenderly attached to the last. The glories of
the family history had not been quite free of shade; witness the
tragical death of the eldest daughter Janet, the original of Lucy Ashton
in _The Bride of Lammermoor_.[91] Lady Stair is admitted to have been a
woman of a soaring mind, of great shrewdness and energy of character,
and skilled in the ways of the world; and to these qualities on her part
it was perhaps, in part, owing that her family, on the whole, prospered
so remarkably. The public, however, had such a sense of her singular
power over fortune, as to believe that she possessed necromantic gifts,
and trafficked with the Evil One. An order which she left at her death
regarding the disposal of her body, helped to confirm this popular
notion. ‘She desired that she might not be put under ground, but that
her coffin should stand upright on one end of it, promising that, while
she remained in that situation, the Dalrymples should continue to
flourish. What was the old lady’s motive for the request, or whether she
really made such a promise, I shall not take upon me to determine; but
it’s certain her coffin stands upright in the aile of the church of
Kirkliston, the burial-place of the family.’[92]

A local historian attributes to her ladyship ‘one of the best puns
extant. Graham of Claverhouse (commonly pronounced Clavers) was
appointed sheriff of Wigtonshire in 1682. On one occasion, when this
violent persecutor had been inveighing, in her presence, against our
illustrious reformer, she said: “Why are you so severe on the character
of John Knox? You are both reformers: he gained his point by clavers
[talk]; you attempt to gain yours by knocks.”’[93]


[Sidenote: AUG. 13.]

The boy carrying the post-bag on its last stage from England [Sidenote:
1692.] was robbed by ‘a person mounted on horseback with a sword about
him, and another person on foot with a pistol in his hand, upon the
highway from Haddington to Edinburgh, near that place thereof called
Jock’s Lodge [a mile from town], about ten hours of the night.’ The
robbers took ‘the packet or common mail with the horse whereon the boy
rode.’ The Privy Council issued a proclamation, offering a reward of a
hundred pounds for the apprehension of the offenders, with a free pardon
to any one of them who should inform upon the rest.


[Sidenote: OCT. 1.]

The troubles arising from corporation privileges were in these old times
incessant. Any attempt by an unfreeman to execute work within the
charmed circle was met with the sternest measures of repression and
punishment, often involving great suffering to poor industrious men.
Indeed, there is perhaps no class of facts more calculated than this to
disenchant modern people out of the idea that the days of old were days
of mutual kindliness and brothership.

At the date noted, one William Somerville, a wright-burgess of
Edinburgh, was engaged in some repairs upon the mansion of the Earl of
Roxburgh, in the Canongate, when Thomas Kinloch, deacon of the wrights
of that jurisdiction, came with assistants, and in a violent manner took
away the whole of the tools which the workmen were using. This was done
as a check to Edinburgh wrights coming and doing work in a district of
which they were not free. Somerville, two days after, made a formal
demand for the restoration of his ‘looms;’ but they were positively
refused. The Earl of Roxburgh was a minor; but his curators felt
aggrieved by Kinloch’s procedure, and accordingly concurred with
Somerville in charging the Canongate deacon, before the Privy Council,
with the commission of riot and oppression in the earl’s house.
Apparently, if the Roxburgh mansion had been subject to the jurisdiction
of the Canongate, the Council could not have given any redress; but it
so happened, that when the earl’s ancestor, in 1636, gave up the
superiority of the Canongate, he reserved his house as to be holden of
the crown; therefore, the Canongate corporations had no title to
interfere with the good pleasure of his lordship in the selection of
workmen to do work in his house. The Council remitted this point of law
to the Court of Session; but meanwhile ordered the restoration of
Somerville’s tools.[94]

[Sidenote: 1692.]

As an example of the troubles connected with mercantile privilege, it
may be well to introduce one simple case of the treatment of an
interloper by the Merchant Company of Edinburgh, the members of which
were the sole legalised dealers in cloth of all kinds in the city. In
June 1699, it was reported to the Company that one Mary Flaikfield, who
had formerly been found selling goods ‘off the mercat-day,’ and enacted
herself to desist from the practice, had been found sinning again in the
same manner. She was detected in selling some plaids and eight pieces of
muslin to a stranger, and the goods were seized and deposited in the
Merchants’ Hall.

The poor woman at first alleged that she had only been conversing with
this stranger, while the goods chanced to be lying beside her, and the
Company was wrought upon to give back her goods, all except two pieces
of the muslin, which they said they would detain till Mary could prove
what she alleged.

Presently, however, there was a change in their mood, for John Corsbie
came forward with information that Mary Flaikfield was really a notable
interloper. The very person she was lately detected in dealing with, she
had wiled away from Corsbie’s own shop, where he was about to buy the
same goods. She was accustomed to sell a good deal to the family of Lord
Halcraig. Then she had not appeared to prove her innocence. ‘The vote
was put: “Roup the two pieces of muslin or not?” and it carried “Roup.”
Accordingly, the muslin being measured, and found to be twenty-two ells,
and ane hour-glass being set up, several persons bid for the same. The
greatest offer made was fourteen shillings per ell, which offer was made
by Francis Brodie, treasurer—the time being run—the said offer was three
several times cried out, and the said two pieces of muslin were declared
to belong to him for £15, 8_s._ [Scots]; but if she compear and relieve
the same before the next meeting, allows her to have her goods in
payment of the above sum.’

At the meeting of the ensuing week, Mary Flaikfield not having come
forward to redeem her muslin, the treasurer was instructed to dispose of
it as he should think fit, and be comptable to the Company for £15,
8_s._ Two days later, however, there was another meeting solely on
account of Mary, when the Master, Bailie Warrender, and his assistants,
felt that Christian charity would not allow them to proceed further.
‘Considering that Mary Flaikfield is a poor woman, big with child, and
has been detained here about a fortnight, they, in point of pity and
[Sidenote: 1692.] compassion for her, order that her two pieces of
muslin be given her back upon payment of fourteen shillings to the
officer.’ She was not dismissed without a caution as to her future
behaviour.[95]


[Sidenote: NOV.]

The stranding of whales in the Firth of Forth was of such natural and
frequent occurrence in early times, that a tithe of all cast ashore
between Cockburnspath and the mouth of the Avon, was one of the gifts
conferred by the pious David upon the Canons Augustine of Holyrood. In
modern times, it may be considered as an uncommon event. At this time,
however, one had embayed itself in the harbour of Limekilns, a little
port near Queensferry. A litigation took place regarding the property of
it, between the chancellor, the Earl of Tweeddale, as lord of the
regality of Dunfermline, and Mr William Erskine, depute to the admiral,
and the Lords finally adjudged it to the chancellor, with seven hundred
merks as the price at which it had been sold.[96]


[Sidenote: DEC. 1.]

The Earl of Moray, being pursued at law for a tradesman’s account, which
was referred to his oath, craved the Court of Session to appoint a
commission to take his oath at Dunnibrissle, on the ground that, if he
were obliged to come to Edinburgh for the purpose, he should incur as
much expense as the whole amount of the alleged debt. As Dunnibrissle is
visible from Edinburgh across the Firth of Forth, this must be looked
upon as an eccentrically economical movement on his lordship’s part. The
court granted the commission, but ordained his lordship to pay any
expense which might be incurred by the debtor, or his representative, in
travelling to Dunnibrissle to be present at the oath-taking.[97]

The court had occasionally not less whimsical cases before it. In
February 1698, there was one regarding a copper caldron, which had been
poinded, but not first taken to the Cross to be ‘appreciate.’ The
defenders represented that they had done something equivalent in
carrying thither a part of it—the ledges—as a symbol; following here a
rule applicable with heavy movables, as where a salt-pan was represented
by two nails; nay, a symbol not homogeneous, as a wisp of straw for a
flock of sheep, fulfilled the law. The defence was sustained, and the
poinding affirmed.[98]

[Sidenote: 1692. DEC.]

The Privy Council had under its hands three Protestant clergymen—namely,
Mr John Hay, late minister at Falkland; Mr Alexander Leslie, late
minister at Crail; and Mr Patrick Middleton, late minister at Leslie—in
short, three of the ‘outed’ Episcopal clergy—for not praying for William
and Mary. They acknowledged that they prayed ‘only in general terms’ for
the king and queen, and were therefore discharged from thereafter
exercising any clerical functions, under severe penalties. Soon after,
the Council judged, in the case of Mr Alexander Lundie, late minister of
Cupar, who stated that, ‘having a mixed auditory, he prayed so as might
please both parties.’ This style of praying, or else the manner of
alluding to it, did not please the Privy Council, and Mr Lundie was
ordered ‘to be carried from the bar, by the macers, to the Tolbooth,
there to remain during the Council’s pleasure.’ Having lain there four
days, far from all means of subsistence, while his wife was ill of a
dangerous disease at home, and his family of small children required his
care, Mr Lundie was fain to beg the Council’s pardon for what he had
said, and so obtained his liberation also, but only with a discharge
from all clerical functions till he should properly qualify himself
according to act of parliament.

On the 22d of May 1693, Mr David Angus, minister of Fortrose, was before
the Council on a charge that, although deprived for not praying for
their majesties in terms of the act of parliament, ‘he has publicly
preached and exercised the ministerial function within his own house,
and parish where the same lies, and elsewhere, without qualifying
himself by signing the oath of allegiance.’ So far from evidencing the
sense he ought to have had of the grievous circumstances from which the
nation had been relieved, by reading the proclamation of estates, he had
neglected it, and prayed for King James, thus stirring up the
disaffected in opposition to their majesties’ government, and
discouraging their loyal subjects. These were ‘crimes which ought to be
severely punished for the terror of others.’ The Lords, therefore,
finding him unable to deny the alleged facts, and indisposed to engage
for a different behaviour in future, confirmed his deprivation, and
discharged him from preaching or exercising any ministerial function
within the kingdom.

As a specimen of the equivocating prayers—Mr Charles Key, one of the
ministers of South Leith, was charged, in September 1694, with using
these expressions, ‘“That God would bless our king and queen, and
William and Mary,” or [Sidenote: 1692.] “our king and queen, William and
Mary, and the rest of the royal family.”’[99]


[Sidenote: DEC. 31.]

A great number of recruits were now drawn together to be sent to
Flanders, but the vessels for their transportation were not ready. The
Privy Council therefore ordered their distribution throughout the jails
of Lothian and Fife, sixty, eighty, a hundred, and even more, to each
tolbooth, according to its capacity—for example, two hundred and
forty-four to the jails of Musselburgh, Haddington, and Leith—there to
be furnished with blankets to lie on by the various magistrates. When it
is known that two Jacobite gentlemen had lately petitioned for
liberation from Musselburgh jail, on the ground that it did not contain
a fireroom, and their health was consequently becoming ruined, it will
not seem surprising that a competent troop of horse and foot had to be
ordered ‘to keep guard upon the said recruits, and take care that none
of them escape.’

That a good many, induced either by the hardships of their situation, or
the enticements of disaffected persons, did desert the service, is
certain: a strict proclamation on this subject came out in April 1694.
At the same time, John M‘Lachlan, schoolmaster in Glasgow, was before
the Privy Council on a charge of having induced a number of soldiers in
the regiments lying at that city to desert. ‘Being disaffected,’ it was
said, ‘to their majesties’ government, he has, so far as possible for
thir three or four years past, made it his business to weaken the
government, and to instigate and persuade several soldiers to run away.’
He did ‘forge passes for them.’ In particular, in January last, he did
‘persuade John Fergusson and John M‘Leod, soldiers in Captain Anderson’s
company in Lord Strathnaver’s regiment, then lying at Glasgow, to run
away and desert ... telling them that they were but beasts and fools for
serving King William, for that he was sure that the late King James
would be soon here again.... He had given passes to several of the
regiment formerly in garrison at Glasgow, and offered to go with them to
a gentlewoman’s house without the Steeple-green port, who was a cousin
of his, who would secure them and receive their clothes, and furnish
them with others to make their escape; and told them they were going to
Flanders, and would be felled there, and so it was best for them to
desert, and that he would hide their firelocks [Sidenote: 1692.]
underground, and give them other coats and money, and a pass to carry
them safe away.’

The Council, having called evidence, and found the charge proven,
sentenced M‘Lachlan to be whipped through the city of Edinburgh, and
banished to the American plantations. They afterwards altered the
sentence, and adjudged the Jacobite schoolmaster, instead of being
whipped, to stand an hour on the pillory at Edinburgh, and an hour on
the pillory at Glasgow, under the care of the hangman, with a paper on
his brow, with these words written or printed thereon—‘John M‘Lachlan,
schoolmaster at Glasgow, appointed to be set on the pillory at Edinburgh
and Glasgow, and sent to the plantations, for seducing and debauching
soldiers to run away from their colours, and desert their majesties’
service.’

Two days later, the Privy Council recommended their majesties’ advocate
to prosecute M‘Lachlan before the committee anent pressed men, ‘for the
disloyal and impertinent speeches uttered by him yesterday while he
stood upon the pillory of Edinburgh.’ What came of this, we do not
learn; but on the 3d of July there is a petition from M‘Lachlan, setting
forth that, after a nineteen weeks’ imprisonment, he is sinking under
sickness and infirmity, while his family are starving at home, and
craving his liberty, on giving assurance that he shall not offend again
against the government. His liberation was ordered.

James Hamilton, keeper of the Canongate Tolbooth (July 16, 1696),
represented to the Privy Council that it had been customary for him and
his predecessors to receive two shillings Scots per night for each
recruit kept in the house, with a penny sterling to the servants (being
3_d._ sterling in all), and their lordships, in consideration of his
‘great trouble in keeping such unruly prisoners in order’—he ‘being
liable to the payment of ten dollars for every man that shall make his
escape’—had authorised him to take ‘obleisements’ from the officers for
the payment of these dues, till lately when the authority was withdrawn.
This had led to loss on the part of the petitioner, who had now spent
all his own means, and further run into debt, so that, ‘through
continual hazard of captions,’ he was threatened with becoming a
prisoner in his own jail. He entreated payment of some arrears for
General Mackay’s recruits, as well as these recent arrears, and likewise
for the proper allowance for ‘the coiners and clippers,’ latterly an
abundant class of prisoners, on account of the tempting condition of the
coin of the realm for simulation. The Lords [Sidenote: 1693.]
recommended Hamilton to the treasury for payment of the monies due to
him.[100]


[Sidenote: FEB. 2.]

Though Scotland had long enjoyed the services of four universities, the
teaching of any of the natural sciences was not merely unknown in the
country, but probably undreamed of, till the reign of Charles II. The
first faint gleam of scientific teaching presents itself about 1676,
when, under the fostering care of Dr (afterwards Sir) Robert Sibbald, a
botanic garden was established near the Trinity College Church, as a
means of helping the medical men of Edinburgh to a better knowledge of
the pharmacopœia. It was put under the care of James Sutherland, who had
been a common gardener, but whose natural talents had raised him to a
fitness for this remarkable position. In his little garden in the valley
on the north side of the city, he taught the science of herbs to
students of medicine for small fees, receiving no other encouragement
besides a salary from the city of twenty pounds, which did not suffice
to pay rent and servants’ wages, not to speak of the cost of new plants.
At the time of the siege of Edinburgh Castle in the spring of 1689, it
had been thought necessary, for strategic reasons, to drain the North
Loch, and, as the water ran through the Botanic Garden, it came to pass
that the place was for some days under an inundation, and when left dry,
proved to be covered with mud and rubbish, so that the delicate and
costly plants which Sutherland had collected were nearly all destroyed.
It had cost him and his assistants the work of a whole season to get the
ground cleared, and he had incurred large charges in replacing the
plants.

At this date, the Privy Council, on Sutherland’s petition, took into
consideration his losses, his inadequate salary, and the good service he
was rendering, ‘whereby not only the young physicians, apothecaries, and
chirurgeons, but also the nobility and gentry, are taught the knowledge
of the herbs, and also a multitude of plants, shrubs, and trees are
cultivated which were never known in this nation before, and more
numerous than in any other garden in Britain, as weel for the honour of
the place as for the advantage of the people.’ They therefore declared
that they will in future allow Mr Sutherland fifty pounds a year out of
fines falling to them, one half for expenses of the garden, and the
other half by way of addition to his salary.[101]

[Sidenote: 1693. APR. 13.]

Mr Stephen Maxwell, ‘alleged to be a Romish priest,’ prisoner in
Blackness Castle, Mr George Gordon, Mr Robert Davidson, and Mr Alexander
Crichton, ‘also alleged to be popish priests,’ and prisoners in the
Edinburgh Tolbooth, were ordered to be set at liberty, provided they
would agree to deport themselves from the kingdom ‘in the fleet now
lying under convoy of the man-of-war lying in the Road of Leith,’ and
give caution to the extent of a hundred pounds that they would never
return. On the 17th, Mr James Hepburn, ‘alleged to be a popish priest,’
was ordered to be liberated from the Canongate Tolbooth on the same
terms. All of these gentlemen had been for many months deprived of their
liberty.

There still lay in Blackness Castle one John Seaton, who had been
apprehended in December 1688, on suspicion of being a priest, and
confined ever since, being four and a half years. He had been offered
the same grace with the rest; but he was prevented by his personal
condition from accepting it. According to his own account, he was
seventy years of age. He ‘has not only spent any little thing he had,
but his health is likewise entirely ruined, beyond any probability of
recovery.’ He was most willing to have gone abroad, ‘where he might have
expected better usage for ane in his condition than he can reasonably
propose to himself anywhere in this kingdom;’ but ‘when the rest went
away above a month ago, finding his health so totally broken by
sickness, old age, and imprisonment, and his infirmity still growing
worse,’ he was ‘necessitat to continue prisoner, rather than hazard a
long sea-voyage, whereby he could expect no less than an unavoidable
painful death, the petitioner, when formerly in health and strength at
sea, being still in hazard of his life.’ John Seaton further represented
that he had never, during his long imprisonment, received any support
from the government, but been maintained by the charity of his friends.
He now prayed the Council that they would take pity on him, and ‘not
permit him, ane old sickly dying man, to languish in prison for the few
days he can, by the course of nature and his disease, continue in this
life,’ but let him retire to ‘some friend’s house, where he may have the
use of some help for his distressed condition, and may in some measure
mitigate the affliction he at present lies under by old age, sickness,
poverty, and imprisonment.’

The Council ordered Seaton to be liberated.[102]

[Sidenote: 1693. APR.]

For some time past there had been an unusual and alarming number of
highway robberies. One case, of a picturesque character, may be
particularised. William M‘Fadyen, who made a business of _droving_
cattle out of Galloway and Carrick to sell them in the English markets,
had received a hundred and fifty pounds sterling at Dumfries, and was on
his way home (December 10, 1692), about four miles from that town, when
at sunrise he was joined by two men, ‘one in a gentleman’s habit,
mounted on a dark-gray horse, with a scarlet coat and gold-thread
buttons. He was of extraordinary stature, with his own hair,
sad-coloured, ane high Roman nose, slender-faced, thick-lipped, with a
wrat [wart] above one of his eyes as big as ane nut, and the
little-finger of his left hand bowed towards his loof’—a peculiarity, by
the way, which the Duke of Lauderdale believed to denote a man who would
come to some sad and untimely end. ‘The other appeared to be his
servant, and was also mounted upon ane dark-gray horse, and carried a
long gun.’ ‘After they had travelled about half a mile on the way, the
servant said he was going through the muir, and desired [M‘Fadyen] to go
along with him, which he refused; whereupon he beat [M‘Fadyen] with the
but-end of his gun, and said he would make him go. Immediately
thereafter, the other came up, and presented a pistol to his breast; and
so, after he had made what defence he was able, and had received several
wounds, they carried him about a quarter of a mile off the way, and cut
the cloak-bag from behind his saddle, and carried away his money.’

Among other steps taken by the Privy Council in consequence of this
daring robbery, was to ‘recommend Sir James Leslie, commander-in-chief
for the time of their majesties’ forces within this kingdom, to cause
make trial if _there be any such person, either officer or soldier,
amongst their majesties’ forces_, as the persons described.’ They sent
the same recommendation to the Earl of Leven with regard to ‘the
officers which are come over from Flanders to levy recruits.’

This seems to have put the military authorities upon their mettle, and
they engaged a certain Sergeant Fae, of Sir James Leslie’s regiment, as
a detector of the robbers, ‘upon his own expenses, except five pounds
allowed him by the [Privy Council].’ The sergeant, an enterprising
fellow, with ‘a perfect abhorrence of such villainies,’ went into the
duty assigned him with such zeal and courage, that he soon, at the
hazard of his life, made seizure of several robbers, of whom two were
convicted. Three [Sidenote: 1693. APR. 5.] months of this work having,
however, exhausted his means, he was obliged to petition for further
encouragement, and the Privy Council ordered him ten pounds for the past
service, and five pounds for every robber whom he might apprehend, and
who should be convicted in future.[103]


[Sidenote: APR. 11.]

A great number of the smaller lairds of Fife were Jacobite; among the
rest, David Boswell of Balmouto. On the other hand, the Earl of Leven,
one of the nobility of the county, stood high in office under the
Revolution government. Besides a general quarrel with the earl on this
ground, Balmouto had probably some private cause of offence to
exasperate him; but on this point we only have conjecture.

At the date noted, there was a horse-race at the county town, Cupar; and
both gentlemen attended. It is alleged that Balmouto first waited near a
house in the town where the earl was, in expectation of his coming
forth, but afterwards went away to the raceground. There, as the earl
was quietly riding about, Balmouto came up to him behind his back, and
struck him twice or thrice over the head and shoulders with a baton. On
his lordship turning to defend himself, the assailant struck the horse
on the face, and caused it to rear dangerously. Balmouto then fired a
pistol at the earl without effect, and was immediately seized by the
bystanders, and prevented from doing further mischief.

In a debate before the Privy Council on this case, after hearing
representations from both parties, it was held that the earl’s complaint
was proved, while an attempt of Balmouto to make out a counter-charge of
assault against Lord Leven was declared to have failed. Balmouto was
obliged to beg the earl’s pardon on his knees, and, on pain of
imprisonment, give caution for future good-behaviour.

On the ensuing 13th of March 1694, Balmouto is found representing to the
Council that ‘his misfortune has been so great, that his friends are
unwilling to interest themselves in his liberation, whereby his family
is in hazard to be ruined, and himself to die in prison;’ and he craved
that they would accept his personal obligation, and allow him his
liberty. The Earl of Leven having concurred in desiring this, the
petition was complied with.[104]

[Sidenote: 1693. JUNE.]

A broadside published this month at Glasgow, under the title of the
_Scottish Mercury_, ‘by Mr John Stobo, student in astrologophysick,’
being dated, however, ‘from Kirkintilloch, where I dwell,’ makes us
aware that the almanac-making charlatanry was not unknown in Scotland.
We learn from it that the French nation are near a sad calamity; that
there were fears of conspiracies about Rome and Milan; and
Constantinople not likely to be free from tumultuous uproars of the
soldiery. ‘The conjunction of Venus with Jupiter relates to some great
lady’s marriage.’ The author professes to ground upon natural causes,
but not to conclude positively about anything—‘that belongs to God’s
providence.’ Finally, there is an advertisement informing the world that
John Stobo, as is known in many parts of this kingdom, cures infallibly
all diseases, couches cataracts, amputates, &c., working for the poor
gratis, and imposing upon the rich ‘as little cost as may be.’


[Sidenote: JUNE 14.]

To promote the making of linen in Scotland, an act was passed in 1686,
ordaining that ‘no corps of any persons whatsoever be buried in any
shirt, sheet, or anything else, except in plain linen,’ the relatives of
deceased persons being obliged, under heavy penalties, to come to their
parish minister within eight days of the burial, and declare on oath
that the rule had been complied with.[105] Another act was now passed,
ordaining that, for the same end, no lint should be exported from the
kingdom; that lint imported should be duty free; and making sundry
arrangements for a uniformity in the breadth of the cloth produced.
There was likewise still another act conferring particular privileges on
two companies which carried on the linen manufacture in Paul’s Work,
Edinburgh, and in the Citadel of Leith, as an encouragement which was
required for their success.

An act was passed at the same time for encouraging James Foulis, John
Holland, and other persons named, in setting up a manufactory of ‘that
sort of cloth commonly called _Colchester Baises_’ in Scotland; ‘which
baises will consume a great deal of wool which cannot be profitable
neither at home nor abroad.’

On the same day, there was an act in favour of William Scott, [Sidenote:
1693.] cabinet-maker, who designed to set up a coach-work, being, as
would appear, the first of the kind that had been proposed in Scotland,
though the use of the article ‘not only occasions the yearly export of a
great deal of money out of the kingdom, but likewise that the lieges
cannot be furnished with such necessars when they have occasion for
them, without bringing them from abroad at a double charge, beside
sea-hazard.’ It was ordained that William Scott should have the
privileges of a manufactory ‘for making of coaches, chariots, sedans,
and calashes, harnish and grinding of glasses,’ for eleven years.

On the 28th May 1694, articles of agreement were concluded between
Nicolas Dupin, acting for a linen company in England, and the royal
burghs and others in Scotland, for the formation of a company to carry
on the linen manufacture in this kingdom. It was arranged that the
enterprise should rest in a capital of six thousand five-pound shares,
one half of which should be held by Englishmen, the rest by Scotsmen,
the burghs being each allowed certain shares in proportion to their
standing and wealth. The money to be paid in four instalments within the
ensuing two years.[106]

The linen manufacture is spoken of in 1696 as established, and two years
later we find the bleaching was executed at Corstorphine.

Dupin conducted works in England and Ireland for the manufacture of
paper, and the establishment of another in Scotland was one of the
objects for which he had come to the north. Several of the Scottish
nobility and gentry whom he met in London encouraged him in his
enterprise, telling him that ‘some persons have already attempted to
work good writing-paper, but could not effect the same.’ In July we find
him addressing the Privy Council for permission to erect and carry on a
paper-work in this kingdom, setting forth that he had arrived at ‘the
art of making all sorts of fine paper moulds as good, or better, as any
made beyond seas, and at a far cheaper rate, insomuch that one man can
make and furnish more moulds in one week than any other workman in other
nations can finish in two months’ time:’ moreover, ‘whereas large timber
is scarce in this kingdom,’ he and his associates ‘have arts to make the
greatest mortar and vessel for making of paper without timber;’ they
‘have also provided several ingenious outlandish workmen to work and
teach their art in this kingdom.’

On this shewing, Dupin and his friends obtained ‘protection and
[Sidenote: 1693.] liberty to set up paper-mills in this kingdom, without
hindering any other persons who are already set up;’ also permission ‘to
put the coat of arms of this kingdom upon the paper which shall be made
by them at these mills.’[107]

By an act of Estates two years later, Dupin’s project was sanctioned as
a joint-stock concern.[108]

A rope-manufactory had been some years before established at Newhaven by
James Deans, bailie of the Canongate, and one of his sons; but it had
been discontinued for want of encouragement, after a considerable loss
had been incurred. In November 1694, Thomas Deans, another son of the
first enterpriser, expressed himself as disposed to venture another
stock in the same work, at the same place, or some other equally
convenient, provided he should have it endowed with the privileges of a
manufactory, though not to the exclusion of others disposed to try the
same business. His wishes were complied with by the Privy Council.

On the 7th May 1696, the privileges of a manufactory, according to
statute, were granted by the Privy Council to Patrick Houston and his
partners for a rope-work at Glasgow. This copartnery was to set out with
a stock of forty thousand pounds Scots, and introduce foreign workmen to
instruct the natives.

One David Foster had set up a pin-work at Leith in 1683, and was
favoured by the Privy Council with the privileges assigned by statute to
manufactories. In January 1695, Foster being dead, his successor, James
Forester, came forward with a petition for a continuance of these
privileges, professing that he meant to ‘carry on the work to a further
degree of perfection, and bring home foreigners to that effect.’ This
request was complied with.[109]

The parliament, in May 1695, granted privileges for the encouragement of
James Lyell of Gairden, in setting up a manufactory of oil from seeds,
and of hare and rabbit skins for hats, the raw materials having formerly
been exported from the country and re-imported in a manufactured state.
The Estates at the same time encouraged in like manner certain persons
proposing to set up a gunpowder and an alum manufactory, the latter of
which arts was stated to have been heretofore not practised in the
kingdom.[110]

In July 1697, we hear of the paper-manufactory going on [Sidenote:
1693.] prosperously under a joint-stock company, producing ‘good white
paper,’ and only requiring a little further encouragement to be ‘an
advantage to the whole kingdom.’ On the petition of the adventurers, the
Lords of Privy Council ordained that candlemakers should not use rags
for making of wicks, and that the company should have the same power
over its instructed servants as had been given to the cloth-work at
Newmills. We may infer that the paper-work established at Dalry in
1679[111] was no more, as this manufactory was now spoken of as the only
one in the kingdom ‘that has either work or design for white
paper.’[112]

A pamphlet in favour of the African Company, in 1696, remarked that
Scotland had lately been falling upon true and lasting methods of
increasing her trade, by erecting companies ‘to manufacture our own
natural commodities:’ ‘thus we have the woollencloth manufactory at
Newmills, and the baise-manufactory for our wool, the linen-manufactory,
several for leather, and others.’ It was likewise remarked that ‘soap,
cordage, glass, gilded leather, pins, ribands, cambrics, muslins,
paper,’ and some other articles, which used to be brought from abroad,
were now made at home by companies, individuals having heretofore failed
to establish them.’[113]


[Sidenote: DEC. 7.]

Alexander Hamilton, ‘formerly merchant in Rouen, now in Edinburgh,’ was
about to set up ‘a bank or profitable adventure for the fortunate in the
city of Edinburgh, of twenty-five thousand crowns, in imitation of that
lately set up and finished at London with so great ane applause.’ It was
to consist of ‘fifty thousand tickets, each ticket to be bot half ane
crown.’ He had obtained a licence for it from the Master of Revels, and
expended considerable sums ‘in making the books, publishing prints, and
doing other things necessar.’ All that was now wanting was an exclusive
privilege for six months from the Privy Council, lest he should be
‘prejudged in his undertaking or damnified by the expenses and charges
thereof,’ from any other person setting up a similar adventure. This
privilege was granted.[114]

We learn from a prospectus addressed to the public by Hamilton, that the
lottery was to include one ticket of each of the following [Sidenote:
1693.] sums, two hundred, three hundred, one thousand, fifteen hundred,
two thousand, two thousand five hundred, and three thousand crowns,
besides smaller prizes, of which a hundred at two hundred crowns were
conspicuous. Provided the tickets were taken up in time, the drawing to
take place in Alexander Crombie’s great room, opposite to the entry of
the Parliament Close, on the 1st of March 1694.


[Sidenote: 1694. JAN. 10.]

It is pleasant, amidst the general details of Scottish life at this
period, to find that at least one of the civilising arts was beginning
to assert its existence. A man named Beck, with some associates, had now
‘erected a concert of music.’ We learn the fact in consequence of an
attempt on the part of one Maclean, a dancing-master, holding the office
of Master of the Revels in Scotland, to obtain a sum from the
enterprisers for a licence to be taken out from him, ‘before they could
set up and exact money, seeing his office was to inspect and regulate
all games and sports, and see that nothing immoral or indecent should be
allowed.’ The judges of the Court of Session refused to enforce
Maclean’s claim, on the ground that music was only mentioned in his gift
in connection with plays and puppet-shows, and that ‘musicians were not
subject to Masters of the Revels abroad,’ where the office was best
known, and that Maclean only ‘used it to drain money from them, without
restraining immoralities, if they paid him.’[115]


[Sidenote: JAN. 11.]

The Privy Council had before them the case of Mr Thomas Blackwell,
student of theology, lately chaplain to Lady Inglis of Cramond at
Barnton House. He seems to have felt his spirit galled by some
circumstances of his situation, his poor garret-lodging and attendance,
the lady’s pedantry in criticising his prayers, the necessity of
courting the parish clergyman, and so forth, and thus was provoked to
pen a long and sorry pasquil in verse, purporting to be _The Humble
Advice of a Weel-wisher to all Dominies_, in which he discharged his
bile in sufficiently scurrilous terms. This libel he sent circuitously
by the Glasgow carrier to Lady Cramond, who soon discovered his
authorship, and taxed him with it. At first he made a solemn denial, but
he afterwards owned his offence; and the lady now came for redress to
the Privy Council. The young satirist made the most humble professions
of penitence for his offence, but in vain. He was ordained by the
Council to be banished from Scotland!

[Sidenote: 1694.]

We find on the 20th February that Lady Cramond had forgiven Thomas
Blackwell, and he on his petition was consequently absolved from his
former sentence.[116]


[Sidenote: FEB. 1.]

Matthew Forsyth, cook and innkeeper in Edinburgh, represented to the
Privy Council that he had been apprehended in September 1691, under
cloud of night, by order of Bailie Robert Blackwood, and along with his
wife thrown into the Tolbooth, ‘for what he knew not,’ and was detained
there till the 11th of May 1692, ‘in a most miserable, penurious, and
starving condition, he being put in the Iron House, and his wife in the
Woman House.’ Though ‘the cold of the winter’ was well known to be ‘most
violent,’ ‘they did not see any fire except a candle;’ and during the
whole time ‘they never got a bed, but lay on the cold floor,’ ‘Having no
mean of subsistence, they were necessitat to sell the clothes off their
backs to maintain them, and all they got in the day was two plack-loaves
betwixt them [a plack being the third of a penny].’ Meanwhile, the
officers who apprehended them took from their house everything they had
‘for back, bed, or board,’ leaving nothing but ‘two great raxes [spits],
a dropping-pan, and some chests and bedsteads.’ The entire value of what
was taken away was not less than two thousand pounds Scots. Matthew had
called on the magistrates to say what was at his charge; but they turned
him over to the Privy Council, which again turned him to the Lords of
Justiciary. These afterwards, finding that the magistrates would not
proceed, ordered his liberation and that of his wife. Being reduced by
this treatment to ‘extreme poverty,’ he was now unable to prosecute for
redress, unless the Court of Session should put him upon their
gratis-roll. At his petition, the Privy Council recommended the Court to
extend to him this benefit.

On a subsequent occasion, June 7, 1694, Forsyth and his wife came before
the Privy Council with a charge against the persons by whom he had been
so severely treated, as also for defaming him as a reseller of stolen
goods. It appeared that the whole affair arose from a suspicion
entertained against him respecting a missing silver standish belonging
to the Duke of Queensberry, and some other articles belonging to Cornet
Drummond of Lord Newbottle’s dragoons. We see no trace of any legal
attempt to substantiate this charge; nevertheless, Forsyth having failed
to [Sidenote: 1694.] appear in order to make good his complaint, the
Lords ordered him to be denounced rebel, searched for, and if found,
committed to prison, ‘for contemption and disobedience,’ his movable
goods to be forfeited, and his wife, in the meantime, to be
‘incarcerat.’[117]


[Sidenote: MAR. 6.]

A petition from the Commissioners of Supply for the county of Inverness
to the Privy Council, sets forth the hardships they were subjected to by
the failure of many to pay their shares of cess and other public
burdens. The complaint referred more particularly to certain
‘inaccessible’ parts of the shire, as the Isle of Skye, Uist, Barra, and
Raasay. All methods hitherto taken to enforce payment had proved
ineffectual, for ‘when parties were sent out to intimate quartering,
they must instantly return, seeing they can have no conveniency either
for themselves or their horses; and when parties have been again sent to
poind for cess or deficiency, the heritors always get intelligence, and
drive away the cattle, and what further remains in their houses or on
their land is of no value.’ Assistance was craved from the government
troops to seize and imprison the heritors deficient, of whom M‘Kinnon of
M‘Kinnon is mentioned as owing ‘for seven by-run [monthly] terms,’
Kenneth Milquo in Uist for nine, and Donald M‘Donald, brother to
M‘Donald of Slait, for twenty terms. The petition was complied
with.[118]

Another example of the difficulties of taxation in the Highlands in
those times is afforded by a letter addressed, at Ruthven in August
1697, to some unknown person by twenty-five Strathspey gentlemen,
remonstrating against a claim for gratuitous coal and candle. The
principal persons here concerned were William M‘Intosh of Borlum, A.
M‘Pherson of Killiehuntly, Alexander M‘Pherson of Phones, J. M‘Pherson
of Benchar, J. Gordon in Kingussie, and William M‘Pherson of Nuid. They
say: ‘We understand by Borlum, our bailie, that you desire to know this
day our resolutions anent the furnishing you coal and candle without
payment. You know very weel how heavy that burden has lyen upon us, and
that it has so exhausted us, that much of our country is wasted, and
therefore we do assure you by these that we will not advance you any
more coal and candle without pay, because there is no law for it, and
you may as well take away all our property by force and violence, as
impose upon us any taxes arbitrary without authority or law. Property
and liberty is [Sidenote: 1694.] the thing we contend for against
arbitrary power, and resolves to adhere to the act of Council and
secretary’s letter in our favours, as the final resolutions of,’
&c.[119]

It is a great pity that we have not the name of the party addressed; but
it may be suspected that it was that of a feudal superior, probably the
Duke of Gordon. The language about liberty and property must have
sounded strange in such ears from a set of Strathspey vassals.


[Sidenote: MAR. 24.]

Mr John Dysart was inducted as minister of the parish of Coldingham, in
place of the previous Episcopalian minister, Mr Alexander Douglas, who
retired with a considerable number of the parishioners to worship in a
barn near the church. Dysart, a man of strenuous opinions and great
resoluteness of character, was determined to carry out the Presbyterian
discipline with vigour. He caused a deputation to go to Mr Douglas and
demand the pulpit Bible, communion-cups, baptismal-basin, the boxes for
the collection or offertory, and the box for the communion-cloth and
mortcloth [pall for funerals]; but Douglas seems to have considered
himself entitled to retain most of these articles as private property,
and only surrendered the box for the mortcloth. The existence of the
dissenting body headed by this gentleman afterwards proved very
troublesome to Mr Dysart, as it interfered sadly with that moral sway
which he, as a properly constituted Presbyterian clergyman, and he
alone, was entitled to exercise.

One of his first acts was the setting up of ‘a seat for scandalous
persons to sit on when they appeared before the congregation.’ Here
every lapse of virtue was duly expiated by exposure and rebuke. The
general vigour of the minister’s discipline may be inferred from the
fact that, in sixteen years, he held 1169 meetings of his little
consistory or session, being at the rate of about one and a half per
week. Every particular of private life was open to be investigated by
this local inquisition. The elders made regular ‘visitations’ among the
people. For example—‘The town was visited, and the visitors report that
in William Spur’s house there were Gavin Dale in this parish, and John
Dale in the parish of Ayton, his brother, in time of divine service, at
drink; and being reproved by the aforesaid elders for misspending the
Lord’s Day, Gavin answered that their kirk (meaning the meeting-house
[Sidenote: 1694.] set up and kept up in contempt of the government) was
but just now scaled [dismissed], and that they were but refreshing
themselves. Elizabeth Cockburn, wife to William Spur, expressed her
concernedness to the elders, that such a thing had fallen out in her
house, and promised to the elders never to do the like. The session,
considering the wickedness of the persons, and the disadvantage they
[the session] are [under] by the said meeting-house, by which they
fortify themselves against censure, concluded to pass this, and to
accept of the promise aforesaid from the woman, who seemed to be grieved
for the offence.’[120]

A large class of cases arose out of quarrels among neighbours. Elizabeth
Trunnoch, spouse to John Paulin, had aggrieved Elizabeth Brotherstone,
spouse of Archibald Anderson, by calling her a thief. Brotherstone
complained to the session, and being summoned, did, according to rule,
deposit ten groats, to be forfeited if she should fail in her probation.
Trunnoch was interrogate whether she had called the complainer a thief.
She answered: ‘That she said that George Blair gave her the commendation
of a thief by rubbing [robbing] away folk’s eldin [fuel], and that she
found something of it by taking away her heather at her door, and that
she said it in a passion when the complainer had blamed her for worrying
of a chicken of hers. After some interrogatories to both the parties,
they were removed, and after some reasoning it was found that the
complainer was equally guilty in scolding at the time, and if the one
must be publicly rebuked before the congregation, the other must be also
there rebuked. Two elders, Thomas Aitchison and John Smith, were sent
out to confer with them, and to exhort them to take up their private
quarrels, and to tell them that [as] the scolding was known to but a
few, and so had not given offence to the public congregation, the
session was willing that it should go no further. The elders having
returned from them, [_i. e._] Archibald Anderson and Elizabeth
Brotherstone his wife, did report, that, say what they could, the
foresaid Archibald insisted to have a rebuke given to Elizabeth Trunnoch
before the congregation, and to have her fined for the fault. The
session, having maturely considered the affair, concluded that Elizabeth
Trunnoch should, upon her knees, before the session, beg pardon of God
for the sin of scolding and taking away her neighbour’s good name, and
after being on her feet, she should [Sidenote: 1694.] crave the
complainer’s pardon, and restore her her good name again. Likewise it
was concluded that, seeing the complainer was equally guilty in
scolding, she should, upon her knees, before the session, beg pardon of
God for that sin. They being asked in, the sentence of the session was
intimated to them, which was obeyed by both, as was appointed; which
being done, they were gravely rebuked for their scandalous speeches one
to another, and exhorted to agree better for the future, and to make
conscience of bridling their tongues, certifying them that if they
should be found guilty again of the like, they should meet with a more
public reproof.’

Considering the style of public feeling which dictated and sanctioned
such strictness, one is surprised at the character of the offences, as
well as their frequency. How was it that, while such a view was taken of
the Sunday, there were so many instances of breaking it by ‘gaming at
the bob and penny game,’ by gathering fuel, cutting cabbage, drying
nets, and rioting in public-houses? Why, while drunkenness was so hardly
looked on, were there so many instances of it at all times of the week?
Seeing, too, that the elders had so much power, how should it have been
that one challenged by an elder with cabbage-gathering on a Sunday,
answered insolently, ‘What have ye to do with it?’ and, ‘Who will nail
my lug to the Tron for it?’ When society bore so generally a Christian
tone, how happened it that William Dewar, farmer in Horsley, should have
been so pagan-like as to take a lamb from his flock, and put its head on
the top of his chimney, as a charm against the liver-crook in his flock?
We must suppose that there was always in those days a great party in the
opposition against the religious and moral authorities of the land, its
force being what at once called forth and seemed to justify the severity
we now remark upon with so much surprise. In short, the barbarous
tendencies of the country were still very great.

Cases of imputed witchcraft occupied a large share of attention at the
session of Coldingham. The parish had been rather remarkable for its
witches. Soon after Mr Dysart’s induction as minister, Sir Alexander
Home of Renton, an heritor of the parish, but notedly a weak man, wrote
to Lord Polwarth, informing him of the late great increase of this
offence in the district. His father, as sheriff, had at one time ‘caused
burn seven or eight of them;’ but none had been apprehended since, and
it was owing to ‘the slackness of judges’ that there were now so many of
bad fame for that crime in the parish. ‘I know,’ says Sir Alexander,
[Sidenote: 1694.] ‘your lordship is inclined to do justice,’ being of
the now predominant professions in religion; so ‘it is only proper for
your lordship to take notice of it.’ He adds: ‘If some were apprehended,
more would come to light;’ and he ends by offering to send a list. In
September 1698, Mr Dysart got into great vigour about this class of
cases. ‘Margaret Polwart, in Coldingham, having a sick child, was using
charms and sorcery for its recovery; and Jean Hart, a suspected witch,
was employed in the affair; and also Alison Nisbet, who had been lately
scratched, or had blood drawn above the breath, by some one who had
suspected her of witchcraft. One of the witnesses declared, that she saw
Jean Hart holding a candle in her left hand, and moving her right hand
about, and heard her mutter and whisper much, but did not understand a
word that she said. Another declared, that “she (the witness) did not
advise Margaret Polwart to send for Jean Hart; but she heard her say,
That thief, Christian Happer, had wronged her child, and that she would
give her cow to have her child better; and that witness answered, that
they that chant cannot charm, or they that lay on cannot take off the
disease, or they that do wrong to any one cannot recover them.” Margaret
Polwart was publicly rebuked.’[121]


[Sidenote: APR. 20.]

Till this day, it could not be said that Great Britain had wholly
submitted to William and Mary. For nearly three years past, one small
part of it—situated within one-and-twenty miles of the capital of
Scotland—had held out for King James; and it only now yielded upon good
terms for the holders. This was the more remarkable, as the place was no
ancestral castle, resting on the resources of a great lord, but, in
reality, one of the state fortresses, which fortune had thrown into the
hands of a few bold spirits, having no sort of authority to take or
retain possession of it.

The place in question was that singular natural curiosity, the islet of
the Bass, situated a couple of miles off the coast of East Lothian, in
the mouth of the Firth of Forth. As well known, while rising a column of
pure trap straight out of the sea, it shelves down on one side to a low
cliff, where there is a chain of fortifications, with a difficult
landing-place underneath. The late government had employed this
fortalice as a state-prison, chiefly for troublesome west-country
clergymen. After the [Sidenote: 1694.] Revolution, the new government
sent some of Dundee’s officers to undergo its restraints. On the 15th of
June 1691, while most of the little garrison were employed outside in
landing coal, four of these prisoners, named Middleton, Halyburton, Roy,
and Dunbar, closed the gates, and took possession of the fortress. Next
evening, they were joined by Crawford younger of Ardmillan, with his
servant and two Irish seamen. The Privy Council at Edinburgh was greatly
enraged, but it had no means of reducing the place. It could only put a
guard on the shore to prevent intercourse with the land, and make a
couple of armed boats cruise about to intercept marine communications.

Months elapsed. The Jacobite garrison led a merry life amidst the clouds
of sea-birds which were their only associates. There was no lack of
stirring adventure. Young Ardmillan went off in a boat, and brought in a
load of provisions. Others contrived to join them, till they were
sixteen men in all. A Danish galliot came under their guns one day,
ignorant of what had happened, and was sacked of all it contained.
Predatory boat-parties, which went out by night, laid all the coast
between the Tyne and the Tay under contribution. The government, for a
time, seemed powerless. The island was too far from the land to be
thence bombarded; ships’ cannon could not mark at its cliff-built
towers. The garrison, having plenty of ammunition, were on their own
part formidable. After an ineffectual beleaguerment of upwards of two
years, a small war-vessel called the _Lion_, with a dogger of six guns,
and a large boat from Kirkcaldy, came to cruise off the island; but by
this time their friends in France were interested in their welfare, and
in August 1693, a frigate of twelve guns came up to the Bass, and
anchored under its cannon. At sight of it, the government vessels
disappeared. Large succours were thus given. Some months after, a
Dunkirk privateer came in like manner, but was attacked by the _Lion_,
and beaten.

The only very painful occurrence for the besieged was the seizure of a
person named Trotter, who had supplied them with provisions. To frighten
them, his execution was ordered to take place at Castleton, in sight of
the isle. While the preparations were making, a shot from the Bass broke
up the assemblage, but did not prevent the sacrifice being made at
another place.

It was not till the spring of this year that the measures of the
government for cutting off supplies from the Bass began sensibly to tell
upon the besieged. When reduced to a point near starvation, and treating
with the enemy, Middleton and his companions [Sidenote: 1694.] contrived
still to appear well off, and full of good spirits. When the
commissioners came to the rock, the governor gave them what appeared a
hearty lunch of French wine and fine biscuit, telling them to eat and
drink freely, as there was no scarcity of provisions. On their
departure, he had the walls bristling with old muskets, with hats and
coats, as if there had been a large garrison. The consequence was, that
the cavaliers of the Bass finally came off with life, liberty, and
property—even with payment of their arrears of aliment as prisoners—and,
it is needless to say, the unmixed admiration and gratitude of the
friends of King James.


[Sidenote: MAY 3.]

The Hon. William Livingstone of Kilsyth, after enduring almost every
form of captivity for several years, was now at length liberated, along
with the Lord Bellenden, both on similar conditions—namely, that they
should leave their native land for ever within little more than a month,
under security to the extent of a thousand pounds sterling each, and
engage thereafter in no movement of any kind against the existing
government. We hear of the two gentlemen soon after asking a short
respite, as the Dutch vessel in which they had hired a passage from
Leith for Holland, was not yet ready to sail; and this grace they
obtained, but only till the vessel should be ready.

Livingstone, in his forlorn voyage, was accompanied by his wife, Jean
Cochrane, of the Ochiltree family, and the widow of Lord Dundee. This
union had happened about a year after Killiecrankie, in consequence of
Mr Livingstone meeting the lady on a visit at Colzium House, in
Stirlingshire. As a pledge of his love, he presented her with a ring,
which, unluckily, she lost next day while walking in the garden. This
was considered an evil omen. A reward was offered to any one who should
find the bijou, but all in vain.

The pair now went with their only child, an infant, to Rotterdam. One
afternoon, the lady attended the Scotch church there, when Mr Robert
Fleming, the minister, was officiating. This is a divine of some
celebrity, on account of a singular work he published in 1701 on _The
Rise and Fall of the Papacy_, in which he announced the likelihood that
the French monarchy would experience a humbling about the year 1794. On
the present occasion, if we are to believe a story reported by Wodrow,
he stopped in the middle of his discourse, and declared that ‘he was, he
knew not how, impressed with the thought that some heavy [Sidenote:
1694.] and surprising accident was, within a few hours, to befall some
of the company there present.’[122]

This vaticination, if it ever was uttered, was sadly fulfilled. That
afternoon, Kilsyth, his wife, and another gentleman, went into the room
where the child lay with its nurse, Mrs Melville. Suddenly, the roof,
which was thickly covered with turf-fuel, fell down, and buried the
whole party. Kilsyth and his male visitor got out alive and unhurt,
after being under the ruins for three-quarters of an hour. The lady, the
nurse, and child, were all found dead. The bodies of Lady Dundee and her
infant were carefully embalmed, and sent to be interred in their own
country.[123]

Much interest was felt a century after, when it was announced (May 1795)
that the body of this unfortunate lady and her babe had been found in
perfect preservation in the vault of the Viscounts of Kilsyth in Kilsyth
Church. Some idle boys, having made their way into the vault, tore up a
lead coffin, and found a fresh one of fir within, enclosing the two
bodies embalmed, and looking as fresh as if they were only asleep. The
shroud was clean, the ribbons of the dress unruffled, not a fold or knot
discomposed. The child, plump, and with the smile of innocence arrested
on its lips, excited pity and admiration in every beholder. A patch on
the lady’s temple concealed the wound which had caused her death. When
the face was uncovered, ‘beautiful auburn hair and a fine complexion,
with a few pearly drops like dew upon her face, occasioned in the crowd
of onlookers a sigh of silent wonder;’ so says the contemporary account.
There was no descendant of the family to enforce respect for these
remains: the husband of the lady had, as Viscount Kilsyth, forfeited
title and estate in the insurrection of 1715,[124] and his name was no
more. But after public curiosity had been satisfied, a neighbouring
gentleman caused the vault to be again closed.

There was not yet an end to the curious circumstances connected with
Dundee’s widow. The year after the discovery of the [Sidenote: 1694.]
embalmed corpses in Kilsyth Church, a tenant of Colzium garden, digging
potatoes, found a small glittering object in a clod of earth. He soon
discovered it to be a ring, but at first concluded it was a bauble of
little value. Remembering, however, the story of Lady Dundee’s ring,
lost upwards of a century before, he began to think it might be that
once dear pledge of affection, and soon ascertained that in all
probability it was so, as within its plain hoop was inscribed a posy
exactly such as the circumstances would have called for—_Zovrs onlly &
Euer_. The lover and his family and name were all gone—his chosen lay
silent in the funeral vault: but here was the voice of affection still
crying from the ground, and claiming from another generation of men the
sympathy which we all feel in each other’s pure emotions.


[Sidenote: JUNE 14.]

James Young, writer in Edinburgh, stated to the Privy Council that he
had been at great pains and expense in bringing to perfection ‘ane
engine for writing, whereby five copies may be done at the same time,
which it is thought may prove not unuseful to the nation.’ He requested
and obtained a nineteen years’ privilege of exclusively making this
‘engine’ for the public.

Young seems to have been a busy-brained man of the inventive and
mechanical type, and as such, of course, must have been a prodigy to the
surrounding society of his day. In January 1695, we find him again
coming before the Privy Council, but this time in company with Patrick
Sibbald, locksmith, the one as inventor, the other as maker, of a new
lock of surprising accomplishments. It ‘gives ane account of how oft it
is opened, and consequently may be very useful in many cases’—for
example, ‘though the key were lost, and found by another person, it
discovers if that person has opened the lock; if your servant should
steal the key, and take things out of the room or cabinet, it discovers
how oft they have done it; if you find one of your servants is
dishonest, but know not whom to challenge, this lock may set you on the
right man; if you have any rooms with fine furniture, pictures, glasses,
or curiosities, if you desire your servants not to let any of their
acquaintances in to see the room, lest they abuse or break anything in
it, though you leave them the key, as in some instances it is necessary,
yet this lock discovers if they break your orders, and how oft; if you
be sick, and must intrust your keys to a servant, this lock discovers if
he takes occasion when you are asleep, to look into your cabinet, and
how oft.’ It was conceived [Sidenote: 1694.] that this clever lock
‘would be for the public good,’ if it were only ‘to frighten servants
into honesty.’ Wherefore the inventor and maker had no hesitation in
asking for an exclusive privilege of making it for fifteen years, at the
same time agreeing that the price of the simplest kind should be not
more than fifteen shillings sterling. The petition was complied
with.[125]

There was at this time at Grange Park, near Edinburgh, a house called
the _House of Curiosities_, the owner of which made an exhibition of it,
and professed to have new articles on view every month of the passing
summer. A colloquy between Quentin and Andrew[126] gives an account of
it, from which it appears that one of the most prominent articles was
the ingenious lock above described. Another was the aforementioned
writing-engine, but now described as calculated to produce fifteen or
sixteen copies by one effort with the pen, and so proving ‘an excellent
medium between printing and the common way of writing.’ A third was thus
described by Andrew: ‘They took me up to a darkened room, where, having
a hole bored through the window, about an inch in diameter, upon which
they had fixed a convex lens, the objects that were really without were
represented within, with their proper shapes, colours, and motions,
reversed, upon a white board, so that, it being a very clear sunshiny
day, I saw men, women, and children walking upon the road with their
feet upwards; and they told me, the clearer the day, it does the
better.’ It may be inferred with tolerable confidence that this House of
Curiosities was a speculation of James Young, the inventor of the lock
and writing-engine.

It is curious to trace the feeling of strangeness expressed in this
brochure towards scientific toys with which we are now familiar. Much is
made of a _Magical Lantern_, whereby pictures of Scaramouch, Actæon, and
Diana, and twenty others, ‘little broader than a ducatoon,’ are
‘magnified as big as a man.’ _Eolus’s Fiddle_, which, being hung in a
window, ‘gives a pleasant sound like an organ, and a variety of notes
all the day over,’ is descanted upon with equal gusto. ‘Sometimes it
gives little or no satisfaction,’ Andrew admits; ‘but when I was there,
it happened to do very well.’ There is also a very animated account of a
machine for telling how far you have travelled—the modern and well-known
pedometer.

[Sidenote: 1694.]

One of the articles for the month of June was of such a kind that, if
reproduced, it would even now be original and surprising. It is a
_Horizontal Elastic Pacing Saddle_—horizontal, because it had four pins
to keep it level; elastic, because of four steel springs; and pacing,
because designed to make one have the sensation and experiences of
pacing while in reality trotting. ‘I saw it tried by three or four
gentlemen, who all gave good approbation of it.’

Another of the June articles serves to shew that the principle of the
_revolver_ is no new invention. It is here called _David Dun’s Machine_,
being a gun composed of ten barrels, with forty breeches adapted to the
ends of the barrels, ‘somewhat like that of a rifled gun.’ ‘The breeches
are previously charged, and in half a minute you may wheel them all
about by tens, and fire them through the ten barrels.’

Amongst the other articles now well known are—a Swimmingbelt—a _Diving
Ark_, identical with the Diving Bell since re-invented—a _Humbling
Mirror_, the object of which is to reflect a human being in a squat
form—and the _Automatical Virginals_, which seem neither more nor less
than a barrel-organ with clock-work. ‘It plays only foreign springs, but
I am told it might be made to play Scots tunes.’ There was also the now
little-heard-of toy called _Kircher’s Disfigured Pictures_. A sheet of
strangely confused colouring being laid down on a table, a cylinder of
polished metal is set down in the midst of it, and in this you then see
reflected from the sheet a correct picture of some beautiful object.
‘There happened to be an English gentleman there, who told it was one of
the greatest curiosities now in Oxford College.’ It was a toy, be it
remarked, in some vogue at this time among the Jacobites, as it enabled
them to keep portraits of the exiled royal family, without apprehension
of their being detected by the Lord Advocate.

Not long after, we find Young coming forward with an invention of a much
more remarkable kind than either the detective-lock or the manifold
writing-engine. He stated (July 23, 1696) that he had invented, and with
great expense perfected, ‘ane engine for weaving, never before practised
in any nation, whereby several sorts of cloths may be manufactured
without manual operation or weaving-looms.’ He had ‘actually made cloth
thereby, before many of the ingenious of this kingdom.’ He believed that
this engine might, with due encouragement, prove highly useful,
‘especially for the trade to Africa [Sidenote: 1694.] and the Indies,’
and therefore petitioned the Privy Council for the privileges of a
manufactory and for a patent right. The Lords complied with his request,
giving him exclusive use of his machine for thirteen years.

On the 12th December 1695, Nicolas Dupin, whom we have seen engaged in
preparations for the manufacture of linen and of paper in Scotland,
comes before us in the character of a mechanical inventor. He professed,
in association with some ingenious artists, and after much cost and
travel in foreign parts, to have ‘brought to perfection the yet never
before known art and mystery of drawing water out of coal-pits.’ ‘In
twenty fathoms deep,’ says he, ‘we can raise in two minutes’ time a ton
of water, provided the pit or _sheft_ will admit of two such casks to
pass one another.’ It was done easily, the work being performed ‘by the
true proportions and rules of hydrostaticks, hydronewmaticks, and
hydrawliacks.’[127] The machine was calculated to be useful for ‘all
manner of corn-mills work, where water is scarce or frozen,’ for ‘we can
grind by one man’s hand as much as any water-mill doth.’ It was adapted
‘for draining of lochs [lakes] or bringing of water to any place where
water is wanting,’ and ‘for clearing of harbour-mouths from great rocks
or sand.’ ‘In a short time, any vast weight that seems to be past
lifting by men’s strength, this our engine shall lift by one man’s
strength, more than twenty men shall do, being present altogether to the
same lift.’ Our mechanist had also a smaller engine, with the same
economy of power, for a more household sort of work, such as mincing of
tallow for candles, ‘ane very exact way of cutting tobacco,’ for cutting
of tanner’s bark, &c., ‘without the assistance of either wind or water.’
Several noblemen and gentlemen were said to be ready to treat with the
inventor for the draining of certain drowned coal-pits; but it was
necessary, before such work was undertaken, that the engines should be
protected by a patent. On his petition, the Privy Council granted a
patent for eleven years.[128]

Two years later (1696) Mr David Ross, son of a deceased provost of
Inverness, succeeded, to his own satisfaction, in discovering a
_perpetuum mobile_. He divulged his plan to certain persons, his
neighbours, who consequently prepared to enter into a bond or oath,
giving assurance that they should not, by word, write, or sign, divulge
the secret before the inventor should obtain [Sidenote: 1694.] a patent,
unless he should himself do so, or should be removed from the world, ‘in
which it shall be both lawful and expedient that we discover the
same.’[129]


[Sidenote: JULY 10.]

We get an idea of what was at this time considered a fair price for land
in proportion to rent in Scotland, from a case now before the Court of
Session. Sir John Clerk of Pennecuik and Archibald Primrose of Dalmeny
had bought the baronies of Nicolson and Lasswade at a roup or auction,
the one estate at _twenty-four_, the other at _twenty-two years’
purchase_, which they afterwards represented as ‘a dear rate.’ There
being a doubt as to the party who should receive the price, the
purchasers would have to pay six per cent. on the purchase-money, by way
of interest, until that point was settled, while only realising about
four per cent. for their outlay: hence they applied to the court for
leave to consign the money—which was refused.[130]


[Sidenote: AUG.]

Among numberless symptoms of dissatisfaction with the church now
established by law, one of a trivial yet characteristic nature occurred
in this and the preceding month, when several students and others made a
practice of interrupting the minister of Old Aberdeen by striking up the
doxology in several corners of the church, at the moment he was
pronouncing the benediction. In the charge brought against them, October
3, before the Privy Council, it was alleged that this must have been
done merely to disturb the congregation and vex the minister, as being a
Presbyterian, albeit they could not but know that Presbyterians do
nowhere condemn the doxology, ‘which, where it is in use, is reverently
regarded, and never offered to be interrupted by any good Christian.’ It
was likewise alleged of the same young men that they were in the custom
of offering affronts and indignities to the elders at their meetings ‘by
hootings, bellowings, throwing of stones, and offering to rabble them
when they walk on the streets.’

Three of the accused, having appeared and made submission, were
absolved. The other three, not having appeared, were put to the horn,
and their goods escheat.[131]


[Sidenote: OCT. 19.]

Lord Lindsay’s regiment was now quartered in Glasgow, under the
temporary command of Major James Menzies, whom, from his [Sidenote:
1694.] name, we may conclude to have been of Highland birth. Some of the
towns-people had been apprehended by the major as deserters, and put
into confinement, whence they claimed the protection of the magistrates,
who quickly interceded in their behalf, requesting that the alleged
culprits might be brought before them for an investigation of the case.
This being pointedly refused by the major, the magistrates issued a
formal edict demanding that the men might be produced; but this the
major treated with the same contempt. They then sent a civil request for
a conference on the case, and the major having consented, the provost,
two bailies, and Mr Robert Park, the town-clerk, met Menzies and three
of his captains in the town-clerk’s chamber.

The conference commenced with a request in gentle terms from the
provost, that the people might be brought forward, and in this request
Mr Park very civilly joined. An altercation then took place between the
major and the town-clerk, the former calling the latter a fool, the
latter in return calling the major an ass, who, then losing patience,
struck the man of peace with his cane. A heavy blow of the fist of the
town-clerk was instantly replied to by the major with a lunge of his
sword, whereupon Mr Park fell dead at his feet.

There was immediately a great hubbub in the chamber, and it soon spread
to the streets, into which Menzies rushed without hat or wig, and with
the bloody sword in his hand. He called his men—he planted them
three-deep across the chief line of street, to stop the mob, and,
mounting his horse at the Gorbals, fled amain.

Mr Francis Montgomery, a member of the Privy Council, was in Glasgow at
the time. He readily concurred with the magistrates in authorising three
citizens to pursue the murderer. They were John Anderson of
Dowhill,[132] John Gillespie, merchant, and Robert Stevenson, glazier.
As they travelled along the line of the Clyde on Menzies’s track, they
were joined by Peter Paterson, late bailie of Renfrew. Anderson alone
was armed; he had two pistols.

The unfortunate major was traced to the house of Rainhill, where,
entering the garden, the pursuers soon found him. Gillespie, who had got
one of Anderson’s pistols, accompanied by Stevenson, advanced upon the
murderer, who came up with a fierce [Sidenote: 1694.] countenance,
asking what was the matter. Paterson told him there had been a man slain
in Glasgow, and the murderer was supposed to be here: ‘If you be he,’
added Paterson, ‘may God forgive you!’ Menzies replied: ‘It is no
business of yours;’ whereupon one of the others called out: ‘Dowhill,
here is the man.’ Then the major, drawing his sword, and using a
horrible imprecation, came forward, crying: ‘What have the rascals to do
with me?’ The men retreated before him, and a pistol was fired in
self-defence, by which Menzies was slain. When Paterson returned a
minute after, he found him lying on his back, dead, with his drawn sword
across his breast.

Strange to say, Henry Fletcher, brother of Lord Salton, and
Lieutenant-colonel Hume, for the interest of his majesty’s forces,
raised a prosecution against the three Glasgow citizens for murder. It
ended in a verdict of _Not proven_.[133]


[Sidenote: OCT.]

Previous to 1705, when the first professor of anatomy was appointed in
the university of Edinburgh, there were only a few irregular attempts in
the Scottish capital to give instructions in that department of medical
education. We first hear of dissection of the dead body in our city in
the latter part of the year 1694, a little before which time the
celebrated Dr Archibald Pitcairn had left a distinguished position as
professor of medicine in the university of Leyden, and marrying an
Edinburgh lady, had been induced finally to settle there in practice. On
the 14th October, Pitcairn wrote to his friend, Dr Robert Gray of
London, that he was taking part in an effort to obtain subjects for
dissection from the town-council, requesting from them the bodies of
those who die in the correction-house called Paul’s Work, and have none
to bury them. ‘We offer,’ he says, ‘to wait on these poor for nothing,
and bury them after dissection at our own charges, which now the town
does; yet there is great opposition by the chief surgeons, who neither
eat hay nor suffer the oxen to eat it. I do propose, if this be granted,
to make better improvements in anatomy than have been made at Leyden
these thirty years; for I think most or all anatomists have neglected or
not known what was most useful for a physician.’

The person ostensibly moving in this matter was Mr Alexander Monteith,
an eminent surgeon, and a friend of Pitcairn. In compliance with his
request, the town-council (October 24) gave [Sidenote: 1694.] him a
grant of the dead bodies of those dying in the correction-house, and of
foundlings who die on the breast, allowing at the same time a room for
dissection, and freedom to inter the remains in the College Kirk
cemetery, but stipulating that he bury the intestines within forty-eight
hours, and the remainder of the body within ten days, and that his
prelections should only be during the winter half of the year.

Monteith’s brethren did not present any opposition to his movement
generally; they only disrelished his getting the Council’s gift
exclusively to himself. Proposing to give demonstrations in anatomy
also, they preferred a petition to the town-council, asking the
unclaimed bodies of persons dying in the streets, and foundlings who
died off the breast; and the request was complied with, on condition of
their undertaking to have a regular anatomical theatre ready before the
term of Michaelmas 1697.[134]

Such were the beginnings of the medical school of Edinburgh.

[Illustration: The Bass.]




                   REIGN OF WILLIAM III.: 1695–1702.


During this period, the affairs of Scotland were in a marked degree
subordinate to those of England. The king, absorbed in continental wars
and continental politics, paid little attention to his northern kingdom;
he left it chiefly to the care of its state-officers, using as a medium
of his own influence, William Carstares, a Presbyterian minister of
extraordinary worth, sincerity, and prudence, who had gained his entire
esteem and confidence, and who usually attended him wherever he was. A
parliament which sat in May 1695, was chiefly occupied with the
investigation of the Glencoe massacre, and with measures connected with
the rising commercial enterprise of the country, including the formation
of a native bank, and that of a company for trading with Africa and the
Indies. The latter of these speculations was worked out in an expedition
to Darien, and an attempted settlement there, which, through English
mercantile jealousy, and the king’s indifference to Scottish interests,
ended so unfortunately as greatly to incense the Scottish nation, and
increase the party disaffected to the Revolution government. The misery
hence arising was increased by a dearth from a succession of bad
seasons. Nevertheless, this period will be found in our chronicle to
have been remarkable for the establishment of manufactories of various
kinds, and for various other industrial enterprises, shewing that the
national energies were beginning to take a decidedly new direction. At
the same time, instances of deplorable superstition, cruelty, and
intolerance were sufficiently numerous to attest that the days of
barbarism were not past.

Incessant efforts were made by the Jacobite party to procure the
restoration of King James, and the discontents excited by Darien were
greatly favourable to their views. Yet the heart of the middle class
throughout the more important provinces remained firm in
Presbyterianism, for which the Revolution government was the sole
guarantee; and in this lay an insuperable bar to all reactionary
projects. A war against France, which had begun immediately after the
Revolution (May 1689), was brought to a conclusion in September 1697, by
the treaty of Ryswick, which included an acknowledgment by Louis XIV. of
the title of King William to the English throne. The exiled king, old
and abandoned to ascetic devotion, indulged a hope that he would outlive
William, and be then quietly recalled. He died, however, in September
1701, with only the assurance of the French king in favour of the
restoration of his son. William survived him but a few months, dying of
a fever and ague on the 8th March 1702. His vigorous talents, his
courage, his essential mildness and tolerance, abated as they were by an
unpopular coldness of manners, are amply recognised in English history;
among the Scots, while Presbyterians thank him for the establishment of
their church, there is little feeling regarding the Dutch king, besides
a strong resentment of his concern in the affairs of Glencoe and Darien.


[Sidenote: 1695. FEB. 17.]

This day, being Sunday, the Catholics of Edinburgh were so bold as to
hold a meeting for worship in the Canongate. It was fallen upon and
‘dissipat’ by the authorities, and the priest, Mr David Fairfoul, with
James De Canton and James Morris, fencing-masters, and John Wilson of
Spango, were committed to prison, while the Lord Advocate obtained a
list of other persons present. The Privy Council ordered the four
prisoners to be carried from the Canongate to the Edinburgh Tolbooth,
and appointed a committee to take what steps it might think meet
regarding the list of worshippers.

On the 28th February, the Council permitted the liberation of the two
fencing-masters, on assurance of their doing nothing offensive to the
government in future, under a penalty of five hundred merks. At the same
time, they ordained ‘Harry Graham, and his landlord, James Blair,
periwig-maker in Niddry’s Wynd; James Brown, son to Hugh Brown,
chirurgeon, and the said Hugh his father; John Abercrombie, merchant in
Edinburgh, and John Lamb in the Water of Leith, to give bond in the same
terms and under the same penalty;’ else to be kept in prison. Orders
were given to search for John Laing, writer, John Gordon, writer, and
James Scott in the Canongate, ‘who, being also at the said meeting, have
absconded.’ The priest Fairfoul was treated with unexpected mercy, being
liberated on condition of banishment, not to return under a penalty of
three hundred pounds sterling.[135]


[Sidenote: FEB. 19.]

Robert Davidson, merchant in Ellon, Aberdeenshire, represented to the
Privy Council that he had been in a good way of merchandise, and
proprietor of a two-story house, when in the beginning of December last
some of Lord Carmichael’s dragoons were quartered upon him, and
deposited their powder in one of his low [Sidenote: 1695.] rooms. As
they were one morning dividing the powder, it caught fire, and
demolished the house, together with his whole merchandise and household
plenishing, carrying the bed whereon he and his family lay to the top of
the house, and seriously injuring a relative who was living with him at
the time, and for the cost of whose cure he was answerable. Robert
petitioned for some compensation, and the Council—following its rule of
a vicarious beneficence—allowed him to raise a voluntary collection at
the church-doors of Aberdeenshire and the two adjacent counties.[136]


[Sidenote: FEB.]

There never, perhaps, was any mystic history better attested than that
of ‘the Rerrick Spirit.’ The tenant of the house, many of his
neighbours, the minister of the parish, several other clergymen, the
proprietor of the ground living half a mile off, all give their
testimonies to the various things which they ‘saw, heard, and felt.’ The
air of actuality is helped even by the local situation and its
associations. It is in the same parish with Dundrennan Abbey, where
Queen Mary spent her last night in Scotland. It is upon the same
rock-bound coast which Scott has described so graphically in his tale of
_Guy Mannering_, which was indeed founded on facts that occurred in this
very parish. Collin, the house of the laird, still exists, though passed
into another family. Very probably, the house of Andrew Mackie himself
would also be found by any one who had the curiosity to inquire for it;
nor would he fail, at the same time, to learn that the whole particulars
of this narration continue to be fresh in popular recollection, though
four generations have passed away since the event. Few narrations of the
kind have included occurrences and appearances which it was more
difficult to reconcile with the theory of trick or imposture.

Andrew Mackie, a mason, occupied a small farm, called Ring-croft, on the
estate of Collin, in the parish of Rerrick, and stewartry of
Kirkcudbright. He is spoken of as a man ‘honest, civil, and harmless
beyond many of his neighbours,’ and we learn incidentally that he had a
wife and some children. In the course of the month of February 1695,
Andrew was surprised to find his young cattle frequently loose in the
byre, and their bindings broken. Attributing it to their unruliness, he
got stronger bindings; but still they were found loose in the morning.
Then he removed the beasts to another place; and [Sidenote: 1695.] when
he went to see them next morning, he found one bound up with a hair
_tether_ to the roof-beam, so strait, that its feet were lifted off the
ground. Just about this time, too, the family were awakened one night
with a smell of smoke; and when they got up, they found a quantity of
peats lying on the floor, and partially kindled. It seemed evident that
some mischievous agent was at work in Ring-croft; but as yet nothing
superhuman was in the surmises of the family.

On Wednesday, the 7th of March, a number of stones were thrown in the
house—‘in all places of it’—and no one could tell whence they came, or
who threw them. This continued during day and night, but mostly during
the night, for several days, the stones often hitting the members of the
family, but always softly, as if they had less than half their natural
weight. A kind of fear began to take possession of the little household,
and the father’s fireside devotions waxed in earnestness. Here, however,
a new fact was developed: the stone-throwing was worst when the family
was at prayers. On the Saturday evening, the family being for some time
without, one or two of the children, on entering, were startled to
observe what appeared a stranger sitting at the fireside, with a blanket
about him. They were afraid, and hesitated; but the youngest, who was
only nine or ten years of age, chid the rest for their timidity, saying:
‘Let us sain [bless] ourselves, and then there is no ground to fear it!’
He perceived that the blanket around the figure was his. Having blessed
himself, he ran forward, and pulled away the blanket, saying: ‘Be what
it will, it hath nothing to do with my blanket.’ It was found to be a
four-footed stool set on end, and the blanket cast over it.

Attending church on Sunday, Andrew Mackie took an opportunity, after
service, of informing the minister, Mr Telfair, how his house had been
disturbed for the last four days. The reverend gentleman consequently
visited Ring-croft on Tuesday. He prayed twice, without experiencing any
trouble; but soon after, as he stood conversing with some people at the
end of the barn, he saw two stones fall on the croft near by, and
presently one came from the house to tell that the pelting within doors
had become worse than ever. He went in, prayed again, and was hit
several times by the stones, but without being hurt. After this there
was quiet for several days. On Sunday it began again, and worse than
before, for now the stones were larger, and where they hit, they gave
pain. On the ensuing Wednesday, the minister [Sidenote: 1695.] revisited
the house, and stayed a great part of the night, during which he was
‘greatly troubled.’ ‘Stones and several other things,’ says he, ‘were
thrown at me; I was struck several times on the sides and shoulders very
sharply with a great staff, so that those who were present heard the
noise of the strokes. That night it threw off the bed-side, and rapped
upon the chests and boards as one calling for access. As I was at
prayer, leaning on a bed-side, I felt something pressing up my arm. I,
casting my eyes thither, perceived a little white hand and arm, from the
elbow down, but presently it evanished.’

The neighbours now began to come about the house, to gratify their
curiosity or express sympathy; and both when they were within doors, and
when they were approaching or departing, they were severely pelted.
Mackie himself got a blow from a stone, which wounded his forehead.
After several apparent efforts of a visionary being to seize him by the
shoulder, he was griped fast by the hair of the head, and ‘he thought
something like nails scratched his skin.’ This, however, was little in
comparison to what happened with some of the neighbours, for, as
attested by ‘Andrew Tait in Torr,’ they were seized and dragged up and
down the house by the clothes. ‘It griped one John Keig, miller in
Auchencairn, so by the side, that he entreated his neighbours to help:
it cried it would rive [tear] the side from him. That night it lifted
the clothes off the children, as they were sleeping in bed, and beat
them on the hips as if it had been with one’s hand, so that all who were
in the house heard it. The door-bar and other things would go thorough
the house, as if a person had been carrying them in his hand; yet
nothing seen doing it. It also rattled on chests and bed-sides with a
staff, and made a great noise.’ ‘At night it cried, “Whisht! whisht!” at
every sentence in the close of prayer; and it whistled so distinctly,
that the dog barked and ran to the door, as if one had been calling to
hound him.’

At the request of the laird, Charles M‘Lellan of Collin, a number of
ministers put up public prayers on account of these strange occurrences,
and on the 4th of April two came to the house to see what they could do
in behalf of the family. They spent the night in fasting and prayer, but
with no other apparent effect than that of rendering the supposed spirit
more ‘cruel.’ One of the reverend gentlemen got a wound in the head from
a stone, and the other had his wig pulled off, and received several sore
blows, which, however, were healed quickly. A fiery peat was [Sidenote:
1695.] thrown amongst the people, and in the morning when they arose
from prayer, ‘the stones poured down on all who were in the house to
their hurt.’

Two days after, the affair took a new turn, when Mackie’s wife was
induced to lift a stone which she found loose at the threshold of the
house, and perceived underneath ‘seven small bones, with blood, and some
flesh, all closed in a piece of old soiled paper;’ the blood being fresh
and bright. She presently ran to the laird’s house, about a quarter of a
mile distant, to fetch him; and while she was gone, the spirit became
worse than ever, ‘throwing stones and fire-balls in and about the house;
but the fire, as it lighted, did evanish. It thrust a staff through the
wall above the children in bed, shook it over them, and groaned.’ The
laird came and lifted the bones and flesh, after which the trouble
ceased for a little time. Next day, however, being Sunday, it
recommenced with throwing of stones and other heavy articles, and set
the house twice on fire. In the evening, when the eldest boy was coming
home, ‘an extraordinary light fell about him, and went before him to the
house, with a swift motion.’

On the ensuing morning, the 8th April, Mackie found in his close a
letter written and sealed with blood, superscribed thus: ‘_3 years tho
shall have to repent a net it well_.’ Within he read: ‘_Wo be to the
Cotlland Repent and tak warning for the door of haven ar all Redy bart
against the I am sent for a warning to the to fllee to god yet troublt
shallt this man be for twenty days a 3 rpent rpent Scotland or els tow
shall._’[137]

Following up the old notion regarding the touching of a murdered person
in order to discover the murderer, all the surviving persons who had
lived in the house during the twenty-eight years of its existence, were
convened by appointment of the civil magistrate before Charles M‘Lellan
of Collin, ‘and did all touch the bones,’ but without any result.

On a committee of five ministers coming two days after to the house, the
disturbing agency increased much in violence. According to the parish
minister, Telfair, who was present on this occasion, ‘It came often with
such force, that it made all the house shake; it brake a hole through
the timber and thatch of [Sidenote: 1695.] the roof, and poured in great
stones, one whereof, more than a quarter weight, fell upon Mr James
Monteath his back, yet he was not hurt.’ When a guard was set upon the
hole in the roof, outside, it broke another hole through the gable from
the barn, and threw stones in through that channel. ‘It griped and
handled the legs of some, as with a man’s hand; it hoised up the feet of
others, while standing on the ground; thus it did to William Lennox of
Millhouse, myself, and others.’

After this, the disturbances went on with little variation of effect for
a week or more. A pedler felt a hand thrust into his pocket. Furniture
was dragged about. Seeing a meal-sieve flying about the house, Mackie
took hold of it, when the skin was immediately torn out. Several people
were wounded with the stones. Groaning, whistling, and cries of
_Whisht_—_Bo, bo_—and _Kuck, kuck!_ were frequently heard. Men, while
praying, were over and over again lifted up from the ground. While
Mackie was thrashing in the barn, some straw was set fire to, and staves
were thrust at him through the wall. When any person was hit by a stone,
a voice was heard saying: ‘Take that till you get more;’ and another was
sure to come immediately.

On the 24th of April, there was a fast and humiliation in the parish on
account of the demonstrations at Ring-croft; and on that day the
violences were more than ever extreme, insomuch that the family feared
they should be killed by the stones. ‘On the 26th, it threw stones in
the evening, and knocked on a chest several times, as one to have
access, and began to speak, and call those who were sitting in the house
witches and rooks, and said it would take them to hell. The people then
in the house said among themselves: “If it had any to speak to it, now
it would speak.” In the meantime, Andrew Mackie was sleeping. They
wakened him, and then he, hearing it say: “Thou shalt be troubled till
Tuesday,” asked, “Who gave thee a commission?” It answered: “God gave me
a commission, and I am sent to warn the land to repent, for a judgment
is to come, if the land do not quickly repent;” and commanded him to
reveal it upon his peril. And if the land did not repent, it said it
would go to its father, and get a commission to return with a hundred
worse than itself, and it would trouble every particular family in the
land. Andrew Mackie said: “If I should tell this, I would not be
believed.” Then it said: “Fetch [your] betters; fetch the [Sidenote:
1695.] minister of the parish, and two honest men on Tuesday’s night,
and I shall declare before them what I have to say.” Then it said:
“Praise me, and I will whistle to you; worship me, and I will trouble
you no more.” Then Andrew Mackie said: “The Lord, who delivered the
three children out of the fiery furnace, deliver me and mine this night
from the temptations of Satan!” It replied: “You might as well have
said, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.”’ On a humble person present here
putting in a word, the voice told him he was ill-bred to interfere in
other people’s discourse. ‘It likewise said: “Remove your goods, for I
will burn the house.”’

The house was actually set on fire seven times next day, and the care of
the inmates preventing damage of this kind from extending, the end of
the house was pulled down in the evening, so that the family was forced
to spend the night in the barn. On the second next day, the house being
again set fire to several times, Mackie carefully extinguished all fires
about the place, and poured water upon his hearth; yet after this, when
there was no fire within a quarter of a mile, the conflagrations, as was
alleged, were renewed several times.

The period announced in the bloody letter of the 8th instant was now
approaching, and in a conversation with Mackie, the supposed spirit
good-naturedly informed him that, ‘except some casting of stones on
Tuesday to fulfil the promise,’ he should have no more trouble. Tuesday,
being the 30th of April, was the twenty-third day from the finding of
the letter. That night, Charles M‘Lellan of Collin and several
neighbours were in the barn. As he was at prayer, he ‘observed a black
thing in the corner of the barn, and it did increase, as if it would
fill the whole house. He could not discern it to have any form, but as
if it had been a black cloud; it was affrighting to them all. Then it
threw bear-chaff and mud in their faces, and afterwards did grip
severals who were in the house by the middle of the body, by the arms,
and other parts of their bodies, so strait, that some said for five days
thereafter they thought they felt those grips.’ Such, excepting the
firing of a sheep-cot next day, was the last that was seen, heard, or
felt of the Rerrick Spirit.

So great was the impression made by these incidents, that early in the
ensuing year Mr Telfair published an account of them in a small
pamphlet, which went through a second edition in Scotland, and was
reprinted, with alterations of language, [Sidenote: 1695.] in
London.[138] At the end appeared the attestations of those who ‘saw,
heard, and felt’ the various things stated—namely, ‘Mr Andrew Ewart,
minister at Kells; Mr James Monteath, minister at Borgue; Mr John Murdo,
minister at Crossmichael; Mr Samuel Stirling, minister at Parton; Mr
William Falconer, minister at Kelton; Charles M‘Lellan of Collin,
William Lennox of Millhouse, Andrew and John Tait in Torr, John Cairns
in Hardhills, William Macminn, John Corsby, Thomas Macminn, Andrew
Paline, &c.’ It may be remarked, that for each particular statement in
the Relation, the names of the special witnesses are given; and their
collected names are appended, as to a solemn document in which soul and
conscience were concerned.


[Sidenote: MAR. 19.]

The degree of respect felt by the authorities of this age for the rights
of the individual, is shewn very strikingly in a custom which was now
and for a considerable time after largely practised, of compromising
with degraded and imputedly criminal persons for banishment to the
American plantations. For example, at this date, thirty-two women of
evil fame, residing in Edinburgh, were brought before the magistrates as
a moral nuisance. We do not know what could have been done to them
beyond whipping and hard labour; yet they were fain to agree that,
instead of any other punishment, they should be banished to America, and
arrangements for that purpose were immediately made.

In the ensuing June, a poor woman of the same sort, named Janet Cook,
residing in Leith, was denounced for offences in which a father and son
were associated—a turpitude which excited a religious horror, and caused
her to be regarded as a criminal of the highest class. The Lord Advocate
reported of Janet to the Privy Council, that she had been put under the
consideration of the Lords of Justiciary, as a person against whom
‘probation could not be found,’ but that the Lords were nevertheless ‘of
opinion she might be banished the kingdom,’ and she herself had
‘consented to her banishment.’ The Lords of the Privy Council seem to
have had no more difficulty about the case than those of [Sidenote:
1695.] the Court of Justiciary had had; they ordered that Janet should
depart furth of the kingdom and not return, ‘under the highest pains and
penalties.’

In January 1696, a woman named Elizabeth Waterstone, imprisoned on a
charge identical in all respects with the above, was, in like manner,
without trial, banished, with her own consent, to the plantations.

On the 7th of February 1697, four boys who were notorious thieves, and
eight women who were that and worse, were called before the magistrates
of Edinburgh, and ‘interrogat whether or not they would consent freely
to their own banishment furth of this kingdom, and go to his majesty’s
plantations in America.’ ‘They one and all freely and unanimously
consented so to do,’ and arrangements were made by the Privy Council for
their deportation accordingly. It was only ordained regarding the boys
that Lord Teviot might engage them as recruits for Flanders, in which
case he was immediately to commence maintaining them.

On the 15th February 1698, Robert Alexander, ‘a notorious
horse-stealer,’ now in prison, was willing to appease justice by
consenting to banishment without trial. He likewise made discoveries
enabling several countrymen to recover their horses. The Privy Council
therefore ordained him to be transported by the first ship to the
plantations of America, not to return thence under pain of death.

William Baillie, ‘ane Egyptian,’ prisoner in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh,
but regarding whom we hear of no specific offence and no trial, was
summarily ordered (Sep. 12, 1699) to be transported in the first ship
going to the plantations, the skipper to be allowed a proper gratuity
from the treasury, and at the same time to give caution for five hundred
merks that he would produce a certificate of the man being landed in
America.[139]

It was long before justice in Scotland took any qualm about this
free-and-easy way of dealing with accused persons. So late as 1732, two
men of humble rank—Henderson, a sedan-carrier, and Hamilton, a
_street-cadie_—suspected of being accessory to the murder of an
exciseman, having _petitioned_ for banishment before trial, were sent
from the jail in Edinburgh to Glasgow, there to wait a vessel for the
plantations.[140]

[Sidenote: 1695. APR. 3.]

The Earl of Home, as a dangerous person, had for some time been confined
to his house of the Hirsel, near Coldstream; but now he was required to
enter himself prisoner in Edinburgh Castle. He represented himself as
under such indisposition of body as to make this unendurable, and the
Council therefore ordered Dr Sir Thomas Burnet, the king’s physician, to
take a chirurgeon with him to the Hirsel, and inquire into the state of
his lordship’s health. The doctor and surgeon reported in such terms
that the earl was allowed to remain at the Hirsel, but not without
caution to the extent of two thousand pounds sterling. For their pains
in travelling fifty miles and back, and giving this report, the Council
allowed Dr Burnet two hundred merks (£11, 2_s._ 2_d._), and Gideon
Elliot, chirurgeon, one hundred merks.[141]


[Sidenote: MAY 20.]

A _hership_ of cattle having taken place on the lands of Lord Rollo, in
Perthshire, the Master of Rollo was pleased to prosecute the matter a
little more energetically than was convenient to some of his neighbours.
He seems to have particularly excited the resentment of James Edmonstoun
of Newton, one of whose tenants was found in possession of a cow
reclaimed as part of the _hership_. Newton, being soon after at the
house of Clavidge, spoke some despiteful words regarding the Master,
which were afterwards taken notice of. At the same house, about the same
time, Patrick Graham, younger of Inchbrakie, spoke in the like angry
terms of the Master. ‘It has been noised in the country,’ said he, ‘that
I have courted the Master of Rollo, and fawned upon him; but when
occasion serves, something different will be seen.’

These two hot-headed men spent a couple of days together at Ryecroft, a
house of young Inchbrakie, and probably there inflamed their common
resentment by talking over their grievances. On the day noted in the
margin, hearing that the Master of Rollo was to go in the afternoon to
Invermay House, they rode to his house of Duncrub, and from that place
accompanied him to Invermay, together with the Laird of Clavidge and a
gentleman named M‘Naughton. Inchbrakie was remarked to have no sword,
while his companion Newton was provided with one. Supping at the
hospitable board of Invermay, these two conducted themselves much in the
manner of men seeking a quarrel. Inchbrakie said to the Master: ‘Master,
although John Stewart killed and [Sidenote: 1695.] salted two of your
kine, you surely will not pursue him, since your father and his Miss ate
them!’ Hereupon Clavidge remarked that this was not table-talk; to which
Newton made answer: ‘I think you are owning that.’ Then Inchbrakie and
Newton were observed to whisper together, and the latter was heard
saying: ‘I will not baulk you, Inchie.’ Afterwards, they went out
together, and by and by returned to table. What was the subject of their
conversation during absence, might only too easily be inferred from what
followed.

At ten o’clock the party broke up, and the strangers mounted their
horses, to ride to their respective homes. The Laird of Invermay, having
observed some mischief brewing in the mind of Newton, endeavoured to
make him stay for the night, but without success. The Master, Clavidge,
and M‘Naughton rode on, with Inchbrakie a little in front of them. When
Newton came up, Inchbrakie and he turned a little aside, and Newton was
then observed to loose his belt and give his sword to Inchbrakie. Then
riding on to the rest of the party, he contrived to lead Clavidge and
M‘Naughton a little ahead, and commenced speaking noisily about some
trivial matter. Hearing, however, the clashing of two swords behind
them, Clavidge and M‘Naughton turned back, along with Newton, and there
saw the Master of Rollo fallen on his knees, while Inchbrakie stood over
him. The latter called out to Newton, ‘He has got it.’ Clavidge rushed
to sustain the sinking man, while Inchbrakie and Newton went apart and
interchanged a few hurried sentences. Presently Newton came up again,
when Clavidge, perceiving that the Master was wounded to the death,
cried out: ‘O God, such a horrid murder was never seen!’ To this Newton,
standing coolly by, said: ‘I think not so—I think it has been fair.’ The
poor Master seems to have died immediately, and then Newton went again
aside with Inchbrakie, gave him his own hat, and assisted him to escape.
In the morning, when the two swords were found upon the ground, the
bloody one proved to be Newton’s.

Inchbrakie fled that night to the house of one John Buchanan, whom he
told that he had killed the Master of Rollo, adding, with tokens of
remorse: ‘Wo worth Newton—wo worth the company!’ and stating further
that Newton had egged him on, and given him a weapon, when he would
rather have declined fighting.

Inchbrakie escaped abroad, and was outlawed, but, procuring a [Sidenote:
1695.] remission, returned to his country in 1720.[142] James Edmonstoun
of Newton was tried (Aug. 6, 1695) for accession to the murder of John
Master of Rollo, and condemned to banishment for life.[143] It is stated
that, nevertheless, he carried the royal standard of James VIII. at the
battle of Sheriffmuir, and even after that event, lived many years on
his own estate in Strathearn.[144]


[Sidenote: MAY.]

The Estates at this date advert to the fact that sundry lands lying
along the sea-coast had been ruined, in consequence of their being
overwhelmed with sand driven from adjacent sand-hills, ‘the which has
been mainly occasioned by the pulling up by the roots of bent, juniper,
and broom bushes, which did loose and break the surface and scroof of
the sand-hills.’ In particular, ‘the barony of Cowbin and house and
yards thereof, lying in the sheriffdom of Elgin, is quite ruined and
overspread with sand,’ brought upon it by the aforesaid cause. Penalties
were accordingly decreed for such as should hereafter pull up bent or
juniper bushes on the coast sand-hills.[145]

A remarkable geological phenomenon, resulting in the ruin of a family of
Morayland gentry, is here in question. We learn from an act of
parliament, passed two months later, that, within the preceding twenty
years, two-thirds of the estate of Culbin had been overwhelmed with
blown sand, so that no trace of the manor-house, yards, orchards, or
mains thereof, was now to be seen, though formerly ‘as considerable as
many in the country of Moray.’ Alexander Kinnaird of Culbin now
represented to the parliament, that full cess was still charged for his
lands, being nearly as much as the remainder of them produced to him in
rent; and he petitioned that his unfortunate estate might, in
consideration of his extraordinary misfortune, be altogether exempted
from cess. Three years after this date, we hear of the remaining
_fourth_ part of Culbin as sold for the benefit of the creditors of the
proprietor, and himself suing to parliament for a personal protection.
In time, the entire ruin of the good old barony was completed. Hugh
Miller says: ‘I have wandered for hours amid the sandwastes of this
ruined barony, and seen only a few stunted bushes of broom, and a few
scattered tufts of withered bent, occupying, [Sidenote: 1695.] amid
utter barrenness, the place of what, in the middle of the seventeenth
century, had been the richest fields of the rich province of Moray; and,
where the winds had hollowed out the sand, I have detected, uncovered
for a few yards-breadth, portions of the buried furrows, sorely dried
into the consistence of sun-burned brick, but largely charged with the
seeds of the common cornfield weeds of the country, that, as ascertained
by experiment by the late Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, still retain their
vitality. It is said that an antique dove-cot, in front of the huge
sand-wreath which enveloped the manor-house, continued to present the
top of its peaked roof over the sand, as a foundered vessel sometimes
exhibits its vane over the waves, until the year 1760. The traditions of
the district testify that, for many years after the orchard had been
enveloped, the topmost branches of the fruit-trees, barely seen over the
surface, continued each spring languidly to throw out bud and blossom;
and it is a curious circumstance, that in the neighbouring churchyard of
Dike there is a sepulchral monument of the Culbin family, which, though
it does not date beyond the reign of James VI., was erected by a lord
and lady of the lost barony, at a time when they seem to have had no
suspicion of the utter ruin which was coming on their house. The quaint
inscription runs as follows:

             VALTER : KINNAIRD : ELIZABETH : INNES : 1613 :
       THE : BVILDARS : OF : THIS : BED : OF : STANE :
       AR : LAIRD : AND : LADIE : OF : COVBINE :
       QVHILK : TVA : AND : THARS : QVHANE : BRAITHE IS : GANE :
       PLEIS : GOD : VIL : SLEIP : THIS : BED : VITHIN :

I refer to these facts, though they belong certainly to no very remote
age in the past history of our country, chiefly to shew that in what may
be termed the geological formations of the human period, very curious
fossils may be already deposited, awaiting the researches of the future.
As we now find, in raising blocks of stone from the quarry,
water-rippled surfaces lying beneath, fretted by the tracks of ancient
birds and reptiles, there is a time coming when, under thick beds of
stone, there may be detected fields and orchards, cottages,
manor-houses, and churches—the memorials of nations that have perished,
and of a condition of things and a stage of society that have for ever
passed away.’[146]


[Sidenote: JUNE 4.]

The same advantages of situation which are now thought to [Sidenote:
1695.] adapt Peterhead for a harbour of refuge for storm-beset
vessels—placed centrally and prominently on the east coast of
Scotland—rendered it very serviceable in affording shelter to vessels
pursued by those French privateers which, during the present war, were
continually scouring the German Ocean. Very lately, four English vessels
returning from Virginia and other foreign plantations with rich
commodities, would have inevitably been taken if they had not got into
Peterhead harbour, and been protected there by the fortifications and
the ‘resoluteness’ of the inhabitants. The spirit manifested in keeping
up the defences, and maintaining a constant guard and watch at the
harbour, had incensed the privateers not a little; and one Dunkirker of
thirty-four guns took occasion last summer to fire twenty-two great
balls at the town, nor did he depart without vowing (as afterwards
reported by a Scottish prisoner on board) to return and do his endeavour
to set it in a flame. The people, feeling their danger, and exhausted
with expensive furnishings and watchings, now petitioned the Privy
Council for a little military protection—which was readily granted.[147]


[Sidenote: JUNE.]

As political troubles subsided in Scotland, the spirit of mercantile
enterprise rose and gained strength. The native feelings of this kind
were of course stimulated by the spectacle of success presented in
England by the East India Company, and the active trade carried on with
the colonies. These sources of profit were monopolies; but Scotland
inquired, since she was an independent state, what was to hinder her to
have similar sources of profit established by her own legislature. The
dawnings of this spirit are seen in an act passed in the Scottish
parliament in 1693, wherein it is declared, ‘That merchants may enter
into societies and companies for carrying on trade as to any sort of
goods to whatsoever countries not being at war with their majesties,
where trade is in use to be, and particularly, besides the kingdoms of
Europe, to the _East and West Indies_, to the Straits and Mediterranean,
or upon the coast of Africa, or elsewhere,’ and promising to such
companies letters-patent for privileges and other encouragements, as
well as protection in case of their being attacked or injured. Amongst a
few persons favouring this spirit, was one of notable character and
history—WILLIAM PATERSON—a native of Scotland, but now practising
merchandise [Sidenote: 1695.] in London—a most active genius, well
acquainted with distant countries, not visionary, animated, on the
contrary, by sound commercial principles, yet living, unfortunately for
himself, before the time when there was either intelligence or means for
the successful carrying out of great mercantile adventures. Paterson, in
the early part of this year, had gained for himself a historical fame by
projecting and helping to establish the Bank of England. For his native
country he at the same time projected what he hoped would prove a second
East India Company.

At the date noted, an act passed the Scottish parliament, forming
certain persons named into an incorporation, under the name of _The
Company of Scotland Trading to Africa and the Indies_, who should be
enabled to ‘plant colonies, and build cities and forts, in any countries
in Asia, Africa, or America, not possest by any European sovereign,’ ‘by
consent of the natives and inhabitants thereof,’ and to take all proper
measures for their own protection and the advancement of their special
objects, only acknowledging the supremacy of the king by the annual
payment of a hogshead of tobacco. It was scrupulously arranged, however,
that at least one half of the stock of this Company should be subscribed
for by Scotsmen residing either at home or abroad.

Although the war pressed sorely on the resources of England, Paterson
calculated securely that there was enough of spare capital and
enterprise in London to cause the new Scottish trading scheme to be
taken up readily there. When the books for subscription were opened in
October, the whole £300,000 offered to the English merchants was at once
appropriated. By this time, the fears of the East India Company and of
the English mercantile class generally had been roused; it was believed
that the Scottish adventurers would compete with them destructively in
every place where they now enjoyed a lucrative trade. The parliament
took up the cry, and voted that the noblemen and gentlemen named in the
Scottish act were guilty of a high crime and misdemeanour. Irritated
rather than terrified by this denunciation, these gentlemen calmly
proceeded with their business in Scotland. The subscription books being
opened on the 26th of February 1696, the taking up of the stock became
something like a national movement. It scarcely appeared that the
country was a poor one. Noblemen, country gentlemen, merchants,
professional men, corporations of every kind, flocked to put down their
names for various sums according to their ability, till not merely the
£300,000 devoted to [Sidenote: 1695.] Scotsmen was engaged for, but some
additional capital besides.[148] In a list before me, with the sums
added up, I find the total is £336,390 sterling; but, of course, the
advance of this large sum was contemplated as to be spread over a
considerable space of time, the first instalment of 25 per cent. being
alone payable within 1696.

Meanwhile the furious denunciations of the English parliament proved a
thorough discouragement to the project in London, and nearly the whole
of the stockholders there silently withdrew from it; under the same
influence, the merchants of Hamburg were induced to withdraw their
support and co-operation, leaving Scotland to work out her own plans by
herself.

[Illustration: African Company’s House at Bristo Port, Edinburgh.]

She proceeded to do so with a courage much to be admired. A handsome
house for the conducting of the Company’s business was erected; schemes
for trade with Greenland, with Archangel, with the Gold Coast, were
considered; the qualities of goods, possible [Sidenote: 1695.]
improvements of machinery, the extent of the production of foreign
wares, were all the subject of careful inquiry. Under the glow of a new
national object, old grudges and antipathies were forgotten. William
Paterson, indeed, had set the pattern of a non-sectarian feeling from
the beginning, for, writing from London to the Lord Provost of Edinburgh
in July 1695, we find him using this strain of language, hitherto
unwonted in Scotland: ‘Above all, it is needful for us to make no
distinction of parties in this great undertaking; but of whatever nation
or religion a man be, he ought to be looked upon, if one of us, to be of
the same interest and inclination. We must not act apart in anything,
but in a firm and united body, and distinct from all other interests
whatsoever.’

The design of Paterson presents such indications of a great, an
original, and a liberal mind, as to make the obscurity which rests on
his history much to be regretted. The narrow, grasping, and monopolising
spirit which had hitherto marked the commerce of most nations, and
particularly the English and Spanish, was repudiated by this remarkable
Scotsman; he proposed, on some suitable situation in Central America, to
open a trade to all the world; he called on his countrymen not to try to
enrich themselves by making or keeping other nations poor, but by taking
the lead in a more generous system which should contemplate the good of
all. He himself embarked the few thousand pounds which he possessed in
the undertaking, and his whole conduct throughout its history exhibits
him not merely as a man of sound judgment and reflection, but one
superior to all sordid considerations.

For the further progress of the Company, the reader must be [Sidenote:
1695.] referred onward to July 1698, when the first expedition sailed
from Leith.


Further to improve the system of correspondence throughout the kingdom,
the parliament passed an act for establishing a General Post-office in
Edinburgh, under a postmaster-general, who was to have the exclusive
privilege of receiving and despatching letters, it being only allowed
that carriers should undertake that business on lines where there was no
regular post, and until such should be established. The rates were fixed
at 2_s._ Scots for a single letter within fifty Scottish miles, and for
greater distances in proportion. It was also ordained that there should
be a weekly post to Ireland, by means of a packet at Portpatrick, the
expense of which was to be charged on the Scottish office. By the same
law, the postmaster-general and his deputies were to have posts, and
furnish post-horses along all the chief roads ‘to all persons,’ ‘at
3_s._ Scots for ilk horse-hire for postage for every Scots mile,’
including the use of furniture and a guide.[149] It would appear that,
on this footing, the Post-office in Scotland was not a gainful concern,
for in 1698 Sir Robert Sinclair of Stevenston had a grant of the entire
revenue, with a pension of £300 sterling per annum, under the obligation
to keep up the posts, and after a little while gave up the charge, as
finding it disadvantageous.[150]

It is to be observed that this post-system for Scotland was provided
with but one centre—namely, the capital. Letters coming from London for
Glasgow arrived in Edinburgh in the first place, and were thence
despatched westwards at such times as might be convenient. At one time,
the letters were detained twelve hours in Edinburgh before being
despatched to Glasgow! It seems at present scarcely credible that, until
the establishment of Palmer’s mail-coaches in 1788, the letters from
London to Glasgow passed by this circuitous route, and not by a direct
one, although the western city had by that time a population of fifty
thousand, and was the seat of great commercial and manufacturing
industry.


[Sidenote: JULY.]

Glasgow—which in 1556 stood eleventh in the roll of the Scottish burghs,
contributing but £202, while Edinburgh afforded £2650—appears, in the
list now made up for a monthly cess to defray the expenses of the war,
as _second_, Edinburgh giving £3880; Glasgow, £1800; Aberdeen, £726;
Dundee, [Sidenote: 1695.] £560; Perth, £360; Kirkcaldy, £288, &c. ‘To
account for this comparative superiority of the wealth of Glasgow at
this time, I must take notice that since before the Restoration the
inhabitants had been in possession of the sale of both refined and raw
sugars for the greater part of Scotland; they had a privilege of
distilling spirits from their molasses, free from all duty and excise;
the herring-fishery was also carried on to what was, at that time,
thought a considerable extent; they were the only people in Scotland who
made soap; and they sent annually some hides, linen, &c., to Bristol,
from whence they brought back, in return, a little tobacco—which they
manufactured into snuff and otherwise—sugars, and goods of the
manufacture of England, with which they supplied a considerable part of
the whole kingdom.’—_Gibson’s History of Glasgow_, 1777.

It is probable that the population did not then exceed twelve thousand;
yet the seeds of that wonderful system of industry, which now makes
Glasgow so interesting a study to every liberal onlooker, were already
sown, and, even before the extension of English mercantile privileges to
Scotland at the Union, there was a face of business about the place—a
preparation of power and aptitude for what was in time to come. This
cannot be better illustrated than by a few entries in the Privy Council
Record regarding the fresh industrial enterprises which were from time
to time arising in the west.

_December 21, 1699._—A copartnery, consisting of William Cochran of
Ochiltree, John Alexander of Blackhouse, and Mr William Dunlop,
Principal of the University of Glasgow, with Andrew Cathcart, James
Colquhoun, Matthew Aitchison, Lawrence Dunwoodies, William Baxter,
Robert Alexander, and Mungo Cochran, merchants of Glasgow, was prepared
to set up a woollen manufactory there, designing to make ‘woollen stuffs
of all sorts, such as damasks, half-silks, draughts, friezes, drogats,
tartains, craips, capitations, russets, and all other stuffs for men and
women’s apparel, either for summer or winter.’ Using the native wool,
they expected to furnish goods equal to any imported, and ‘at as easie a
rate;’ for which end they are ‘providing the ablest workmen, airtiests,
from our neighbouring nations.’ They anticipated that by such means ‘a
vast soum of ready money will be kept within the kingdom, which these
years past has been exported, it being weel known that above ten
thousand pound sterling in specie hath been exported from the southern
and western parts of this kingdom to Ireland yearly for [Sidenote:
1695.] such stuffs, and yearly entered in the custom-house books,
besides what has been stolen in without entering.’

In the same year, John Adam, John Bryson, John Alexander, and Harry
Smith, English traders, had brought home to Glasgow ‘English workmen
skilled to work all hardware, such as pins, needles, scissors, scythes,
tobacco-boxes, and English knives, for which a great quantity of money
was yearly exported out of the kingdom.’ They designed so far to save
this sending out of money by setting up a hardware-manufactory in
Glasgow. On their petition, the Privy Council extended to their designed
work the privileges and immunities provided by statute for manufactories
set up in Scotland.

In the ensuing year, William Marshall, William Gray, John Kirkmyre, and
William Donaldson, merchants in Glasgow, projected the setting up of a
work there for making of ‘pins and needles,[151] boxes, shears, syshes,
knives, and other hardware,’ whereby they expected to keep much money
within the country, and give employment to ‘many poor and young boys,
who are and have been in these hard and dear times a burden to the
kingdom.’ To them likewise, on petition, were extended the privileges of
a manufactory.

_February, 1701._—Matthew and Daniel Campbell, merchants in Glasgow,
designed to set up an additional sugar-work, and, in connection with it,
a work ‘for distilling brandy and other spirits from all manner of grain
of the growth of this kingdom.’ With this view, they had ‘conduced and
engaged several foreigners and other persons eminently skilled in making
of sugar and distilling of brandy, &c., whom, with great travel,
charges, and expense, they had prevailed with to come to Glasgow.’ All
this was in order that ‘the nation may be the more plentifully and
easily provided with the said commodities, as good as any that have been
in use to be imported from abroad,’ and because ‘the distillery will
both be profitable for consumption of the product of the kingdom, and
for trade for the coast of Guinea and America, seeing that no trade can
be managed to the places foresaid, or the East Indies, without great
quantities of the foresaid liquors.’

[Sidenote: 1695.]

On their petition, the privileges of a manufactory were granted to them.

In the progress of manufacturing enterprise in the west, an additional
soap-work connected with a glass-work came to be thought of (February
1701). James Montgomery, younger, merchant in Glasgow, took into
consideration ‘how that city and all the country in its neighbourhood,
and further west, is furnished with glass bottles.’ The products of the
works at Leith and Morison’s Haven ‘cannot be transported but with a
vast charge and great hazard.’ He found, moreover, ‘ferns, a most useful
material for that work, to be very plenty in that country.’ There was
also, in the West Highlands, great abundance of wood-ashes, ‘which serve
for little or no other use, and may be manufactured first into good
white soap, which is nowhere made in the kingdom to perfection; and the
remains of these wood-ashes, after the soap is made, is a most excellent
material for making glass.’ He had, therefore, ‘since March last, been
with great application and vast charge seeking out the best workmen in
England,’ and making all other needful preparations for setting up such
a work.

On his petition, the Council endowed his work with the privileges of a
manufactory, ‘so as the petitioner and his partners may make soap and
glass of all kinds not secluded by the Laird of Prestongrange and his
act of parliament.’[152]


[Sidenote: JULY 7.]

The Bank of England, projected by the noted William Paterson, amidst and
by favour of the difficulties of the public exchequer during King
William’s expensive continental wars, may be said to have commenced its
actual banking operations on the first day of this year. Considerable
attention was drawn to the subject in London, and the establishment of a
similar public bank in both Ireland and Scotland became matter of
speculation. There was in London an almost retired merchant named John
Holland, who thought hereafter of spending his time chiefly in rural
retirement. To him came one day a friend, a native of Scotland, who was
inspired with a strong desire to see a bank established in his country.
He desired that Mr Holland would think of it. ‘Why,’ said the latter, ‘I
have nearly withdrawn from all such projects, and think only of how I
may spend the remainder of my days in peace.’ ‘Think of it,’ said his
Scottish friend, ‘and if you will [Sidenote: 1695.] enter into the
scheme, I can assure you of having an act of our parliament for it on
your own conditions.’

Mr Holland accordingly drew out a sketch of a plan for a bank in
Scotland, which his friend, in a very few days thereafter, had
transfused into a parliamentary bill of the Scottish form. He had also
spoken, he said, to most of his countrymen of any mercantile importance
in London to engage their favour for the scheme. Mr Holland was readily
induced to lend his aid in further operations, and the project appears
to have quickly come to a bearing, for, little more than six months from
the opening of the Bank of England, the act for the Bank of Scotland had
passed the native parliament.

In our country, as in England, exchanges and other monetary
transactions, such as are now left to banking companies, had hitherto
been solely in the hands of a few leading merchants; some such place as
the back-shop of a draper in the High Street of Edinburgh, or an obscure
counting-room in the Saltmarket of Glasgow, was all that we could shew
as a bank before this period; and the business transacted, being
proportioned to the narrow resources and puny industry of the country,
was upon a scale miserably small. Yet there was now, as we have seen, an
expansive tendency in Scotland, and the time seems to have arrived when
at least a central establishment for the entire country might properly
be tried in the capital.

While, unluckily, we do not know the name of the Scottish gentleman who
propounded the scheme to Mr Holland, we are enabled, by the recital of
the act, to ascertain who were the first patrons and nurses of the
project generally. Of merchants in London, besides the English name of
Mr Holland, we find those of Mr James Foulis,[153] Mr David Nairn, Mr
Walter Stuart, Mr Hugh Frazer, Mr Thomas Coutts, and Mr Thomas Deans,
who were all of them probably Scotsmen. Of Edinburgh merchants, there
were Mr William Erskine, Sir John Swinton, Sir Robert Dickson, Mr George
Clark, junior, and Mr John Watson. Glasgow was wholly unrepresented.
These individuals were empowered by the act to receive subscriptions
between the ensuing 1st of November and 1st of January. The whole scheme
was modest, frugal, and prudential in a high degree. [Sidenote: 1695.]
It was contemplated that the Bank of Scotland should start with a
subscribed capital of £1,200,000 Scots—that is, £100,000 sterling, in
shares of £1000 Scots each; two-thirds to be subscribed by individuals
residing in Scotland, and one-third by individuals residing in England,
no person to hold more than two shares. The company was to be under the
rule of a governor, deputy-governor, and twenty-four directors, of the
last of whom twelve should be English, these being ‘thought better
acquainted with the nature and management of a bank than those of
Scotland.’ As a further encouragement to English assistance, the act
ordained that any person subscribing for a part of the stock, should be
considered as _ipso facto_ naturalised.

The subscription of the £66,666, 13_s._ 4_d._ allowed to Scotland began
at the appointed time, the Marquis of Tweeddale, his majesty’s
commissioner to parliament, and his son, Lord Yester, being the first
who put down their names. The subscription of the remaining £33,333,
6_s._ 8_d._ was effected in London in one day, the chief adventurers
being Scotsmen resident there. The heads of the concern in Edinburgh
felt themselves sadly ignorant of the arrangements required for a public
bank, and deemed it absolutely necessary that Mr Holland should come
down to advise and superintend their proceedings. He very generously
agreed to do so, reside for some time in Edinburgh, and return upon his
own charges; while they, as liberally, took care, by a rich present to
his wife, that he should be no loser by the journey. He relates[154]
that his proposals were all at first objected to and controverted by the
Scotch managers, in consequence of their utter ignorance of banking, yet
all in perfect good-humour, and manifestly from a pure desire to get at
the expedients which were best; and all were ultimately agreed to. This
occasioned a difficulty at starting, and to this was added no small
amount of jealous opposition and distrust; nevertheless, Mr Holland
remarks that, within two months, and even while the Bank of England was
notoriously unable to pay its bills, those of the Scottish establishment
had attained to a surprising degree of credit. It may here be remarked,
that, ere long, by consent of the English proprietors, the whole
twenty-four directors were elected from the Scottish shareholders,
leaving thirteen English ones to act as trustees, ‘to manage what
affairs the company [Sidenote: 1695.] should have at London;’ and in
time, when there were no longer so many as thirteen proprietors in
England, even this arrangement was abandoned.

Several of the prominent Scottish shareholders were members of the
African Company; but it appears that there was anything but a concert or
good agreement between the two sets of projectors. Paterson regarded the
Bank of Scotland as in some degree a rival to his scheme, and talked of
the act appointing it as having been ‘surreptitiously gained.’ While so
sanguine about the African Company, he thought the bank unlikely to
prove a good thing to those concerned in it, little foreseeing that it
would flourish for centuries after the Indian Company had sunk in its
first calamitous venture.

The Bank of Scotland set up in a floor in the Parliament Close, with a
moderate band of officials, and _ten thousand pounds sterling of paid-up
capital_. It had scarcely started, when the African Company added a
banking business to its other concerns, meaning thus to overpower the
project of Mr Holland. That gentleman was in Edinburgh at the time. He
saw that the African Company was in the highest vogue with the public,
while few took any notice of his modest establishment. As governor, he
prudently counselled that they should make no attempt to enforce the
exclusive privilege which the statute had conferred upon them for
twenty-one years, but to limit themselves to standing on their guard
against ‘that mighty Company,’ lest it should try to injure or ‘affront’
them by a run upon their cash. For this reason, by his advice, twenty
thousand pounds of the capital was called up, in addition to the ten
thousand lodged at first. The smallness of these sums is amusing to men
who know what banking in Scotland now is; yet it appears that from the
first the Bank of Scotland had five, ten, twenty, fifty, and hundred
pound notes. After a little while, it was found that banking did not
succeed with the African Company, chiefly because they lent money in too
large sums to their own shareholders, and the Bank of Scotland was then
allowed to go on without any competition. The capital lately called up
was then paid back, leaving the original sum of £10,000 alone in the
hands of the bank.

The chief business of the bank at first was the lending of money on
heritable bonds and other securities. The giving of bills of
exchange—the great business of the private bankers—was, after
deliberation at a general meeting of the ‘adventurers,’ tried, with a
view to extending the usefulness of the concern as far as [Sidenote:
1695.] possible. In pursuance of the same object, and ‘for carrying the
circulation of their notes through the greatest part of the kingdom,’
branch-offices were erected at Glasgow, Dundee, Montrose, and Aberdeen,
‘with cashiers and overseers at each place, for receiving and paying
money, in the form of inland exchange, by notes and bills made for that
purpose.’ But, after what appeared a fair trial, the directors ‘found
that _the exchange trade was not proper for a banking company_.’ A bank
they conceived to be ‘chiefly designed as a common repository of the
nation’s cash—a ready fund for affording credit and loans, and for
making receipts and payments of money easy by the company’s notes.’ To
deal in exchange was ‘to interfere with the trade and business of
private merchants.’ The Bank of Scotland found it ‘very troublesome,
unsafe, and improper.’ One reason cited some years afterwards, by a
person connected with the bank, was—‘There is so much to be done in that
business without doors, at all hours by day and night, with such variety
of circumstances and conditions, as are inconsistent with the precise
hours of a public office, and the rules and regulations of a
well-governed company; and no company like the bank can be managed
without fixing stated office-hours for business, and establishing rules
and regulations which will never answer the management of the exchange
trade.’ As for the branch-offices, the inland exchange contemplated
there failed from another cause, strikingly significant of the small
amount of commercial intercourse then existing between the capital and
the provinces of Scotland. The bank, we are told, found it impracticable
to support the four sub-offices ‘but at an expense far exceeding the
advantage and conveniency rising therefrom; for, though the company
would willingly have been at some moderate charge to keep them up, if
they could thereby have effectuated an answerable circulation of
bank-notes about these places, for accommodating the lieges in their
affairs, yet they found that those offices did contribute to neither of
those ends; for the money that was once lodged at any of those places by
the cashiers issuing bills payable at Edinburgh, _could not be redrawn
thence by bills from Edinburgh_‘—of course, because of there being so
little owing in Edinburgh to persons residing in the provinces. So,
after a considerable outlay in trying the branch-offices, the directors
were obliged to give them up, and ‘bring back their money to Edinburgh
by horse-carriage.’[155]

[Sidenote: 1695.]

The company’s business was thenceforward for many years ‘wholly
restricted to lending money, which seems to be the only proper business
of a bank, and all to be transacted at Edinburgh.’[156]


[Sidenote: JULY 17.]

The estates of Duncan Forbes of Culloden, in sundry parishes near
Inverness, having been much wasted in 1689 and 1690, both by the ravages
of the king’s enemies and the necessary sustentation of his troops, he
now gave in a petition shewing that his damages had in all amounted to
the sum of £47,400, 6_s._ 8_d._ Scots. The parliament recommended his
case to the gracious consideration of his majesty,[157] and the result
was a requital, not in money, but in the form of a perpetual privilege
to the Laird of Culloden of distilling from the grain raised on his
estate of Ferintosh, upon paying of only a small composition in lieu of
excise.

The estate of Ferintosh consisted of about eighteen hundred arable
acres,[158] and the produce of barley was so considerable that a very
large quantity of whisky came to be produced within its bounds; Hugo
Arnot says nearly as much as in all the rest of Scotland together—but
Hugo, it must be admitted, is a remarkably unstatistical author.
Whatever might be the exact truth, there was certainly a surprising
quantity of usquebaugh issued forth from the domains of Forbes, insomuch
that _Ferintosh_ came to be that _quasi_ synonym for whisky which
‘Kilbagie’ and ‘Glenlivet’ afterwards were in succession. The privilege
of course yielded a large revenue to the family, and in time made ample
compensation for all their patriotic sufferings past and potential. In
1784, when at length the government was inclined to purchase it back,
there was such a demonstration made of its lucrativeness, that the
capital sum of £21,500 assigned for it was thought to be but a poor
equivalent.

The minister of Dingwall, in his account of the parish, written a few
years after the abolition of the Ferintosh privilege, tells of a
remarkable consequence of that measure. During the continuance of the
privilege, quarrels and breaches of the peace were abundant among the
inhabitants, yielding a good harvest of business to the procurators (i.
e. solicitors) of Dingwall. When the privilege ceased, the people became
more peaceable, and the prosperity of attorneyism in Dingwall sustained
a marked abatement.

[Sidenote: 1695. MAY 16.]

It was not so _subscribing_ a world at the close of the seventeenth
century as it is now; yet, poor as our country then was, she kept her
heart open for important public objects, and for works in which faith
and charity were concerned.

There was no bridge over the Clyde between Bothwell Bridge and
Little-gill Bridge, a space of eighteen miles. At Lanark, there was a
ferry-boat; but the river was frequently impassable, and there were
repeated instances of the whole passengers being swept down and engulfed
in the Stonebyres Linn. Arrangements were now made, chiefly by a
collection at all the church-doors in the kingdom, for building ‘a
sufficient stone bridge’ at the foot of the Inch of Clydeholm—this
charitable measure being rendered necessary by the poverty to which the
burgh of Lanark had been reduced by spoliation during the late reign,
‘by exactions of fines, free quarters for soldiers, and the like.’

By order of parliament, a collection of money was made, in July 1695, in
the parish churches of the kingdom, for the benefit of Andrew Watson,
skipper, and eight mariners of his vessel, who, in a voyage from Port
Glasgow to Madeira, on the 19th of November in the preceding year, in
latitude 38 degrees, had been attacked by two Salee rovers, and by them
carried as captives to Mamora, in Marocco. In their petition to
parliament, they described themselves as resting in a slavery more cruel
and barbarous than they could express, without the proper necessaries of
life, and ‘above all, deprived of the precious gospel, which they too
much slighted when they enjoyed it,’ with no prospect before them but to
die in misery and torment, unless they have some speedy relief. The
contributions were to be handed to John Spreul, merchant in Glasgow, he
finding caution to apply them to their proper end.

[Sidenote: 1697. APR. 15.]

‘Those of the Scots nation residing at Konigsberg, in Prussia,’
petitioned the Privy Council by their deputy, Mr Francis Hay, for
assistance in building a kirk for their use, for which they had obtained
a liberty from the Duke of Brandenburg. A collection at all the
church-doors in the kingdom was ordained for this purpose; and it is
surprising with what sympathy the poor commons of Scotland would enter
on a movement of this kind. We find that the little parish of Spott, in
East Lothian, contributed nearly three pounds sterling towards the
Konigsberg kirk.

At the ‘break of a storm’—by which is meant the melting of a great fall
of snow—in November 1698, the southern streams were flooded, and the
bridge of Ancrum was so broken and damaged that it could be no longer
serviceable. This being the only bridge [Sidenote: 1698.] upon the water
of Teviot, on an important line of communication between the north and
south in the centre of the Borders, and there being no ferry-boat on the
river but one seven miles further up, it was most desirable that it
should be rebuilt; but the calculated expense was betwixt eight and nine
thousand merks (from £450 to £500 sterling), and an act of Council
offering a pontage to any one who would undertake this business
altogether failed of its object. In these circumstances, the only
alternative was a collection at all the church-doors in the kingdom, and
permission to make such a levy was accordingly granted by the Privy
Council.


[Sidenote: 1695. AUG.]

The vicissitudes of witchcraft jurisprudence in Scotland are remarkable.
While Presbyterianism of the puritanic type reigned uncontrolled between
1640 and 1651, witches were tortured to confession and savagely burnt,
in vast numbers, the clergy not merely concurring, but taking a lead in
the proceedings. During the Cromwell ascendency, English squeamishness
greatly impeded justice in this department, to the no small
dissatisfaction of the more zealous. On the Restoration, the liberated
energies of the native powers fell furiously on, and got the land in a
year or two pretty well cleared of those vexatious old women who had
been allowed to accumulate during the past decade. From 1662 to the
Revolution, prosecutions for witchcraft were comparatively rare, and,
however cruel the government might be towards its own opponents, it must
be acknowledged to have introduced and acted consistently upon rules to
some extent enlightened and humane with regard to witches—namely, that
there should be no torture to extort confession, and no conviction
without fair probation. I am not sure if the opposite party would not
have ascribed it mainly to the latitudinarianism of Episcopacy, that the
whole history of witchcraft, throughout the two last Stuart reigns,
betrayed an appearance as if the authorities were not themselves clear
for such prosecutions, and, in dictating them, only made a concession to
the popular demands.

For a few years after the Revolution, the subject rested in the
quiescence which had fallen upon it some years before. But at length the
General Assembly began to see how necessary it was to look after witches
and charmers, and some salutary admonitions about these offenders were
from time to time issued. The office of Lord Advocate, or public
prosecutor, had now fallen into the hands of Sir James Steuart of
Goodtrees, a person who shared in the highest convictions of the
religious party at present in power, [Sidenote: 1695.] including
reverence for the plain meaning of the text, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a
witch to live.’ The consequence was, that the reign of William III.
became a new Witch Period in Scotland, and one involving many notable
cases.

[Sidenote: AUG. 8.]

In August 1695, two married women, named M‘Rorie and M‘Quicken, residing
respectively at the Mill-burn and Castlehill of Inverness, were in the
Tolbooth of that northern burgh, under a suspicion of being witches; and
the Privy Council, seeing the inconvenience of having them brought to an
inquest in Edinburgh, issued a commission for their being tried on the
spot by David Polson of Kinmilnes, sheriff-depute of Inverness; William
Baillie, commissar there; Alexander Chisholm, bailie to Lord Lovat;
Duncan Forbes of Culloden; —— Cuthbert of Castlehill; and —— Duff,
provost of Inverness, any three of them to be a quorum. The arrangements
for the trial were all carefully specified in this commission; and it
was intimated in the end that, ‘in case the said judges shall find the
said panels guilty of the said horrid crime laid to their charge,’ the
commissioners should adjudge them ‘to be burned or otherwise execute to
death.’

In March 1696, a commission was issued in similar terms for the trial of
‘Janet Widdrow, in the parish of Kilmacolm, presently prisoner in the
Tolbooth of Paisley, alleged guilty of the horrid crime of witchcraft.’
Two months later, the Lord Advocate applied to the Council for an
extension of power to the commission against Janet Widdrow, as ‘it is
now informed that the said Janet doth fyle and put out several others,
and as there are some persons in these bounds against whom there are
probable and pregnant grounds of suspicion.’ The request was complied
with.

Some months later (December 3, 1696), we hear of some informalities in
the process against Janet Widdrow and Isobel Cochrane, and the Lord
Advocate was requested to report on the matter.[159]

So much for the present; but let the reader see onward under February
1697, March 1, 1698, &c.


[Sidenote: AUG.]

It is remarked by a Presbyterian historian of the popular class, that
the time of the ‘Persecution’ was one of general abundance. God, he
believed, did not choose to let his people suffer in more ways than one.
But, not long after King William had brought days of religious security,
the seasons began to be bad, and much physical suffering ensued.
According to this historian, Alexander [Sidenote: 1695.] Peden foretold
how it would be. ‘As long,’ said he, ‘as the lads are upon the hills,
you will have bannocks o’er night; but if once you were beneath the
bield of the brae, you will have clean teeth and many a black and pale
face in Scotland.’[160]

Nevertheless, the country was so much at its ease in the matter of food
in July 1695, that the Estates then passed an act for encouraging the
export of grain, allowing it to go out duty free, and ordaining that so
it should be whenever wheat was at or under twelve pounds (Scots) the
boll; bear, barley, and malt under eight; pease and oats, under six;
provided these grains should be carried in Scottish ships.

By an act passed in 1672, it was forbidden to import meal from Ireland
while the price in Scotland remained below a certain rate. And that this
was a serious matter, is proved by an order of Council in April 1695,
for _staving_ the grain brought from Carrickfergus in two vessels, named
the _James_ and the _Isobel_, and for handing over the vessels
themselves to Sir Duncan Campbell of Auchinbreck, who had seized them on
their way to a Scottish port. It never occurred to a legislator of those
days that there was a kind of absurdity, as well as a glaring
selfishness, in arranging for his own country receiving while it should
not give.

As if to rebuke such policy, the very month after good food prospects
had induced the Scottish Estates to permit of exportation, the crop was
stricken in one night by an easterly fog, and ‘got little more good of
the ground.’[161] The corn was both bad and dear. So early as November,
this produced a disorder of the cholera type, accompanied by severe
fevers: ‘all our old physicians had never seen the like, and could make
no help.’ It was not in all cases the direct result of bad unwholesome
victual, for several, who used old corn, or sent to Glasgow for Irish
meal, were nevertheless smitten with the prevailing malady, ‘in a more
violent and infectious manner than the poorest in the land.’[162]

The price of victual having, in the western shires, ascended beyond the
importation rate fixed in 1672, the Privy Council (December 13), ‘in
consideration of the present scarcity in those parts, and the distress
ensuing upon it,’ gave allowance for the importation of meal, ‘but of no
other grain,’ from Ireland, to ‘any port between the mouth of Annan and
the head of Kintyre,’ between this date and the 1st of February
exclusive.

[Sidenote: 1695.]

A few days later, the Council took measures for fining certain baxters
of Glasgow and others who had imported grain before the issue of the
above licence.

On the 7th of February 1696, the Council extended the period during
which Irish meal might be imported to the 15th of April, seeing that the
price of the article in the western shires still continued above that
set down in the act of 1672. On the 25th of February, the period was
farther extended to the 15th of May.

In June, the evil having become more serious, the whole ports of the
kingdom were opened to foreign grain, while the usual denunciations were
launched against persons keeping up victual in girnels and stacks.
[Sidenote: 1696. AUG.] Now the summer was passing into autumn, and the
weather was of such a character, or, as the Privy Council expressed it,
the season was so ‘unnatural,’ ‘as doth sadly threaten the misgiving and
blasting of the present crop, to the increase of that distress whereby
the kingdom is already afflicted.’ For these reasons, at the request of
the church, a fast was proclaimed for the 25th of August in churches
south of the Tay, and on the 8th of September in ‘all the planted
churches of the rest of this kingdom.’

Viewing the ‘pinching straits and wants’ of the poor at this crisis, and
the demands which these make upon Christian charity and compassion, the
Council recommended that on the day of the fast, and the Lord’s Day
thereafter, there should be a ‘cheerful and liberal contribution’ at the
church-doors for the indigent, ‘as the best and most answerable
expression of earnestness in the aforesaid duty.’ Another edict held out
a bounty of one pound Scots for every boll of foreign victual
imported.[163]

Some Englishmen having brought a parcel of corn to the market of Kelso,
William Kerr of Chatto’s servants exacted from them a custom he had a
right to from all victual there sold—this right being one of which his
family had been ‘in immemorial possession.’ The Englishmen resisted the
exaction with scorn and violence, and Chatto was obliged to appeal for
protection of his right to the Privy Council. Such, however, was at that
time the need for foreign grain, that the Council suspended Chatto’s
right for the next three months.

[Sidenote: JULY 30.]

Some gentlemen in Edinburgh received information from their
correspondents in Aberdeenshire, that that county and the one next
adjacent were nearly destitute of victual, and that ‘if they be
[Sidenote: 1696.] not speedily supplied, and victual transported
[thither], a good part of that and the next county will undoubtedly
starve.’ Already, within the last fortnight, several had died from want.
In these circumstances, George Fergusson, bailie of Old Meldrum, and
Alexander Smith, writer in Edinburgh, proposed to purchase a thousand or
twelve hundred bolls of corn and bear in the north of England, and have
it carried by sea to Aberdeen, there to sell it at any rate the proper
authorities might appoint above the cost and the expense of carriage,
and the surplus to be used for any suitable public object, the proposers
having no desire of profit for themselves, ‘but allenarly the keeping of
the poor in the said shire from starving.’ They were anxious, however,
to be protected from the risk of losing their outlay, in case the vessel
should be taken by the French privateers, and they petitioned the Privy
Council accordingly. Their wishes were recommended to the consideration
of the Lords of the Treasury.

It was reported from Roxburghshire, on the 22d December 1696, that, in
consequence of the ‘great frosts, excessive rains, and storms of snow,’
the corns in many places ‘are neither cut down nor led in, nor is the
samen ripened nor fit for any use, albeit it were cut down and led in.’
The boll of meal was already at twenty-four pounds Scots, and bear,
wheat, and rye at fourteen or fifteen pounds per boll. Already many poor
people and honest householders were ‘reduced to pinching straits and
want,’ and still more extreme scarcity was to be expected.

In these circumstances, the Lords of the Privy Council granted
permission to Thomas Porteous, late provost, and Robert Ainslie, late
bailie in Jedburgh, to import victual from England without duty,
_overland_. If any of the said victual should be imported by sea, it
would be confiscated for the use of the poor, ‘unless it can be made
appear that the victual imported by sea was bought and paid for by the
product of this kingdom, and not by transporting money out of the
kingdom for the same.’[164]


[Sidenote: 1695. NOV. 22.]

The Feast of St Cecilia was celebrated in Edinburgh with a concert of
vocal and instrumental music, shewing a more advanced state of the art
than might have been expected.[165] The scheme of the performances
exhibits a series of pieces by Italian masters, as [Sidenote: 1695.]
Corelli and Bassani, to be executed by first and second violins, flutes
and hautbois, and basses; the opening piece giving seven first violins,
five second violins, six flutes and two hautbois. There were thirty
performers in all, nineteen of them gentlemen-amateurs, and eleven
teachers of music. Among the former were Lord Colville, Sir John
Pringle, Mr Seton of Pitmedden, Mr Falconer of Phesdo, Mr John
(afterwards General) Middleton, Lord Elcho, and Mr John Corse, keeper of
the Low Parliament House Records. Some of these gentlemen are described
as having been skilled in music, and good players on the violin,
harpsichord, flute, and hautbois. Among the professional men were Henry
Crumbden, a German, ‘long the Orpheus in the music-school of Edinburgh;’
Matthew M‘Gibbon, father of William M‘Gibbon, noted for his sets of
Scots airs with variations and basses; Adam Craig, a good
orchestra-player on the violin; Daniel Thomson, one of the king’s
trumpets; and William Thomson, a boy, son of the above, afterwards
editor of a well-known collection (being the first) of Scots songs, with
the music.[166]

See under 1718 for further notices of the rise and progress of music in
Scotland.


[Sidenote: NOV.]

In this age, every person of any note who died became the subject of a
metrical elegy, which was printed on a broadside, and cried through the
streets. Allan Ramsay, a few years later, makes satiric allusion to the
practice:

                   None of all the rhyming herd
             Are more encouraged and revered,
             By heavy souls to theirs allied,
             Than such who tell who lately died.
             No sooner is the spirit flown
             From its clay cage to lands unknown,
             Than some rash hackney gets his name,
             And through the town laments the same.
             An honest burgess cannot die,
             But they must weep in elegy:
             Even when the virtuous soul is soaring
             Through middle air, he hears it roaring.[167]

The poetry of these mortuary verses is usually as bad as the typography,
and that is saying a great deal; yet now and then [Sidenote: 1695.] one
falls in with a quaint couplet or two—as, for example, in the piece:

  ON THE MUCH TO BE LAMENTED DEATH OF WORTHY UMPHREY MILNE, WATCHMAKER,
      BURGESS OF THE METROPOLITAN CITY OF SCOTLAND, WHO DEPARTED THIS
      LIFE, NOVEMBER THE 18TH, 1695.

  In gloomy shades of darksome night, where Phœbus hides his head,
  I heard an echo cry aloud, that Umphrey Milne was dead.
  My stupid senses rose aloft and wakened with a cry,
  Let Pegasus, the Muses’ horse, go through the air and fly,
  To tell the ends of all the earth that he has lost his breath—

         ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

  I will not name his parentage, his breeding, nor his birth;
  But he that runs may read his life—he was a man of worth.
  He valued not this earth below, although he had it _satis_,
  He loved to lay his stock above, and now he is _beatus_.

         ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

  Since none can well describe his worth that in this land doth dwell,
  He’ll waken at the trumpet’s blow, and answer for himsell.

The street elegists got a capital subject in July 1700, when Lady Elcho
died in youth and beauty, in consequence of her clothes catching
fire.[168] Of her it is said:

            Were it the custom now to canonise,
            We might her in the Alb of Saints comprise.
            She either was as free from faults as they,
            Or had she faults, the flame purged these away.

As to her ladyship’s surviving husband:

              Only well-grounded hopes of her blest state
              Can his excessive agonies abate,
              And the two hopeful boys she left behind,
              May mitigate the sorrows of his mind.

[Sidenote: DEC. 13.]

The dies and punches required for the new coinage now about to be
issued, were the work of James Clarke, being the first time the work had
ever been executed within the kingdom. James had done the whole business
in less than a year, ‘which used to take no less than two or three years
when executed in England, and cost the general and master of the Mint
great attendance and much expenses;’ but as yet ‘he had not received one
farthing for his work,’ although it had been agreed that he should have
a half of his charges beforehand. The Privy Council, on his petition,
[Sidenote: 1695.] _recommended_ the Treasury to pay him two hundred
pounds sterling, being the sum agreed upon.[169]


[Sidenote: DEC.]

In Scotland, justice had at this time, as heretofore, a geographical
character. It did not answer for a Highlander to be tried too near the
lands of his feudal enemies. If, on the other hand, he was to be tried
in Edinburgh, his accusers were likely to find the distance
inconveniently great, and prefer letting him go free.

James Macpherson of Invernahaven was under citation to appear before the
Lords of Justiciary at Inverness, on a charge of having despoiled John
Grant of Conygass of certain oxen, sheep, and other goods in June or
July 1689, ‘when Dundee was in the hills.’ The Laird of Grant being
sheriff of Inverness, and other Grants engaged in the intended trial,
Macpherson, though protesting his entire innocence, professed to have no
hope of ‘impartial justice;’ yet he appeared at the citation, and was
immediately committed close prisoner to the Tolbooth of Inverness, where
he was denied the use of pen and ink, and the access of his friends, so
that he ‘expected nothing but a summary execution.’

On his petition, the Privy Council ordained (December 10) that he should
be liberated under caution, and allowed to undergo a trial before the
Court of Justiciary in Edinburgh. He accordingly presented himself
before the Lords on the last day of the year, and was committed to the
Tolbooth of Edinburgh. On the 28th of January, he petitioned for entire
liberation, as Grant of Conygass failed to appear to urge the
prosecution; and, with the concurrence of the Laird of Grant, a member
of the Privy Council, this petition was complied with.[170]


Not content with the proper Physic Garden assigned to him at the end of
the North Loch,[171] James Sutherland had, in February last, extended
his operations to ‘the north yard of the Abbey where the great Dial
stands, and which is near to the Tennis Court.’ Under encouragement from
the Lords of the Treasury, he had been active in levelling and dressing
the ground. He ‘had there this summer a good crop of melons;’ he had
‘raised many other curious annuals, fine flowers, and other plants not
ordinary in this country.’ He entertained no doubt of being [Sidenote:
1695.] able in a few years ‘to have things in as good order as they are
about London,’ if supplied with such moderate means as were required to
defray charges and make the needful improvements, ‘particularly
reed-hedges to divide, shelter, and lay the ground _lown_ and warm, and
a greenhouse and a store to preserve oranges, lemons, myrtles, with
other tender greens, and fine exotic plants in winter.’

Fifty pounds sterling had been assigned to Sutherland out of the vacant
stipends of Tarbat and Fearn in Ross-shire; but of this only about a
half had been forthcoming, and he had expended of his own funds upwards
of a thousand pounds Scots (£83, 13_s._ 4_d._ sterling). He entreated
the Lords of the Privy Council to grant reimbursement and further
encouragement, ‘without which the work must cease, and the petitioner
suffer in reputation and interest, what he is doing being more for the
honour of the nation, the ornament and use of his majesty’s palace, than
his own private behoof.’

The Council recommended the matter to the Lords of the Treasury.[172]


[Sidenote: 1696. JAN. 14.]

Margaret Balfour, Lady Rollo, had brought her husband relief from a
burden of forty thousand merks resting on his estate, being a debt owing
to her father; and without this relief he could not have enjoyed the
family property. She had, according to her own account, endeavoured to
live with him as a dutiful and loving wife, and they had children grown
up; yet he had been led into a base course of life with a female named
Isobel Kininmont, and in October last he had deserted his family, and
gone abroad. The lady now petitioned the Privy Council for aliment to
herself and her six children. The estate, she said, being eight thousand
merks per annum (£444, 8_s._ 10_d._⅔), she conceived that four thousand
was the least that could be modified for her behalf, along with the
mansion of Duncrub, which had been assigned to her as her
jointure-house.

The Lords of the Council ordained that Lord Rollo should be cited for a
particular day, and that for the time past, and till that day, the
tenants should pay her ladyship a thousand pounds Scots, she meanwhile
enjoying the use of Duncrub House. Lord Rollo, failing to appear on the
day cited, was declared rebel, and the lady’s petition was at the same
time complied with in its whole extent.[173]

[Sidenote: 1696. JAN.]

William Murray, tavern-keeper in the Canongate, was again a prisoner on
account of an offensive news-letter. He had suffered close imprisonment
for twenty-one weeks, till ‘his health is so far decayed, that, if he
were any longer where he is, the recovery thereof will be absolutely
desperate.’ His house having been shut up by the magistrates, his
liquors and furniture were spoiled, and ‘his poor wife and family
exposed to the greatest extremity and hazard of being starved for cold
and hunger in this season of the year.’ He represented to the Privy
Council that he was willing to be tried for any crime that could be laid
to his charge. ‘Ane Englishman’s directing,’ however, ‘of ane
news-letter to him was neither a crime nor any fault of his.... In case
there was anything unwarrantable in the letter, the postmaster was
obliged in duty to have suppressed the same, after he had read and
perused it.’ His having, on the contrary, delivered it, ‘after he had
read and perused it,’ was ‘sufficient to put him _in bonâ fide_ to
believe that the letter might thereafter be made patent.’

Murray went on to say that ‘this summar usage of himself and his poor
family, being far above the greatest severity that ever was inflicted by
their Lordships or any sovereign court of the nation, must be conceived
to be illegal, arbitrary, and unwarrantable, and contrair both to the
claim of right and established laws and inviolable practice of the
nation.’

The Council did so far grant grace to Murray as to order him out of
jail, but to be banished from Lothian, with certification that, if found
in those bounds after ten days, he should be taken off to the
plantations.[174]


[Sidenote: JAN. 16.]

The imbecile Laird of Drum was recently dead, and the lady who had
intruded herself into the position of his wife—Marjory Forbes by
name—professed a strong conviction that she would ere long become the
mother of an heir to the estate. For this consummation, however, it was
necessary that she should have fair-play, and this she was not likely to
get. Alexander Irvine of Murtle, heir of tailzie to the estate in
default of issue of the late laird, had equally strong convictions
regarding the hopes which Lady Drum asserted herself to entertain. He
deemed himself entitled to take immediate possession of the castle,
while Marjory, on her part, was resolved to remain there till her
[Sidenote: 1696.] expected accouchement. Here arose a fine case of
contending views regarding a goodly succession, worthy to be worked out
in the best style of the country and the time.

Marjory duly applied to the Privy Council with a representation of her
circumstances, and of the savage dealings of Murtle. When her condition
and hopes were first spoken of some months ago, ‘Alexander Irvine,
pretended heir of tailzie to the estate of Drum’—so she designated
him—‘used all methods in his power to occasion her abortion,
particularly by such representations to the Privy Council as no woman of
spirit, in her condition, could safely bear.’ When her husband died, and
while his corpse lay in the house, Murtle ‘convocat a band of armed men
to the number of twenty or thirty, with swords, guns, spears,
fore-hammers, axes, and others, and under silence of night did
barbarously assault the house of Drum, scaled the walls, broke up the
gates and doors, teared off the locks, and so far possessed themselves
of all the rooms, that the lady is confined in a most miserable
condition in a remote, obscure, narrow corner, and no access allowed to
her but at ane indecent and most inconvenient back-entry, not only in
hazard of abortion, but under fear of being murdered by the said
outrageous band of men, who carouse and roar night and day to her great
disturbance.’

The lady petitioned that she should be left unmolested till it should
appear in March next whether she was to bring forth an heir; and the
Lords gave orders to that effect. Soon after, on hearing representations
from both parties, four ladies—namely, the spouses of Alexander Walker
and John Watson of Aberdeen, on Murtle’s part, and the wife of Count
Leslie of Balquhain and the Lady Pitfoddels, on Lady Drum’s part—were
appointed to reside with her ladyship till her delivery, Murtle
meanwhile keeping away from the house.[175]

If I am to believe Mr Burke, Marjory proved to have been under a fond
illusion, and as even a woman’s tenacity must sometimes give way,
especially before decrees of law, I fear that Murtle would have her
drummed out of that fine old Aberdeenshire château on the ensuing 1st of
April.


Sir Robert Grierson of Lagg, the notable ‘persecutor,’ who had been not
a little persecuted himself after the Revolution as a person dangerous
to the new government, was now in trouble on [Sidenote: 1696.] a
different score. He was accused of the crimes of ‘clipping of good money
and coining of false money, and vending the samen when clipped and
coined,’ inferring the forfeiture of life, land, and goods.

It appears that Sir Robert had let his house of Rockhill to a person
named John Shochon, who represented himself as a gunsmith speculating in
new modes of casting lead shot and stamping of cloth. A cloth-stamping
work he had actually established at Rockhill, and he kept there also
many engraving tools which he had occasion to use in the course of his
business. But a suspicion of clipping and coining having arisen, a
search was made in the house, and though no false or clipped coin was
found, the king’s advocate deemed it proper to prosecute both Shochon
and his landlord on the above charge.

[Sidenote: JUNE 22.]

The two cases were brought forward separately at the Court of
Justiciary, and gave rise to protracted proceedings; but the result was,
that Sir Robert and Shochon appeared to have been denounced by enemies
who, from ignorance, were unable to understand the real character of
their operations, and the prosecution broke down before any assize had
been called.[176]

Shochon was residing in Edinburgh in 1700, and then petitioned
parliament for encouragement to a manufactory of arras, according to a
new method invented by him, ‘the ground whereof is linen, and the
pictures thereof woollen, of all sorts of curious colours, figures, and
pictures.’[177]

‘Lagg’—who had drowned religious women at stakes on the sands of
Wigton—had the fortune to survive to a comparatively civilised age. He
died in very advanced life, at Dumfries, about the close of 1733.

[Sidenote: APR. 10.]

Some printed copies of certain ‘popish books’—namely, _The Exposition of
the True Doctrine of the Catholic Church in Matters of Controversy_, _An
Answer to M. Dereden’s Funeral of the Mass_, and _The Question of
Questions, which is, Who ought to be our Judges in all Differences in
Religion?_—having been seized upon in a private house in Edinburgh, and
carried to the lodging of Sir Robert Chiesley, lord provost of the city,
the Privy Council authorised Sir Robert ‘to cause burn the said books in
the back-close of the town council by the hand of the common
executioner, until they be consumed to ashes.’

[Sidenote: 1696.]

Six months later, the Privy Council ordered a search of the booksellers’
shops in Edinburgh for books ‘atheistical, erroneous, profane, or
vicious.’

We find the cause of this order in the fact, that John Fraser,
book-keeper to Alexander Innes, factor, was before the Council on a
charge from the Lord Advocate of having had the boldness, some day in
the three preceding months, ‘to deny, impugn, argue, or reason against
the being of a God;’ also he had denied the immortality of the soul, and
the existence of a devil, and ridiculed the divine authority of the
Scriptures, ‘affirming they were only made to frighten folks and keep
them in order.’

Fraser appeared to answer this charge, which he did by declaring himself
of quite a contrary strain of opinions, as became the son of one who had
suffered much for religion’s sake in the late reigns. He had only, on
one particular evening, when in company with the simple couple with whom
he lived, recounted the opinions he had seen stated in a book entitled
_Oracles of Reason_, by Charles Blunt; not adverting to the likelihood
of these persons misunderstanding the opinions as his own. He professed
the greatest regret for what he had done, and for the scandal he had
given to holy men, and threw himself upon their Lordships’ clemency,
calling them to observe that, by the late act of parliament, the first
such offence may be expiated by giving public satisfaction for removing
the scandal.

The Lords found it sufficiently proven, that Fraser had argued against
the being of a God, the persons of the Trinity, the immortality of the
soul, and the authority of the Scriptures, and ordained him to remain a
prisoner ‘until he make his application to the presbytery of Edinburgh,
and give public satisfaction in sackcloth at the parish kirk where the
said crime was committed.’ Having done his penance to the satisfaction
of the presbytery, he was liberated on the 25th of February.

The Council at the same time ordered the booksellers of Edinburgh to
give in exact catalogues of the books they had for sale in their shops,
under certification that all they did not include should be confiscated
for the public use.[178]


[Sidenote: APR. 15.]

In the austerity of feeling which reigned through the Presbyterian
Church on its re-establishment, there had been but little [Sidenote:
1696.] disposition to assume a clerical uniform, or any peculiar pulpit
vestments. It is reported, that when the noble commissioner of one of
the first General Assemblies was found fault with by the brethren for
wearing a scarlet cloak, he told them he thought it as indecent for them
to appear in gray cloaks and cravats.[179] When Mr Calamy visited
Scotland in 1709, he was surprised to find the clergy generally
preaching in ‘neckcloths and coloured cloaks.’[180] We find at the date
here marginally noted, that the synod of Dumfries was anxious to see a
reform in these respects. ‘The synod’—so runs their record—‘considering
that it’s a thing very decent and suitable, so it hath been the practice
of ministers in this kirk formerly, to wear black gowns in the pulpit,
and for ordinary to make use of bands, do therefore, by their act,
recommend it to all their brethren within their bounds to keep up that
laudable custome, and to study gravitie in their apparel and deportment
every manner of way.’

From a poem of this time, in which a Fife laird, returned from the
grave, gives his sentiments on old and new manners, we learn that
formerly

               We had no garments in our land,
               But what were spun by th’ goodwife’s hand,
               No drap-de-berry, cloths of seal,
               No stuffs ingrained in cochineal;
               No plush, no tissue, cramosie,
               No China, Turkey, taffety;
               No proud Pyropus, paragon,
               Or Chackarally there was none;
               No figurata, water shamlet,
               No Bishop sattin, or silk camblet;
               No cloth of gold or beaver hats,

                      ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

               No windy-flourished flying feathers,
               No sweet, permusted shambo leathers, &c.

And things were on an equally plain and simple footing with the ladies;
whereas now they invent a thousand toys and vanities—

               As scarfs, shefroas, tuffs, and rings,
               Fairdings, facings, and powderings,
               Rebats, ribands, bands, and ruffs,
               Lapbends, shagbands, cuffs, and muffs;
               Folding o’erlays, pearling sprigs,
               Atries, fardingales, periwigs;
               Hats, hoods, wires, and also kells,
               Washing balls and perfuming smells;
               French gowns cut and double-banded,
               Jet rings to make her pleasant-handed;
               A fan, a feather, bracelets, gloves—
               All new-come busks she dearly loves.[181]

[Sidenote: 1696.]

The spirit which dictated these lines was one which in those days forced
its way into the legislation of the country. In September 1696, an
overture was read before parliament ‘for ane constant fashion of clothes
for men, and another for ane constant fashion of clothes for women.’
What came of this does not appear; but two years later, the parliament
took under consideration an act for restraining expenses of apparel.
There was a debate as to whether the prohibition of gold and silver on
clothes should be extended to horse-furniture, and carried that it
should. Some one put to the vote whether gold and silver lace
manufactured within the kingdom might not be allowed, and the result was
for the negative. It was a painful starving-time, and men seem to have
felt that, while so many were wretched, it was impious for others to
indulge in expensive vanities of attire. The act, passed on the 30th
August 1698, discharged the wearing of ‘any clothes, stuffs, ribbons,
fringes, tracing, loops, _agreements_, buttons, made of silver or gold
thread, wire, or philagram.’


[Sidenote: APR.]

Two young men, Matthew M‘Kail, son of an advocate of the same name, and
Mr William Trent, writer, hitherto intimate friends, quarrelled about a
trifling matter, and resolved to fight a duel. Accompanied by John
Veitch, son of John Veitch, ‘presentee of the signator,’ and William
Drummond, son of Logie Drummond, youths scarcely out of their minority,
they went two days after—a Sunday having intervened—to the park of
Holyrood Palace, and there fought—it does not appear with what
weapons—but both were slain on the spot; after which the seconds
absconded.[182]


[Sidenote: JULY.]

A preacher named John Hepburn, who had been called to the parish of Urr
in Galloway, before the regular establishment of the church in 1690,
continued ever since to minister there and in the neighbouring parish of
Kirkgunzeon, without any proper authority. Enjoying the favour of an
earnest, simple people, and cherishing [Sidenote: 1696.] scruples about
the established church, he maintained his ground for several years, in
defiance of all that presbyteries, synods, and general assemblies could
do for his suppression. Holding a fast amongst his own people (June 25,
1696), he was interrupted by a deputation from the presbytery of
Dumfries, but nevertheless persisted in preaching to his people in the
open air, though, as far as appears, without any outward disorderliness.
It affords a curious idea of the new posture of Presbyterianism in
Scotland, that one of the deputation was Mr William Veitch, a noted
sufferer for opinion in the late reign.

The Privy Council took up this affair as a scandalous tumult and riot,
and had Mr Hepburn brought before them, and condemned to give bond under
a large forfeiture that he would henceforth live in the town of Brechin
and within two miles of the same—a place where they of course calculated
that he could do no harm, the inhabitants being so generally
Episcopalian. Meanwhile, he was laid up in the Old Tolbooth, and kept
there for nearly a month. There were people who wished to get in to hear
him. There were individuals amongst his fellow-prisoners also anxious to
listen to his ministrations. The Council denied the necessary
permission. We hear, however, of Mr Hepburn preaching every Sunday from
a window of his prison to the people in the street. He was then
conducted to Stirling Castle, and kept in durance there for several
months. It was three years before he was enabled to return to his
Galloway flock.[183] The whole story reads like a bit of the history of
the reign of Charles II. misplaced, with presbyteries for actors instead
of prelates.


[Sidenote: SEP.]

A crew of English, Scots, and foreigners, under an Englishman named
Henry Evory or Bridgman, had seized a ship of forty-six guns at Corunna,
and had commenced in her a piratical career throughout the seas of India
and Persia. Having finally left their ship in the isle of Providence,
these pirates had made their way to Scotland, and there dispersed,
hoping thus to escape the vengeance of the laws which they had outraged.
The Privy Council issued a proclamation, commanding all officers
whatsoever in the kingdom to be diligent in trying to catch the pirates,
‘who may probably be known and discovered by the great quantities of
Persian and Indian gold and silver which they have with them,’
[Sidenote: 1696.] a hundred pounds of reward being offered for
apprehending Bridgman, and fifty for each of the others.[184]


[Sidenote: SEP.]

Since the Reformation, there had been various public decrees for the
establishment of schools throughout Scotland; but they had been very
partially successful in their object, and many parishes continued to be
without any stated means of instruction for the young. The Presbyterian
or ultra-Protestant party, sensible how important an ability to read the
Scriptures was for keeping up a power in the people to resist the
pretensions of the Romish Church, had always, on this account, been
favourable to the maintenance of schools whereby the entire people might
be instructed. Now, that they were placed securely in ascendency, they
took the opportunity to obtain a parliamentary enactment ‘for settling
of schools,’ by virtue of which it was ordered that the heritors
(landowners) of each parish in the realm should ‘meet and provide a
commodious house for a school, and settle and modify a salary to a
schoolmaster, which shall not be under one hundred nor above two hundred
merks [£5, 11_s._ 1_d._⅓ and £11, 2_s._ 2_d._⅔].’[185] It was thus made
a duty incidental to the possession of land in each parish, that a
school and schoolmaster should be maintained, and that the poorest poor
should be taught; and, in point of fact, the community of Scotland
became thus assured of access to education, excepting in the Highlands,
where the vast extent of the parishes and other circumstances interfered
to make the act inoperative. The history of the commencement of our
parochial school establishment occupies but a page in this record; but
the effects of the measure in promoting the economic and moral interests
of the Scottish people are indefinite. It would be wrong to attribute to
that act solely, as has sometimes been done, all the credit which the
nation has attained in arts, in commerce, in moral elevation, and in
general culture. But certainly the native energies have been developed,
and the national moral character dignified, to a marked extent, through
the means of these parish schools—an effect the more conspicuous and
unmistakable from the fact of there having been no similar institution
to improve the mass of society in the sister-kingdom.


[Sidenote: OCT. 15.]

It is a rather whimsical association of ideas, that Sir David [Sidenote:
1696.] Dunbar, the hero of the sad story of the _Bride of
Baldoon_[186]—the bridegroom in the case—was an active improver of the
wretched rural economy of his day. Some years before his unfortunate
death in 1682, he had formed the noted _park_ of Baldoon, for the
rearing of a superior breed of cattle, with a view to the demands of the
market in England. It was, as far as I can learn, the first effort of
the kind made in Scotland, and the example was not without imitation in
various parts of the southwestern province of Scotland.

Andro Sympson, in his gossiping _Description of Galloway_, written
before the Revolution, speaks of the park of Baldoon as a rich pastoral
domain, of two and a half miles in length and one and a half in breadth,
to the south of the river Blednoch. It ‘can,’ he says, ‘keep in it,
winter and summer, about a thousand bestial, part whereof he [Sir David
Dunbar] buys from the country, and grazeth there all winter, other part
whereof is his own breed; for he hath nearly two hundred milch kine,
which for the most part have calves yearly. He buys also in the
summer-time from the country many bestial, oxen for the most part, which
he keeps till August or September; so that yearly he either sells at
home to drovers, or sends to St Faith’s, and other fairs in England,
about eighteen or twenty score of bestial. Those of his own breed at
four year old are very large; yea, so large, that, in August or
September 1682, nine-and-fifty of that sort, which would have yielded
betwixt five and six pound sterling the piece, were seized upon in
England for Irish cattle; and because the person to whom they were
intrusted had not witnesses there ready at the precise hour to swear
that they were seen calved in Scotland, they were, by sentence of Sir J.
L. and some others, who knew well enough that they were bred in
Scotland, knocked on the head and killed.’

The estate of Baldoon having, by the marriage of the heiress, Mary
Dunbar, come into the possession of Lord Basil Hamilton, a younger son
of the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton, we now find that young nobleman
petitioning the Privy Council for permission to import from Ireland ‘six
score young cows of the largest breed for making up his lordship’s stock
in the park of Baldoon,’ he giving security that he would import no
more, and employ these for no other end.[187]

[Sidenote: 1696.]

The example of the Baldoon park was followed by the Laird of Lochnaw and
other great proprietors, and the growing importance of the
cattle-rearing trade of Galloway is soon after marked by a demand for a
road whereby the stock might be driven to the English market. In June
1697, the matter came before the Privy Council. It was represented that,
while there was a customary way between the burgh of New Galloway and
Dumfries, there was no defined or made road. It was the line of passage
taken by immense herds of cattle which were continually passing from the
green pastures of the Galloway hills into England—a branch of economy
held to be the main support of the inhabitants of the district, and the
grand source of its rents. Droves of cattle are, however, apt to be
troublesome to the owners and tenants of the grounds through or near
which they pass; and such was the case here. ‘Several debates have
happened of late in the passage of droves from New Galloway to Dumfries,
the country people endeavouring by violence to stop the droves, and
impose illegal exactions of money upon the cattle, to the great damage
of the trade; whereby also riots and bloodsheds have been occasioned,
which had gone greater length, if those who were employed to carry up
the cattle had not managed with great moderation and prudence.’

On a petition from the great landlords of the district, James Earl of
Galloway, Lord Basil Hamilton, Alexander Viscount of Kenmure, John
Viscount of Stair, Sir Andrew Agnew of Lochnaw, Sir Charles Hay of Park,
&c., a commission was appointed by the Privy Council ‘to make and mark a
highway for droves frae New Galloway to Dumfries,’ holding ‘the high and
accustomed travelling way betwixt the said two burghs.’[188]

Amongst Sir David Dunbar’s imitators, it appears that we have to class
Sir George Campbell of Cessnock, in Ayrshire, so noted for his
sufferings under the late reign. The parks of Cessnock had formerly been
furnished with ‘ane brood of great cattle’ and a superior breed of
horses, both from Ireland; but, on the unjust forfeiture of the estate,
the stock had been taken away and destroyed, so that it was ‘entirely
decayed out of that country.’ Sir George, to whom the estate had been
restored at the Revolution, obtained, in March 1697, permission from the
Privy Council ‘to import from Ireland sixty cows and bulls, thretty-six
horses and mares, and six score of sheep, for plenishing of his
[Sidenote: 1696.] park.’ Soon after, the Council recalled the permission
for the sheep.


[Sidenote: OCT.]

The rolls of parliament and the books of the Privy Council contain about
this time abundant proofs of the tendency to manufacturing enterprise.
Sir John Shaw of Greenock and others were encouraged in a proposed
making of salt ‘after a new manner.’ There was a distinct act in favour
of certain other enterprising persons who designed to make ‘salt upon
salt.’ John Hamilton, merchant-burgess of Edinburgh, was endowed with
privileges for an invention of his, for mills and engines to sheel and
prepare barley. James Melville of Halhill got a letter of gift to
encourage him in a manufacture of sail-cloth. Inventions for draining of
mines are frequently spoken of.

William Morison of Prestongrange was desirous of setting up a glass-work
at a place within the bounds of his estate, called Aitchison’s Haven or
New Haven, ‘for making of all sorts of glass, as bottles, vials,
drinking, window, mirror, and warck [?] glasses.’ ‘In order thereto, he
conduced with strangers for carrying on the said work, who find great
encouragement for the same, within the said bounds.’ On his petition,
this proposed work, with the workmen and stock employed, was endowed by
the Privy Council (April 27, 1697) with the privileges accorded to
manufactories by acts of parliament.

Connected with Prestongrange in this business was a French refugee named
Leblanc, who had married a Scotchwoman, and got himself entered as a
burgess and guild-brother of Edinburgh, designing to spend the remainder
of his life in the country of his adoption. It was his part to polish
the glass for the making of mirrors, an art never before practised in
Scotland; and this business he carried on in a workshop in the
Canongate. It was found, however, that ‘the glasses must have mullers
and head-pieces of timber, and sometimes persons of honour and quality
desired also tables, drawers, and stands agreeable to the glass for
making up a suit.’ Leblanc offered to employ for this work the wrights
of the corporation of the Canongate; but they plainly acknowledged that
they could not execute it. He was obliged to employ wrights of
Edinburgh. Then came forth the same Canongate wrights, with complaints
of this infraction of their rights. It was a plain case of the dog in
the manger—and the consequence was the stoppage of a branch of industry
of some importance to the community. On Leblanc’s petition, the Privy
[Sidenote: 1696.] Council gave him permission to make up the upholstery
work connected with his mirrors, on the simple condition of his making a
first offer of it to the wrights of the Canongate.

One George Sanders had obtained, in 1681, an exclusive privilege, for
seventeen years, for a work for the twisting and throwing all sorts of
raw silk; but he never proceeded with the undertaking. ‘Joseph Ormiston
and William Elliot, merchants,’ proposed (June 1697) to set up such a
work, which they conceived would be useful in giving employment to the
poor, and in opening a profitable trade between Scotland and Turkey;
also in ‘advancing the manufactories of buttons, galloons, silk
stockings, and the like.’ They designed ‘to bring down several families
who make broad silks, gold and silver thread, &c.,’ and entertained ‘no
doubt that many of the Norwich weavers may be encouraged to come and
establish in this country, where they may live and work, at easy rates.’
On their petition, the adventurers had their proposed work invested by
the Privy Council with the privileges and immunities of a manufactory.

On the 22d February 1698, David Lord Elcho, for himself and copartners,
besought the favour of the Council for a glass-work which they proposed
to erect at Wemyss. They were to bring in strangers expert in the art,
and did not doubt that they would also afford considerable employment to
natives and to shipping; besides which, they would cause money to be
kept at home, and some to come in from abroad. They asked no monopoly or
‘the exclusion of any others from doing their best, and setting up in
any other part of the kingdom they please;’ all they craved was a
participation in the privileges held out by the acts of parliament.
Their petition was cordially granted.

Viscount Tarbat and Sir George Campbell of Cessnock, ‘being resolved to
enter into a society for shot-casting, whereby not only the exportation
of money for foreign shot will be restrained, but also the product of
our own kingdom considerably improved,’ petitioned (February 1698) for
and obtained for the said society all the privileges accorded by statute
to a manufactory for nineteen years.

It was well known, said a petition in September 1698, ‘how much the
burgh of Aberdeen and inhabitants thereof had in all times been disposed
to the making of cloth and stuffs, stockings, plaids, and all other
profitable work in wool.’ It therefore appeared reasonable to certain
persons of that burgh—Thomas Mitchell, John Allardyce, Alexander Forbes,
John Johnstone, [Sidenote: 1696.] and others—that a woollen manufactory
should be set up there, and they petitioned the Privy Council for
permission to do so, and to have the usual privileges offered by the
statute; which were granted.[189]

In 1703, a cloth manufactory was in full operation at Gordon’s Mills,
near Aberdeen, under the care of Mr William Black, advocate. Though
established but a year ago, it already produced broad cloths, druggets,
and stuffs of all sorts, ‘perhaps as good in their kind as any that have
been wrought in this kingdom.’ Mr Black had French workmen for the
whitening and scouring of his cloths, and boasted that he had created a
new trade in supplying the country people with sorted fleece-wool,
‘which is a great improvement in itself.’ Amongst his products were
‘half-silk serges, damasks, and plush made of wool, which looks near as
fine as that made of hair.’ Unlike most enterprisers in that age, he
desired to breed up young people who might afterwards set up factories
of the same kind, ‘which,’ he said, ‘will be the only way to bring our
Scots manufactories to reasonable prices.’ But he did not propose to do
this upon wholly disinterested principles. He petitioned parliament to
make a charge upon the county of Aberdeen, for the support of boys
working at his manufactory, during the first five years of their
apprenticeships;[190] and his desire was in a modified manner complied
with.

About the same time, William Hog of Harcarse had a cloth manufactory at
his place in Berwickshire, where he ‘did make, dress, and lit as much
red cloth as did furnish all the Earl of Hyndford’s regiment of dragoons
with red cloaths this last year, and that in a very short space.’[191]

It would appear that up to 1703 there was no such thing in Scotland as a
work for making earthenware; a want which, of course, occasioned ‘the
yearly export of large sums of money out of the kingdom,’ besides
causing all articles of that kind to be sold at ‘double charges of what
they cost abroad.’ William Montgomery of Macbie-hill, and George Linn,
merchant in Edinburgh, now made arrangements for setting up ‘a Pot-house
and all conveniences for making of laim, purslane, and earthenware,’ and
for bringing home from foreign countries the men required for such a
work. As necessary for their encouragement in this undertaking, the
parliament gave them an exclusive [Sidenote: 1696.] right of making
laim, purslane, and earthenware for fifteen years.[192]


[Sidenote: DEC 1.]

On a low sandy plain near the mouth of the Eden, in Fife, in sight of
the antique towers of St Andrews, stands the house of Earlshall, now
falling into decay, but in the seventeenth century the seat of a
knightly family of Bruces, one of whom has a black reputation as a
persecutor, having been captain of one of Claverhouse’s companies. The
hall in the upper part of the mansion—a fine room with a curved ceiling,
bearing pictures of the virtues and other abstractions, with scores of
heraldic shields—testifies to the dignity of this family, as well as
their taste. Some months before this date, Andrew Bruce of Earlshall had
granted to his son Alexander a disposition to the corns and fodder of
the estate, as also to those of the ‘broad lands of Leuchars;’ and
Alexander had entered into a bargain for the sale of the produce to John
Lundin, younger of Baldastard, for the use of the army. Against this
arrangement there was a resisting party in the person of Sir David Arnot
of that Ilk.

Sir David, on the day noted, came with a suitable train to Earlshall,
and there, with many violent speeches, proceeded to possess himself of
the keys of the barns and stables; caused the corns to be thrashed;
brought his own oxen to eat part of the straw; and finally forced
Earlshall’s tenants to carry off the whole grain to Pitlethie. The
produce thus disposed of is described as follows: ‘The Mains [home-farm]
of Earlshall paid, and which was in the corn-yard at the time, six
chalders victual, corn, and fodder, estimat this year [1697] at fourteen
pounds the boll, is ane thousand three hundred and forty-four pounds
Scots; and nine chalders of teind out of the lands of Leuchars-Bruce,
corn and fodder, estimat at the foresaid price to two thousand and
sixteen pounds.’

The Privy Council took up this case of ‘high and manifest oppression and
bangstrie,’ examined witnesses on both sides, and then remitted the
matter to the Court of Session.

A similar case of violently disputed rights occurred about the same
time. John Leas had a tack from the Laird of Brux in Aberdeenshire, for
a piece of land called Croshlachie, and finding it a prosperous
undertaking, he was ‘invyed’ in it by Mr Robert Irving, minister of
Towie. The minister frequently [Sidenote: 1696.] threatened Leas to
cause the laird dispossess him of his holding, possibly expecting to
harass him out of it. Leas stood his ground against such threats; but,
being simple, he was induced to let Mr Irving have a sight of his
‘assedation,’ which the minister no sooner got into his hands, than he
tore it in pieces. A few weeks after, May 8, 1693, Irving came to
Croshlachie, and causing men to divide the farm, took possession of one
part, put his cattle upon it, and pulled down two houses belonging to
Leas, who was thus well-nigh ruined.

Still unsatisfied with what he had gained, Irving came, in March 1694,
with Roderick Forbes, younger of Brux, whom he had brought over to his
views, and made a personal attack upon Leas, as he was innocently sowing
his diminished acres. ‘Tying his hands behind his back, [Irving] brought
him off the ground, and carried him prisoner like a malefactor to his
house.’ While they were there preparing papers which they were to force
him to subscribe, Leas ‘did endeavour to shake his hands lowse of their
bonds; but Mr Robert Irving came and ordered the cords to be more
severely drawn, which accordingly was done.’ He was detained in that
condition ‘till he was almost dead,’ and so was compelled to sign a
renunciation of his tack, and also a disposition of the seed he had
sown.

On a complaint from Leas coming before the Privy Council, Irving and
young Brux did not appear; for which reason they were denounced rebels.
Afterwards (June 16, 1698), they came forward with a petition for a
suspension of the decreet, alleging that they had come to the court, but
were prevented from appearing by accident. ‘It was the petitioners’
misfortune,’ they said, ‘that the time of the said calling they were
gone down to the close, and the macers not having called over the
window, or they not having heard, Maister Leas himself craved [that] the
letters might be found orderly proceeded.’ On this petition, the decreet
was suspended.

In August 1697, we are regaled with an example of female ‘bangstrie’ in
an elevated grade of society. It was represented to the Privy Council
that the wife of Lumsden of Innergellie, in Fife—we may presume, under
some supposed legal claim—came at midnight of the 22d July, with John
and Agnes Harper, and a few other persons, to the house of Ellieston, in
Linlithgowshire—ostensibly the property of the Earl of Rutherglen—which
was fast locked; and there, having brought ladders with them, they
scaled the house, and violently broke open the windows, at which they
[Sidenote: 1696.] entered; after which they broke open the doors. Having
thus taken forcible possession of the mansion, they brought cattle,
which they turned loose, to eat whatever fodder the place afforded.

On the petition of the Earl of Rutherglen, this affair came before the
Council, when, the accused lady not appearing, the Lords gave orders
that she and her servants should be cast out of the house of Ellieston,
and that John and Agnes Harper should pay a hundred pounds Scots as
damages, and to be confined (if caught) until that sum was paid.[193]


[Sidenote: 1697.]

Jean Douglas, styled Lady Glenbucket, as being the widow of the late
Gordon of Glenbucket, had been endowed by her husband, in terms of her
marriage-contract, with a thousand pounds Scots of free rent out of the
best of his lands ‘nearest adjacent to the house.’ At his death in 1693,
she ‘entered on the possession of the mains and house of Glenbucket, and
uplifted some of the rents, out of which she did aliment her eight
children till May [1696],’ when an unhappy interruption took place in
consequence of a dispute with her eldest son about their respective
rights.

According to the complaint afterwards presented by the lady—though it
seems scarce credible—‘she was coming south to take advice regarding her
affairs, when her son, Adam Gordon, followed her with an armed force,
and, on her refusal to comply with his request that she would return,
avowed his determination to have her back, though he should drag her at
a horse’s tail. Then seizing her with violence, he forced her to return
to Glenbucket, three miles, and immured her there as a prisoner for
thirty days, without attendance or proper aliment; indeed, she could
have hardly eaten anything that was offered for fear of poison; and ‘if
it had not been for the charity of neighbours, who in some part supplied
her necessity, she must undoubtedly have starved.’ The young man
meanwhile possessed himself of everything in the house, including the
legal writings of her property; he left her and her children no means of
subsistence, ‘yea, not so much as her wearing clothes,’ and she ‘was
glad to escape with her life.’ He also proceeded to uplift her rents.

The lady craved redress from the Privy Council, which seems [Sidenote:
1697.] to have become satisfied of the truth of her complaint; but what
steps they took in the case does not appear.[194]


[Sidenote: 1696. DEC. 12.]

Every now and then, amidst the mingled harmonies and discords proceeding
from the orchestra of the national life, we hear the deep diapason of
the voice of the church, proclaiming universal hopeless wickedness, and
threatening divine judgments. At this time, a solemn fast was appointed
to be held on the 21st of January next, to deprecate ‘the wrath of God,’
which is ‘very visible against the land, in the judgments of great
sickness and mortality in most parts of the kingdom, as also of growing
dearth and famine threatened, with the imminent hazard of ane invasion
from our cruel and bloody enemies abroad; all the just deservings and
effects of our continuing and abounding sins, and of our great security
and impenitency under them.’

[Sidenote: DEC. 23.]

It was while the public mind was excited by the complicated evils of
famine and threatened invasion, that an importation of atheistical books
was found to have been made into Edinburgh, and several young men were
denounced to the authorities as having become infected with heterodox
opinions. At a time when every public evil was attributed to direct
judgment for sins, we may in some faint degree imagine how even an
incipient tendency to irreligion would be looked upon by the more
serious-minded people, including the clergy, and how just and laudable
it would appear to take strong measures for the repression of such
wickedness. We have to remember, too, the temper of Sir James Steuart,
the present public prosecutor. One delinquent—John Fraser—had, upon
timely confession and penitence, been lightly dealt with; but there was
another youthful offender, who, meeting accusation in a different frame
of mind, at least at first, was to have a different fate.

Thomas Aikenhead, a youth of eighteen, ‘son to the deceest James
Aikenhead, chirurgeon in Edinburgh,’ was now tried by the High Court of
Justiciary for breach of the 21st act of the first parliament of Charles
II., ‘against the crime of blasphemy,’ which act had been ratified by
the 11th act of the fifth session of the parliament of the present
reign. It was alleged in the indictment that the young man had, for a
twelvemonth past, been accustomed to speak of theology as ‘a rhapsody of
feigned and ill-invented nonsense,’ calling the Old Testament _Ezra’s
fables_, [Sidenote: 1696.] and the New _the history of the Impostor
Christ_, further ‘cursing Moses, Ezra, and Jesus, and all men of that
sort.’ ‘Likeas,’ pursued this document, ‘you reject the mystery of the
blessed Trinity, and say it is not worth any man’s refutation, and you
also scoff at the mystery of the incarnation of Jesus Christ ... as to
the doctrine of redemption by Jesus, you say it is a proud and
presumptuous device ... you also deny spirits ... and you have
maintained that God, the world, and nature, are but one thing, and that
the world was from eternity.... You have said that you hoped to see
Christianity greatly weakened, and that you are confident it will in a
short time be utterly extirpat.’

Aikenhead, though impenitent at first, no sooner received this
indictment in prison, than he endeavoured to stop proceedings by
addressing to the Lords of Justiciary a ‘petition and retraction,’ in
which he professed the utmost abhorrence of the expressions attributed
to him, saying he trembled even to repeat them to himself, and further
avowing his firm faith in the gospel, in the immortality of the soul, in
the doctrine of the Trinity, and in the divine authority of Scripture.
He alleged, like Fraser, that the objectionable expressions had only
been repeated by him, as sentiments of certain atheistical writers whose
works had been put into his hands by a person now cited as a witness
against him, and ‘who constantly made it his work to interrogate me
anent my reading of the said atheistical principles and arguments.’ ‘May
it therefore please your Lordships,’ said the petitioner in conclusion,
‘to have compassion on my young and tender years (not being yet major),
and that I have been so innocently betrayed and induced to the reading
of such atheistical books ... that I do truly own the Protestant
religion ... and am resolved, by the assistance of Almighty God, to make
my abhorrence of what is contained in the libel appear to the world in
my subsequent life and conversation ... to desert the diet against me.’
This appeal, however, was in vain.

The case was conducted by Sir James Steuart, the king’s advocate, and
Sir Patrick Hume, the king’s solicitor.

The witnesses were three students, and a ‘writer,’ all of them about
twenty years of age, being the companions of the culprit, and one of
them (named Mungo Craig) known to be the person who had lent Aikenhead
the books from which he derived the expressions charged in the
indictment. It was proved by the ample depositions of these young men,
that Aikenhead had been accustomed [Sidenote: 1696.] to speak
opprobriously of the Scriptures and their authors, as well as of the
doctrines of Christianity; by Mungo Craig alone it was averred that he
had cursed Jesus Christ, along with Moses and Ezra. Thus there was not
_full_ proof against the accused on the principal point of the statute
charged upon—namely, the cursing of God or any other person of the
blessed Trinity. The jury nevertheless unanimously found it proven ‘that
the panel, Thomas Aikenhead, has railed against the first person, and
also cursed and railed our blessed Lord, the second person, of the holy
Trinity.’ They further found ‘the other crimes libelled proven—namely,
the denying the incarnation of our Saviour, the holy Trinity, and
scoffing at the Holy Scriptures.’ Wherefore the judges ‘decern and
adjudge the said Thomas Aikenhead to be taken to the Gallowlee, betwixt
Leith and Edinburgh, upon Friday the eighth day of January next to come,
and there to be hanged on a gibbet till he be dead, and his body to be
interred at the foot of the gallows.’

It struck some men in the Privy Council that it was hard to take the
life of a lad of eighteen, otherwise irreproachable, for a purely
metaphysical offence, regarding which he had already expressed an
apparently sincere penitence; and this feeling was probably increased
when a petition was received from Aikenhead, not asking for life, which
he had ceased to hope for, but simply entreating for delay of a sentence
which he acknowledged to be just, on the ground that it had ‘pleased
Almighty God to begin so far in His mercy to work upon your petitioner’s
obdured heart, as to give him some sense and conviction of his former
wicked errors ... and he doth expect ... if time were allowed ...
through the merits of Jesus, by a true remorse and repentance, to be yet
reconciled to his offended God and Saviour.’ I desire, he said, this
delay, that ‘I may have the opportunity of conversing with godly
ministers in the place, and by their assistance be more prepared for an
eternal rest.’

Lord Anstruther and Lord Fountainhall, two members of the Council, were
led by humane feeling to visit the culprit in prison. ‘I found a work on
his spirit,’ says the former gentleman, ‘and wept that ever he should
have maintained such tenets.’ He adds that he desired for Aikenhead a
short reprieve, as his eternal state depended on it. ‘I plead [pleaded]
for him in Council, and brought it to the Chan[cellor’s] vote. It was
told it could not be granted _unless the ministers would intercede_....
The ministers, out of a pious, though I think ignorant zeal, spoke and
preached [Sidenote: 1696.] for cutting him off ... our ministers being,’
he adds, ‘generally of a narrow set of thoughts and confined principles,
and not able to bear things of this nature.’ It thus appears that the
clergy were eager for the young man’s blood, and the secular powers so
far under awe towards that body, that they could not grant mercy. The
Council appears in numberless instances as receiving applications for
delay and pardon from criminals under sentence, and so invariably
assents to the petition, that we may infer there having been a routine
practice in the case, by which petitions were only sent after it was
ascertained that they would probably be complied with. There being no
petition for pardon from Aikenhead to the Council after his trial, we
may fairly presume that he had learned there was no relaxation of the
sentence to be expected.

As the time designed for his execution drew nigh, Aikenhead wrote a
paper of the character of a ‘last speech’ for the scaffold, in which he
described the progress of his mind throughout the years of his
education. From the age of ten, he had sought for grounds on which to
build his faith, having all the time an insatiable desire of attaining
the truth. He had bewildered himself amongst the questions on morals and
religion which have bewildered so many others, and only found that the
more he thought on these things the further he was from certainty. He
now felt the deepest contrition for the ‘base, wicked, and irreligious
expressions’ he had uttered—‘although I did the same out of a blind zeal
for what I thought the truth.’ ‘Withal, I acknowledge and confess to the
glory of God, that in all he hath brought upon me, either one way or
other, he hath done it most wisely and justly.... Likeas I bless God I
die in the true Christian Protestant apostolic faith.’ He then alluded
in terms of self-vindication to aspersions regarding him which had been
circulated in a satire by Mr Mungo Craig, ‘whom I leave,’ said he, ‘to
reckon with God and his own conscience, if he was not as deeply
concerned in those hellish notions for which I am sentenced, as ever I
was: however, I bless the Lord, I forgive him and all men, and wishes
the Lord may forgive him likewise.’ Finally, he prayed that his blood
might ‘give a stop to that raging spirit of atheism which hath taken
such a footing in Britain both in practice and profession.’ Along with
this paper, he left a letter to his friends, dated the day of his
execution, expressing a hope that what he had written would give them
and the world satisfaction, ‘and after I am gone produce more charity
than [it] hath been my fortune to be trysted hitherto with, and remove
[Sidenote: 1696.] the apprehensions which I hear are various with many
about my case.’[195]

There was at that time in Edinburgh an English Nonconformist clergyman,
of Scottish birth, named William Lorimer, who had come to fill the chair
of divinity at St Andrews. While Aikenhead was under sentence, Mr
Lorimer preached before the Lord Chancellor and other judges and chief
magistrates, _On the Reverence due to Jesus Christ_, being a sermon
apropos to the occasion; and we find in this discourse not one word
hinting at charity or mercy for Aikenhead, but much to encourage the
audience in an opposite temper. It would appear, however, that the
preacher afterwards found some cause for vindicating himself from a
concern in bringing about the death of Aikenhead, and therefore, when he
published his sermon, he gave a preface, in which he at once justified
the course which had been taken with the youth, and tried to shew that
he, and at least one other clergyman, had tried to get the punishment
commuted. The prosecution, he tells us, was undertaken entirely on
public grounds, in order to put down a ‘plague of blasphemous deism’
which had come to Edinburgh. The magistrates, being informed of the
progress of this pestilence among the young men, had two of them
apprehended. ‘One [John Fraser] made an excuse ... humbly confessed that
it was a great sin for him to have uttered with his mouth such words of
blasphemy against the Lord; professed his hearty repentance ... and so
the government pardoned him, but withal ordered that he should confess
his sin, and do public penance in all the churches in Edinburgh. And I
believe the other might have been pardoned also, if he had followed the
example of his companion; but he continued sullen and obstinate, I think
for some months; and the party were said to be so very bold and
insolent, as to come in the night and call to him by name at his
chamber-window in the prison, and to tell him that he had a good cause,
and to exhort him to stand to it, and suffer for it bravely. This
influenced the government to execute the law.’

With regard to efforts in favour of Aikenhead, Mr Lorimer’s statement is
as follows: ‘I am sure the ministers of the Established Church used him
with an affectionate tenderness, and took much pains with him to bring
him to faith and repentance, and to save his soul; yea, and some of the
ministers, to my certain knowledge, and particularly the late reverend,
learned, prudent, peaceable, and pious Mr George Meldrum, then minister
of the Tron Church, interceded for him with the government, and
solicited for his pardon; and when that could not be obtained, he
desired a reprieve for him, and I joined with him in it. This was the
day before his execution. The chancellor was willing to have granted him
a reprieve, but could not do it without the advice of the Privy Council
and judges; and, to shew his willingness, he called the Council and
judges, who debated the matter, and then carried it by a plurality of
votes for his execution, according to the sentence of the judges, that
there might be a stop put to the spreading of that contagion of
blasphemy.’[196]

Mr Lorimer’s and Lord Anstruther’s statements are somewhat discrepant,
and yet not perhaps irreconcilable. It may be true that, at the last
moment, _one_ of the city clergy, accompanied by an English stranger,
tried to raise his voice for mercy. It is evident, however, that no very
decided effort of the kind was made, for the records of the Privy
Council contain no entry on the subject, although, only three days
before Aikenhead’s execution, we find in them a reprieve formally
granted to one Thomas Weir, sentenced for housebreaking. The statement
itself, implying a movement entirely exceptive, only makes the more
certain the remarkable fact, derived from Lord Anstruther’s statement,
that the clergy, _as a body_, did not intercede, but ‘spoke and preached
for cutting him off,’ for which reason the civil authorities were unable
to save him. The clergy thus appear unmistakably in the character of the
persecutors of Aikenhead, and as those on whom, next to Sir James
Steuart, rests the guilt of his blood.

The _Postman_, a journal of the day, relates the last moments of the
unhappy young man. ‘He walked thither [to the place of execution—a mile
from the prison] on foot, between a strong guard of fusiliers drawn up
in two lines. Several ministers assisted him in his last moments; and,
according to all human appearance, he died with all the marks of a true
penitent. When he was called out of the prison to the City
Council-house, before his going to the place of execution, as is usual
on such occasions, he delivered his thoughts at large in a paper written
by him, and signed with his own hand, and then requested the ministers
that were present [Sidenote: 1696.] to pray for him, which they did; and
afterwards he himself prayed, and several times invocated the blessed
Trinity, as he did likewise at the place of execution, holding all the
time the Holy Bible in his hand; and, being executed, he was buried at
the foot of the gallows.’


[Sidenote: 1697. JAN. 16.]

There had been for two years under process in the Court of Session a
case in which a husband was sued for return of a deceased wife’s
_tocher_ of eight thousand merks (£444, 8_s._ 10_d._⅔), and her
_paraphernalia_ or things pertaining to her person. It came, on this
occasion, to be debated what articles belonging to a married woman were
to be considered as _paraphernalia_, or _jocalia_, and so destined in a
particular way in case of her decease. The Lords, after long
deliberation, fixed on a rule to be observed in future cases, having a
regard, on the one hand, to ‘the dignity of wives,’ and, on the other,
to the restraining of extravagances. First was ‘the _mundus_ or
_vestitus muliebris_—namely, all the body-clothes belonging to the wife,
acquired by her at any time, whether in this or any prior marriage, or
in virginity or viduity; and whatever other ornaments or other things
were peculiar or proper to her person, and not proper to men’s use or
wearing, as necklaces, earrings, breast-jewels, gold chains, bracelets,
&c. Under childbed linens, as _paraphernal_ and proper to the wife, are
to be understood only the linen on the wife’s person in childbed, but
not the linens on the child itself, nor on the bed or room, which are to
be reckoned as common movables; therefore found the child’s spoon,
porringer, and whistle contained in the condescendence [in this special
case] are not paraphernal, but fall under the communion of goods; but
that ribbons, cut or uncut, are paraphernal, and belong to the wife,
unless the husband were a merchant. All the other articles that are of
their own nature of promiscuous and common use, either to men or women,
are not paraphernal, but fall under the communion of goods, unless they
become peculiar and paraphernal by the gift and appropriation of the
husband to her, such as a marriage-watch, rings, jewels, and medals. A
purse of gold or other movables that, by the gift of a former husband,
became properly the wife’s goods and paraphernal, exclusive of the
husband, are only to be reckoned as common movables _quoad_ a second
husband, unless they be of new gifted and appropriated by him to the
wife again. Such gifts and presents as one gives to his bride before or
on the day of the marriage, are paraphernal and irrevokable by the
husband [Sidenote: 1697.] during that marriage, and belong only to the
wife and her executors; but any gifts by the husband to the wife after
the marriage-day are revokable, either by the husband making use of them
himself, or taking them back during the marriage; but if the wife be in
possession of them during the marriage or at her death, the same are not
revokable by the husband thereafter. Cabinets, coffers, &c., for holding
the paraphernalia, are not paraphernalia, but fall under the communion
of goods. Some of the Lords were for making anything given the next
morning after the marriage, paraphernalia, called the _morning gift_ in
our law; but the Lords esteemed them man and wife then, and [the gift]
so irrevokable.’[197]


[Sidenote: JAN. 30.]

John, late Archbishop of Glasgow, having applied to the king for
permission to go to Scotland ‘for recovery of his health,’ obtained a
letter granting him the desired liberty under certain restrictions. On
the ensuing 16th of March, there is an ordinance of the Privy Council,
appointing the town of Cupar, in Fife, and four miles about the same, as
the future residence of the ex-prelate, provided he give sufficient
caution for keeping within these bounds, and entering into no
contrivance or correspondence against the government.

On the 15th of April, the archbishop, having found no ‘convenient
lodging for his numerous family in Cupar,’ was permitted, on his
petition, to reside in the mansion of Airth, under the same conditions.
Two months later, this was changed to ‘the mansion-house of Gogar, near
to Airth, within the shire of Clackmannan.’ The archbishop does not
appear to have been released from his partial restraint till February
1701.[198]


[Sidenote: FEB.]

Commenced an inquiry by a commission from the Privy Council into the
celebrated case of _Bargarran’s Daughter_—namely, Christian Shaw, a girl
of eleven years old, the daughter of John Shaw of Bargarran, in
Renfrewshire. A solemn importance was thus given to circumstances which,
if they took place now, would be slighted by persons in authority, and
scarcely heard of beyond the parish, or at most the county. It was,
however, a case highly characteristic of the age and country in which it
happened.

In the parish of Erskine, on the south bank of the Clyde, stands
Bargarran House, a small old-fashioned mansion, with some [Sidenote:
1697.] inferior buildings attached, the whole being enclosed, after the
fashion of a time not long gone by, in a wall capable of some defence.
Here dwelt John Shaw, a man of moderate landed estate, with his wife and
a few young children. His daughter Christian had as yet attracted no
particular attention from her parents or neighbours, though observed to
be a child of lively character and ‘well-inclined.’

One day (August 17, 1696), little Christian having informed her mother
of a petty theft committed by a servant, the woman broke out upon her
with frightful violence, wishing her soul might be harled [dragged]
through hell, and thrice imprecating the curse of God upon her.
Considering the pious feelings of old and young in that age, we shall
see how such an assault of terrible words might well impress the mind of
a child, to whom all such violences must have been a novelty. The
results, however, were of a kind which could scarcely have been
anticipated. Five days afterwards, when Christian had been a short while
in bed, and asleep, she suddenly started up with a great cry, calling,
‘Help! help!’ and immediately sprung into the air, in a manner
astonishing to her parents and others who were in the room. Then being
put into another bed, she remained stiff and to appearance insensible
for half an hour; after which, for forty-eight hours, she continued
restless, complaining of violent pains through her whole body, or, if
she dozed for a moment, immediately starting up with the same cry of
irrepressible terror, ‘Help! help!’

For eight days the child had fits of extreme violence, under which she
was ‘often so bent and rigid that she stood like a bow on her feet and
neck at once,’ and continued without the power of speech, except at
short intervals, during which she seemed perfectly well. A doctor and
apothecary were brought to her from Paisley; but their bleedings and
other applications had no perceptible effect. By and by, her troubles
assumed a different aspect. She seemed to be wrestling and fighting with
an unseen enemy, and there were risings and fallings of her belly, and
strange shakings of her whole body, that struck the beholders with
consternation. She now began, in her fits, to denounce Catherine
Campbell, the woman-servant, and an old woman of evil fame, named Agnes
Naismith, as the cause of her torments, alleging that they were present
in person cutting her side, when in reality they were at a distance. At
this crisis, fully two months after the beginning of her ailments, her
parents took her to Glasgow, to consult an eminent physician, named
Brisbane, [Sidenote: 1697.] regarding her case. He states in his
deposition,[199] that at first he thought the child quite well; but
after a few minutes, she announced a coming fit, and did soon after fall
into convulsions, accompanied by heavy groanings and murmurings against
two women named Campbell and Naismith; all of which he thought
‘reducible to the effect of a hypochondriac melancholy.’ He gave some
medicines suitable to his conception of the case, and for eight days,
during which the girl remained in Glasgow, she was comparatively well,
as well as for eight days after her return home. Then the fits returned
with even increased violence; she became as stiff as a corpse, without
sense or motion; her tongue would be drawn out of her mouth to a
prodigious length, while her teeth set firmly upon it; at other times it
was drawn far back into her mouth. Her parents set out with her again to
Glasgow, that she might be under the doctor’s care; but as they were
going, a new fact presented itself. She spat or took from her mouth,
every now and then, parcels of hair of different colours, which she
declared her two tormentors were trying to force down her throat. She
had also fainting-fits every quarter of an hour. Dr Brisbane saw her
again (November 12), and from that time for some weeks was frequently
with her. He says: ‘I observed her narrowly, and was confident she had
no human correspondent to subminister the straw, wool, cinders, hay,
feathers, and such like trash to her; all which, upon several occasions,
I have seen her pull out of her mouth in considerable quantities,
sometimes after several fits, and sometimes after no fit at all, whilst
she was discoursing with us; and for the most part she pulled out those
things without being wet in the least; nay, rather as if they had been
dried with care and art; for one time, as I remember, when I was
discoursing with her, she gave me a cinder out of her mouth, not only
dry, but hot, much above the degree of the natural warmth of a human
body.’ ‘Were it not,’ he adds, ‘for the hairs, hay, straw, and other
things wholly contrary to human nature, I should not despair to reduce
all the other symptoms to their proper classes in the catalogue of human
diseases.’ Thereafter, as we are further informed, there were put out of
her mouth bones of various sorts and sizes, small sticks of candle-fir,
some stable-dung mingled with hay, a quantity of fowl’s feathers, a
gravel-stone, a whole gall-nut, and some egg-shells.

[Sidenote: 1697.]

Sometimes, during her fits, she would fall a-reasoning, as it were, with
Catherine Campbell about the course she was pursuing, reading and
quoting Scripture to her with much pertinence, and entreating a return
of their old friendship. The command which she shewed of the language of
the Bible struck the bystanders as wonderful for such a child; but they
easily accounted for it. ‘We doubt not,’ says the narrator of the case,
‘that the Lord did, by his good spirit, graciously afford her a more
than ordinary measure of assistance.’

Before leaving Glasgow for the second time, she had begun to speak of
other persons as among her tormentors, naming two, Alexander and James
Anderson, and describing other two whose names she did not know.

Returned to Bargarran about the 12th of December, she was at ease for
about a week, and then fell into worse fits than ever. She now saw the
devil in various shapes threatening to devour her. Her face and body
underwent frightful contortions. She would point to places where her
tormentors were standing, wondering why others did not see them as well
as she. One of these ideal tormentors, Agnes Naismith, came in the body
to see the child, spoke kindly, and prayed God to restore her health;
after which Christian always spoke of her as her defender from the rest.
Catherine Campbell was of a different spirit. She could by no means be
prevailed on to pray for the child, but cursed her and all her family,
imprecating the devil to let her never grow better, for all the trouble
she had brought upon herself. This woman being soon after imprisoned, it
seemed as if from that time she also disappeared from among the child’s
tormentors. We are carefully informed that in her pocket was found a
ball of hair, which was thrown into the fire, and after that time the
child vomited no more hair.

The devil’s doings at Bargarran having now effectually roused public
attention, the presbytery sent relays of their members to be present in
the house, and lend all possible spiritual help. One evening, Christian
was suddenly carried off with an unaccountable motion through the
chamber and hall, down the long winding stair, to the outer gate,
laughing wildly, while ‘her feet did not touch the ground, so far as
anybody was able to discern.’ She was brought back in a state of
rigidity, and declared when she recovered that she had felt as one
carried in a swing. On the ensuing evening, she was carried off in the
same manner, and borne to the top of the house; thence, as she stated,
by some men [Sidenote: 1697.] and women, down to the outer gate, where,
as formerly, she was found lying like one dead. The design of her
bearers, she said, was to throw her into the well, when the world would
believe she had drowned herself. On a third occasion, she moved in the
same unaccountable manner down to the cellar, when the minister, trying
to bring her up again, felt as if some one were pulling her back out of
his arms. On several occasions, she spoke of things which she had no
visible means of knowing, but which were found to be true, thus
manifesting one of the assigned proofs of possession, and of course
further confirming the general belief regarding her ailments and their
cause. She said that some one spoke over her head, and distinctly told
her those things.

The matter having been reported with full particulars to the Privy
Council, the commission before spoken of was issued, and on the 5th
February it came to Bargarran, under the presidency of Lord Blantyre,
who was the principal man in the parish. Catherine Campbell, Agnes
Naismith, a low man called Anderson, and his daughter Elizabeth,
Margaret Fulton, James Lindsay, and a Highland beggar-man, all of whom
had been described as among Christian’s tormentors, were brought forward
and confronted with her; when it was fully seen that, on any of these
persons touching her, she fell into fits, but not when she was touched
by any other person. It is stated that, even when she was muffled up,
she distinguished that it was the Highland beggar who touched her. The
list of the culprits, however, was not yet complete. There was a boy
called Thomas Lindsay, who for a half-penny would pronounce a charm, and
turn himself about _withershins_, or contrary to the direction of the
sun, and so stop a plough, and cause the horse to break the yoke. He was
taken up, and speedily confessed being in paction with the devil, and
bearing his marks. At the same time, Elizabeth Anderson confessed that
she had been at several meetings with the devil, and declared her father
and the Highland beggar to have been active instruments for tormenting
Christian Shaw. There had been one particular meeting of witches with
the devil in the orchard of Bargarran, where the plan for the affliction
of the child had been made up. Amongst the delinquents was a woman of
rather superior character, a midwife, commonly called Maggie Lang,
together with her daughter, named Martha Semple. These two women,
hearing they were accused, came to Bargarran, to demonstrate their
innocence; nor could Christian at first accuse Maggie; but after a
while, a ball of hair was found where she had sat, and the [Sidenote:
1697.] afflicted girl declared this to be a charm which had hitherto
imposed silence upon her. Now that the charm was broken, she readily
pronounced that Mrs Lang had been amongst her tormentors.

In the midst of these proceedings, by order of the presbytery, a solemn
fast was kept in Erskine parish, with a series of religious services in
the church. Christian was present all day, without making any particular
demonstrations.

On the 18th of February—to pursue the contemporary narration—‘she being
in a light-headed fit, said the devil now appeared to her in the shape
of a man; whereupon being struck in great fear and consternation, she
was desired to pray with an audible voice: “The Lord rebuke thee,
Satan!” which trying to do, she presently lost the power of her speech,
her teeth being set, and her tongue drawn back into her throat; and
attempting it again, she was immediately seized with another severe fit,
in which, her eyes being twisted almost round, she fell down as one
dead, struggling with her feet and hands, and, getting up again
suddenly, was hurried violently to and fro through the room, deaf and
blind, yet was speaking to some invisible creature about her, saying:
“With the Lord’s strength, thou shalt neither put straw nor sticks into
my mouth.” After this she cried in a pitiful manner: “The bee hath stung
me.” Then, presently sitting down, and untying her stockings, she put
her hand to that part which had been nipped or pinched; upon which the
spectators discerned the lively marks of nails, deeply imprinted on that
same part of her leg. When she came to herself, she declared that
something spoke to her as it were over her head, and told her it was Mr
M. in a neighbouring parish (naming the place) that had appeared to her,
and pinched her leg in the likeness of a bee.’

At another time, while speaking with an unseen tormentor, she asked how
she had got those red sleeves; then, making a plunge along the bed at
the supposed witch, she was heard as it were tearing off a piece of
cloth, when presently a piece of red cloth rent in two was seen in her
hands, to the amazement of the bystanders, who were certain there had
been no such cloth in the room before.

On the 28th of March, while the inquiries of the commission were still
going on, Christian Shaw all at once recovered her usual health; nor did
she ever again complain of being afflicted in this manner.

The case was in due time formally prepared for trial; and seven persons
were brought before an assize at Paisley, with the Lord Advocate as
prosecutor, and an advocate assigned, according to the custom of
Scotland, for the defence of the accused. It was a new commission which
sat in judgment, comprehending, we are told, several persons not only
‘of honour,’ but ‘of singular knowledge and experience.’ The witnesses
were carefully examined; full time was allowed to every part of the
process, which lasted twenty hours; and six hours more were spent by the
jury in deliberating on their verdict. The crimes charged were the
murders of several children and persons of mature age, including a
minister, and the tormenting of several persons, and particularly of
Bargarran’s daughter. It is alleged by the contemporary narrator,
Francis Cullen, advocate, that all things were carried on ‘with
tenderness and moderation;’ yet the result was that the alleged facts
were found to be fully proved, and a judgment of guilty was given.

It is fitting to remember here, that the Lord Advocate, Sir James
Steuart, in his address to the jury, holds all those instances of
clairvoyance and of flying locomotion which have been mentioned, as
completely proved, and speaks as having no doubt of the murders and
torments effected by the accused. He insisted strongly on the devil’s
marks which had been found upon their persons; also on the coincidence
between many things alleged by Christian Shaw and what the witches had
confessed. From such records of the trial as we have, it fully appears
that the whole affair was gone about in a reasoning way: the premises
granted, everything done and said was right, as far as correct logic
could make it so.

On the 10th of June, on the Gallow Green of Paisley, a gibbet and a fire
were prepared together. Five persons, including Maggie Lang, were
brought out and hung for a few minutes on the one, then cut down and
burned in the other. A man called John Reid would have made a sixth
victim, if he had not been found that morning dead in his cell, hanging
to a pin in the wall by his handkerchief, and believed to have been
strangled by the devil. And so ended the tragedy of _Bargarran’s
Daughter_.

The case has usually, in recent times, been treated as one in which
there were no other elements than a wicked imposture on her part, and
some insane delusions on that of the confessing victims; but probably in
these times, when the phenomena of mesmerism have forced themselves upon
the belief of a large and respectable portion of society, it will be
admitted as more likely [Sidenote: 1697.] that the maledictions of
Campbell threw the child into an abnormal condition, in which the
ordinary beliefs of her age made her sincerely consider herself as a
victim of diabolic malice. How far she might be tempted to put on
appearances and make allegations, in order to convince others of what
she felt and believed, it would be difficult to say. To those who regard
the whole affair as imposture, an extremely interesting problem is
presented for solution by the original documents, in which the
depositions of witnesses are given—namely, how the fallaciousness of so
much, and, to appearance, so good testimony on pure points of fact, is
to be reconciled with any remaining value in testimony as the verifier
of the great bulk of what we think we know.


[Sidenote: MAR.]

About thirty years before this date, a certain Sir Alexander M‘Culloch
of Myreton, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, with two sons, named
Godfrey and John, attracted the attention of the authorities by some
frightfully violent proceedings against a Lady Cardiness and her two
sons, William and Alexander Gordon, for the purpose of getting them
extruded from their lands.[200] Godfrey in time succeeded to the title,
and to all the violent passions of his father; but his property was
wholly compromised for the benefit of his creditors, who declared it to
be scarcely sufficient to pay his debts. Desperate for a subsistence, he
attempted, in the late reign, by ‘insinuations with the Chancellor
Perth,’ and putting his son to the Catholic school in Holyrood Palace,
to obtain some favour from the law, and succeeded so far as to get
assigned to him a yearly aliment of five hundred merks (about £28) out
of his lands, being allowed at the same time to take possession of the
family mansion of Bardarroch. From a complaint brought against him in
July 1689 before the Privy Council, it would appear that he intromitted
with the rents of the estate, and did no small amount of damage to the
growing timber; moreover, he attempted to embezzle the writs of the
property, with the design of annihilating the claims of his creditors.
Insufferable as his conduct was, the Council assigned him six hundred
merks of aliment, but only on condition of his immediately leaving
Bardarroch, and giving up the writs of the estate. Yielding in no point
to their decree, he was soon after ordered to be summarily ejected by
the sheriff.[201]

There was a strong, unsubdued Celtic element in the [Sidenote: 1697.]
Kirkcudbright population, and Sir Godfrey M‘Culloch reminds us entirely
of a West Highland Cameron or Macdonald of the reign of James VI. What
further embroilments took place between him and his old family enemies,
the Gordons of Cardiness, we do not learn; but certain it is, that on
the 2d of October 1690, he came to Bush o’ Bield, the house of William
Gordon, whom twenty years before he had treated so barbarously, with the
intent of murdering him. Sending a servant in to ask Gordon out to speak
with some one, he no sooner saw the unfortunate man upon his threshold,
than ‘with a bended gun he did shoot him through the thigh, and brak the
bane thereof to pieces; of which wound William Gordon died within five
or six hours thereafter.’[202]

The homicide made his way to a foreign country, and thus for some years
escaped justice. He afterwards returned to England, and was little taken
notice of. William Stewart of Castle-Stewart, husband of the murdered
Gordon’s daughter, offered to intercede for a remission in his behalf,
if he would give up the papers of the Cardiness estate; but he did not
accept of this offer. Perhaps he became at length rather too heedless of
the vengeance that might be in store for him. It is stated that, being
in Edinburgh, he was so hardy as to go to church, when a gentleman of
Galloway, who had some pecuniary interest against him, rose, and called
out with an air of authority: ‘Shut the doors—there’s a murderer in the
house!’[203] He was apprehended, and immediately after subjected to a
trial before the High Court of Justiciary, and condemned to be beheaded
at the Cross of Edinburgh. The execution was appointed to take place on
the 5th of March 1697;[204] but on the 4th he presented a petition to
the Privy Council, in which, while expressing submission to his
sentence, he begged liberty to represent to their Lordships, ‘that as
the petitioner hath been among the most unhappy of mankind in the whole
course of his life, so he hath been singularly unfortunate in what hath
happened to him near the period of it.’ He thought that ‘nobody had any
design upon him after the course of so many years, and he flattered
himself with hopes of life on many considerations, and specially
believing that the only two proving witnesses would not have been
admitted. Being now found guilty, he is exceedingly surprised and
unprepared to die.’ On his [Sidenote: 1697.] petition for delay, the
execution was put forward to the 25th March.

Sir Walter Scott has gravely published, in the _Minstrelsy of the
Scottish Border_, a strange story about Sir Godfrey M‘Culloch, to the
effect that he had made friendship in early life with an old man of
fairyland, by diverting a drain which emptied itself into the fairies’
chamber of dais; and when he came to the scaffold on the Castle Hill,
this mysterious personage suddenly came up on a white palfrey, and bore
off the condemned man to a place of safety. There is, however, too much
reason to believe that Sir Godfrey really expiated the murder of William
Gordon at the market-cross of Edinburgh. The fact is recorded in a
broadside containing the unhappy man’s last speech, which has been
reprinted in the _New Statistical Account of Scotland_. In this paper,
he alleged that the murder was unpremeditated, and that he came to the
place where it happened contrary to his own inclination. He denied a
rumour which had gone abroad that he was a Roman Catholic, and
recommended his wife and children to God, with a hope that friends might
be stirred up to give them some protection. It has been stated, however,
that he was never married. He left behind him several illegitimate
children, who, with their mother, removed to Ireland on the death of
their father; and there a grandson suffered capital punishment for
robbery about the year 1760.[205]


[Sidenote: MAR.]

The Privy Council had an unpleasant affair upon its hands. Alexander
Brand, late bailie of Edinburgh—a man of enterprise, noted for having
introduced a manufacture of gilt leather hangings—had vented a libel
under the title of ‘Charges and Gratuities for procuring the additional
fifteen hundred pounds of my Tack-duty of Orkney and Zetland, which was
the surplus of the price agreed by the Lords,’ specifying ‘sums of
money, hangings, or other donatives given to the late Secretary
Johnston; the Marquis of Tweeddale, late Lord High Chancellor; the Duke
of Queensberry, then Lord Drumlanrig; the Earl of Cassillis; the
Viscount of Teviot, then Sir Thomas Livingstone; the Lord Basil
Hamilton; the Lord Raith, and others.’ He had, in 1693, along with Sir
Thomas Kennedy of Kirkhill and Sir William Binning, late provosts of
Edinburgh, entered into a contract with the government for five thousand
stands of arms, at a pound sterling each, which, it was alleged, would
have allowed them a good profit; yet, when abroad for the purchase of
the arms, he wrote to his partners in the transaction, that they could
not be purchased under twenty-six shillings the piece; and his
associates had induced the Council to agree to this increased price, the
whole affair being, as was alleged, a contrivance for cheating the
government. To obtain payment of the extra sum (£1500), the two knights
had entered into a contract for giving a bribe of two hundred and fifty
guineas to the Earls of Linlithgow and Breadalbane, ‘besides a gratuity
to James Row, who was to receive the arms.’ But no such sum had ever
been paid to these two nobles, ‘they being persons of that honour and
integrity that they were not capable to be imposed upon that way.’ Yet
Kennedy and Binning had allowed the contract to appear in a legal
process before the Admiralty Court, ‘to the great slander and reproach
of the said two noble persons.’ In short, it appeared that the three
contractors had proceeded upon a supposition of what was necessary for
the effecting of their business with the Privy Council, and while not
actually giving any bribes—at least, so they now acknowledged—had been
incautious enough to let it appear as if they had. For the compound
fault of contriving bribery and defaming the nobles in question, they
were cast in heavy fines—Kennedy in £800, Binning in £300, and Brand in
£500, to be imprisoned till payment was made.

Notwithstanding this result, there is no room to doubt that it had
become a custom for persons doing business for the government to make
‘donatives’ to the Lords of the Privy Council. Fountainhall reports a
case (November 23, 1693) wherein Lord George Murray, who had been a
partner with Sir Robert Miln of Barnton in a tack of the customs in
1681, demurred, amongst other things in their accounts, to 10,000 merks
given yearly to the then officers of state. ‘As to the donatives, the
Lords [of Session] found they had grown considerably from what was the
custom in former years, and that it looked like corruption and bribery:
[they] thought it shameful that the Lords, by their decreet, should own
any such practice; therefore they recommended to the president to try
what was the perquisite payment in wine by the tacksmen to every officer
of state, and to study to settle [the parties].’[206]

From the annual accounts of the Convention of Royal Burghs, [Sidenote:
1697.] it appears that fees or gratuities to public officers with whom
they had any dealing were customary. For example, in 1696, there is
entered for consulting with the king’s advocate anent prisoners, &c.,
£84, 16_s._ (Scots); to his men, £8, 14_s._; to his boy, £1, 8_s._
Again, to the king’s advocate, for consulting anent the fishery,
bullion, &c., £58; and to his men, £11, 12_s._ Besides these sums, £333,
6_s._ 8_d._ were paid to the same officer as pension, and to his men,
£60. There were paid in the same year, £11, 12_s._ to the chancellor’s
servants; £26, 13_s._ 4_d._ to the macers of the Council; and an equal
sum to the macers of the Court of Session.


[Sidenote: APR. 20.]

The Quakers of Edinburgh were no better used by the rest of the public
than those of Glasgow. Although notedly, as they alleged, ‘an innocent
and peaceable people,’ yet they could not meet in their own hired house
for worship without being disturbed by riotous men and boys; and these,
instead of being put down, were rather encouraged by the local
authorities. On their complaining to the magistrates of one outrageous
riot, Bailie Halyburton did what in him lay to add to their burden by
taking away the key of their meeting-house, thus compelling them to meet
in the street in front, where ‘they were further exposed to the fury of
ane encouraged rabble.’ They now entreated the Privy Council to ‘find
out some method whereby the petitioners (who live as quiet and peaceable
subjects under a king who loves not that any should be oppressed for
conscience’ sake) may enjoy a free exercise of their consciences, and
that those who disturb them may be discountenanced, reproved, and
punished.’ This they implore may be speedily done, ‘lest necessity force
them to apply to the king for protection.’

The Council remitted to the magistrates ‘to consider the said
representation, and to do therein as they shall find just and
right.’[207]


[Sidenote: JUNE 1.]

St Kilda, a fertile island of five miles’ circumference, placed fifty
miles out from the Hebrides, was occupied by a simple community of about
forty families, who lived upon barley-bread and sea-fowl, with their
eggs, undreaming of a world which they had only heard of by faint
reports from a factor of their landlord ‘Macleod,’ who annually visited
them. Of religion they had only [Sidenote: 1697.] caught a confused
notion from a Romish priest who stayed with them a short time about
fifty years ago. It was at length thought proper that an orthodox
minister should go among these simple people, and the above is the date
of his visit.

‘M. Martin, gentleman,’ who accompanied the minister, and afterwards
published an account of the island, gives us in his book[208] a number
of curious particulars about a personage whom he calls Roderick the
Impostor, who, for some years bypast, had exercised a religious control
over the islanders. He seems to have been, in reality, one of those
persons, such as Mohammed, once classed as mere deceivers of their
fellow-creatures for selfish purposes, but in whom a more liberal
philosophy has come to see a basis of what, for want of a better term,
may in the meantime be called ecstaticism or hallucination.

Roderick was a handsome, fair-complexioned man, noted in his early years
for feats of strength and dexterity in climbing, but as ignorant of
letters and of the outer world as any of his companions, having indeed
had no opportunities of acquiring any information which they did not
possess. Having, in his eighteenth year, gone out to fish on a Sunday—an
unusual practice—he, on his return homeward, according to his own
account, met a man upon the road, dressed in a Lowland dress—that is, a
cloak and hat; whereupon he fell flat upon the ground in great disorder.
The stranger announced himself as John the Baptist, come direct from
heaven, to communicate through Roderick divine instructions for the
benefit of the people, hitherto lost in ignorance and error. Roderick
pleaded unfitness for the commission imposed upon him; but the Baptist
desired him to be of good cheer, for he would instantly give him all the
necessary powers and qualifications. Returning home, he lost no time in
setting about his mission. He imposed some severe penances upon the
people, particularly a Friday’s fast. ‘He forbade the use of the Lord’s
Prayer, Creed, and Ten Commandments, and instead of them, prescribed
diabolical forms of his own. His prayers and rhapsodical forms were
often blended with the name of God, our blessed Saviour, and the
immaculate Virgin. He used the Irish word _Phersichin_—that is, verses,
which is not known in St Kilda, nor in the Northwest Isles, except to
such as can read the Irish tongue. But what seemed most remarkable in
his obscure prayers was his mentioning ELI, with the character of our
preserver. He used [Sidenote: 1697.] several unintelligible words in his
devotions, of which he could not tell the meaning himself; saying only
that he had received them implicitly from St John the Baptist, and
delivered them before his hearers without any explication.’ ‘This
impostor,’ says Martin, ‘is a poet, and also endowed with that rare
faculty, the second-sight, which makes it the more probable that he was
haunted by a familiar spirit.’

He stated that the Baptist communicated with him on a small mount, which
he called _John the Baptist’s Bush_, and which he forthwith fenced off
as holy ground, forbidding all cattle to be pastured on it, under pain
of their being immediately killed. According to his account, every night
after he had assembled the people, he heard a voice without, saying:
‘Come you out,’ whereupon he felt compelled to go forth. Then the
Baptist, appearing to him, told him what he should say to the people at
that particular meeting. He used to express his fear that he could not
remember his lesson; but the saint always said: ‘Go, you have it;’ and
so it proved when he came in among the people, for then he would speak
fluently for hours. The people, awed by his enthusiasm, very generally
became obedient to him in most things, and apparently his influence
would have known no restriction, if he had not taken base advantage of
it over the female part of the community. Here his quasi-sacred
character broke down dismally. The three lambs from one ewe belonging to
a person who was his cousin-german, happened to stray upon the holy
mount, and when he refused to sacrifice them, Roderick denounced upon
him the most frightful calamities. When the people saw nothing
particular happen in consequence, their veneration for him experienced a
further abatement. Finally, when the minister arrived, and denounced the
whole of his proceedings as imposture, he yielded to the clamour raised
against him, consented to break down the wall round the Baptist’s Bush,
and peaceably submitted to banishment from the island. Mr Martin brought
him to Pabbay island in the Harris group, whence he was afterwards
transferred to the laird’s house of Dunvegan in Skye. He is said to have
there confessed his iniquities, and to have subsequently made a public
recantation of his quasi-divine pretensions before the presbytery of
Skye.[209]

Mr Martin, in his book, stated a fact which has since been the subject
of much discussion—namely, that whenever the steward [Sidenote: 1697.]
and his party, or any other strangers, came to St Kilda, the whole of
the inhabitants were, in a few days, seized with a severe catarrh. The
fact has been doubted; it has been explained on various hypotheses which
were found baseless: visitors have arrived full of incredulity, and
always come away convinced. Such was the case with Mr Kenneth Macaulay,
the author of the amplest and most rational account of this singular
island. He had heard that the steward usually went in summer, and he
thought that the catarrh might be simply an annual epidemic; but he
learned that the steward sometimes came in May, and sometimes in August,
and the disorder never failed to take place a few days after his
arrival, at whatever time he might come, or how often so ever in a
season. A minister’s wife lived three years on the island free of the
susceptibility, but at last became liable to it. Mr Macaulay did not
profess to account for the phenomenon; but he mentions a circumstance in
which it may be possible ultimately to find an explanation. It is, that
not only is a St Kildian’s person disagreeably odoriferous to a
stranger, but ‘a stranger’s company is, for some time, as offensive to
them,’ who complain that ‘they find a _difficulty in breathing a light
sharp air_ when they are near you.’


[Sidenote: APR. 20.]

The Privy Council, in terms of the 27th act of Queen Mary—rather a far
way to go back for authority in such a matter—discharged all printers
‘to print or reprint any pamphlets, books, or others, relating to the
government, or of immediate public concern, until the same be seen,
revised, and examined by the Earls of Lauderdale and Annandale, the Lord
Advocate, Lord Anstruther, and Sir John Maxwell of Pollock,’ under heavy
penalties.[210]


[Sidenote: JUNE 17.]

Margaret Halket, relict of the deceased Mr Henry Erskine, late minister
of Chirnside, petitioned the Privy Council for the stipend of the bypast
half year during which the parish had been vacant, she being ‘left in a
verie low and mean condition, with four fatherless children no way
provided for, and other burdensome circumstances under which the
petitioner is heavily pressed.’ The petition was complied with.[211]

This was the mother of the two afterwards famous preachers, Ebenezer and
Ralph Erskine. The application of Mrs Erskine is given here as the type
of many such, rendered unavoidable before [Sidenote: 1697.] the present
humane arrangements in behalf of the surviving relatives of the
established clergy.


[Sidenote: JULY 18.]

James Hamilton, keeper of the Canongate Tolbooth, gave in a humble
petition to the Privy Council, setting forth that ‘for a long while
bygone’ he has ‘kept and maintained a great many persons provided for
recruiting the army in Flanders.’ In this last spring, ‘the prisoners
became so tumultuous and rebellious, that they combined together and
assassinat the petitioner’s servants, and wounded them, and took the
keys from them, and destroyed the bread, ale, and brandy that was in the
cellar, to the value of eight pounds sterling.’ ‘Seeing the petitioner’s
due as formerly is two shillings Scots per night for himself, and twelve
pennies Scots for the servants for each person,’ in respect whereof he
was ‘liable for ane aliment of twenty merks monthly to the poor, besides
the expense of a great many servants,’ payment was ordered to him of
£837, 17_s._ for house-dues for the recruits, during a certain term, and
£107, 8_s._ for damages done by the mutiny.[212]


[Sidenote: JULY.]

In July 1697, in the prospect of a good harvest, the permission to
import grain free of duty was withdrawn. About the same time, a great
quantity of victual which had been imported into Leith, was, on
inspection, found to be unfit to be eaten, and was therefore ordered to
be destroyed.

On the 28th of December, the Privy Council was informed of a cargo of
two hundred bolls of wheat shipped in order to be transported to France,
and, considering that ‘wheat is not yet so low as twelve pounds Scots
per boll,’ it was proposed by the Lord Chancellor that it should be
stopped; but this the Council thought ‘not convenient.’


[Sidenote: AUG. 3.]

The Master of Kenmure, Craik of Stewarton, and Captain Dalziel, son to
the late Sir Robert Dalziel of Glenae, were accused before the Privy
Council of having met in April last at a place called _Stay-the-Voyage_,
near Dumfries, and there drunk the health of the late King James under
the circumlocution of _The Old Man on the other Side of the Water_, as
also of drinking confusion to his majesty King William, these being acts
condemned by the late Convention as treasonable. The Master was absent,
but the [Sidenote: 1697.] two other gentlemen were present as prisoners.
The Lords, after hearing evidence, declared the charge not proven, and
caused Craik and Dalziel to be discharged.[213]


[Sidenote: SEP.]

An Edinburgh tavern-bill of this date—apparently one for supper to a
small party—makes us acquainted with some of the habits of the age. It
is as follows, the sums being expressed in Scottish money:

                    SIR JOHN SWINTON TO MRS KENDALL.

               For broth,                   £00 : 03 : 00
               For rost mutton and cutlets,  01 : 16 : 00
               For on dish of hens,          03 : 00 : 00
               For harenes,                  00 : 05 : 00
               For allmonds and rasens,      01 : 06 : 00
               For 3 lb. of confectiones,    07 : 16 : 00
               For bread and ale,            01 : 00 : 00
               For 3 pynts of clarite,       06 : 00 : 00
               For sack,                     02 : 16 : 00
               For oysters fryed and raw,    03 : 16 : 00
               For brandie and sugare,       00 : 06 : 00
               For servants,                 02 : 02 : 00
                                            —————————————
                                            £30 : 06 : 00

The sum in English money is equal to £2, 10_s._ 6½_d._ One remarkable
fact is brought out by the document—namely, that claret was then charged
at twenty pence sterling per quart in a public-house. This answers to a
statement of Morer, in his _Short Account of Scotland_, 1702, that the
Scots have ‘a thin-bodied claret at 10_d._ the mutchkin.’ Burt tells us
that when he came to Scotland in 1725, this wine was to be had at
one-and-fourpence a bottle, but it was soon after raised to two
shillings, although no change had been made upon the duty.[214] It seems
to have continued for some time at this latter price, as in an account
of Mr James Hume to John Hoass, dated at Edinburgh in 1737 and 1739,
there are several entries of claret at 2_s._ per bottle, while white
wine is charged at one shilling per mutchkin (an English pint).

An Edinburgh dealer advertises liquors in 1720 at the following prices:
‘Neat claret wine at 11_d._, strong at 15_d._; white wine at 12_d._;
Rhenish at 16_d._; old Hock at 20_d._—all per bottle.’ Cherry [Sidenote:
1697.] sack was 28_d._ per pint. The same dealer had English ale at
4_d._ per bottle.[215]

Burt, who, as an Englishman, could not have any general relish for a
residence in the Scotland of that day, owns it to be one of the
redeeming circumstances attending life in our northern region, that
there was an abundance of ‘wholesome and agreeable drink’ in the form of
French claret, which he found in every public-house of any note, ‘except
in the heart of the Highlands, and sometimes even there.’ For what he
here tells us, there is certainly abundance of support in the traditions
of the country. The light wines of France for the gentlefolk, and
twopenny ale for the commonalty, were the prevalent drinks of Scotland
in the period we are now surveying, while sack, brandy, and punch for
the one class, and usquebaugh for the other, were but little in use.

Comparatively cheap as claret was, it is surprising, considering the
general narrowness of means, how much of it was drunk. In public-houses
and in considerable mansions, it was very common to find it kept on the
tap. A rustic hostel-wife, on getting a hogshead to her house, would let
the gentlemen of her neighbourhood know of the event, and they would
come to taste, remain to enjoy, and sometimes not disperse till the
barrel was exhausted. The Laird of Culloden, as we learn from Burt, kept
a hogshead on tap in his hall, ready for the service of all comers; and
his accounts are alleged to shew that his annual consumpt of the article
would now cost upwards of two thousand pounds. A precise statement as to
quantity, even in a single instance, would here obviously be of
importance, and fortunately it can be given. In Arniston House, the
country residence of President Dundas, when Sheriff Cockburn was living
there as a boy about 1750, there were sixteen hogsheads of claret used
per annum.

Burt enables us to see how so much of the generous fluid could be
disposed of in one house. He speaks of the hospitality of the Laird of
Culloden as ‘almost without bounds. It is the custom of that house,’
says he, ‘at the first visit or introduction, to take up your freedom by
_cracking his nut_ (as he terms it), that is, a cocoa-shell, which holds
a pint filled with champagne, or such other wine as you shall choose.
You may guess, by the introduction, at the conclusion of the volume. Few
go away sober at any time; and for the greatest part of his guests, in
the conclusion, they cannot go at all.

[Sidenote: 1697.]

‘This,’ it is added, ‘he partly brings about by artfully proposing after
the public healths (which always imply bumpers) such private ones as he
knows will pique the interest or inclinations of each particular person
of the company, whose turn it is to take the lead to begin it in a
brimmer; and he himself being always cheerful, and sometimes saying good
things, his guests soon lose their guard, and then—I need say no more.

‘As the company are one after another disabled, two servants, who are
all the while in waiting, take up the invalids with short poles in their
chairs, as they sit (if not fallen down), and carry them to their beds;
and still the hero holds out.’[216]

Mr Burton, in his Life of President Forbes, states that it was the
custom at Culloden House in the days of John Forbes—_Bumper John_, he
was called—to prize off the top of each successive cask of claret, and
place it in the corner of the hall, to be emptied in pailfuls. The
massive hall-table, which bore so many carouses, is still preserved as a
venerable relic; and the deep saturation it has received from old
libations of claret, prevents one from distinguishing the description of
wood of which it was constructed. Mr Burton found an expenditure of £40
sterling a month for claret in the accounts of the President.


[Sidenote: OCT. 6.]

At an early hour in the morning, seven gentlemen and two servants, all
well armed, might have been seen leaving Inverness by the bridge over
the Ness, and proceeding along the shore of the Moray Firth. Taking post
in the wood of Bunchrew, they waited till they saw two gentlemen with
servants coming in the opposite direction, when they rushed out into the
road with an evidently hostile intent. The leader, seizing one of the
gentlemen with his own hand, called out to his followers to take the
other dead or alive, and immediately, by levelling their pistols at him,
they induced him to give himself up to their mercy. The victorious party
then caused the two gentlemen to dismount and give up their arms,
mounted them on a couple of rough ponies, and rode off with them into
the wild country.

This was entirely a piece of private war, in the style so much in vogue
in the reign of the sixth James, but which had since declined, and was
now approaching its final extinction. The leader of the assailants was
Captain Simon Fraser, otherwise called the Master of Lovat, the same
personage who, as Lord Lovat, fifty years after, came to a public death
on Tower-hill.

[Sidenote: 1697.]

The father of this gentleman had recently succeeded a grandnephew as
Lord Lovat; but his title to the peerage and estates, although really
good, had been opposed under selfish and reckless views by the Earl of
Tullibardine, son of the Marquis of Athole, and brother of the widow of
the late Lovat; and as this earl chanced to be a secretary of state and
the king’s commissioner to parliament, his opposition was formidable.
Tullibardine’s wish was to establish a daughter of the late lord, a
child of eleven years old, as the heiress, and marry her to one of his
own sons. His sons, however, were boys; so he had to bethink him of a
more suitable bridegroom in the person of Lord Salton, another branch of
the house of Fraser. Meanwhile, Captain Simon, wily as a cat, and as
relentless, sought to keep up his juster interest by similar means. He
first tried to get the young lady into his power by help of a follower
named Fraser of Tenechiel; but Tenechiel took a fit of repentance or
terror in the midst of his enterprise, and replaced the child in her
mother’s keeping. Lord Salton was then hurried northward to the Dowager
Lady Lovat’s house of Castle Downie, to woo his child-bride, and arrange
for her being brought to safer lodgings in Athole. He went attended by
Lord Mungo Murray, brother at once to the Earl of Tullibardine and the
Dowager Lady Lovat. The Master, seeing no time was to be lost, brought a
number of the chief gentlemen of his clan together at a house belonging
to Fraser of Strichen, and had no difficulty in taking them bound under
oaths to raise their followers for the advancement of his cause. It was
by their aid that he had seized on Lord Salton and Lord Mungo Murray at
the wood of Bunchrew.

Lord Salton and his friend were conducted amidst savage shouts and drawn
dirks to the house of Fanellan, and there confined in separate
apartments. The fiery cross was sent off, and the coronach cried round
the country, to bring the faithful Frasers to the help of their young
chief. A gallows was raised before the windows of the imprisoned
gentlemen, as a hint of the decisive measures that might be taken with
them. They saw hundreds of the clansmen arrive at muster on the green,
with flags flying and bagpipes screaming, and heard their chief taking
from them oaths of fidelity on their bare daggers. When five hundred
were assembled—a week having now elapsed since the first assault—the
Master put himself at their head, and went with his prisoners to Castle
Downie, which he took into his care along with its mistress. The child,
however, was safe from him, for [Sidenote: 1697.] she had been already
transferred to a refuge in her uncle’s country of Athole. Fraser was, of
course, mortified by her escape; but he was a man fertile in expedients.
He first dismissed his two prisoners, though not till Salton had bound
himself under a forfeiture of eight thousand pounds to ‘interfere’ no
more in his affairs. His plan was now to secure, at least, the dowager’s
portion of the late lord’s means by marrying her. So, too, he
calculated, would he embarrass the powerful Tullibardine in any further
proceedings against himself.

That night, the lady’s three female attendants were removed from her by
armed men; and one of them, on being brought back afterwards to take off
her ladyship’s clothes, found her sitting in the utmost disorder and
distress on the floor, surrounded by Fraser and his friends, himself
trying by burned feathers to prevent her senses from leaving her, and
the others endeavouring to divest her of her stays. Robert Monro,
minister of Abertarf, then pronounced the words of the marriage-ceremony
over her and the Master of Lovat. As the woman hurried out, she heard
the screams of her mistress above the noise of the bagpipes played in
the apartment adjacent to her bedroom; and when she came back next
morning, she found the lady to appearance out of her judgment, and
deprived of the power of speech. Lady Lovat was at this time a woman of
about thirty-five years of age.

Such accounts of this outrage as reached the low country excited general
horror, and Tullibardine easily obtained military assistance and letters
of fire and sword against the Master of Lovat and his accomplices. The
Master was not only supported by his father and other clansmen in what
he had done, but even by the Earl of Argyle, who felt as a relative and
old friend of the house, as well as an opponent of Tullibardine. On the
approach of troops, he retired with his reluctant bride to the isle of
Agais, a rough hill surrounded by the waters of the Beauly, where Sir
Robert Peel spent the last summer of his life in an elegant modern
villa, but which was then regarded as a Highland fastness. A herald, who
ventured so far into the Fraser territory to deliver a citation, left
the paper on a cleft stick opposite to the island. Fraser had several
skirmishes with the government troops; took prisoners, and dismissed
them, after exacting their oaths to harass him no more; and, in short,
for a year carried on a very pretty guerrilla war, everywhere dragging
about with him his wretched wife, whose health completely gave way
through exposure, fatigue, [Sidenote: 1697.] and mental distress. In
September 1698, he and nineteen other gentlemen were tried in absence,
and forfaulted for their crimes, which were held as treasonable—a
stretch of authority which has since been severely commented on. At
length, the Master—become, by the death of his father, Lord Lovat—tired
of the troublous life he was leading, and by the advice of Argyle, went
to London to solicit a pardon from the king. Strong influence being
used, the king did remit all charges against him for raising war, but
declined to pardon him for his violence to the Lady Lovat, from fear of
offending Tullibardine. He was so emboldened as to resolve to stand
trial for the alleged forced marriage; but it was to be in the style of
an Earl of Bothwell or an Earl of Caithness in a former age. With a
hundred Frasers at his back, did this singular man make his appearance
in Edinburgh, in the second year before the beginning of the eighteenth
century, to prefer a charge against the Earl of Tullibardine—perhaps the
very last attempt that was made in Scotland to overbear justice. On the
morning, however, of the day when the charge was to be made, his patron,
Argyle, was informed by Lord Aberuchil, one of the judges (a Campbell),
that if Fraser appeared he would find the judges had been _corrupted_,
and his own destruction would certainly follow. He lost heart, and fled
to England.[217]


[Sidenote: NOV. 9.]

Sir Robert Dickson of Sorn-beg was one of a group of Edinburgh merchants
of this age, who carried on business on a scale much beyond what the
general circumstances of the country would lead us to expect. He at this
time gave in a memorial to the king in London, bearing—‘In the year
1691, I with some others who did join with me, did engage ourselves to
the Lords of your majesty’s Treasury in Scotland, by a tack [lease] of
your customs and foreign excise, by which we did oblige ourselves to pay
yearly, for the space of five years, the sum of twenty thousand three
hundred pounds sterling. Conform to which tack, we continued as tacksmen
during all the years thereof, and did punctually, without demanding the
least abatement or defalcation, make payment of our whole tack-duty,
save only the sum of six hundred pounds, which still remains in my hand
unpaid, and which I am most willing to pay, upon the Lords of the
Treasury granting me and my partners ane general discharge.’
Nevertheless, ‘the Lords of the Treasury have granted a warrant for
seizing of my [Sidenote: 1697.] person, and committing me prisoner until
I make payment of the sum of two thousand and three hundred pounds
sterling more, which they allege to be _due to the officers of state for
wines_, and which I humbly conceive I and my partners can never be
obliged to pay, it being no part of my contract. And I humbly beg leave
to inform your majesty that, if such a custom be introduced, it will
very much diminish your majesty’s revenue; for it is not to be thought
that we nor any other succeeding tacksmen can give such gratification
over and above our tack-duty without a considerable allowance, and this
still prejudges your majesty’s interest. [Sir Robert seems to mean that,
if farmers of revenue have to give gratuities to officers of state,
these must be deducted from the sum agreed to be paid to his majesty.]
They were so forward in the prosecution of the said warrant, that I was
necessitat to leave the kingdom, and come here and make my application
to your majesty.’ The memorial finally craved of the king that he would
remit ‘the determination of the said wines’ to the Lords of Session.

The Lords of the Privy Council had, of course, the usual dislike of
deputies and commissions for seeing appeals taken against their
decisions to the principal authority, and they embraced the first
opportunity of laying hold of the customs tacksman and putting him up in
the Tolbooth. There he did not perhaps change his mind as to his
non-liability in justice for two thousand three hundred pounds for
presents of wine to the officers of state in connection with the farming
or tack of the customs, being a good ten per cent. upon the whole
transaction; but he probably soon became sensible that the Privy Council
of Scotland was not a body he could safely contend with. The Lord
Advocate speedily commenced a process against him, on the ground of his
memorial to the king falling under the statute of King James V. for
severe punishment to those who _murmur_ any judge spiritual or temporal,
and prove not the same; and on this charge he was brought before the
Council (1st of February 1698). It was shewn that the charge for
gratuities was ‘according to use and wont,’ and that the memorial was a
high misdemeanour against their lordships; therefore inferring a severe
punishment. As might have been expected, Sir Robert was glad to submit,
and on his knee to crave pardon of their lordships, who thereupon
discharged him.[218]

[Sidenote: 1697.]

The reader, who has just seen some other Edinburgh merchants punished
for imputing to state-officers the possibility of their being bribed
with money, will probably smile when he sees another in trouble so soon
after, for remonstrating against the necessity he had been under of
actually giving them bribes.


[Sidenote: DEC. 28.]

It had occurred to Mr Charles Ritchie, minister of the gospel, to be
asked by Lieutenant Whitehead, of Colonel Sir John Hill’s regiment at
Fort-William, to join him in marriage with the colonel’s daughter, and
the ceremony was performed in the presence of several of the officers of
the regiment, the minister professing to know of no impediment to the
union of the young couple. For this fact, Mr Charles had been carried to
Edinburgh, and put up in the Tolbooth, where he languished without trial
for several months. He now petitioned for release or banishment, stating
that he had been kept in jail all this time ‘without any subsistence,’
and ‘is reduced to the greatest extremity, not only for want of any mean
of subsistence, but also by want of any measure of health.’

The Council, viewing his consent to banishment, granted him that boon,
he enacting himself bound to depart ‘furth of the kingdom’ before the
1st of February, and never to return without his majesty’s or the
Council’s warrant to that effect.[219]


Throughout this year, there were protracted legal proceedings before the
Privy Council, between Blair of Balthayock, in Perthshire, and Carnegie
of Finhaven, in Forfarshire, in consequence of the latter having brought
on a marriage between his daughter and a young minor, his pupil, Blair
of Kinfauns, the relative of Balthayock. The affair ended in a
condemnation of Finhaven and a fine of one hundred and fifty pounds, to
be paid to Balthayock for his expenses in the action.

On the 20th September 1703, by which time Balthayock was dead, Finhaven
presented a petition to the Privy Council, setting forth that he had not
submitted to the sentence, but placed the sum of the fine in
consignment, and thereupon was liberated. Balthayock had never called
for the suspension; her majesty’s late gracious indemnity had discharged
the fine, ‘the cause of which,’ he alleged, ‘was natural and ordinary,
and the marriage every way suitable.’ There might be demur to the last
[Sidenote: 1697.] particular, as young Kinfauns, when led into the
marriage with Carnegie’s daughter, was only a boy. Nevertheless, the
Council now ordained the money to be rendered back to the
petitioner.[220]


[Sidenote: 1698. JAN. 27.]

The Court of Session had before it a remarkable case, involving matters
of the highest delicacy, regarding two prominent members of society.
David Lord Cardross—son of the Lord Cardross whose piety had exposed him
to sufferings all but the highest in the late reigns—was married in
February 1697 to the daughter of Henry Fairfax of Hurst, in Berkshire,
an heiress of ten thousand pounds. They were the grand-parents of the
Chancellor Lord Erskine. He had been helped in the obtaining of this
match by Sir John Cochrane, another eminent sufferer in the late times
of trial. To secure his best services as _proxenata_, or, as it is
called in Scotland, _black-foot_, Lord Cardross had given Sir John a
bond, securing him a thousand pounds, if he should be able to effect the
marriage. When the marriage was completed, Cochrane applied for the
promised sum, but was met with the assertion that no money was fairly
due, as the lady’s hand had been obtained without his assistance. He
sued Lord Cardross first in Westminster Hall, where the bond was
declared void by the Lord Chancellor, as granted _ob turpem causam_, and
now in the Court of Session for similar reasons, much to the enjoyment
of all the lovers of gossip. Sir John, probably seeing public sentiment
to be against him, gave up his claim to the whole £1000 as a reward for
his services, and restricted it to £600, as required to repay him for
expenses he had incurred in Lord Cardross’s lovesuit. Even this was
denied to him, unless he could ‘condescend’ upon an account of special
outlays in Lord Cardross’s behalf. We do not hear of his doing anything
in consequence of this award, and it is to be suspected that he lost
some character by the transaction, as well as legal expenses, and got
nothing in return.[221]

Those who looked back with feelings of sympathy and pride to the
sufferings of the patriots under the late reigns, must have had some
painful feelings when they reflected on the present doings of some of
them and their descendants. The Argyle of this day, though a man of both
ability and spirit, highly qualified to serve his country, was now
living in circumstances which certainly formed a marked contrast with
the history of his grandfather and [Sidenote: 1698.] father. Being
married unhappily—his wife was a daughter of the Duchess of
Lauderdale—he was induced to associate himself with another lady, for
whose sake he seems to have in a great measure abandoned public life.
Purchasing a house called Chirton, near Newcastle (which he bequeathed
to his mistress), he was content to spend there in inglorious
self-indulgence the days which ought to have been consecrated to the
service of his country. Sad to say, this representative of pious martyrs
died of bruises received in a house of evil fame at North Shields
(September 1703). Even worse was the story of his Grace’s brother,
James, who carried off Miss Wharton, an heiress of thirteen, and
forcibly married her (November 1690)—a crime, the proper consequences of
which he escaped, while his instrument and assistant, Sir John Johnston
of Caskieben, paid the penalty of an ignominious death at Tyburn. Worse
still, the actual Gordon of Earlstoun, so renowned for his resolute
conduct in the evil days, fell, more than twenty years after, under
censure for a lapse in virtue of the highest class, and underwent the
higher excommunication; ‘but,’ says Wodrow, ‘they find the intimation of
it will not be for edification, and people will still converse with him,
do as they will; so the sentence is not pronounced.’


[Sidenote: FEB. 22.]

We have seen something of an old clan-feud between the Laird of
Mackintosh and his vassal, Macdonald of Keppoch. The Keppoch who had
overthrown the chief at Inverroy in 1688, and afterwards burned down his
house of Dunachtan, was now dead; but in his son, Coll Macdonald, he had
left a worthy successor. Coll was as defiant of the Mackintosh claims as
his father had been, and, though he lived within ten miles of the
well-established garrison of Fort-William, he seemed as utterly beyond
the reach of the law as if he had haunted the wilds of Canada. It now
became necessary to take sharp measures with him, in order to make good
the rights of his superior.

The king, seeing ‘it is below the justice of our government that any of
our loyal subjects should be disappointed of the benefit of our laws,’
was pleased to resort once more to that desperate remedy of letters of
fire and sword which he had, to all subsequent appearance, employed once
too often six years before in the case of the Glencoe Macdonalds. A
commission was accordingly granted to Lachlan Mackintosh of that Ilk, to
the governor for the time of Fort-William, Farquharson of Monaltrie,
Farquharson of Invercauld, and a number of other gentlemen, ‘to
convocate [Sidenote: 1698.] our lieges in arms, and pass and search,
seek, hunt, follow and take, and in case of resistance, pursue to the
death Coll Macdonald [and a multitude of other persons specified,
outlaws and fugitives from justice], and if any of them shall happen to
flee to houses or strengths [then grants full power] to asseige the said
houses or strengths, raise fire, and use all force and warlike engines
that can be had for winning thereof,’ slaughter of the persons pursued
not to be imputed as a crime.[222]

There was, in reality, nothing to prevent the same class of inhumanities
flowing from this order as had followed on the Glencoe commission, if
the officers intrusted with it had been disposed, as in the other case,
to carry it out to the letter. It was effectual for its purpose without
any extreme atrocities, and, three months after, we hear of a detachment
from Fort-William to assist Mackintosh ‘in maintaining his own lands
against Keppoch and others, who may disturb him in the peaceable
possession thereof.’

In a poem written in 1737, Coll Macdonald of Keppoch is spoken of as a
kind of Rob Roy, who had fought against the government at Killiecrankie,
Cromdale, and Dunblane; who had resisted the law regarding lands which
he occupied, and been denounced rebel on that account; who ‘from thefts
and robberies scarce did ever cease;’ but who had, nevertheless, not
merely kept possession of his territory, but rather improved his
circumstances; and finally, four years ago, had died at home in peace.
He was, says the poet in a note, ‘a man of low stature, but full of
craft and enterprise: his life, if printed, would make an entertaining
piece, whether one considers the depth of his genius, the boldness of
his adventures, or the various turns of adverse fortune which he bore
with uncommon steadiness, and had the art to surmount.’


[Sidenote: MAR. 1.]

A commission was granted by the Privy Council to Sir John Maxwell of
Pollock, —— Maxwell of Dalswinton, Hugh M‘Guffock of Rusco, Adam Newall
of Barskeroch, and four other gentlemen, to try, and, if guilty, adjudge
to death, Elspeth M‘Ewen and Mary Millar, now prisoners in the tolbooth
of Kirkcudbright, ‘alleged guilty of the horrid crime of witchcraft, and
[who] has committed several malefices.’

On the 26th of July, a committee of Privy Council reported that they had
examined the proceedings of the commissioners in [Sidenote: 1698.] the
case of Elspeth M‘Ewen (the report signed by the _Lord Advocate_), who
had been pronounced guilty upon her own confession and the evidence of
witnesses, ‘of a compact and correspondence with the devil, and of
charms and of accession to malefices.’ It was ordered that the sentence
of death against Elspeth should be executed, under care of the steward
of Kirkcudbright and his deputies, on the 24th of August.

In July, a number of noblemen and gentlemen of Renfrewshire sent a
letter to the Privy Council, setting forth the case of a young woman
named Margaret Laird, of the Earl of Glencairn’s land in the parish of
Kilmacolm. Since the 15th of May, ‘she hath been under ane extraordinary
and most lamentable trouble, falling into strange and horrible fits,
judged by all who have seen her to be preternatural, arising from the
devil and his instruments.’ In these fits, ‘she sees and distinctly
converses with divers persons whom she constantly affirms to be her
tormentors, and that both while the fits continue, and in the intervals
wherein she is perfectly free of all trouble and composed.’ The persons
named were of those formerly accused by ‘confessing witches.’ ‘In some
of these fits there is such obstruction upon her external senses, that
she neither sees nor feels bystanders, though in the meantime she sees
and converses with any of her alleged tormentors when we cause any of
them come before her; and at the sight or touch of any of them, yea,
even upon her essaying to name them when not present, she’s thrown into
the fits, and therein gives such an account of their circumstances
(though otherwise unknown to her) as is very convincing.’ The writers
had been so impressed by the various facts brought under their notice,
as proving fascination or witchcraft, that they found themselves obliged
to make a representation of the case ‘out of pity to the poor distressed
damsel;’ and they were the more solicitous about the affair, that the
country people were in a state of such excitement, and so incensed
against the alleged witches, that ‘we fear something may fall out in
their hands that the government would willingly prevent.’

The Council appointed a committee of inquiry, and ordered the sheriff of
the county—the Earl of Eglintoun—to apprehend the suspected witches,
‘that it may appear whether, after their being seized and committed, the
said Margaret shall complain of their tormenting her or not.’

In September, Mary Morison, spouse of Francis Duncan, skipper, Greenock,
was under accusation of witchcraft, but allowed to be at liberty within
the city of Edinburgh, ‘the said [Sidenote: 1698.] Francis her husband
first giving bond that the said Mary shall keep the said confinement,
and that he shall produce her before the Lords of Justiciary at any time
to which she shall be cited before the 15th of November next, under a
penalty of ten thousand pounds Scots.’

Mrs Duncan was detained as a prisoner in Edinburgh till the 15th
November, although no such proof could be found against her as the
Advocate could raise an action upon, her husband kept all the time away
from his employment, and her ‘numerous poor family’ starving in neglect
at home. On a petition setting forth these circumstances, and
re-asserting her entire innocence, she was set at liberty.

The Lord Advocate soon after reported to the Privy Council a letter he
had received from the sheriff of Renfrewshire, stating that ‘the persons
imprisoned in that country as witches are in a starving condition, and
that those who informed against them are passing from them, and the
sheriff says he will send them in prisoners to Edinburgh Tolbooth,
unless they be quickly tried.’ His lordship was recommended to ask the
sheriff to support the witches till November next, when they would
probably be tried, and the charges would be disbursed by the treasury. A
distinct allowance of a groat a day was ordered on the 12th of January
1699 for each of the Renfrewshire witches.[223]

While the works of Satan were thus coming into new prominence, the
clergy were determined not to prove remiss in their duty. We find the
General Assembly of this year remitting to their ‘commission,’ ‘to give
advice to presbyteries and ministers, upon application, against
witchcraft, sorcery, and charming.’ In the ensuing year, they
deliberated on an address to the Privy Council, for punishing witches
and charmers; and the same subject comes up in the two subsequent years,
in one instance in connection with ‘masquerades, balls, and
stage-plays.’[224]


[Sidenote: MAY 10.]

An ‘unkindly cold and winter-like spring’ was threatening again to
frustrate the hopes of the husbandman, ‘and cut off man and beast by
famine.’ Already the dearth was greatly increased, and in many places
‘great want both of food and seed’ was experienced, while the sheep and
cattle were dying in great numbers. In consideration of these facts, and
of the abounding [Sidenote: 1698.] sins of profaneness,
Sabbath-breaking, drunkenness, &c., ‘whereby the displeasure of God was
manifestly provoked,’ a solemn humiliation and fast was ordered for the
17th of May within the synod of Lothian and Tweeddale, and the 25th day
of the month for the rest of the kingdom.

An edict of the same date strictly forbade the exportation of victual.
One, dated the 7th July, orders that the girnels at Leith, which had
been closed in hopes of higher prices, be opened, and the victual sold
‘as the price goes in the country, not below the last Candlemas fairs.’
On the 13th, there was an edict against regrating or keeping up of
victual generally, threatening the offenders with forfeiture of their
stocks. In September, the tolerance for importing of foreign grain was
extended to the second Tuesday of November ensuing. On the 9th November,
a proclamation stated that ‘through the extraordinary unseasonableness
of the weather for some months past, and the misgiving of this year’s
crop and harvest, the scarcity of victual is increased to that height,
as threatens a general distress and calamity.’ Wherefore the exportation
of grain was again strictly prohibited. A strong proclamation against
forestalling and regrating appeared on the 15th of the same month.

A solemn fast was kept on the 9th of March 1699, on account of ‘the
lamentable stroke of dearth and scarcity.’ During this spring there were
officers appointed to search out reserved victual, and expose it at
current prices; also commissioners to appoint prices in the several
counties. We find the commissioners of supply for the county of
Edinburgh, by virtue of powers intrusted to them by the Privy Council,
ordaining in April maximum prices for all kinds of grain—an interference
with the rights of property at which our forefathers never scrupled,
notwithstanding the constant experience of its uselessness for the
object in view. They fixed that, till September next, the highest price
for the best wheat should be seventeen pounds Scots per boll, the best
oats twelve pounds, and the best oatmeal sixteen shillings and sixpence
per peck (half a stone).[225]

‘These unheard-of manifold judgments continued seven years [?], not
always alike, but the seasons, summer and winter, so cold and barren,
and the wonted heat of the sun so much withholden, that it was
discernible upon the cattle, flying fowls, and insects decaying, that
seldom a fly or cleg was to be seen: our harvests not in [Sidenote:
1698.] the ordinary months; many shearing in November and December; yea,
some in January and February; many contracting their deaths, and losing
the use of their feet and hands, shearing and working in frost and snow;
and, after all, some of it standing still, and rotting upon the ground,
and much of it for little use either to man or beast, and which had no
taste or colour of meal.

‘Meal became so scarce, that it was at two shillings a peck, and many
could not get it. It was not then with many, “Where will we get siller?”
but, “Where shall we get meal for siller?” I have seen, when meal was
sold in markets, women clapping their hands and tearing the clothes off
their heads, crying: “How shall we go home and see our children die of
hunger? They have got no meat these two days, and we have nothing to
give them!” Through the long continuance of these manifold judgments,
deaths and burials were so many and common, that the living were wearied
with the burying of the dead. I have seen corpses drawn in sleds. Many
got neither coffin nor winding-sheet. I was one of four who carried the
corpse of a young woman a mile of way, and when we came to the grave, an
honest poor man came and said: “You must go and help to bury my son; he
has lain dead these two days; otherwise, I shall be obliged to bury him
in my own yard.” We went, and there were eight of us had to carry the
corpse of that young man two miles, many neighbours looking on us, but
none to help us. I was credibly informed that in the north, two sisters
on a Monday morning were found carrying the corpse of their brother on a
barrow with bearing ropes, resting themselves many times, and none
offering to help them. I have seen some walking about at sunsetting, and
next day, at six o’clock in the summer morning, found dead in their
houses, without making any stir at their death, their head lying upon
their hand, with as great a smell as if they had been four days dead;
the mice or rats having eaten a great part of their hands and arms.

‘Many had cleanness of teeth in our cities, and want of bread in our
borders; and to some the staff of bread was so utterly broken (which
makes complete famine), that they did eat, but were neither satisfied
nor nourished; and some of them said to me, that they could mind nothing
but meat, and were nothing bettered by it; and that they were utterly
unconcerned about their souls, whether they went to heaven or hell.

‘The nearer and sorer these plagues seized, the sadder were their
effects, that took away all natural and relative affections, so that
husbands had no sympathy for their wives, nor wives for their [Sidenote:
1698.] husbands, parents for their children, nor children for their
parents. These and other things have made me to doubt if ever any of
Adam’s race were in a more deplorable condition, their bodies and
spirits more low, than many were in these years.

‘The crowning plague of all these great and manifold plagues was, many
were cast down, but few humbled; great murmuring, but little mourning;
many groaning under the effects of wrath, but few had sight or sense of
the causes of wrath in turning to the Lord: and as soon as these
judgments were removed, many were lift up, but few thankful; even these
who were as low as any, that outlived these scarce times, did as lightly
esteem bread as if they had never known the worth of it by the want of
it. The great part turned more and more gospel-proof and judgment-proof;
and the success of the gospel took a stand at that time in many places
of the land, but more especially since the Rebellion, 1715.

‘King William his kindness is not to be forgotten, who not only relieved
us from tyranny, but had such a sympathy with Scotland, when in distress
of famine, that he offered all who would transport victual to Scotland,
that they might do it custom-free, and have twenty pence of each boll.

‘I cannot pass this occasion without giving remarks upon some observable
providences that followed these strange judgments upon persons who dwelt
in low-lying fertile places, who laid themselves out to raise markets
when at such a height, and had little sympathy with the poor, or those
who lived in cold muirish places, who thought those who lived in these
fertile places had a little heaven; but soon thereafter their little
heavens were turned into little hells by unexpected providences....
There was a farmer in the parish of West Calder (in which parish 300 of
900 examinable persons wasted away, who at that time was reckoned worth
6000 merks of money and goods) that had very little to spare to the
poor; the victual lay spoiling in his house and yard, waiting for a
greater price. Two honest servant-lasses, whose names were Nisbet, being
cast out of service (for every one could not have it; many said, they
got too much wages that got meat for their work), these two lasses would
not steal, and they were ashamed to beg; they crept into a house, and
sat there wanting meat until their sight was almost gone, and then they
went about a mile of way to that farmer’s yard, and ate four stocks of
kail to save their lives. He found them, and drove them before him to
the Laird of Baad’s, who was a justice-of-peace, that he might get them
punished. The laird inquired what moved them to go by so many yards, and
go to his. They said: “These in their way were in straits themselves,
and he might best spare them.” The laird said: “Poor conscionable
things, go your way—I have nothing to say to you.” One of them got
service, but the other died in want; it was her burial I mentioned
before, who was carried by us four. But so in a very few years he was
begging from door to door, whom I have served at my door, and to whom I
said: “Who should have pity and sympathy with you, who kept your
victuals spoiling, waiting for a greater price, and would spare nothing
of your fulness to the poor; and was so cruel to the two starving
lasses, that you took them prisoners for four stocks of kail to save
their lives? Ye may read your sin upon your judgment, if ye be not blind
in the eyes of your soul, as ye are of one in your body, and may be a
warning to all that come after you.”’[226]

These striking and well-told anecdotes of the dearth are from the simple
pages of Patrick Walker. The account he gives of the religious apathy
manifested under the calamity is corroborated by a rhymster named James
Porterfield, who was pleased to write a series of poems on three
remarkable fires in Edinburgh, which he viewed entirely in the light of
‘God’s Judgments against Sin’—such being indeed the title of his
book,[227] which he dedicated to the magistrates of the city. He says:

                      To awake us from our sin,
            Horses and cattle have consumed been;
            And straits and dearth our land have overswayed,
            And thousand lives therewith have been dismayed;
            Many through want of bread dropped at our feet,
            And lifeless lay upon the common street:
            _These plagues made no impression on the flock,
            And ministers seemed ploughing on a rock._

In the five or six years of this dearth, ‘the farmer was ruined, and
troops of poor perished for want of bread. Multitudes [Sidenote: 1698.]
deserted their native country, and thousands and tens of thousands went
to Ireland, &c. During the calamity, Sir Thomas Stewart laid out
himself, almost beyond his ability, in distributing to the poor. He
procured sums from his brother, the Lord Advocate, and other worthy
friends, to distribute, and he added of his own abundantly. His house
and outer courts were the common resort of the poor, and the blessing of
many ready to perish came upon him; and a blessing seemed diffused on
his little farm that was managed for family use, for, when all around
was almost blasted by inclement seasons and frosts in the years
1695–6–7, it was remarked here were full and ripened crops. The good man
said the prayers of the poor were in it, and it went far.’[229]

When the calamity was at its height in 1698, the sincere but over-ardent
patriot, Fletcher of Salton, published a discourse on public affairs, in
which he drew a lamentable picture of the condition of the great bulk of
the people. He spoke of many thousands as dying for want of bread,
whilst, ‘from unwholesome food, diseases are so multiplied among the
poor people, that, if some course be not taken, this famine may very
probably be followed by a plague.’ ‘What man,’ he adds, with a just
humanity, ‘is there in this nation, if he have any compassion, who must
not grudge every nice bit, and every delicate morsel he puts in his
mouth, when he considers that so many are dead already, and so many at
this minute struggling with death, not for want of bread, but of grains,
which, I am credibly informed, have been eaten by some families, even
during the preceding years of scarcity. And must not every unnecessary
branch of our expense, or the least finery in our houses, clothes, or
equipage, reproach us with our barbarity, so long as people born with
natural endowments, perhaps not inferior to our own, and
fellow-citizens, perish for want of things absolutely necessary to
life?’[230] This generous outburst, at once accordant with the highest
moral duty and the principles of political economy, stands somewhat in
contrast with a sentiment often heard of among the rich in Ireland
during the famine of 1847, to the effect, that keeping up their system
of luxurious living was favourable to the poor, because giving
employment for labour.


[Sidenote: MAY 31.]

Sir Alexander Home of Renton, in Berwickshire, appears to [Sidenote:
1698.] have been of weak mind, and unhappy in his married life, his
wife, Dame Margaret Scott, having for some years lived apart from him.
He had so arranged his affairs, that his brother, Sir Patrick Home of
Lumsden, advocate, was his heir, he retaining only a liferent,
notwithstanding that he had a son, a boy, in life. The unfortunate
gentleman being on his death-bed, Sir Patrick’s wife, Dame Margaret
Baird, came to attend him (her husband being in England), and took up
her residence in the principal room of the house, called the Chamber of
Dais. At the same time came the alienated wife and her son, Robert Home,
professing to understand that Sir Patrick had only accepted a factory
for the payment of Sir Alexander’s debts, and for the behoof of his
children. The dying man, hearing of his wife’s arrival, admitted her to
an interview, at which he forgave her ‘the injuries and provocations he
had received from her,’ but, at the same time, ordered her to depart,
‘telling those that interceded for her, that her behaviour was such that
he could not keep her in his house, she being capable by her nature to
provoke him either to do violence to her or himself.’ She contrived,
however, to lurk in or about the house for a few days, till her poor
husband was no more.

There is then the usual ostentatious funeral—a large company assembled—a
table of deals erected in the hall for their entertainment at dinner
_before_ the obsequies—the surviving brother, Sir Patrick, ostensibly
master of the house, and his wife keeping state in it, but the widow and
her boy cherishing their own purpose in some bye-place. When the
company, duly refreshed, had departed with the corpse to Coldingham
kirkyard, excepting a small armed guard left in the dining-room, Lady
Renton, as she chose to call herself, came forth from her concealment,
with sundry supporters, and desired her sister-in-law, Lady Patrick
Home, to quit the chamber of dais, and give place to her. Lady Patrick
refusing to go, the other lady threatened, with most opprobrious
language, to turn her out by violence; and for this purpose caused Mr
John Frank, advocate, and a few other friends, to be called back from
the funeral. Lady Patrick was, however, a full match for the widow. She
reviled her and her friends, ‘calling them villains, rascals, footmen,
and vowing she would let them know [that] nobody had a right to the
house but her Pate; and [if we are to believe the opposite party] she
dreadfully over and over again cursed and swore with clapping of hands,
that she would not stir off her bottom (having settled herself upon the
resting-chyre) [Sidenote: 1698.] until the pretended lady and her brats
were turned out of doors; railing and reproaching the [Lady Renton],
calling her a disgrace to the family, and otherwise abusing her by most
injurious and opprobrious language, and vowed and swore, if once her
Pate were come from the burial, she would sit and see the [pretended
lady] and her children, and all that belonged to her, turned down
stairs, and packed to the yetts.’ She then called in the guard from the
dining-room, and incited them to turn her sister-in-law out of the
house; which they declining to do, she broke out upon them as cowardly
rascals that did not know their duty. She and her women, she said, had
more courage than they. They at least protected her, however, from being
turned out of the house by Lady Renton, which otherwise might have been
her fate.

When Sir Patrick returned in the evening from the funeral, he approved
of his lady’s firmness, and intimated to Lady Renton his determination
to keep possession of the house in terms of law, asserting that she had
no title to any refuge there. Finding all other means vain, she
contrived, while the chamber of dais was getting cleared of the
temporary table, to possess herself of the key, and lock the door. A
violent scene took place between her and Sir Patrick; but she could not
be induced to give up the key of the chamber, and he finally found it
necessary to get the door broken up. Then he learned that she had caused
his bed to be carried away and locked up; and when all remonstrances on
this point proved vain, he had to send, at a late hour, for the loan of
a bed from a neighbour. Meanwhile, the widow herself was reduced to the
necessity of keeping herself and her children immured in the footman’s
room, there being no other part of the house patent to her. Such was the
posture of the relatives of the deceased gentleman on the night of his
funeral.

The parties came with their respective complaints before the Privy
Council, by whom the case was remitted to the decision of the Court of
Session. We learn from Fountainhall, that the Lords decided (June 24)
against the widow as not being ‘infeft’ (which Sir Patrick was); but the
young Sir Robert carried on a litigation against his uncle for several
years—first, for the reduction of his father’s disposition of the
estate; and, secondly, when this was decided in his favour, in defence
against Sir Patrick’s plea, that he, as heir-male and of provision to
his father, was bound to warrant his father’s deed. On a decision being
given in Sir Robert’s favour on this point also, the uncle appealed the
case to the House of Peers; and ‘both of them did take their journey to
[Sidenote: 1698.] London (though in the midst of winter) to see it
prosecute.’ Here, in 1712, the interlocutors of the Court of Session
were affirmed.[231]


[Sidenote: JUNE 26.]

This day, being Sunday, the magistrates of Aberdeen ‘seized a popish
meeting at the house of one Alexander Gibb, merchant in their town.’
They ‘found the altar, mass-book, bell, cross, images, candles, and
incense, the priests’ vestments, and a great many popish books, the
value of ane hundred pounds sterling, and imprisoned Alexander Gibb and
one John Cowie, a trafficking papist, who calls himself a Quaker;’ but
by a secret communication with the house of George Gray, merchant, ‘the
priests who were at the meeting did escape.’

The Privy Council thanked the magistrates ‘for their good service in
this affair,’ and ordered them to send Gibb, Cowie, and Gray to
Edinburgh, under a guard, with ‘all the popish books, vestments, and
other popish trinkets, and particularly the book of their popish
baptisms, confirmations, or marriages.’ The magistrates were also
enjoined to send ‘a list of the names and designations of all the
persons which they can learn were at the said popish meeting’ to the
Lord Advocate; and to secure ‘all popish schoolmasters or
schoolmistresses, or breeders of youth in the popish religion, and all
priests and trafficking papists found in their bounds.’

Lieutenant Vandraught was ordered (July 28) eight pounds, to requite his
expenses in bringing Alexander Gibb, John Cowie, and George Gray as
prisoners from Aberdeen, along with the vestments, images, trinkets, and
popish books which had been taken on the above occasion. A few days
after, George Gray convinced the Lords that he was a sound Protestant,
and that, having only possessed his house since June last, he was
unaware of the communication with the adjacent one through which the
priests were supposed to have escaped; indeed, was innocent of the whole
matter; wherefore they immediately ordered him to be set at liberty.

The Council ordered the articles taken to be carried back to Aberdeen,
the silver chalice, crucifix, and all other silver-work to be melted
down, and the proceeds given to the poor of the burgh, and all the other
articles ‘to be carried to the mercat-cross, and the magistrates to see
them burnt thereat by the hands of the common executioner.’

[Sidenote: 1698.]

John Cowie remained in the Edinburgh Tolbooth till the 24th of November,
notwithstanding an extremely low state of health, and stout
protestations against his being a ‘trafficking papist’—that is, ‘one who
endeavours to proselytise others to the Catholic faith.’ On a petition
setting forth his unmerited sufferings, the Lords ordered him to be set
free, but not without giving caution that he would henceforth live on
the south side of the Tay.

Alexander Gibb (December 15) represented himself as having now suffered
five months of wretched imprisonment, oppressed with sickness, poverty,
and old age, being seventy-three years old. He was content to take
freedom, on the condition of never returning to Aberdeen, ‘though he can
hardly live elsewhere.’ The Lords liberated him on that condition, for
the observance of which he had to give bond to the extent of five
hundred merks.

In April 1699, notwithstanding the severe procedure in the recent case
of the Catholics who met for worship at Aberdeen, it was found that the
Duke of Gordon made bold to have such meetings in his ‘lodging’ in
Edinburgh. If Macky is right in saying of him that ‘he is a Catholic
because he was bred so, but otherwise thinks very little of revealed
religion,’ we may suppose that his Grace was mainly induced by
good-nature to allow of these dangerous assemblages. However this might
be, the authorities made seizure of the Duke and a considerable number
of people of all ranks, as they were met together in his house for mass.
The whole party was soon after cited before the Privy Council, when his
Grace and seven of the other offenders appeared. The Duke spoke so
boldly of the laws against his faith and worship, that he was
immediately sent prisoner to the Castle; three others were put in the
Tolbooth. What was done with the rest, does not appear. After a
fortnight’s imprisonment, the Duke made a humble apology, and was
liberated.

In a letter from the king, dated at Loo, July 14th, the procedure of the
Council in the case of the Duke’s disrespectful expressions was approved
of, the more so ‘since those of that persuasion must be convinced they
have met with nothing from us but the utmost lenity.’ ‘We have ever,’
says William, ‘been adverse from prosecuting any on account of their
religion, so long as, in the exercise thereof, they have kept within the
bounds of moderation; but when, in contempt of our lenity, they proceed
to such ane open and barefaced violation of the laws as tends evidently
to the disturbance of the public peace, you may be assured we will never
countenance nor protect them, but suffer the law and justice to
[Sidenote: 1698.] have its due course.’ It is difficult to see how the
few Catholics of Edinburgh, if they were to be allowed their worship at
all, could have conducted it more inoffensively than by meeting in a
private house, or how it could be an offence on their part that the
vulgar were liable to be provoked to outrage by the fact of their
worshipping.

It was thought at this time, however, that ‘popery’ was becoming
impudent, and an unusual number of priests was supposed to be going
about the country. Considering the hazard with which ‘the true
Protestant religion’ was threatened, the parliament, in May 1700,
enacted a severe statute, which continued to be acted upon for many
years afterwards, assigning a reward of five hundred merks for the
detection of each priest and Jesuit, and ordaining that any one who was
so by habit and repute, and refused to disclaim the character on oath,
should be liable to banishment without further ceremony, under
certification that, on returning, still a papist, he should be liable to
death. Lay Catholics were in the same act declared incapable of
succeeding to heritable property; and their incompetency to educate
their children, formerly established, was confirmed.[232] The identity
of this act _in principle_ with the dragooning system practised against
the western hill-folk in 1685, is obvious.

Notwithstanding the crushing severity of this treatment, the professors
of the Catholic religion in Scotland contrived to establish about this
time, and to maintain, one seminary for at least the preparation of its
priesthood; but it was of a character to impress more forcibly the
sternness of Protestant prohibition than had there been none. It was
literally a little cottage, situated on the bank of the Crombie Water,
in a very sequestered situation among the mountains dividing Inveravon
parish, in Banffshire, from the Cabrach, Glenbucket, and Strathdon, in
Aberdeenshire. It was named _Scalan_, which means an obscure or shadowy
place, and the name was most appropriate. Here, far from the haunts of
civilised man, hardly known but to a few shepherds, or the wandering
sportsman, living on the proceeds of a small tract of mountain-ground, a
priest superintended the education of eight or ten youths, designed for
the most part to complete their course and take ordination on the
continent; though, occasionally, the rite of ordination was performed at
Scalan. This truly humble seminary, as singular a memorial of the
tenacity of the human [Sidenote: 1698.] heart towards the religious
tenets impressed on it as the Covenanters’ moorland communion-tables or
their mossy graves in the west, continued in existence at the close of
the eighteenth century.[233]


[Sidenote: JULY 26.]

The African Company, undeterred by the opposition of the English
mercantile class, had never for a moment, since the subscription of
their stock in spring 1696, paused in their design. They caused six
ships of good size to be built in Holland, and these they partially
mounted with guns, with a view to defence in case of need, at the same
time taking care to furnish them with an ample store of provisions, and
of every conceivable article likely to be required in a new colony.
Twelve hundred select men, many of them Highlanders, and not a few
soldiers who had been discharged at the peace of Ryswick, mustered under
a suitable number of officers, who were generally men of good birth, on
board this little fleet. ‘Neighbouring nations,’ says Dalrymple, ‘with a
mixture of surprise and respect, saw the poorest kingdom of Europe
sending forth the most gallant and the most numerous colony that had
ever gone from the old to the new world.’

On the summer day noted, the colony left Leith, in five ships, amidst
‘the tears, and prayers, and praises’ of a vast multitude of people, all
interested in the enterprise either by a mercantile concern in it, or as
viewing it in the light of an effort to elevate the condition and
character of their country. We are told by one who might have heard
eye-witnesses describe the scene, and probably did so,[234] that ‘many
seamen and soldiers whose services had been refused, because more had
offered themselves than were needed, were found hid in the ships, and,
when ordered ashore, clung to the ropes and timbers, imploring to go,
without reward, with their companions.’ The ships had a prosperous
voyage to a point on the Gulf of Darien, which had been previously
contemplated as suitable for their settlement, though the order for the
purpose was kept sealed till the expedition touched at Madeira. Landing
here on the 4th of November, they proceeded to fortify the peninsula on
one side of the bay, cutting a channel through the connecting isthmus,
and erecting what they called Fort St [Sidenote: 1698.] Andrew, with
fifty cannon. ‘On the other side of the harbour [bay] there was a
mountain a mile high, on which they placed a watch-house, which, in the
rarefied air within the tropics, gave them an immense range of prospect,
to prevent all surprise. To this place it was observed that the
Highlanders often repaired to enjoy a cool air, and to talk of their
friends whom they had left behind.’ They purchased the land they
occupied from the natives, and sent out friendly messages to all Spanish
governors within their reach. The first public act of the colony was to
publish a declaration of freedom of trade and religion to all
nations.’[235]

It does not belong to the plan of the present work to detail the history
of the Darien adventure. Enough to say that a second expedition of six
ships sailed in May and August 1699, and that this was soon followed by
a third, comprising thirteen hundred men. Before the first of these
dates, the first colony had fully experienced the difficulties of their
position. One of their vessels happening to fall ashore near Carthagena,
the crew and its master, Captain Pinkerton, were seized as pirates, and
with difficulty spared from hanging. Hunger, dissension, and disease
took possession of the settlement, and in June the survivors had to
leave it, and sail for New York. When the second set of ships arrived,
they found the place a desert, marked only by the numerous graves of the
first settlers. The men of the second and third expeditions, brought
together on that desolate spot, felt paralysed. Discontent and mutiny
broke out amongst them. After one brilliant little effort against the
Spaniards, the remainder of these unfortunate colonists had to
capitulate to their enemies, and abandon their settlement (March 1700).
It has been stated that not above thirty of them ever returned to their
native country.

The failure of the Darien settlement was a death-blow to the African
Company, the whole capital being absorbed and lost. So large a loss of
means to so poor a country, amidst the home-troubles of famine and
disease, was felt severely. It seemed to the people of Scotland that the
hostility of the king’s government, rather than that of the Spaniards,
had been chiefly to blame for their misfortunes; and certainly there is
some truth in the allegation. Nevertheless, when the whole matter is
viewed without national prejudice, it must be admitted that there was a
radical want of prudential management and direction in the expedition to
[Sidenote: 1698.] Darien, and that thus chiefly did Scotland lose the
opportunity of possessing herself of the most important station for
commerce in the world.

It is stated by Macky, in his _Characters_, that Mr Johnston, Secretary
of State for Scotland (son of the celebrated Archibald Johnston of
Warriston), was the person who carried the bill for the African Company
through the Scottish parliament, and that it proved for a time his ruin
as a statesman. ‘What was very strange, the Whigs, whose interest it was
to support him, joined in the blow. This soured him so, as never to be
reconciled all the king’s reign, though much esteemed.’[236]


[Sidenote: AUG. 8.]

The records of parliament at this date present a remarkable example of
the mutability of fortune. Robert Miln had risen by trade to
considerable distinction, and, in the latter years of Charles II., was
one of two persons who farmed the entire customs and excise revenue of
Scotland. He acquired lands—Binny and Barnton, in Lothian—and in 1686
was raised to a baronetage. He had, however, been unfortunate in some of
his latter transactions, and become involved in large responsibilities
for others; so that now he was in danger of having his person laid hold
of by his creditors. On his petition, the parliament gave him a personal
protection. Serious people, who remembered that Sir Robert, as bailie of
Linlithgow, had conducted the burning of the Covenant there in 1662,
would smile grimly, and draw inferences, when they heard of him as a
supplicant in fear of a jail. Wodrow tells us that he subsequently died
in bankrupt circumstances in ‘the Abbey;’[237] that is, the sanctuary of
Holyrood.


[Sidenote: SEP. 20.]

Warrant was given by the Privy Council to the keeper of the Tolbooth, to
provide meat and drink to the prisoners under his care, as per a list
furnished by the Lord Advocate, at the rate of four shillings Scots _per
diem_, to be paid by the Treasury.

From various orders by the Privy Council, it appears that a groat a day
was at this time deemed a proper allowance for the subsistence of an
imprisoned witch, recruit, or any other person in humble life dependent
for aliment on the public.


[Sidenote: OCT.]

Jean Gordon, widow of Mr William Fraser, minister of Slaines, [Sidenote:
1698.] Aberdeenshire, had been for some years decayed in body and mind,
so as probably to be a considerable burden to her surviving relatives.
One morning in this month, she was found dead in her bed, and after the
usual interval, she was duly interred. Soon after, some suspicions arose
against Mr William Fraser, minister of the gospel, stepson of the
deceased, to the effect that he had poisoned and bled her to death,
although, as he alleged, he had been absent at Aberdeen at the time of
her death. A warrant being obtained, the body was raised from the grave,
and examined. No external mark of violence was discovered, and science
did not then give the means of detecting the internal consequences of
poison. It was resolved, however, to revive, in this instance, a mode of
discovering murder, which has long been ranked with vulgar
superstitions. The body being laid out in open view, Mr William Dunbar,
minister of Cruden, prayed to God that he would discover the authors of
any violence done to the deceased lady, if any there were; and then the
persons present, one by one, including the suspected stepson, touched
the body; ‘notwithstanding whereof there appeared nothing upon the body
to make the least indication of her having been murdered.’ A
precognition reporting all these circumstances, and making no charge
against any one, was sent to the Lord Advocate.

The friends of the deceased nevertheless continued to suspect the
stepson, and caused him to be apprehended and thrown into Aberdeen jail.
He lay there unaccused for three months, ‘to the ruin of himself and his
small family,’ till at length they agreed to have him charged before the
Commissioners of Justiciary for the Highlands. Hereupon (March 6, 1699)
he petitioned the Privy Council for trial before the High Court of
Justiciary; which was granted.[238] What was the upshot of the affair
does not appear.


[Sidenote: NOV. 29.]

It was reported by the Lord Advocate to the Privy Council that there had
just been put into his hand _a challenge at sharps_, which had been sent
by one fencing-master to another, ‘to be performed in the face of the
school.’ He was told ‘it was but a business of sport, and that there was
no hazard in it.’ Nevertheless, the Council recommended his lordship to
inquire further into the matter, and report, or act as he might think of
it.[239]


[Sidenote: DEC. 1.]

Mr George Brown, a minister under banishment from Edinburgh [Sidenote:
1698.] on account of the performance of irregular marriages, came before
the Privy Council for their favour in behalf of an instrument he had
invented—called _Rotula Arithmetica_—‘whereby he is able to teach those
of a very ordinary capacity who can but read the figures, to add,
subtract, multiply, and divide, though they are not able otherwise
readily to condescend [specify] whether seven and four be eleven or
twelve.’ This instrument he set forth as calculated ‘for freeing the
mind from that _rack of intortion_ to which it is obliged in long
additions, as some honourable persons of their Lordships’ number (with
whom he had the honour to converse on that head) are able to instruct.’

The Lords treated this arithmetical nonjurant relentingly, and both gave
him a copyright in the _Rotula_ for fourteen years, and allowed him to
return to Edinburgh.

On the 13th December 1698, the Lords of the Council recommended the
Lords of the Treasury to give ‘a reasonable allowance to Mr George
Brown, minister, to be ane encouragement to him for his inventing and
making of his _Rotula Arithmetica_.’

His arithmetical machine comes up again three or four times in the Privy
Council books during the next few years.


[Sidenote: DEC. 22.]

Charles Hope of Hopetoun had a band of workmen constantly engaged at his
mines in the Leadhills, far up one of the higher vales of Lanarkshire.
It not being worth while for each man to go singly some miles for his
victuals, the proprietor was desirous of arranging that one should go
and make marketing for himself and all the rest; but there was an
obstacle—under terror of a late act against forestalling, no one could
venture to sell so much grain to any single person as was required for
this body of miners. Hopetoun[240] was therefore obliged to address the
Privy Council, setting forth the case, and craving a permission for his
bailie to make purchases to the required amount, on full security that
the victual so bought should not be ‘laid up or girnelled, or sold out
to any other persons except the said workmen,’ and that it should
[Sidenote: 1698.] be ‘given out and sold to the workmen at the price it
was bought for in the market, and no higher.’ A dispensation from the
act was granted to Hopetoun accordingly.

At the same time, a like concession was made in favour of ‘Robert Allan,
chamberlain to the Earl of Marr,’ for the benefit of the men working in
his lordship’s coal-mines; the same privilege was conferred on the Duke
of Queensberry, for the workmen at his lead-mines, and ‘workmen builders
at his Grace’s house [Drumlanrig];’ on the Earl of Annandale, for his
servants and workmen; and on Alexander Inglis, factor for the colliers
on the estate of Clackmannan. All these noblemen were members of the
Privy Council.

Not long after (May 4, 1699), Roderick Mackenzie of Prestonhall was
desirous of bringing a quantity of victual from his lands in
Forfarshire, to be used at his residence in Mid-Lothian; but it was
prevented by the magistrates of Dundee from being shipped there, upon
pretence of a late act of Privy Council, allowing certain persons to
prohibit the transporting of victual from the northern to the southern
districts, if they should see fit. It was evident, argued Mackenzie,
that this act was only designed to prevent a traffic in corn for profit
at the expense of the lieges: his case was wholly different, as clearly
appeared from the smallness of the quantity in question—namely, forty
bolls of meal, twenty of malt, and thirty of oats.

On his petition, the Council allowed him to transport the victual, and
enjoined that in doing so ‘he should not be troubled or robbed within
the said town of Dundee, or liberties thereof, as they will be
answerable.’[243]


[Sidenote: DEC. 27.]

Foreigners were accustomed to come to Scotland with ships, and carry
away multitudes of people to their own plantations, there to serve as
labourers. There was now issued a strict proclamation against this
practice, offenders to be held and treated as man-stealers.[244]

Nevertheless, in November 1704, Captain William Hutcheson, of the
province of Maryland, petitioned the Privy Council for liberty to
transport to his country six young pickpockets and twenty-two degraded
women, then in the correction-house of Edinburgh, who had all ‘of their
own choice and consent’ agreed to go along with him; and the request was
agreed to, under no [Sidenote: 1698.] other restriction than that he was
not to carry away any other persons, and should ‘aliment’ those whom he
was to take away until they should leave the country.

Nearly about the same time, John Russell, merchant in Edinburgh, was
allowed to carry off twenty persons, chiefly women, from the jails of
the city, to the plantations.

Such were the facts in view when pamphleteers afterwards twitted the
rebellious colonists with the taunt that the Adam and Eve of Maryland
and Virginia came out of Newgate.


[Sidenote: 1699. JAN.]

When the Bank of Scotland was started in 1695, there were no notes for
sums below five pounds. For the extension of the bank’s paper, there
were now issued notes for twenty shillings—ever since a most notable
part of the circulating medium in Scotland. These small notes readily
got into use in Edinburgh and some parts of the provinces; yet the hopes
which some entertained of their obtaining a currency in public markets
and fairs were not at first realised—for, as one remarks thirty years
later, ‘nothing answers there among the common people but silver
money,[245] even gold being little known amongst them.’[246]


[Sidenote: JAN. 30.]

The funeral of Lady Anne Hall, wife of Sir James Hall of Dunglass, took
place at the old church near her husband’s seat, and was attended by a
multitude of the nobility and other distinguished persons. A quarrel
happened between the respective coachmen of the Earls of Lothian and
Roxburgh, for precedence, ‘which was very near engaging the masters, but
was prevented.’ It appears that the two noble earls were aspirants for
promotion in the peerage, and thus were rendered more irritable.[247]


[Sidenote: MAR. 2.]

After the _Mercurius Caledonius_ had come to the end of its short and
inglorious career in 1661, there was no other attempt at a newspaper in
Scotland till 1680, when one was tried under the name of the _Edinburgh
Gazette_. This having likewise had a short life, nineteen years more
were allowed to elapse before the craving of the public mind for
intelligence of contemporary events called for another effort in the
same direction.

There was a gentleman hanging about Edinburgh, under the [Sidenote:
1699.] name of Captain Donaldson; originally in trade there; afterwards
an officer in the Earl of Angus’s regiment, for which he had levied a
company at his own charge. He had been wounded in seven places at the
battle of Killiecrankie, and was confined for several weeks by the
Highlanders in Blair Castle. Finally turned adrift at the peace of
Ryswick, with no half-pay, he found himself in want of both subsistence
and occupation, when he bethought him of favouring his fellow-citizens
with periodical news.[248] Having issued two or three trial-sheets,
which were ‘approven of by very many,’ he now obtained from the Privy
Council an exclusive right to publish ‘ane gazett of this place,
containing ane abridgment of foraine newes, together with the
occurrences at home;’ and the _Edinburgh Gazette_ (the second of the
name) accordingly began to make its appearance at the date marginally
noted.

Wisely calculating that news were as yet but a poor field in our
northern region, Donaldson supplemented the business of his office with
a typographical device on which more certain dependence could be placed.
He informed the Privy Council that he had fallen upon a wholly new plan
for producing funeral-letters—namely, to have the principal and
necessary parts done by characters ‘in fine writ,’ raised on ingots of
brass, leaving blanks for names, dates, and places of interment.
Stationery in this form would be convenient to the public, especially in
cases of haste, ‘besides the decencie and ornament of a border of
skeletons, mortheads, and other emblems of mortality,’ which he had ‘so
contrived that it may be added or subtracted at pleasure.’ The Lords,
entering into Donaldson’s views on this subject, granted him a monopoly
of his invention for nineteen years.

Very few months had the _Gazette_ lived when it brought its author into
trouble. On the 8th of June he was suddenly clapped in prison by the
Privy Council, ‘for printing several things in his _Gazette_ which are
not truths, and for which he has no warrant.’ Five days after, he came
before them with a humble petition, in which he set forth, that he had
begun the _Gazette_ under a sense of its probable usefulness,
‘notwithstanding he was dissuaded by [Sidenote: 1699.] most of his
friends from attempting to undertake it, as a thing that could not
defray the charges of printing, intelligence, &c.’ Trusting that their
Lordships must now ‘see how useful it is,’ he begged them to overlook
what was amiss in a late number, and ‘give him instructions how to act
for the future.’ They liberated him, and at the same time made
arrangements for having the _Gazette_ duly revised by a committee of
their own body before printing.[249]

Donaldson will reappear before us under date February 19, 1705.


[Sidenote: MAR. 16.]

Robert Logan, cabinet-maker, professed to have made an invention which
even the present inventive age has not seen repeated. He averred that he
could make kettles and caldrons of wood, which could ‘abide the
strongest fire,’ while boiling any liquor put into them, ‘as weel as any
vessels made of brass, copper, or any other metal,’ with the double
advantage of their being more durable and only a third of the expense.
The Earl of Leven having made a verbal report in favour of the
invention, Robert obtained a monopoly of it for ‘two nineteen
years.’[250]


[Sidenote: JUNE.]

Apostacy from the Protestant religion was held as a heinous crime in
Scotland. By an act of James VI., all persons who had been abroad were
enjoined, within twenty days after their return, to make public
profession of their adherence to ‘the true faith;’ otherwise to ‘devoid
the kingdom’ within forty days. By another statute of the same monarch,
an apostate to popery was obliged to leave the country within forty
days, ‘under highest pains.’

The faithfully Presbyterian Lord Advocate had now heard of a dreadful
case in point. David Edie, formerly a bailie of Aberdeen, having been
some years abroad, was come home a papist, everywhere boldly avowing his
apostacy; nay, he might be considered as a trafficking papist, for he
had written a letter to Skene of Fintry, containing the reasons which
had induced him to make this disastrous change. Already, the magistrates
of his native city had had him up before them on the double charge of
apostacy and trafficking; but ‘he behaved most contemptuously and
insolently towards them, saying: “They acted Hogan-Mogan-like; but he
expected better times.”’ It was therefore become [Sidenote: 1699.]
necessary to take the severest measures with him, ‘to the terror of
others to commit the like in time coming.’

On the 9th of November, David Edie was brought before the Privy Council,
and charged by the Lord Advocate and Solicitor-general with the crime of
apostacy, when he fully avowed his change of opinion, and likewise his
having written on the subject to Skene of Fintry. He was consequently
remitted to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, to remain there a prisoner during
the pleasure of the Council. They were, however, comparatively merciful
with the ex-bailie, for, five days later, they called him again before
them, and passed upon him a final sentence of banishment from the
kingdom, he to be liberated in the meantime, in order to make his
preparations, on his granting due caution for his departure within forty
days.


[Sidenote: JULY 17.]

The tacksmen of the customs and their officers were of course far from
being popular characters. The instinct for undutied liquors was strong
in the Scotch nature, and would occasionally work to unpleasant results.
Two waiters, named Forrest and Hunter, went at the request of the
tacksmen to Prestonpans, to try to verify some suspicions which were
entertained regarding certain practices in that black and venerable
village. Finding several ankers of sack and brandy hid in the house of
Robert Mitchell, skipper, they carried them to the Custom-house, and as
they were returning, they were assailed by a multitude of men and women,
who ‘fell desperately upon them, and did bruise and bleed them to ane
admirable height,’ robbing them, moreover, of their papers and fourteen
pounds of Scots money. Things might have been carried to a worse
extremity, had not the collector and others come up and diverted the
rabble. As it was, one of the men was so severely wounded, as to lie for
some time after in the chirurgeon’s hands.

A few days after, information being given of an embezzlement at Leith, a
few waiters were sent on the search, and finding a number of half-ankers
of brandy in a chest in a house in the Coalhill, carried them off to the
Custom-house, but were assailed on the way by a great rabble, chiefly
composed of women, who beat them severely, and rescued the goods.

The Lord Advocate was ordered by the Privy Council to inquire into these
doings, and take what steps might seem necessary.[251]

[Sidenote: 1699. JULY.]

Whenever a gentleman at this time returned from France, he became an
object of suspicion to the government, on account of his having possibly
had some traffickings with the exiled royal family, with views to the
raising of disturbances at home. The Earl of Nithsdale having come from
that country in July, a committee of the Privy Council was sent to speak
with him, and ‘report what they find in the said earl’s deportment in
France or since he came therefrom.’ A few days afterwards, he was
formally permitted ‘to go home and attend to his own affairs.’ In
November, Graham of Boquhapple, having returned from France ‘without
warrant from his majesty,’ was put up in the old Tolbooth, there to
remain _a close prisoner_ till further order, but with permission for
his family and a physician to visit him. At the end of February, Graham,
having given an ingenuous account of himself as a worn-out old soldier
of the Revolution, was liberated.[252]


[Sidenote: JULY 18.]

From Ross-shire, a new batch of witches was reported, in the persons of
‘John Glass in Spittal; Donald M‘Kulkie in Drumnamerk; Agnes Desk in
Kilraine; Agnes Wrath there; Margaret Monro in Milntown; Barbara Monro,
spouse to John Glass aforesaid; Margaret Monro, his mother; Christian
Gilash in Gilkovie; Barbara Rassa in Milntown; Mary Keill in Ferintosh;
Mary Glass in Newton; and Erick Shayme.’ All being ‘alleged guilty of
the diabolical crimes and charms of witchcraft,’ it was most desirable
that they should be brought to a trial, ‘that the persons guilty may
receive condign punishment, and others may be deterred from committing
such crimes and malefices in time coming;’ but the distance was great,
and travelling expensive; so it was determined to issue a commission to
Robertson of Inshes and several other gentlemen of the district, for
doing justice on the offenders.

The proceedings of Mr Robertson and his associates were duly reported in
November, and a committee was appointed by the Privy Council to consider
it, that they might afterwards give their opinion, ‘whether the sentence
mentioned in the said report should be put in execution as pronounced or
not.’ On the 2d of January 1700, the committee, composed of the judges
Rankeillor and Halcraig, reported that Margaret Monro and Agnes Wrath
had made confession—for them they recommended some [Sidenote: 1699.]
arbitrary punishment. Against John Glass in Spittal, and Mary Keill in
Ferintosh, it was their opinion that nothing had been proved. The
Council consequently assoilzied these persons from the sentence which
had been passed upon them by the local commissioners, and ordered their
liberation from the jail of Fortrose. As to the other persons, they
adopted the proposal of an arbitrary punishment, remitting to the
committee to appoint what they thought proper.[253] This is the first
appearance of an inclination in the central authorities to take mild
views of witchcraft.[254] We are not yet, however, come to the last
instance of its capital punishment.

On the 20th of November 1702, Margaret Myles was hanged at Edinburgh for
witchcraft. According to a contemporary account: ‘The day being come,
she was taken from the prison to the place of execution. Mr George
Andrew, one of the preachers of this city, earnestly exhorted her, and
desired her to pray; but her heart was so obdured, that she answered she
could not; for, as she confessed, she was in covenant with the devil,
who had made her renounce her baptism. After which, Mr Andrew said:
“Since your heart is so hardened that you cannot pray, will you say the
Lord’s Prayer after me?” He began it, saying: “Our Father which art in
heaven;” but she answered: “Our Father which wart in heaven;” and by no
means would she say otherways, only she desired he might pray for her.
He told her: “How could she bid him pray for her, since she would not
pray for herself.” Then he sung two verses of the 51st Psalm, during
which time she seemed penitent; but when he desired her to say: “I
renounce the devil,” she said: “I unce the devil;” for by no means would
she say distinctly that she renounced the devil, and adhered unto her
baptism, but that she unced the devil, and hered unto her baptism. The
only sign of repentance she gave was after the napkin had covered her
face, for then she said: “Lord, take me out of the devil’s hands, and
put me in God’s.”’[255]


[Sidenote: JULY 25.]

The inventive spirit, of which we have seen so many traits within the
last few years, had entered the mind of the poor [Sidenote: 1699.]
Englishman, Henry Neville Payne, so long confined, without trial, under
the care of the Scottish government, on account of his alleged concern
in a Jacobite conspiracy. In a petition dated at Stirling Castle, he
stated to the Privy Council, that ‘though borne down with age, poverty,
and a nine years’ imprisonment, he is preparing ane experiment for river
navigation, whereby safer, larger, and swifter vessels may be made with
far less charge than any now in use.’ As this experiment, however, owing
to the straitened circumstances and personal confinement of the
inventor, had cost ten times more than it otherwise would have done, so
did he find it could not be perfected unless he were allowed personally
to attend to it. He entreated that, however they might be determined to
detain him in Scotland, they would, ‘in Christian compassion to his hard
circumstances, permit him on his parole, or moderate bail, to have
freedom within some limited confinement near this place, to go forth of
the Castle, that he may duly attend his business, as the necessity of it
requires.’

The Council granted him liberty of half a mile’s range from the Castle,
during a limited portion of the day, under a guard.[256]


[Sidenote: SEP. 15.]

In his _Second Discourse on Public Affairs_, published in 1698, Fletcher
of Salton made some statements regarding the multitude of the vagrant
poor in Scotland which have often been quoted. He remarked that, owing
to the bad seasons of this and the three preceding years, the evil was
perhaps now greater than it had ever been; ‘yet there have always been
in Scotland such numbers of poor, as by no regulations could ever be
ordinarily provided for; and this country has always swarmed with such
numbers of idle vagabonds, as no laws could ever restrain.’ He estimated
the ordinary number of such people at a hundred thousand, and the
present at two hundred thousand—‘vagabonds who live without any regard
to the laws of the land, or even those of God and nature.’ ‘No
magistrate,’ he says, ‘could ever discover which way one in a hundred of
these wretches died, or that ever they were baptised. Many murders have
been discovered among them; and they are not only a most unspeakable
oppression to poor tenants (who, if they give not bread or some kind of
provision to perhaps forty such villains in a day, are sure to be
insulted by them), but they rob many poor people who live in houses
distant from any neighbourhood. [Sidenote: 1699.] In years of plenty,
many thousands of them meet together in the mountains, where they feast
and riot for many days; and at country-weddings, markets, burials, and
other the like public occasions, they are to be seen, both men and
women, perpetually drunk, cursing, blaspheming, and fighting together.’

To remedy this evil, Fletcher proposed in all seriousness what reads
like Swift’s suggestion to convert the children of the Irish poor into
animal food. He recommended that the great mass of the able-bodied of
these superfluous mortals should be reduced to serfdom under such
persons as would undertake to keep and employ them, arguing that slavery
amongst ancient states was what saved them from great burdens of pauper
population, and was a condition involving many great advantages to all
parties. He was for hospitals to the sick and lame, but thought it would
be well, for example and terror, to take three or four hundred of the
worst of the others, commonly called _jockies_, and present them to the
state of Venice, ‘to serve in the galleys against the common enemy of
Christendom.’

Most of the patriot’s contemporaries probably acknowledged the existence
of the evil which he described—though he probably exaggerated it to the
extent of at least a third—but there is no appearance of the slightest
movement having ever been made towards the adoption of his remedy. A
modern man can only wonder at such a scheme proceeding from one whose
patriotism was in general too fine for use, and who held such views of
the late tyrannical governments, that he was for punishing their
surviving instruments several years after the Revolution.[257]

At the date noted, the government was revolving more rational plans for
mitigating the evils of the wide-spread mendicancy. [Sidenote: 1699.]
The Privy Council issued a proclamation, adverting to the non-execution
of the laws for the poor during the time of the scarcity, but intimating
that better arrangements were rendered possible by the plentiful harvest
just realised. The plan ordered to be adopted was to build
correction-houses at Edinburgh, Dumfries, Ayr, Glasgow, Stirling, Perth,
Dundee, Aberdeen, and Inverness, each for the county connected with the
burgh, into which the poor should be received: no allusion is made to
the other counties. The poor were to be confined to the districts in
which they had had residence for the last three years. It was ordained
of each correction-house, that it should have ‘a large close
sufficiently enclosed for keeping the said poor people, that they be not
necessitat to be always within doors to the hurt and hazard of their
health.’ And the magistrates of the burghs were commanded to take the
necessary steps for raising these pauper-receptacles under heavy
penalties.[258]


[Sidenote: NOV. 9.]

It was customary for the Lords of Privy Council to grant exclusive right
to print and vend books for certain terms—being all that then existed as
equivalent to our modern idea of copyright. Most generally, this right
was given to booksellers and printers, and bore reference rather to the
mercantile venture involved in the expense of producing the book, than
to any idea of a reward for authorcraft. Quite in conformity with this
old view of literary rights, the Council now conferred on George
Mossman, stationer in Edinburgh, ‘warrant to print and sell the works of
the learned Mr George Buchanan, in ane volume in folio, or by parts in
lesser volumes,’ and discharged ‘all others to print, import, or sell,
the whole or any part of the said Mr George his works in any volume or
character, for the space of nineteen years.’

In conformity with the same view of copyright, another Edinburgh
stationer, who, in 1684, had obtained a nineteen years’ title to print
Sir George Mackenzie’s _Institutes of the Law of Scotland_, soon after
this day was favoured with a renewal of the privilege, on his
contemplating a second edition.

Robert Sanders, printer in Glasgow, had printed a large impression of a
small book, entitled _Merchandising Spiritualised, or the Christian
Merchant Trading to Heaven_, by Mr James Clark, minister at Glasgow;
which, in Sanders’s opinion, was calculated [Sidenote: 1699.] to be ‘of
excellent use to good people of all ranks and degrees.’ For his
encouragement in the undertaking, he petitioned the Privy Council (July
13, 1703) for an exclusive right of publishing the book; and he was
fortified in his claim by a letter from the author, as well as a
‘testificat from Mr James Woodrow, professor of divinity at Glasgow,
anent the soundness of the said book.’ The Council, taking all these
things into account, gave Sanders a licence equivalent to copyright for
nineteen years.[259]


[Sidenote: NOV. 30.]

The abundant harvest of 1699 was acknowledged by a general thanksgiving.
But, that the people might not be too happy on the occasion, the king,
in the proclamation for this observance, was made to acknowledge that
the late famine and heavy mortality had been a just retribution of the
Almighty for the sins of the people; as likewise had been ‘several other
judgments, specially the frustrating the endeavours that have been made
for advancing the trade of this nation.’ [The royal councillors were too
good Christians, or too polite towards their master, to insinuate as a
secular cause the subserviency of the king to English merchants jealous
of Scottish rivalry.] For these reasons, he said, it was proper, on the
same day, that there be solemn and fervent prayers to God, entreating
him to look mercifully on the sins of the people, and remove these, ‘the
procuring causes of all afflictions,’ and permit that ‘we may no more
abuse his goodness into wantonness and forgetfulness.’

The people of Scotland were poor, and lived in the most sparing manner.
When they made an honourable attempt to extend their industry, that they
might live a little better, their sovereign permitted the English to
‘frustrate the endeavour.’ He then told them to humble themselves for
the sins which had procured their afflictions, and reproached them with
a luxury which they had never enjoyed. The whole affair reminds one of
the rebuke administered by Father Paul to the starved porter in _The
Duenna_: ‘Ye eat, and swill, and drink, and gormandise,’ &c.


[Sidenote: DEC. 14.]

Notwithstanding the abundance of the harvest, universally acknowledged a
fortnight before by solemn religious rites, there was already some alarm
beginning to arise about the future, chiefly in consequence of the very
natural movements observed among possessors of and dealers in grain, for
reserving the stock against [Sidenote: 1699.] eventual demands. There
now, therefore, appeared a proclamation forbidding export and
encouraging import, the latter step being ‘for the more effectual
disappointing of the ill practices of forestalled and regraters.’[260]


[Sidenote: DEC. 7.]

We have at this time a curious illustration of the slowness of all
travelling in Scotland, in a petition of Robert Irvine of Corinhaugh to
the Privy Council. He had been cited to appear as a witness by a
particular day, in the case of Dame Marjory Seton, relict of Lewis
Viscount of Frendraught, but he did not arrive till the day after,
having been ‘fully eight days upon the journey that he usually made in
three,’ in consequence of the unseasonableness of the weather, by which
even the post had been obstructed. The denunciation against him for
nonappearance was discharged.[261]


[Sidenote: 1700. JAN.]

A case of a singular character was brought before the Court of
Justiciary. In the preceding July, a boy named John Douglas, son of
Douglas of Dornock, attending the school of Moffat, was chastised by his
teacher, Mr Robert Carmichael, with such extreme severity that he died
on the spot. The master is described in the indictment as beating and
dragging the boy, and giving him three lashings without intermission; so
that when ‘let down’ for the third time, he ‘could only weakly struggle
along to his seat, and never spoke more, but breathed out his last, and
was carried dying, if not dead, out of the school.’ Carmichael fled, and
kept out of sight for some weeks, ‘but by the providence of God was
discovered and seized.’

‘The Lords decerned the said Mr Robert to be taken from the Tolbooth of
Edinburgh by the hangman under a sure guard to the middle of the
Landmarket, and there lashed by seven severe stripes; then to be carried
down to the Cross, and there severely lashed by six sharp stripes; and
then to be carried to the Fountain Well, to be severely lashed by five
stripes; and then to be carried back by the hangman to the Tolbooth.
Likeas, the Lords banish the said Mr Robert furth of this kingdom, never
to return thereto under all highest pains.’[262]

Robert Carmichael was perhaps only unfortunate in some constitutional
weakness of his victim. An energetic use of the lash [Sidenote: 1700.]
was the rule, not the exception, in the _old school_—nay, even down to
times of which many living persons may well say, ‘quæque miserrima vidi,
et quorum pars magna fui.’ In the High School of Edinburgh about 1790,
one of the masters (Nicol) occasionally had twelve dunces to whip at
once, ranking them up in a row for the purpose. When all was ready, he
would send a polite message to his colleague, Mr Cruikshank, ‘to come
and hear his _organ_.’ Cruikshank having come, Mr Nicol would proceed to
administer a rapid cursory flagellation along and up and down the row,
producing a variety of notes from the patients, which, if he had been
more of a scientific musician, he might have probably called a
_bravura_. Mr Cruikshank was sure to take an early opportunity of
inviting Mr Nicol to a similar treat.


[Sidenote: JAN.]

One of the most conspicuous persons at this time in Scotland—one of the
few, moreover, known out of his own country, or destined to be
remembered in a future age—was Dr Archibald Pitcairn. He practised as a
physician in Edinburgh, without an equal in reputation; but he was also
noted as a man of bright general talents, and of great wit and
pleasantry. His habits were convivial, after the manner of his time, or
beyond it; and his professional Delphi was a darkling tavern in the
Parliament Close, which he called the Greping Office (_Latinè_,
‘Greppa’), by reason of the necessity of groping in order to get into
it. Here, in addition to all difficulties of access, his patients must
have found it a somewhat critical matter to catch him at a happy moment,
if it was true, as alleged, that he would sometimes be drunk twice a
day. It is also told of him that, having given an order at home, that
when detained overnight at this same Greping Office, he should have a
clean shirt sent to him by a servant next morning, the rule was on one
occasion observed till the number of clean shirts amounted to six, all
of which he had duly put on; but, behold, when he finally re-emerged and
made his way home, the whole were found upon him, one above the other!
Perhaps these are exaggerations, shewing no more than that the habits of
the clever doctor were such as to have excited the popular imagination.
It was a matter of more serious moment, that Pitcairn was insensible to
the beauties of the Presbyterian polity and the logic of the Calvinistic
faith—being for this reason popularly labelled as an atheist—and that,
in natural connection with this frame of opinion, he was no admirer of
the happy revolution government.

He had, about this time, written a letter to his friend, Dr Robert
[Sidenote: 1700.] Gray, in London; and Captain Bruce, a person attached
to the service of the Duke of Hamilton, had sent it to its destination
under a cover. It fell, in London, into the hands of the Scottish
Secretary, Seafield, who immediately returned it to the Lord Chancellor
in Edinburgh, as one of a dangerous character towards the government.
The Lord Chancellor immediately caused Dr Pitcairn and Captain Bruce to
be apprehended and put into the Tolbooth, each in a room by himself. On
the letter being immediately after read to the Privy Council (January
16), they entirely approved of what had been done, and gave orders for a
criminal process being instituted before them against the two gentlemen.

[Illustration: Dr Pitcairn.]

On the 25th of January, Pitcairn was brought before the Council on a
charge of contravening various statutes against _leasing-making_—that
is, venting and circulating reproaches and false reports against the
government. He was accused of having, on a certain day in December,
written a letter to Dr Gray in reference to an [Sidenote: 1700.] address
which was in course of signature regarding the meeting of parliament.
This, he said, was going on unanimously throughout the nation, only a
few courtiers and Presbyterian ministers opposing it, and that in vain;
‘twice so many have signed since the proclamation anent petitioning as
signed it before.’ ‘He bids him [Dr Gray] take notice that there is one
sent to court, with a title different, to beguile the elect of the
court, if it were possible.’ ‘And all the corporations and all the
gentlemen have signed the address, and himself among the rest; and it is
now a National Covenant, and, by Jove, it would produce a national and
universal ——; to which he adds that he is thinking after a lazy way to
reprint his papers, but hopes there shall be news ere they are printed,
and that he is calculating the force of the _musculi abdominis_ in
digesting meat, and is sure they can do it, _une belle affaire_.’

In the letters of charge brought forward by the Lord Advocate, it was
alleged that there were here as many falsehoods as statements, and the
object of the whole to throw discredit on the government was manifest.
One of his allegations was the more offensive as he had sought to
confirm it ‘by swearing profanely as a pagan, and not as a Christian,
“by Jove, it will produce a national and universal ——,” which blank
cannot be construed to have a less import than a national and universal
overturning.’ Seeing it clearly evidenced that he had ‘foolishly and
wickedly meddled in the affairs of his majesty and his estate, he ought
to be severely punished in his person and goods, to the terror of others
to do the like in time coming.’

Dr Pitcairn, knowing well the kind of men he had to deal with, made no
attempt at defence; neither did he utter any complaint as to the
violation of his private correspondence. He pleaded that he had written
in his cups with no evil design against the government, and threw
himself entirely on the mercy of the Council. His submission was
accepted, and he got off with a reprimand from the Lord Chancellor,
after giving bond with his friend Sir Archibald Stevenson, under two
hundred pounds sterling, to live peaceably under the government, and
consult and contrive nothing against it.[263]


[Sidenote: FEB. 3.]

This is the date of a conflagration in Edinburgh, which made a great
impression at the time, and was long remembered. It [Sidenote: 1700.]
broke out in one of the densest parts of the city, in a building between
the Cowgate and Parliament Close, about ten o’clock of a Saturday night.
Here, in those days, lived men of no small importance. We are told that
the fire commenced in a closet of the house of Mr John Buchan, being
that below the residence of Lord Crossrig, one of the judges. Part of
his lordship’s family was in bed, and he was himself retiring, when the
alarm was given, and he and his family were obliged to escape without
their clothes. ‘Crossrig, naked, with a child under his oxter [armpit],
happing for his life,’ is cited as one of the sad sights of the night.
‘When people were sent into his closet to help out with his cabinet and
papers, the smoke was so thick that they only got out a small cabinet
with great difficulty. Albeit his papers were lying about the floor, or
hung about the walls of his closet in pocks, yet they durst not stay to
gather them up or take them ... so that that cabinet, and his servant
[clerk]‘s lettron [desk], which stood near the door of the lodging, with
some few other things, was all that was saved, and the rest, even to his
lordship’s wearing-clothes, were burnt.’[264] According to an
eye-witness, the fire continued to burn all night and till ten o’clock
on Sunday morning, ‘with the greatest _frayor_ and vehemency that ever I
saw a fire do, notwithstanding that I saw London burn.’[265] ‘The flames
were so terrible, that none durst come near to quench it. It was a very
great wind, which blew to such a degree, that, with the sparks that came
from the fire, there was nothing to be seen through the whole city, but
as it had been showers of sparks, like showers of snow, they were so
thick.’[266]

‘There are burnt, by the easiest computation, between three and four
hundred families; the pride of Edinburgh is sunk; from the Cowgate to
the High Street, all is burnt, and hardly one stone left upon another.
The Commissioner, the President of Parliament, the President of the
Court of Session [Sir Hugh Dalrymple], the Bank [of Scotland], most of
the lords, lawyers, and clerks were burnt, besides many poor families.
The Parliament House very nearly [narrowly] escaped; all registers
confounded [the public registers being kept there]; clerks’ chambers and
processes in such a confusion, that the lords and officers of state are
just now met in Ross’s tavern, in order to adjourn the session
[Sidenote: 1700.] by reason of the disorder. Few people are lost, if any
at all; but there was neither heart nor hand left among them for saving
from the fire, nor a drop of water in the cisterns. Twenty thousand
hands flitting [removing] their trash, they knew not where, and hardly
twenty at work. Many rueful spectacles, &c.’[267]

The Town Council recorded their sense of this calamity as a ‘fearful
rebuke of God,’ and the Rev. Mr Willison of Dundee did not omit to
improve the occasion. ‘In Edinburgh,’ says he, ‘where Sabbath-breaking
very much abounded, the fairest and stateliest of its buildings, in the
Parliament Close and about it (to which scarce any in Britain were
comparable), were on the fourth of February (being the Lord’s Day),
burnt down and laid in ashes and ruins in the space of a few hours, to
the astonishment and terror of the sorrowful inhabitants, whereof I
myself was an eye-witness. So great was the terror and confusion of that
Lord’s Day, that the people of the city were in no case to attend any
sermon or public worship upon it, though there was a great number of
worthy ministers convened in the place (beside the reverend ministers of
the city) ready to have prayed with or preached to the people on that
sad occasion, for the General Assembly was sitting there at the time.
However, the Lord himself, by that silent Sabbath, did loudly preach to
all the inhabitants of the city,’ &c.[268]

Some of the houses burnt on this occasion, forming part of the
Parliament Square, were of the extraordinary altitude of fourteen
stories, six or seven of which, however, were below the level of the
ground on the north side. These had been built about twenty years before
by Thomas Robertson, brewer, a thriving citizen, who is described in his
epitaph in the Greyfriars’ churchyard as ‘remarkable for piety towards
God, loyalty towards his prince, love to his country, and civility
towards all persons;’ while he was also, by these structures, ‘urbis
exornator, si non conditor.’[269] But Robertson, as youngest bailie, had
given the Covenant out of his hand to be burnt at the Cross in 1661; and
‘now God in his providence hath sent a burning among his lands, so that
that which was eleven years a-building, was not six hours of burning.
Notwithstanding this, he was a good man, and lamented to his death the
burning of the Covenant; he was also very helpful to the Lord’s
prisoners during the late persecution.’[270]

[Sidenote: 1700.]

There being no insurance against fire in those days, the heirs of
Robertson were reduced from comparative affluence to poverty, and the
head of the family was glad to accept the situation of a captain in the
city guard, and at last was made a pensioner upon the city’s
charge.[271]

Amongst the burnt out has been mentioned the Bank of Scotland. ‘The
directors and others concerned did with great care and diligence carry
off all the cash, bank-notes, books, and papers in the office; being
assisted by a party of soldiers brought from the Castle by the Earl of
Leven, then governor thereof, and governor of the bank, who, with the
Lord Ruthven, then a director, stood all the night directing and
supporting the soldiers, in keeping the stair and passage from being
overcrowded. But the Company lost their lodging and whole furniture in
it.’[272]

Lord Crossrig, who suffered so much by this fire, tells us in his
_Diary_, that in the late evil times—that is, before the Revolution—he
had been a member of a society that met every Monday afternoon ‘for
prayer and conference.’ Since their deliverance, such societies had gone
out of fashion, and profanity went on increasing till it came to a great
height. Hearing that there were societies setting up in England ‘for
reformation of manners,’ and falling in with a book that gave an account
of them, he bethought him how desirable it was that something of the
sort should be attempted in Edinburgh, and spoke to several friends on
the subject. There was, consequently, a meeting at his house in November
1699, at which were present Mr Francis Grant (subsequently Lord Cullen);
Mr Matthew Sinclair; Mr William Brodie, advocate; Mr Alexander Dundas,
physician, and some other persons, who then determined to form
themselves into such a society, under sanction of some of the clergy.
The schedule of rules for this fraternity was signed on the night when
the fire happened.

‘This,’ says Crossrig, ‘is a thing I remark as notable, which presently
was a rebuke to some of us for some fault in our solemn engagement
there, and probably Satan blew that coal to witness his indignation at a
society designedly entered into in opposition to the Kingdom of
Darkness, and in hopes that such an occurrence should dash our society
in its infancy, and discourage us to proceed therein. However, blessed
be our God, all who then met have continued steadfast ever since ... and
we have had many meetings since that time, even during the three months
[Sidenote: 1700.] that I lived at the Earl of Winton’s lodging in the
Canongate.... Likeas, there are several other societies of the same
nature set up in this city.’[273]


[Sidenote: FEB.]

The burning out of the Bank of Scotland was not more than twenty days
past, when a trouble of a different kind fell upon it. ‘One Thomas
M‘Gie, who was bred a scholar, but poor, of a good genius and ready wit,
of an aspiring temper, and desirous to make an appearance in the world,
but wanting a fund convenient for his purpose, was tempted to try his
hand upon bank-notes. At this time all the five kinds of notes—namely,
£100, £50, £20, £10, and £5—were engraven in one and the same character.
He, by artful razing, altered the word five in the _five_-pound note,
and made it _fifty_. But good providence discovered the villainy before
he had done any great damage, by means of the check-book and a record
kept in the office; and the rogue was forced to fly abroad. The
check-book and record are so excellently adapted to one another, and
well contrived; and the keeping them right, and applying thereof, is so
easy, that no forgery or falsehood of notes can be imposed upon the bank
for any sum of moment, before it is discovered. After discovering this
cheat of M‘Gie, the company caused engrave new copper-plates for all
their notes, each of a different character, adding several other checks;
so that it is not in the power of man to renew M‘Gie’s villainy.’[274]


[Sidenote: FEB.]

The glass-work at Leith made a great complaint regarding the ruinous
practice pursued by the work at Newcastle, of sending great quantities
of their goods into Scotland. The English makers had lately landed at
Montrose no less than two thousand six hundred dozen of bottles, ‘which
will overstock the whole country with the commodity.’ On their petition,
the Lords of the Privy Council empowered the Leith Glass Company to send
out officers to seize any such English bottles and bring them in for his
majesty’s use.[275]


[Sidenote: MAR. 14.]

The ill-reputed governments of the last two reigns put down unlicensed
worship among the Presbyterians, on the ground that the conventicles
were schools of disaffection. The present government acted upon
precisely the same principle, in crushing attempts at the establishment
of Episcopal meeting-houses. The [Sidenote: 1700.] commission of the
General Assembly at this time represented to the Privy Council that the
parishes of Eyemouth, Ayton, and Coldingham[276] were ‘very much
disturbed by the setting up of Episcopal meeting-houses, whereby the
people are withdrawn from their duty to his majesty, and all good order
of the church violat.’ On the petition of the presbytery of Chirnside,
backed by the Assembly Commission, the Privy Council ordained that the
sheriff shut up all these meeting-houses, and recommended the Lord
Advocate to ‘prosecute the pretended ministers preaching at the said
meeting-houses, not qualified according to law, and thereby not having
the protection of the government.’[277]

This policy seems to have been effectual for its object, for in the
statistical account of Coldingham, drawn up near the close of the
eighteenth century, the minister reports that there were no
Episcopalians in his parish. It is but one of many facts which might be
adduced in opposition to the popular doctrine, that persecution is
powerless against religious conviction.


Notwithstanding the many serious and the many calamitous things
affecting Scotland, there was an under-current of pleasantries and
jocularities, of which we are here and there fortunate enough to get a
glimpse. For example—in Aberdeen, near the gate of the mansion of the
Earl of Errol, there looms out upon our view a little cozy tavern, kept
by one Peter Butter, much frequented of students in Marischal College
and the dependents of the magnate here named. The former called it the
_Collegium Butterense_, as affecting to consider it a sort of university
supplementary to, and necessary for the completion of, the daylight one
which their friends understood them to be attending. Here drinking was
study, and proficiency therein gave the title to degrees. Even for
admission, there was a _theme_ required, which consisted in drinking a
particular glass to every friend and acquaintance one had in the world,
with one more. Without these possibly thirty-nine or more articles being
duly and unreservedly swallowed, the candidate was relentlessly
excluded. On being accepted, a wreath was conferred, and Master James
Hay, by virtue of the authority [Sidenote: 1700.] resting in him under
the rules of the foundation, addressed the neophyte:

                    Potestatem do tibique
                    Compotandi bibendique,
                    Ac summa pocula implendi,
                    Et haustus exhauriendi,
                    Cujusve sint capacitatis,
                    E rotundis aut quadratis.
                    In signum ut manumittaris,
                    Adornet caput hic galerus,
                    Quod tibi felix sit faustumque,
                    Obnixe comprecor multumque.

There were _theses_, too, on suitably convivial ideas—as, for example:

                    ’Gainst any man of sense,
                      _Asserimus ex pacto_,
                    Upon his own expense,
                    _Quod vere datur ens
                      Potabile de facto_....

                    If you expect degrees,
                      Drink off your cup and fill,
                    We’re not for what you please:
                    Our absolute decrees
                      Admit of no free-will....

                    The longer we do sit,
                      The more we hate all quarrels,
                    (Let none his quarters flit),
                    The more we do admit
                      Of _vacuum_ in barrels. &c.

Or else:

              For to find out a parallaxis
                We’ll not our minds apply,
              Save what a toast in Corbreed[278] makes us;
              Whether the moon moves on her axis,
                Ask Black and Gregory.[279]

              That bodies are _à parte rei_,
                To hold we think it meetest;
              Some cold, some hot, some moist, some dry,
              Though all of them ye taste and try,
                The fluid is the sweetest.

              _Post sextam semi hora_
                At night, no friend refuses
              To come _lavare ora_;
              _Est melior quam Aurorâ_,
                And fitter for the Muses, &c.

[Sidenote: 1700.]

A diploma conferred upon George Durward, doubtless not without very
grave consideration of his pretensions to the honour, is couched in much
the same strain as the theses:

              To all and sundry who shall see this,
              Whate’er his station or degree is,
              We, Masters of the Buttery College,
              Send greeting, and to give them knowledge,
              That George Durward, _præsentium lator_,
              Did study at our _Alma Mater_
              Some years, and hated foolish projects,
              But stiffly studied liquid logics;
              And now he’s as well skilled in liquor
              As any one that blaws a bicker;
              For he can make our college theme
              A syllogism or enthymeme....
              Since now we have him manumitted,
              In arts and sciences well fitted,
              To recommend him we incline
              To all besouth and north the line,
              To black and white, though they live as far
              As Cape Good-Hope and Madagascar,
              Him to advance, because he is
              _Juvenis bonæ indolis_, &c.

We have, however, no specimen of the wit of this fluid university that
strikes us as equal to a _Catalogus Librorum in Bibliothecâ Butterensi_;
to all external appearance, a dry list of learned books, while in
reality comprehending the whole paraphernalia of a tavern. It is
formally divided into ‘Books in large folio,’ ‘Books in lesser folio,’
‘Books in quarto,’ ‘Books in octavo,’ and ‘Lesser Volumes,’ just as we
might suppose the university catalogue to have been. Amongst the works
included are: ‘Maximilian Malt-kist de principiis liquidorum—Kircherus
Kettles de eodem themate—Bucket’s Hydrostaticks—Opera Bibuli Barrelli,
ubi de conservatione liquoris, et de vacuo, problematice
disputatur—Constantinus Chopinus de philosophicis bibendi legibus, in
usum Principalis, curâ Georgii Leith [described in a note as a
particularly assiduous pupil of the college] 12 tom.—Compendium ejus,
for weaker capacities—Barnabius Beer-glass, de lavando gutture—Manuale
Gideonis Gill, de Syllogismis concludentibus—Findlay [Sidenote: 1700.]
Fireside, de circulari poculorum motu,’ &c. One may faintly imagine how
all this light-headed nonsense would please Dr Pitcairn, as he sat
regaling himself in the Greping Office, and how the serious people would
shake their heads at it when they perused it at full length, a few years
afterwards, in Watson’s _Collection of Scots Poems_.


[Sidenote: JULY 31.]

The commissioners of the General Assembly, considering the impending
danger of a late harvest and consequent scarcity, and the other
distresses of the country, called for the 29th day of August being
solemnised by a fast. In the reasons for it, they mention the unworthy
repining at the late providences, and ‘that, under our great penury and
dearth, whilst some provoked God by their profuse prodigality, the
poorest of the people, who suffered most, and who ought thereby to have
been amended, have rather grown worse and worse.’


Duncan Robertson, a younger son of the deceased Laird of Struan, had
fallen out of all good terms with his mother, apparently in consequence
of some disputes about their respective rights. Gathering an armed band
of idle ruffians, he went with them to his mother’s jointure-lands, and
laid them waste; he went to a ‘room’ or piece of land occupied by his
sister Margaret, and carried off all that was upon it; he also ‘laid
waste any possession his other sister Mrs Janet had.’ When a military
party, posted at Carie, came to protect the ladies, he fired on it, and
afterwards plainly avowed to the commander that his object was to
dispossess his mother and her tenants. By this cruel act, Lady Struan
and her other children had been ‘reduced to these straits and
difficulties, that they had not whereupon to live.’

[Sidenote: AUG. 2.]

The Privy Council gave orders for the capture of Duncan Robertson, and
his being put in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and kept there till further
orders.[280]


[Sidenote: NOV. 16.]

A band of persons, usually called Egyptians or gipsies, used to go about
the province of Moray in armed fashion, helping themselves freely to the
property of the settled population, and ordinarily sleeping in kilns
near the farmhouses. There seems to have been thirty of them in all, men
and women; but it was [Sidenote: 1700.] seldom that more than eight or
ten made their appearance in any one place. It was quite a familiar
sight, at a fair or market in Banff, Elgin, Forres, or any other town of
the district, to see nearly a dozen sturdy Egyptians march in with a
piper playing at their head, their matchlocks slung behind them, and
their broadswords or dirks by their sides, to mingle in the crowd,
inspect the cattle shewn for sale, and watch for bargains passing among
individuals, in order to learn who was in the way of receiving money.
They would be viewed with no small suspicion and dislike by the
assembled rustics and farmers; but the law was unable to put them
entirely down.

[Illustration: Macpherson’s Sword.]

James Macpherson, who was understood to be the natural son of a
gentleman of the district by a gipsy mother, was a conspicuous or
leading man in the band; he was a person of goodly figure and great
strength and daring, always carrying about with him—how acquired we
cannot tell—an example of the two-handed swords of a former age, besides
other weapons. He had a talent for music, and was a good player on the
violin. It has been stated that some traits of a generous nature
occasionally shone out in him; but, on the whole, he was merely a
Highland cateran, breaking houses and henroosts, stealing horses and
cattle, and living recklessly on the proceeds, like the tribe with which
he associated.

Duff, Laird of Braco, founder of the honours and wealth of the Earls of
Fife, took a lead at this time in the public affairs of his district. He
formed the resolution of trying to give a check to the lawless
proceedings of the Egyptians, by bringing their leaders to justice. It
required some courage to face such determined ruffians with arms in
[Sidenote: 1700.] their hands, and he had a further difficulty in the
territorial prejudices of the Laird of Grant, who regarded some of the
robbers as his tenants, and felt bound, accordingly, to protect them
from any jurisdiction besides his own.[281] This remark bears
particularly upon two named Peter and Donald Brown, who had lived for
half a year at a place closely adjacent to Castle-Grant, and the former
of whom was regarded as captain of the band.

Finding Macpherson, the Browns, and others at the ‘Summer’s Eve Fair in
Keith, the stout-hearted Braco made up his mind to attack them. To
pursue a narrative which appears to be authentic: ‘As soon as he
observed them in the fair, he desired his brother-in-law, Lesmurdie, to
bring him a dozen stout men, which he did. They attacked the villains,
who, as they had several of their accomplices with them, made a
desperate resistance. One of them made a pass at Braco with his hanger,
intending to run him through the heart; but it slanted along the outside
of the ribs, and one of his men immediately stabbed the fellow dead.
They then carried Macpherson and [Peter] Brown to a house in Keith, and
set three or four stout men to guard them, not expecting any more
opposition, as all the rest of the gang were fled. Braco and Lesmurdie
were sitting in an upper room, concerting the commitment of their
prisoners, when the Laird of Grant and thirty men came calling for them,
swearing no Duff in Scotland should keep them from him. Braco, hearing
the noise of the Grants, came down stairs, and said, with seeming
unconcern and humour: “That he designed to have sent them to prison; but
he saw they were too strong a party for him to contend with, and so he
must leave them;” but, without losing a moment, he took a turn through
the market, found other two justices of peace, kept a court, and
assembled sixty stout fellows, with whom he retook the two criminals,
and sent them to prison.’[282]

[Sidenote: 1700.]

James Macpherson, the two Browns, and James Gordon, were brought before
the sheriff of Banffshire at Banff, on the 7th of November 1700, charged
with ‘being habit and repute Egyptians and vagabonds, and keeping the
markets in their ordinary manner of thieving and purse-cutting’ ...
being guilty also of ‘masterful bangstrie and oppression.’ A procurator
appeared on the part of the young Laird of Grant, demanding surrender of
the two Browns, to be tried in the court of his regality, within whose
bounds they had lived, and offering a _culreach_ or pledge for
them;[283] but the demand was overruled, on the ground that the Browns
had never been truly domiciliated there. Witnesses were adduced, who
detailed many felonies of the prisoners. They had stolen sheep, oxen,
and horses; they had broken into houses, and taken away goods; they had
robbed men of their purses, and tyrannously oppressed many poor people.
It was shewn that the band was in the habit of speaking a peculiar
language. They often spent whole nights in dancing and debauchery, Peter
Brown or Macpherson giving animation to the scene by the strains of the
violin. An inhabitant of Keith related how Macpherson came to his house
one day, seeking for him, when, not finding him, he stabbed the bed, to
make sure he was not there, and, on going away, set the ale-barrel
aflowing. The jury gave a verdict against all the four prisoners; but
sentence was for the meantime passed upon only Macpherson and Gordon,
adjudging them to be hanged next market-day.[284]

Macpherson spent the last hours of his life in composing a tune
expressive of the reckless courage with which he regarded his fate. He
marched to the place of execution, a mile from the town, playing this
air on his violin. He even danced to it under the fatal tree. Then he
asked if any one in the crowd would accept his fiddle, and keep it as a
memorial of Macpherson; and finding no one disposed to do so, he broke
the instrument over his knee, and threw himself indignantly from the
ladder. Such was the life and death of a man of whom one is tempted to
think that, with such qualities as he possessed, he might, in a happier
age, [Sidenote: 1700.] have risen to some better distinction than that
which unfortunately he has attained.[285]


[Sidenote: 1701. JAN. 25.]

At this date one of the most remarkable of the precursors of Watt in the
construction of the steam-engine, comes in an interesting manner into
connection with Scotland. Captain Thomas Savery, an Englishman,
‘treasurer to the commissioners of sick and wounded,’ had, in 1696,
described an engine framed by himself, and which is believed to have
been original and unsuggested, ‘in which water is raised not only by the
expansive force of steam, but also by its condensation, the water being
raised by the pressure of the atmosphere into receivers, from which it
is forced to a greater height by the expansive force of the steam.’[286]
He had obtained a patent for this engine in 1698, to last for
thirty-five years.

We have seen that there were busy-brained men in Scotland, constantly
trying to devise new things; and even now, Mr James Gregory, Professor
of Mathematics in the Edinburgh University—a member of a family in which
talent has been inherent for two centuries—was endeavouring to bring
into use ‘a machine invented by him for raising of water in a continued
pipe merely by lifting, without any suction or forcing, which are the
only ways formerly practised, and liable to a great many
inconveniences.’ By this new machine, according to the inventor, ‘water
might be raised to any height, in a greater quantity, and in less space
of time,’ than by any other means employing the same force. It was
useful for ‘coal-pits or mines under ground.’ On his petition,
[Sidenote: 1701.] Mr Gregory obtained an exclusive right to make and use
this machine for thirty-one years.

Another such inventive genius was Mr James Smith of Whitehill, who for
several years made himself notable by his plans for introducing supplies
of water into burghs. Smith had caught at Savery’s idea, and made a
paction with him for the use of his engine in Scotland, and now he
applied to the Estates for ‘encouragement.’ He says that, since his
bargain with Captain Savery, he ‘has made additions to the engine to
considerable advantage, so that, in the short space of an hour, there
may be raised thereby no less than the quantity of twenty tuns of water
to the height of fourteen fathoms.’ Any member of the honourable house
was welcome to see it at work, and satisfy himself of its efficiency;
whence we may infer that an example of it had come down to Edinburgh. In
compliance with his petition, Smith was invested with the exclusive
power of making the engine and dealing with parties for its use during
the remainder of the English patent.[287]

Savery’s steam-engine, however, was a seed sown upon an infertile soil,
and after this date, we in Scotland at least hear of it no more.


[Sidenote: JULY 10.]

It pleased the wisdom of the Scottish legislature (as it did that of the
English parliament likewise) to forbid the export of wool and of woolly
skins, an encouragement to woollen manufacturers at home, at the
expense, as usual, of three or four times the amount in loss to the rest
of the community. At this date, Michael Allan, Dean of Guild in
Edinburgh, came before the Privy Council to shew that, in consequence of
the extreme coldness and backwardness of the late spring, producing a
mortality of lambs, there were many thousands of lambs’ skins, or
_morts_, which could not be manufactured in the kingdom, and would
consequently be lost, but which would be of value at Dantzig and other
eastern ports, where they could be manufactured into clothing. He
thought that property to the value of about seven thousand pounds
sterling might thus be utilised for Scotland, which otherwise ‘must of a
necessity perish at home, and will be good for nothing;’ and the
movement was the more desirable, as the return for the goods would be in
‘lint, hemp, iron, steel, pot-ashes, and knaple, very useful for our
[Sidenote: 1701.] manufactures, and without which the nation cannot
possibly be served.’

The Council called in skinners, furriers, and others to give them the
best advice, and the result was a refusal to allow the skins to be
exported.

Rather more than a twelvemonth before (June 4, 1700), it was intimated
to the Privy Council by ‘the manufactory of Glasgow,’ that one
Fitzgerard, an Irish papist, ‘has had a constant trade these three years
past of exporting wool and woollen yarn to France, and that he has at
this present time combed wool and woollen yarn to the value of three
thousand pounds sterling ready to be exported, to the great ruin of the
nation, and of manufactories of that kind.’ The Council immediately sent
orders to the magistrates of Glasgow to take all means in law for
preventing the exportation of the articles in question.[288]


[Sidenote: FEB. 20.]

A petition on an extraordinary subject from the magistrates and
town-council of Elgin, was before the Privy Council. Robert Gibson of
Linkwood had been imprisoned in their Tolbooth as furious, at the desire
of the neighbouring gentry, and for the preservation of the public
peace. In the preceding October, when the magistrates were in Edinburgh
on business before the Privy Council, Gibson set fire to the Tolbooth in
the night-time, and there being no means of quenching the flames, it was
burnt to the ground. Their first duty was to obtain authority from the
Privy Council to send the incendiary in shackles to another place of
confinement, and now they applied for an exemption from the duty of
receiving and confining prisoners for private debts till their Tolbooth
could be rebuilt. They obtained the required exemption until the term of
Whitsunday 1703.


[Sidenote: FEB.]

Wodrow relates a story of the mysterious disappearance of a gentleman
(chamberlain of a countess) dwelling at Linlithgow, and esteemed as a
good man. A gentleman at Falkirk, with whom he had dealings, sent a
servant one afternoon desiring him to come immediately. His wife would
not allow him to travel that evening, and the servant departed without
him. Long before daylight next morning, the chamberlain rose and
prepared for his journey, but did not omit family worship. In the part
of Scripture which he read (Acts xx.), occurred the sentence, ‘you shall
[Sidenote: 1701.] see my face no more.’ Whether this occurred by chance
or not is not known, but he repeated the passage twice. After departing,
he returned for his knife; again he returned to order one of his sons
not to go out that day. By daylight his horse was found, with an empty
saddle, near Linlithgow Bridge (a mile west of the town), and no search
or inquiry made then, or for a considerable time after, sufficed to
discover what had become of him. Wodrow states the suspicion of his
being murdered, but as he had taken only some valuable papers with him,
and viewing the fact of his being a steward, it does not seem difficult
to account for his disappearance on a simpler hypothesis.[289]


[Sidenote: MAR. 1.]

The contract for a marriage between Sir John Shaw of Greenock and
Margaret Dalrymple, eldest daughter of the Lord President of the Court
of Session, being signed to-day, ‘there was an entire hogshead of claret
drunk’ by the company assembled on the occasion. At the marriage, not
long after, of Anne, a younger daughter of the Lord President, to James
Steuart, son of the Lord Advocate, ‘the number of people present was
little less,’ being just about as many as the house would hold. A
marriage was, in those days, an occasion for calling the whole
connections of a couple of families together; and where the parties
belonged, as in these cases, to an elevated rank in society, there was
no small amount of luxury indulged in. Claret was, in those days,
indeed, but fifteen, and sack eighteen pence, while ale was
three-halfpence, per bottle, so that a good deal of bibulous indulgence
cost little.

The expenditure upon the clothes of a bride of quality was very
considerable. Female fineries were not then produced in the country as
they are now, and they cost probably twice the present prices. We find
that, at the marriage of a daughter of Smythe of Methven to Sir Thomas
Moncrieff of that Ilk, Bart., in December of this very year, there was a
head suit and ruffles of cut work at nearly six pounds ten shillings; a
hood and scarf at two pounds fifteen shillings; a silk under-coat nearly
of the same cost; a gown, petticoat, and lining, at between sixteen and
seventeen pounds; garters, at £1, 3_s._ 4_d._: the entire outfit costing
£109, 18_s._ 3_d._[290]

When Mrs Margaret Rose, daughter of the Laird of Kilravock, was married
in 1701, there was an account from Francis Brodie, [Sidenote: 1701.]
merchant in Edinburgh, for her wedding-clothes, including seventeen and
a quarter ells of flowered silk, £11, 13_s._; nine and a quarter ells of
green silk shagreen for lining, £2, 14_s._; six and a half ells of green
galloon, 19_s._ 6_d._; with other sums for a gown and coat, for an
under-coat, and an undermost coat; also, for a pair of silk stockings,
12_s._; a necklace and silk handcurcher, 8_s._; and some thirty or forty
other articles, amounting in all to £55, 8_s._ 9_d._ sterling. This
young lady carried a tocher of 9000 merks—about nine times the value of
her marriage outfit—to her husband, John Mackenzie, eldest son of Sir
Alexander Mackenzie of Coul.

At the marriage of Anne Dalrymple to Mr James Steuart, ‘the bride’s
favours were all sewed on her gown from top to bottom, and round the
neck and sleeves. The moment the ceremony was performed, the whole
company ran to her, and pulled off the favours; in an instant, she was
stripped of them all. The next ceremony was the garter [we have seen
what it cost], which the bridegroom’s man attempted to pull from her
leg, but she dropped it on the floor; it was a white and silver ribbon,
which was cut in small parcels, [a piece] to every one in company. The
bride’s mother then came in with a basket of favours belonging to the
bridegroom; those and the bride’s were the same with the bearings of
their families—hers, pink and white; his, blue and gold colour.’ ‘The
company dined and supped together, and had a ball in the evening; the
same next day at Sir James Steuart’s. On Sunday, there went from the
President’s house to church three-and-twenty couple, all in high dress.
Mr Barclay, then a boy, led the youngest Miss Dalrymple, who was the
last of them. They filled the galleries of the [High] Church from the
king’s seat to the wing loft. The feasting continued till they had gone
through all the friends of the family, with a ball every night.’[291]


[Sidenote: MAR. 14.]

It was not yet three years since the people of Scotland were dying of
starvation, and ministers were trying to convince their helpless flocks
that it was all for their sins, and intended for their good. Yet now we
have a commission issued by the government, headed as usual with the
king’s name, commanding that all loads of grain which might be brought
from Ireland into the west of Scotland, should be staved and sunk, and
this, so far as appears, without a remark from any quarter as to the
horrible impiety of [Sidenote: 1701.] the prohibition in the first
place, and the proposed destruction of the gifts of Providence in the
second.[292]

An example of the simple inconvenience of these laws in the ordinary
affairs of life is presented in July 1702. Malcolm M‘Neill, a native of
Kintyre, had been induced, after the Revolution, to go to Ireland, and
become tenant of some of the waste lands there. Being now anxious to
settle again in Argyleshire, on some waste lands belonging to the Duke
of Argyle, he found a difficulty before him of a kind now unknown, but
then most formidable. How was he to get his stock transported from
Ballymaskanlan to Kintyre? Not in respect of their material removal, but
of the laws prohibiting all transportation of cattle from Ireland to
Scotland. It gives a curious idea of the law-made troubles of the age,
that Malcolm had to make formal application to the Privy Council in
Edinburgh for this purpose. On his petition, leave to carry over two
hundred black-cattle, four hundred sheep, and forty horses, was granted.
It is a fact of some significance, that the duke appears in the sederunt
of the day when this permission was given. That without such powerful
influence no such favour was to be obtained, is sufficiently proved by
the rare nature of the transaction.

[Sidenote: 1700. JAN. 9.]

We find, in January 1700, that the execution of the laws against the
importation of Irish cattle and horses had been committed to Alexander
Maxwell, postmaster at Ayr, who seems to have performed his functions
with great activity, but not much good result. He several times went
over the whole bounds of his commission, establishing spies and waiters
everywhere along the coast. By himself and his servants, sometimes with
the assistance of soldiers, he made a great number of seizures, but his
profits never came up to his costs. Often, after a seizure, he had to
sustain the assaults of formidable rabbles, and now and then the cattle
or horses were rescued out of his hands. For six weeks at a time he was
never at home, and all that time not thrice in his bed—for he had to
ride chiefly at night—but on all hands he met with only opposition, even
from the king’s troops, ‘albeit he maintains them and defrays all their
charges when he employs them.’ On his petition (January 9, 1700), he was
allowed a hundred pounds by the Privy Council as an encouragement to
persevere in his duty.

In the autumn of 1703, an unusual anxiety was shewn to enforce the laws
against the importation of provisions from Ireland and [Sidenote: 1700.]
from England. Mr Patrick Ogilvie of Cairns, a brother of the Lord
Chancellor, Earl of Seafield, was commissioned to guard the coasts
between the Sound of Mull and Dumfries, and one Cant of Thurston to
protect the east coast between Leith and Berwick, with suitable
allowances and powers. It happened soon after that an Irish skipper,
named Hyndman, appeared with a vessel of seventy tons, full of Irish
meal, in Lamlash Bay, and was immediately pounced upon by Ogilvie. It
was in vain that he represented himself as driven there by force of
weather on a voyage from Derry to Belfast: in spite of all his
pleadings, which were urged with an air of great sincerity, his vessel
was condemned.

Soon after, a Scottish ship, sailing under the conduct of William Currie
to Londonderry, was seized by the Irish authorities by way of reprisal
for Hyndman’s vessel. The Scottish Privy Council (February 15, 1704)
sent a remonstrance to the Duke of Ormond, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland,
setting forth this act as ‘an abuse visibly to the breach of the good
correspondence that ought to be kept betwixt her majesty’s kingdoms.’
How the matter ended does not appear; but the whole story, as detailed
in the record of the Privy Council, gives a striking idea of the
difficulties, inconveniences, and losses which nations then incurred
through that falsest of principles which subordinates the interests of
the community to those of some special class, or group of individuals.

Ogilvie was allowed forty foot-soldiers and twenty dragoons to assist
him in his task; but we may judge of the difficulty of executing such
rules from the fact stated by him in a petition, that, during the
interval of five weeks, while these troops were absent at a review in
the centre of the kingdom, he got a list of as many as a hundred boats
which had taken that opportunity of landing from Ireland with victual.
Indeed, he said that, without a regular independent company, it was
impossible to prevent this traffic from going on.[293]

We do not hear much more on this subject till January 1712, when Thomas
Gray, merchant in Irvine, and several other persons, were pursued before
the Court of Session for surreptitious importation of Irish victual, by
Boswell and other Ayrshire justices interested in the prices of Scottish
produce. The delinquents were duly fined. Fountainhall, after recording
the decision, adds a note, in which he debates on the principles
involved in the free trade in corn. ‘This importation of meal,’ says he,
‘is good for [Sidenote: 1700.] the poor, plenty making it cheap, but it
sinks the gentlemen’s rents in these western shires. Which of the two is
the greater prejudice to the bulk of the nation? _Problema esto_: where
we must likewise balance the loss and damage we suffer by the exporting
so much of our money in specie to a foreign country to buy it, which
diminishes our coin _pro tanto_: But if the victual was purchased in
Ireland by exchange of our goods given for it, that takes away that
objection founded on the exporting of our money.’[294]


[Sidenote: 1701. APR. 15.]

John Lawson, burgess of Edinburgh, was projector of an
Intelligence-office, to be established in the Scottish capital, such as
were already planted in London, Paris, Amsterdam, and other large
cities, for ‘recording the names of servants, upon trial and certificate
of their manners and qualifications, whereby masters may be provided
with honest servants of all sorts, and servants may readily know what
masters are unprovided’—and ‘the better and more easy discovery of all
bargains, and the communication and publishing all proposals and other
businesses that the persons concerned may think fit to give notice and
account of, for the information of all lieges.’

He had been at pains to learn how such offices were conducted in foreign
countries, and had already set up a kind of register-office for servants
in Edinburgh, ‘to the satisfaction and advantage of many, of all ranks
and degrees.’ There was, however, a generation called _wed-men_ and
_wed-wives_, who had been accustomed, in an irregular way, to get
employers for servants and nurses, and servants and nurses for masters
and mistresses. It was evident to John that his intelligence-office
could never duly thrive unless these practitioners were wholly
suppressed. He craved exclusive privileges accordingly from the Privy
Council—that is, that these wed-men and wed-wives be discharged ‘on any
colour or pretence’ from meddling with the hire of servants, or giving
information about bargains and proposals—though ‘without prejudice [he
was so far modest] to all the lieges to hire servants and enter into
bargains, and do all other business upon their own proper knowledge, or
upon information gratuitously given.’

Honest John seems to have felt that something was necessary to reconcile
the authorities to a plan obviously so much for his own interest. The
religious feeling was, as usual, a ready resource. He reminded the Lords
that there had been great inconveniences [Sidenote: 1701.] from the
dishonest and profligate servants recommended by the wed-men and
wed-wives; nay, some had thus been intruded into families who had not
satisfied church-discipline, and did not produce testimonials from
ministers! He held out that he was to take care ‘that all such as offer
themselves to nurse children shall produce a certificate of their good
deportment, in case they be married, and if not, that they have
satisfied the kirk for their scandal, or have found a caution so to do.’

One great advantage to the public would be, that gentlemen or ladies
living in the country could, by correspondence with the office, and no
further trouble or expense, obtain servants of assured character, ‘such
as master-households, _gentlemen_, valets, stewards, pages, grieves,
gardeners, cooks, porters, coachmen, grooms, footmen, postilions, young
cooks for waiting on gentlemen, or for change-houses; likewise
_gentlewomen_ for attending ladies, housekeepers, chambermaids,
women-stewards and cooks, women for keeping children, ordinary servants
for all sorts of work in private families, also taverners and
ticket-runners, with all sorts of nurses who either come to gentlemen’s
houses, or nurse children in their own’—for so many and so various were
the descriptions of menials employed at that time even in poor Scotland.

With regard to the department for commercial intelligence, it was
evident that ‘men are often straitened how and where to inquire for
bargains they intend,’ while others are equally ‘at a loss how to make
known their offers of bargains and other proposals.’ The latter were
thus ‘obliged to send clapps, as they call them,[295] through the town,
and sometimes to put advertisements in gazettes, which yet are noways
sufficient for the end designed, for the clapps go only in Edinburgh,
and for small businesses, and the gazette is uncertain, and gazettes
come not to all men’s hands, nor are they oft to be found when men have
most to do with them, whereas a standing office would abide all men, and
be ever ready.’

The Council complied with Lawson’s petition in every particular, only
binding him to exact no more fee than fourteen shillings Scots (1_s._
2_d._), where the fee is twelve pounds Scots (£1 sterling) or upwards,
and seven shillings Scots where the fee is below that sum.


[Sidenote: JULY 3.]

The infant library of the Faculty of Advocates having been [Sidenote:
1701.] burnt out of its original depository in the Parliament Square, a
new receptacle was sought for it in the rooms under the Parliament
House—the Faculty and the Edinburgh magistrates concurring in the
request—and the Privy Council complied, only reserving the right of the
high constable to view and search the place ‘the time of the sitting of
parliament’—a regulation, doubtless, held necessary to prevent new
examples of the Gunpowder Treason.


[Sidenote: AUG. 27.]

Lord Basil Hamilton, sixth son of the Duchess of Hamilton—a young man
endeared to his country by the part he had taken in vindicating her
rights in the Darien affair—lost his life by a dismal accident, leaving
but one consolation to his friends, that he lost it in the cause of
humanity. Passing through Galloway, with his brother the Earl of Selkirk
and some friends, he came to a little water called the Minnick, swelled
with sudden rain. A servant went forward to try the ford, and was
carried away by the stream. Lord Basil rushed in to save the man, caught
him, but was that moment dismounted, and carried off by the torrent; so
he perished in the sight of his brother and friends, none being able to
render him any assistance. It was a great stroke to the Hamilton family,
to the country party, and indeed to the whole of the people of Scotland.
Lord Basil died in his thirtieth year.

On the evening of the next day, the Earl of Selkirk came, worn with
travel, to the gate of Hamilton Palace, to tell his widowed mother of
her irreparable loss. But, according to a story related by Wodrow, her
Grace was already aware of what had happened. ‘On the Wednesday’s night
[the night of the accident] the duchess dreamed she saw Lord Basil and
Lord Selkirk drowned in a water, and she thought she said to Lady
Baldoon [Lord Basil’s wife], “Charles and Basil are drowned,” Charles
being the Earl of Selkirk. The Lady Baldoon, she thought, answered:
“Lord Selkirk is safe, madam; there is no matter.” The duchess thought
she answered: “The woman’s mad; she knows not her lord is dead;” and
that she [Lady Baldoon] added: “Is Basil dead? then let James [the duke]
take all: I will meddle no more with the world.” All this she [the
duchess] told in the Thursday morning, twelve hours or more before Lord
Selkirk came to Hamilton, who brought the first word of it.’[296]


[Sidenote: DEC. 5.]

Four men were tried at Perth for theft by the commissioners [Sidenote:
1701.] for securing the peace of the Highlands, and, being found guilty,
were liable to the punishment of death. The Lords, however, were pleased
to adjudge them to the lighter punishment of perpetual servitude, not in
the plantations, as we have seen to be common, but at home, and the
panels to be ‘at the court’s disposal.’ One of them, Alexander Steuart,
they bestowed as a gift on Sir John Areskine of Alva, probably with a
view to his being employed as a labourer in the silver-mine which Sir
John about this time worked in a glen of the Ochils belonging to
him.[297] Sir John was enjoined to fit a metal collar upon the man,
bearing the following inscription: ‘Alex^r. Steuart, found guilty of
death for theft, at Perth, the 5th of December 1701, and gifted by the
justiciars as a perpetual servant to Sir John Areskine of Alva;’ and to
remove him from prison in the course of the ensuing week.[298] The
reality of this strange proceeding has been brought home to us in a
surprising manner, for the collar, with this inscription, was many years
ago dredged up in the Firth of Forth, in the bosom of which it is
surmised that the poor man found a sad refuge from the pains of slavery.
As a curious memorial of past things, it is now preserved in our
National Museum of Antiquities.

The reader will perhaps be surprised to hear of a silver-mine in the
Ochils, and it may therefore be proper, before saying anything more,
that we hear what has been put on record on this subject.

‘In the parish of Alva, a very valuable mine of silver was discovered
about the commencement of the last century[299] by Sir James [John]
Erskine of Alva, in the glen or ravine which separates the _Middle-hill_
from the _Wood-hill_. It made its first appearance in small strings of
silver ore, which, being followed, led to a large mass of that metal. A
part of this had the appearance of malleable silver, and was found on
trial to be so rich as to produce twelve ounces of silver from fourteen
ounces of ore. Not more than £50 had been expended when this valuable
discovery was made. For the space of thirteen or fourteen weeks, it is
credibly affirmed that the proprietor obtained ore from this mine to the
value of £4000 per week. When this mass was exhausted, the silver ore
began to appear in smaller quantities; [Sidenote: 1701.] symptoms of
lead and other metals presented themselves, and the search was for the
present abandoned.’[300]

It is related that Sir John, walking with a friend over his estate,
pointed out a great hole, and remarked: ‘Out of that hole I took fifty
thousand pounds.’ Then presently, walking on, he came to another
excavation, and, continued he: ‘I put it all into _that_ hole.’

Nevertheless, the search was renewed by his younger brother, Charles
Areskine, Lord Justice-Clerk, but without the expected fruit, though a
discovery was made of cobalt, and considerable quantities of that
valuable mineral were extracted even from the rubbish of his
predecessor’s works. In 1767, Lord Alva, the son of the Lord
Justice-Clerk, bestowed a pair of silver communion-cups upon the parish
of Alva, with an inscription denoting that they were fashioned from
silver found at the place.

The granting of Steuart as ‘a perpetual servant’ to Sir John Areskine
sounds strangely to modern ears; but it was in perfect accordance with
law and usage in Scotland in old times; and there was even some vestige
of the usage familiar to Englishmen at no remote date, in laws for
setting the poor to work in workhouses. The act of the Highland
justiciars was the more natural, simple, and reasonable, that labourers
in mines and at salt-works were regarded by the law of Scotland as
‘necessary servants,’ who, without any paction, by merely coming and
taking work in such places, became bound to servitude for life, their
children also becoming bound if their fathers in any way used them as
assistants. Such is the view of the matter coolly set down in the
_Institutes_ of Mr John Erskine (1754), who further takes leave to tell
his readers that ‘there appears nothing repugnant, either to reason, or
to the peculiar doctrines of Christianity, in a contract by which one
binds himself to perpetual service under a master, who, on his part, is
obliged to maintain the other in all the necessaries of life.’ It
appears that the salters and miners were transferred with the works when
these were sold; but a right in the masters to dispose of the men
otherwise, does not appear to have been a part of the Scots law.

In the year 1743, there appears to have been a disposition among the
bondsmen of the coal-mines in Fife and Lothian to assert their freedom.
Fifteen men who worked in the Gilmerton coal-works having absented
themselves in October, and gone to [Sidenote: 1701.] work at other
collieries, their master, Sir John Baird of Newbyth, advertised them, so
that no other master might break the act of parliament by entertaining
them, and also that the deserters might be secured. In the same year,
the Marquis of Lothian had to complain of three boys who ran away from
his colliery at Newbattle, and took refuge amongst the people of another
estate, supposed to have been that of the Viscount Oxenford. He
accordingly addressed the following letter to that nobleman:

                                      ‘NEWBATTLE, _July the 21st, 1743_.

  ‘MY LORD—Being told Sir Robert Dixon is not at home, I am equally
  satisfied that Mr Biger should determine the use and practice of
  coal-masters in such cases, if he pleases to take the trouble, which I
  suppose is all your lordship is desirous to know before you let me
  have these boys that ran away from my colliery, and was entertained by
  your people; but if I mistake your intention, and you think it
  necessary I prove my title to them in law, I am most willing to refer
  the whole to Mr Biger, and therefore am ready to produce my evidence
  at any time you please to appoint, and if my claim is found to be
  good, shall expect the boys be returned without my being obliged to
  find them out. My lord, I am not so well acquainted with Mr Biger as
  to ask the favour; therefore hopes your lordship will do it, and wish
  it may be determined soon, if convenient. I beg my best respects to
  Lady Orbiston; and am, my lord,

                                  ‘Your lordship’s most obedient
                                              ‘and humble Servant,
                                                              ‘LOTHIAN.’

  ‘_P. S._—I have not the smallest pretensions to the faither of these
  boys, and should have pleasure in assisting you if I could spare any
  of my coaliers.’[301]

Whether Mr Gibson of Durie had been dealt with in the same manner by his
colliers, we do not know; but in November he advertised for hands,
offering good and regularly paid wages, and ‘a line under his hand,
obliging himself to let them go from the works at any time, upon a
week’s warning, without any restraint whatever.’ He would also accept a
loan of workers from other coal-proprietors, and oblige himself ‘to
restore them when demanded.’[302]

I must not, however, forget—and certainly it is a curious thing
[Sidenote: 1701.] to remember—that I have myself seen in early life
native inhabitants of Scotland who had been slaves in their youth. The
restraints upon the personal freedom of salters and colliers—remains of
the villainage of the middle ages—were not put an end to till 1775, when
a statute (15 Geo. III. 28) extinguished them. I am tempted to relate a
trivial anecdote of actual life, which brings the recentness of slavery
in Scotland vividly before us.

About the year 1820, Mr Robert Bald of Alloa, mining-engineer, being on
a visit to Mr Colin Dunlop, at the Clyde Ironworks, near Glasgow, found
among the servants of the house an old working-man, commonly called Moss
Nook, who seemed to be on easy terms with his master. One day, Mr Bald
heard the following conversation take place between Mr Dunlop and this
veteran:

‘Moss Nook, you don’t appear, from your style of speaking, to be of this
part of the country. Where did you originally come from?’

‘Oh, sir,’ answered Moss Nook, ‘do you not know that your father brought
me here long ago from Mr M‘Nair’s of the Green [a place some miles off,
on the other side of the river]? Your father used to have merry-meetings
with Mr M‘Nair, and, one day, he saw me, and took a liking to me. At the
same time, Mr M‘Nair had taken a fancy to a very nice pony belonging to
your father; so they agreed on the subject, and _I was niffered away for
the pony_. That’s the way I came here.’

The man had, in short, been a slave, and was exchanged for a pony. To Mr
Bald’s perception, he had not the least idea that there was anything
singular or calling for remark in the manner of his leaving the Green.


[Sidenote: 1702.]

A Scottish clergyman resident in England—the same who lately ‘promoted
contributions for the printing of Bibles in the Irish language, and sent
so many of them down to Scotland, and there is no news he more earnestly
desires to know than what the G[eneral] A[ssembly] doth whenever it
meeteth for promoting the interests of the Gospel in the Highlands’—at
this time started a scheme for ‘erecting a library in every presbytery,
or at least county, in the Highlands.’ He had been for some time
prevented from maturing his plan by bodily distempers and faint hopes of
success; but now the scheme for sending libraries to the colonies had
encouraged him to come forward, and he issued a printed [Sidenote:
1702.] paper explaining his views, and calling for assistance. His great
object was to help the Highland Protestant clergy in the matter of
books, seeing that, owing to their poverty, and the scarcity of books,
few of them possessed property of that kind to the value of twenty
shillings; while it was equally true, that at the distance they lived at
from towns, the borrowing of books was with most of them impossible. It
was the more necessary that they should be provided with books, that the
Romish missionaries were so active among the people: how could the
clergy encounter these adversaries without the knowledge which they
might derive from books? ‘The gross ignorance of the people in those
parts, together with some late endeavours to seduce the inhabitants of
the isle of Hirta to a state of heathenism,[303] make it very necessary
that they be provided with such treatises as prove the truth of the
Christian religion. At the same time, the excellent parts and capacities
of the ministers generally throughout the Highlands give good ground to
expect much fruit from such a charity.’

The promoter of the scheme felt no hesitation in asking assistance in
the south, because the poverty of Scotland—‘occasioned chiefly by their
great losses at sea, the decay of trade, the great dearth of corn, and
the death of cattle for some years together—renders the people generally
unable to do much in the way of charity. Nevertheless, there are not
wanting those amongst them, who, amidst their straits and wants, are
forward to promote this or any other good design, even beyond their
power.’ He hoped no native would take offence at this confession, the
truth of which ‘is too much felt at home and known abroad to be
denied.... But if any are so foolish as to censure this paragraph, their
best way of confutation is to take an effectual and speedy course to
provide a competent number of libraries for such parts of our native
country as need them most.’

He even went so far as to draw up a set of rules for the keeping and
lending of the books—a very stringent code certainly it is; ‘but,’ says
he, ‘they who know the world but a little, and have seen the fate of
some libraries, will reckon the outmost precaution we can use little
enough to prevent what otherwise will be unavoidable. It’s a work of no
small difficulty to purchase a parcel of good books for public
advantage; nor is it less difficult [Sidenote: 1702.] to preserve and
secure them for posterity, when they are purchased.’[304]

A Memorial concerning the Highlands, published at Edinburgh in the
ensuing year, described them as full of ignorance and heathenism. Most
of the people were said to be unacquainted with the first principles of
Christianity; a few had been ‘caught by the trinkets of popery.’ While
there were schools at Inverness, Forres, Keith, Kincardine O’Neil,
Perth, &c.—places closely adjacent to the Highlands—there were none in
the country itself, excepting one at Abertarf (near the present
Fort-Augustus, in Inverness-shire), which had been erected by charitable
subscription, but where it was found nearly impossible to get scholars
unless subsistence was provided for them. In remote places, children
remained unbaptised for years. In the country generally, theft and
robbery were esteemed as ‘only a hunting, and not a crime;’ revenge, in
matters affecting a clan, even when carried the length of murder, was
counted a gallantry; idleness was a piece of honour; and blind obedience
to chiefs obscured all feeling of subjection to civil government.[305]

It was under a sense of the unenlightened state of the Highlands, and
particularly of the hold which the Catholic religion had obtained over
the Gael, that the ‘Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge’
was soon after formed by a combination of the friends of Presbyterian
orthodoxy. It was incorporated in 1709, at which time a strong effort
was made by the courts of the Established Church to promote
contributions in its behalf, though under some considerable
discouragements. Wodrow tells us that this Society was originated by a
small knot of gentlemen, including Mr Dundas of Philipston, clerk of the
General Assembly; Sir H. Cunningham, Sir Francis Grant [Lord Cullen],
Commissary Brodie, Sir Francis Pringle, and Mr George Meldrum, who,
about 1698, had formed themselves into a society for prayer and
religious correspondence. Writing now to Mr Dundas about the
subscriptions, and enclosing twenty-five pounds as a contribution from
the presbytery of Paisley, he apologises for the smallness of the sum in
proportion to the importance of the object, and says: ‘The public spirit
and zeal for any good designs is much away from the generality here.’
‘The truth is,’ says he, regarding [Sidenote: 1702.] another matter,
‘the strait of this part of the country is so great, through the dearth
of victual, that our collections are very far from maintaining our poor,
and our people ... are in such a pet with collections for bridges,
tolbooths, &c., that when any collection is intimate, they are sure to
give less that day than their ordinary.’[306] Nevertheless, the Society
was able to enter on a course of activity, which has never since been
allowed to relax.

The scheme of presbyterial libraries was realised in 1705 and 1706 to
the extent of nineteen, in addition to which fifty-eight local libraries
were established; but these institutions are understood to have been
little successful and ill supported. In 1719, the Christian Knowledge
Society had forty-eight schools established, increased to a hundred and
nine in 1732, and to two hundred at the close of the century. Its
missionary efforts were also very considerable. Such, however, were the
natural and other difficulties of the case, that a writer described the
people in 1826 as still ‘sunk in ignorance and poverty.’[307] It is not
merely that schools must necessarily be few in proportion to
geographical space, and school-learning, therefore, difficult of
attainment, but the Highlander unavoidably remains unacquainted with
many civilising influences which the communication of thought, and
observation of the processes of merchandise and the mechanical trades,
impart to more fortunate communities. The usual consequence of the
introduction of Christianity to minds previously uneducated has been
realised. It has taken a form involving much of both old and new
superstition, along with feelings of intolerance towards dissent even in
the most unessential particulars, such as recall to men in the south a
former century of our history.

It is remarkable that, while the bulk of the Highland population were
unschooled and ignorant, there were abundance of gentlemen who had a
perfect knowledge of Latin, and even composed Latin poetry. Nor is it
less important or more than strictly just to observe that, amidst all
the rudeness of former times in the Highlands, there was amongst the
common people an old traditionary morality, which included not a little
that was entitled to admiration. To get a full idea of what this was,
one must peruse the writings of Mrs Grant and Colonel Stewart. The very
depredations so often spoken of could hardly be said to [Sidenote:
1702.] involve a true turpitude, being so much connected as they were
with national and clan feelings.


[Sidenote: FEB. 10.]

Captain Simon Fraser of Beaufort, who had long been declared rebel for
not appearing to answer at the Court of Justiciary on the charge of
rape brought against him by the dowager Lady Lovat,[308] was described
at this time as living openly in the country as a free liege, ‘to the
contempt of all authority and justice.’ The general account given of
his habits is rather picturesque. ‘He keeps in a manner his open
residence within the lordship of Lovat, where, and especially in
Stratherrick,[309] he further presumes to keep men in arms, attending
and guarding his person.’ These he also employed in levying
contributions from Lady Lovat’s tenants, and he had thus actually
raised between five and six thousand merks. ‘Proceeding yet to further
degrees of unparalleled boldness, [he] causes make public intimation
at the kirks within the bounds on the Lord’s Day, that all the people
be in readiness with their best arms when advertised.’ The tenants
were consequently so harassed as to be unable to pay her ladyship any
rents, and there were ‘daily complaints of these strange and lawless
disorders.’

The Council granted warrants of intercommuning against the culprit, and
enjoined his majesty’s forces to be helpful in apprehending him.[310] We
find that, in the month of August, Fraser had departed from the country,
but his interest continued to be maintained by others. His brother John,
with thirty or forty ‘loose and broken men,’ went freely up and down the
countries of Aird and Stratherrick, menacing with death the chamberlains
of the Lady Lovat[311] and her husband, Mr Alexander Mackenzie of
Prestonhall, if they should uplift the rents in behalf of their master
and mistress, and threatening the tenants in like manner, if they should
pay their rents to those persons. The better to support this lawless
system, John kept a garrison of armed gillies in the town of Bewly, ‘the
heart of the country of Aird,’ entirely at the cost of the tenants
there. Within the last few weeks, they had taken from the tenants of
Aird ‘two hundred custom wedders and lambs,’ and, breaking up the
meal-girnels of Bewly, they had supplied themselves with sixty bolls of
[Sidenote: 1702.] meal. At the beginning of July, Fraser, younger of
Buchrubbin, and two accomplices, came to the house of Moniack, the
residence of Mr Hugh Fraser, one of the lady’s chamberlains, ‘and having
by a false token got him out of his house,’ first reproached him with
his office, and then ‘beat him with the butts of their guns, and had
murdered him if he had not made his escape.’

Mr Hugh Fraser and Captain John Mackenzie, ‘conjunct bailie and
chamberlain,’ applied for protection to the Highland commission of
justiciary, who ordered a small military party to go and maintain the
law in the Aird. But it was very difficult to obtain observance of law
in a country where the bulk of the people were otherwise minded. The
introduction of soldiers only added to the fierceness of the rebellious
Frasers, who now sent the most frightful threats to all who should take
part with Lady Lovat and her husband.

On the 5th of August, John Fraser came from Stratherrick with a party of
fifty armed followers, and gathering more as he passed through the Aird,
he fell upon the house of Fanellan, where Captain Mackenzie and the ten
soldiers were, with between two and three hundred men, calling upon the
inmates to surrender, on pain of having the house burnt about their ears
if they refused. They did refuse to yield, and the Frasers accordingly
set fire to the house and offices, the whole of which were burnt to the
ground. Captain Mackenzie, Hugh Fraser of Eskadale, the ten soldiers and
their commander, Lieutenant Cameron, besides a servant of Prestonhall,
were all taken prisoners. Having dismissed the soldiers, the Frasers
carried the rest in a bravadoing triumph through the country till they
came to the end of Loch Ness. There dismissing Lieutenant Cameron, they
proceeded with the two bailies and the servant to Stratherrick,
everywhere using them in a barbarous manner. The report given nine days
after in Edinburgh says of the prisoners, whether they be dead or alive
is unknown.

The Privy Council, feeling this to be ‘such an unparalleled piece of
insolence as had not been heard of in the country for an age,’ instantly
ordered large parties of troops to march into the Fraser countries, and
restore order.

On the 8th of September, the Council sent Brigadier Maitland and Major
Hamilton their thanks ‘for their good services done in dispersing the
Frasers,’ and, a few days after, we find orders issued for using all
endeavours to capture John Fraser. Captain [Sidenote: 1702.] Grant’s
company remained in Stratherrick till the ensuing February.[312]


[Sidenote: MAR. 11.]

At ten o’clock in the evening, Colonel Archibald Row arrived express at
Edinburgh with the news of the king’s death. King William died in
Kensington Palace at eight o’clock in the morning of Sunday the 8th
instant: it consequently took three days and a half for this express to
reach the Scottish capital, being a day more than had been required by
Robert Carey, when he came to Edinburgh with the more welcome
intelligence of the demise of Queen Elizabeth, ninety-nine years before.

[Illustration: House of Lord Advocate Steuart, at bottom of Advocates’
Close, west side.]




                    REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE: 1702–1714.


The death of King William without children (March 8, 1702), opened the
succession to the Princess Anne, second daughter of the late King James.
Following up the policy of her predecessor, she had not been more than
two months upon the throne, when, in conjunction with Germany and
Holland, she proclaimed war against the king of France, whose usurpation
of the succession to Spain for a member of his family, had renewed a
general feeling of hostility against him. This war, distinguished by the
victories of the Duke of Marlborough, lasted till the peace of Utrecht
in 1713. The queen had been many years married to Prince George of
Denmark, and had had several children; but all were now dead.

King William left the people of Scotland in a state of violent
discontent, on account chiefly of the usage they had received in the
affair of Darien. Ever since the Revolution, there had been a large
party, mainly composed of the upper classes, in favour of the exiled
dynasty. It was largely reinforced, and its views were generally much
promoted, by the odium into which the government of William III. had
fallen, and by the feelings of jealousy and wrath which had been kindled
against the whole English nation. This was not a natural state of things
for Scotland, for the bulk of the people, Presbyterian at heart, could
have no confidence in a restored sovereign of the House of Stuart; but
anger had temporarily overcome many of the more permanent feelings of
the people, and it was hard to say what course they might take in the
dynastic difficulties which were impending.

In 1700, the English parliament, viewing the want of children to both
William and the Princess Anne, had settled the crown of England upon the
Electress Sophia of Hanover, daughter of the Princess Elizabeth,
daughter of King James I., she being the nearest Protestant heir; thus
excluding not only the progeny of James II., but that of several elder
children of the Princess Elizabeth, all of whom were of the Roman
Catholic religion. It was highly desirable that the Scottish Estates
should be induced to settle the crown of Scotland on the same person, in
order that peace might be preserved between the two kingdoms; but the
discontents of the Scotch stood in the way. Not that there existed in
Scotland any insuperable desire for another person, or any special
objection to Sophia; the great majority would probably have voted, in
ordinary circumstances, for this very course. But Scotland had been
wronged and insulted; it was necessary to shew the English that this
could not be done with safety to themselves. She had a claim to equality
of trading privileges: it was right that she should use all fair means
to get this established. Accordingly, in 1703, the Scottish parliament
passed two acts calculated to excite no small alarm in the south: one of
them, styled the Act of Security, ordaining that the successor of Queen
Anne should not be the same person with the individual adopted by the
English parliament, unless there should be a free communication of trade
between the two countries, and the affairs of Scotland thoroughly
secured from English influence; the other, providing that, as a means of
enforcing the first, the nation should be put under arms. The queen,
after some hesitation, was obliged to ratify the Act of Security. In the
debates on these measures, the Scottish parliament exhibited a degree of
eloquence which was wholly a novelty, and the memory of which long
survived. It was a remarkable crisis, in which a little nation, merely
by the moral power which animated it, contrived to inspire fear and
respect in one much its superior in numbers and every other material
element of strength.

The general sense of danger thus created in England proved sufficient to
overcome that mercantile selfishness which had inflicted so much
injustice upon Scotland. It came to be seen, that the only way to secure
a harmony with the northern kingdom in some matters essential to peace,
was to admit it to an incorporating union, in which there should be a
provision for an equality of mercantile privileges. To effect this
arrangement, accordingly, became the policy of the English Whig ministry
of Queen Anne. On the other hand, the proposition did not meet a
favourable reception in Scotland, where the ancient national
independence was a matter of national pride; nevertheless, there also a
parliamentary sanction was obtained for the preliminary steps.

In May 1706, the Commissioners, thirty from each nation, met at
Westminster, to deliberate on the terms of the proposed treaty. It was
soon agreed upon that the leading features of the act should be—a union
of the two countries under one sovereign, who, failing heirs of the
queen, should be the Electress of Hanover or her heir; but each country
to retain her own church establishment and her own laws—Scotland to send
sixteen representative peers and forty-five commoners to the British
parliament—Scottish merchants to trade freely with England and her
colonies—the taxes to be equalised, except that from land, which was to
be arranged in such a way that when England contributed two millions,
Scotland should give only a fortieth part of the sum, or forty-eight
thousand pounds; and as the English taxes were rendered burdensome by a
debt of sixteen millions, Scotland was to be compensated for its share
of that burden by receiving, as ‘an Equivalent,’ about four hundred
thousand pounds of ready money from England, which was to be applied to
the renovation of the coin, the discharge of the public debts, and a
restitution of the money lost by the African Company.

When these articles were laid before the Scottish Estates in October,
they produced a burst of indignant feeling that seemed to overspread the
whole country. The Jacobite party, who saw in the union only the
establishment of an alien dynasty, were furious. The clergy felt some
alarm at the prelatic element in the British parliament. The mass of the
people grieved over the prospect of a termination to the native
parliament, and other tokens of an ancient independence. Nevertheless,
partly that there were many men in the Estates who had juster views of
the true interests of their country, and partly that others were open to
various influences brought to bear upon their votes, the act of union
was passed in February 1707, as to take effect from the ensuing 1st of
May. The opposition was conducted principally by the Duke of Hamilton, a
Jacobite, and, but for his infirmity of purpose, it might have been more
formidable. The Duke of Queensberry, who acted on this occasion as the
queen’s commissioner to parliament, was rewarded for his services with
an English dukedom. The Privy Council, the record of whose proceedings
has been of so much importance to this work, now came to an end; but a
Secretary of State for Scotland continued for the next two reigns to be
part of the apparatus of the central government in the English
metropolis.

Of the discontent engendered on this occasion, the friends of the exiled
Stuarts endeavoured to take advantage in the spring of 1708, by bringing
a French expedition to the Scottish coasts, having on board five
thousand men, and the son of James II., now a youth of twenty years of
age. It reached the mouth of the Firth of Forth, and many of the
Jacobite gentry were prepared to join the young prince on landing. But
the Chevalier de St George, as he was called, took ill of small-pox; the
British fleet under Admiral Byng came in sight; and it was deemed best
to return to France, and wait for another opportunity.

The Tory ministry of the last four years of Queen Anne affected Scotland
by the passing of an act of Toleration for the relief of the persecuted
remnant of Episcopalians, and another act by which the rights of patrons
in the nomination of clergy to charges in the Established Church were
revived. The Whigs of the Revolution felt both of these measures to be
discouraging. During this period, in Scotland, as in England, the
Cavalier spirit was in the ascendency, and the earnest Whigs trembled
lest, by complicity of the queen or her ministers, the Pretender should
be introduced, to the exclusion of the Protestant heir. But the sudden
death of Anne on the 1st of August 1714, neutralised all such schemes,
and the son of the then deceased Electress Sophia succeeded to the
British throne, under the name of George I., with as much apparent
quietness as if he had been a resident Prince of Wales.


[Sidenote: 1702. JULY.]

On the principle that minute matters, which denote a progress in
improvement, or even a tendency to it, are worthy of notice, it may be
allowable to remark at this time an advertisement of Mr George
Robertson, apothecary at Perth, that he had lately set up there ‘a
double Hummum, or Bath Stove, the one for men, and the other for women,
approven of by physicians to be of great use for the cure of several
diseases.’ A hummum is in reality a Turkish or hot-air bath. We find
that, within twenty years after this time, the chirurgeons in Edinburgh
had a _bagnio_, or hot bath, and the physicians a cold bath, for medical
purposes.

The _Edinburgh Gazette_ which advertises the Perth hummum, also
announces the presence, in a lodging at the foot of the West Bow of
Edinburgh, of Duncan Campbell of Ashfield, chirurgeon to the city of
Glasgow, who had ‘cutted nine score persons [for stone] without the
death of any except five.’[313] There was also a mysterious person,
styled ‘a gentleman in town,’ and ‘to be got notice of at the Caledonian
Coffee-house,’ who had ‘had a secret imparted to him by his father, an
eminent physician in this kingdom, which, by the blessing of God,
certainly and safely cures the phrenzie’—also ‘convulsion-fits, vapours,
and megrims—in a few weeks, at reasonable rates, and takes no reward
till the cure is perfected.’

In the same sheet, ‘G. Young, against the Court of Guard, Edinburgh,’
bespoke favour for ‘a most precious eye-water, which infallibly cures
all distempers in the eyes, whether pearl, web, catracht, blood-shot
dimness, &c., and in less than six times dressing has cured some who
have been blind seven years.’

The custom of vending quack medicines from a public stage on the
street—of which we have seen several notable examples in the [Sidenote:
1702.] course of the seventeenth century—continued at this time, and for
many years after, to be kept up. Edinburgh was occasionally favoured
with a visit from a famous practitioner of this kind, named Anthony
Parsons, who, in announcing his arrival in 1710, stated the quality of
his medicines, and that he had been in the habit of vending them on
stages for thirty years. In October 1711, he advertised in the _Scots
Postman_—‘It being reported that Anthony Parsons is gone from Edinburgh
to mount public stages in the country, this is to give notice that he
hath left off keeping stages, and still lives in the Hammermen’s Land,
at the Magdalen Chapel, near the head of the Cowgate, where may be had
the ORVIETAN, a famous antidote against infectious distempers, and helps
barrenness, &c.’ Four years later, Parsons announced his design of
bidding adieu to Edinburgh, and, in that prospect, offered his medicines
at reduced rates; likewise, by auction, ‘a fine cabinet organ.’[314]

In April 1724, one Campbell, commonly called (probably from his ragged
appearance) _Doctor Duds_, was in great notoriety in Edinburgh as a
quack mediciner. He does not seem to have been in great favour with the
populace, for, being seen by them on the street, he was so vexatiously
assaulted, as to be obliged to make his escape in a coach. At this time,
a mountebank doctor erected a stage at the foot of the Canongate, in
order to compete with Doctor Duds for a share of business; but a boy
being killed by a fall from the fabric the day of its erection, threw a
damp on his efforts at wit, and the affair appears to have proved a
failure.[315]

The author just quoted had a recollection of one of the last of this
fraternity—an Englishman, named Green—who boasted he was the third
generation of a family which had been devoted to the profession. ‘A
stage was erected in the most public part of a town, and occupied by the
master, with one or two tumblers or rope-dancers, who attracted the
multitude. Valuable medicines were promised and distributed by a kind of
lottery. Each spectator, willing to obtain a prize, threw a
handkerchief, enclosing one or two shillings, on the stage. The
handkerchief was returned with a certain quantity of medicines. But
along with them, a silver cup was put into one to gratify some
successful adventurer.’

‘Doctor Green, younger of Doncaster’—probably the second of the three
generations—had occasion, in December 1725, to advertise [Sidenote:
1702.] the Scottish community regarding his ‘menial servant and
tumbler,’ Henry Lewis, who, he said, had deserted his service with a
week’s prepaid wages in his pocket, and, as the doctor understood, ‘has
resorted to Fife, or some of the north-country burghs, with design to
get himself furnished with a play-fool, and to set himself up for a
doctor experienced in the practice of physic and chirurgery.’ Doctor
Green deemed himself obliged to warn Fife and the said burghs, whither
he himself designed to resort in spring, against ‘the said impostor, and
to dismiss him as such.’[316]

We have this personage brought before us in an amusing light, in May
1731, in connection with the King’s College, Aberdeen. He had applied to
this learned sodality for a diploma as doctor of medicine, ‘upon
assurances given under his hand, that he would practise medicine in a
regular way, and give over his stage.’ They had granted him the diploma
accordingly. Finding, afterwards, that he still continued to use his
stage, ‘the college, to vindicate their conduct in the affair, and at
the same time, in justice to the public, to expose Mr Green his
disingenuity, recorded in the Register of Probative Writs his letter
containing these assurances.’ They also certified ‘that, if Mr Green
give not over his stage, they will proceed to further resentment against
him.’[317]

Down to this time there was still an entire faith among the common sort
of people in the medical properties of natural crystals, perforated
stones, ancient jet ornaments, flint arrow-heads, glass beads, and other
articles. The custom was to dip the article into water, and administer
the water to the patient. The Stewarts of Ardvorlich still possess a
crystal which was once in great esteem throughout Lower Perthshire for
the virtues which it could impart to simple water. A flat piece of ivory
in the possession of Campbell of Barbreck—commonly called _Barbreck’s
Bone_—was sovereign for the cure of madness. This article is now
deposited in the Museum of the Scottish Antiquaries in Edinburgh. The
_Lee Penny_—a small precious stone, set in an old English coin, still
possessed by the Lockharts of Lee—is another and highly noted example of
such charms for healing.

It was also still customary to resort to certain wells and other waters,
on account of their supposed healing virtues, as we have seen to be the
case a century earlier. Either the patient was brought to the water, and
dipped into it, or a fragment of his [Sidenote: 1702.] clothing was
brought and cast into, or left on the side of it, a shackle or tether of
a cow serving equally when such an animal was concerned. If such virtues
had continued to be attributed only to wells formerly dedicated to
saints, it would not have been surprising; but the idea of medicinal
virtue was sometimes connected with a lake or other piece of water,
which had no such history. There was, for example, on the high ground to
the west of Drumlanrig Castle, in Nithsdale, a small tarn called the Dow
[_i. e._ black] Loch, which enjoyed the highest medical repute all over
the south of Scotland. People came from immense distances to throw a rag
from a sick friend, or a tether from an afflicted cow, into the Dow
Loch, when, ‘these being cast in, if they did float, it was taken for a
good omen of recovery, and a part of the water carried to the patient,
though to remote places, without saluting or speaking to any one they
met by the way; but, if they did sink, the recovery of the party was
hopeless.’[318] The clergy exerted themselves strenuously to put down
the superstition. The trouble which the presbytery of Penpont had, first
and last, with this same Dow Loch, was past expression. But their
efforts were wholly in vain.[319]

[Sidenote: 1702. JULY 3.]

‘It pleased the great and holy God to visit this town [Leith], for their
heinous sins against him, with a very terrible and sudden stroke, which
was occasioned by the firing of thirty-three barrels of powder; which
dreadful blast, as it was heard even at many miles distance with great
terror and amazement, so it hath caused great ruin and desolation in
this place. It smote seven or eight persons at least with sudden death,
and turned the houses next adjacent to ruinous heaps, tirred off the
roof, beat out the windows, and broke out the timber partitions of a
great many houses and biggings even to a great distance. Few houses in
the town did escape some damage, and all this in a moment of time; so
that the merciful conduct of Divine Providence hath been very admirable
in the preservation of hundreds of people, whose lives were exposed to
manifold sudden dangers, seeing they had not so much previous warning as
to shift a foot for their own preservation, much less to remove their
plenishing.’ So proceeded a petition from ‘the distressed inhabitants of
Leith’ to the Privy Council, on the occasion of this sore calamity.
‘Seeing,’ they went on to say, ‘that part of the town is destroyed and
damnified to the value of thirty-six thousand nine hundred and
thirty-six pounds, Scots money, by and attour several other damages done
in several back-closes, and by and attour the household plenishing and
merchant goods destroyed in the said houses, and victual destroyed and
damnified in lofts, and the losses occasioned by the houses lying waste;
and seeing the owners of the said houses are for the most part unable to
repair them, so that a great part of the principal seaport of the nation
will be desolate and ruinous, if considerable relief be not provided,’
they implored permission to make a charitable collection throughout the
kingdom at kirk-doors, and by going from house to house; which prayer
was readily granted.[320]


[Sidenote: JULY 8.]

The Earl of Kintore, who had been made Knight Marischal of Scotland at
the Restoration, and afterwards raised to the peerage for his service in
saving the regalia from the English in 1651, was still living.[321] He
petitioned the Privy Council at this date on account of a pamphlet
published by Sir William Ogilvie of Barras, in which his concern in the
preservation of the regalia was unduly depreciated. His lordship gives a
long recital on the subject, from which it after all appears that his
share of the business was confined to his discommending obedience to
[Sidenote: 1702.] be paid to a state order for sending out the regalia
from Dunnottar Castle—in which case it was likely they might have been
taken—and afterwards doing what he could to put the English on a false
scent, by representing the regalia as carried to the king at Paris. He
denounces the pamphlet as an endeavour ‘to rob him of his just merit and
honour, and likewise to belie his majesty’s patents in his favour,’ and
he craved due punishment. Sir William, being laid up with sickness at
Montrose, was unable to appear in his own defence, and the Council,
accordingly, without hesitation, ordered the offensive brochure to be
publicly burnt at the Cross of Edinburgh by the common hangman.

David Ogilvie, younger of Barras, was soon after fined in a hundred
pounds for his concern in this so-called libel.[322]

There is something unaccountable in the determination evinced at various
periods to assign the glory of the preservation of the regalia to the
Earl of Kintore, the grand fact of the case being that these sacred
relics were saved by the dexterity and courage of the unpretending
woman—Mrs Grainger—the minister’s wife of Kineff, who, by means of her
servant, got them carried out of Dunnottar Castle through the
beleaguering lines of the English, and kept them in secrecy under ground
for eight years. See under March 1652.


[Sidenote: AUG.]

The arrangements of the Post-office, as established by the act of 1695,
were found to be not duly observed, in as far as common carriers
presumed to carry letters in tracts where post-offices were erected,
‘besides such as relate to goods sent or to be returned to them.’ A very
strict proclamation was now issued against this practice, and forbidding
all who were not noblemen or gentlemen’s servants to ‘carry, receive, or
deliver any letters where post-offices are erected.’

Inviolability of letters at the Post-office was not yet held in respect
as a principle. In July 1701, two letters from Brussels, ‘having the
cross upon the back of them,’ had come with proper addresses under cover
to the Edinburgh postmaster. He ‘was surprised with them,’ and brought
them to the Lord Advocate, who, however, on opening them, found they
were ‘of no value, being only on private business;’ wherefore he ordered
them to be delivered by the postmaster to the persons to whom they were
directed.

[Sidenote: 1702.]

Long after this period—in 1738—the Earl of Ilay, writing to Sir Robert
Walpole from Edinburgh, said: ‘I am forced to send this letter by a
servant twenty miles out of town, _where the Duke of Argyle’s attorney
cannot handle it_.’ It sounds strangely that Lord Hay should thus have
had to complain of his own brother; that one who was supreme in
Scotland, should have been under such a difficulty from an opposition
noble; and that there should have been, at so recent a period, a
disregard to so needful a principle. But this is not all. Lord Ilay, in
time succeeding his brother as Duke of Argyle, appears to have also
taken up his part at the Edinburgh Post-office. In March 1748, General
Bland, commander of the forces in Scotland, wrote to the Secretary of
State, ‘that his letters were opened at the Edinburgh Post-office; and I
think this is done _by order of a noble duke_, in order to know my
secret sentiments of the people and of his Grace. If this practice is
not stopped, the ministers cannot hope for any real information.’
Considering the present sound administration of the entire national
institution by the now living inheritor of that peerage, one cannot
without a smile hear George Chalmers telling[323] how the Edinburgh
Post-office, in the reign of the second George, was ‘infested by two
Dukes of Argyle!’

It will be heard, however, with some surprise, that the Lord Advocate
may still be considered as having the power, in cases where the public
interests are concerned, to order the examination of letters in the
Post-office. So lately as 1789, when the unhappy duellist, Captain
Macrae, fled from justice, his letters were seized at the Post-office by
order of the Justice-clerk Braxfield.


The sport of cock-fighting had lately been introduced into Scotland, and
a cock-pit was now in operation in Leith Links, where the charges for
admission were 10_d._ for the front row, 7_d._ for the second, and 4_d._
for the third. Soon after, ‘the passion for cock-fighting was so general
among all ranks of the people, that the magistrates [of Edinburgh]
discharged its being practised on the streets, on account of the
disturbances it occasioned.’[324]

[Sidenote: 1702.]

William Machrie, who taught in Edinburgh what he called ‘the severe and
serious, but necessary exercise of the sword,’ had also given a share of
his attention to cock-fighting—a sport which he deemed ‘as much an art,
as the managing of horses for races or for the field of battle.’ It was
an art in vogue over all Europe—though ‘kept up only by people of rank,
and never sunk down to the hands of the commonalty’—and he, for his
part, had studied it carefully: he had read everything on the subject,
conversed and corresponded on it with ‘the best cockers in Britain,’
carefully observing their practice, and passing through a long
experience of his own.

Thus prepared, Mr Machrie published in Edinburgh, in 1705, a brochure,
styled _An Essay on the Innocent and Royal Recreation and Art of
Cocking_, consisting of sixty-three small pages; from which we learn
that he had been the means of introducing the sport into Edinburgh. The
writer of a prefixed set of verses evidently considered him as one of
the great reformers of the age:

             ‘Long have you taught the art of self-defence,
             Improved our safety then, but now our sense,
             Teaching us pleasure with a small expense.’

For his own part, considering the hazard and expense which attended
horse-racing and hawking, he was eager to proclaim the superior
attractions of cocking, as being a sport from which no such
inconveniences arose. The very qualities of the bird recommended
it—namely, ‘his Spanish gait, his Florentine policy, and his Scottish
valour in overcoming and generosity in using his vanquished adversary.’
The ancients called him an astronomer, and he had been ‘an early
preacher of repentance, even convincing Peter, the first pope, of his
holiness’s fallibility.’ ‘Further,’ says he, ‘if variety and change of
fortune be any way prevalent to engage the minds of men, as commonly it
is, to prefer one recreation to another, it will beyond all controversy
be found in cocking more than any other. Nay, the eloquence of Tully or
art of Apelles could never with that life and exactness represent
fortune metamorphosed in a battle, as doth cocking; for here you’ll see
brave attacks and as brave defiances, bloody strugglings, and cunning
and handsome retreats; here you’ll see generous fortitude ignorant of
interest,’ &c.

Mr Machrie, therefore, goes _con amore_ into his subject, fully trusting
that his treatise on ‘this little but bold animal could not [Sidenote:
1702.] be unacceptable to a nation whose martial temper and glorious
actions in the field have rendered them famed beyond the limits of the
Christian world;’ a sentence from which we should have argued that our
author was a native of a sister-island, even if the fact had not been
indicated by his name.

Mr Machrie gives many important remarks on the natural history of the
animal—tells us many secrets about its breeding; instructs us in the
points which imply strength and valour; gives advices about feeding and
training; and exhibits the whole policy of the pit. Finally, he says, ‘I
am not ashamed to declare to the world that I have a special veneration
and esteem for those gentlemen, within and about this city, who have
entered in society for propagating and establishing the royal recreation
of cocking (in order to which they have already erected a cock-pit in
the Links of Leith); and I earnestly wish that their generous and
laudable example may be imitated in that degree that, in cock-war,
village may be engaged against village, city against city, kingdom
against kingdom, nay, the father against the son, until all the wars in
Europe, wherein so much Christian blood is spilt, be turned into the
innocent pastime of cocking.’

Machrie advertised, in July 1711, that he was not the author of a little
pamphlet on Duelling, which had been lately published with his name and
style on the title-page—‘William Machrie, Professor of both Swords.’ He
denounced this publication as containing ridiculous impossibilities in
his art, such as ‘pretending to parry a pistol-ball with his sword.’
Moreover, it contained ‘indiscreet reflections on the learned Mr
Bickerstaff [of the _Tatler_],’ ‘contrary to his [Machrie’s] natural
temper and inclination, as well as that civility and good manners which
his years, experience, and conversation in the world have taught
him.’[325]

The amusement of cock-fighting long kept a hold of the Scottish people.
It will now be scarcely believed that, through the greater part of the
eighteenth century, and till within the recollection of persons still
living, the boys attending the parish and burghal schools were
encouraged to bring cocks to school at Fasten’s E’en (Shrove-tide), and
devote an entire day to this barbarising sport. The slain birds and
_fugies_ (so the craven birds were called) became the property of the
schoolmaster. The minister of Applecross, in Ross-shire, in his account
of the parish, written about 1790, [Sidenote: 1702.] coolly tells us
that the schoolmaster’s income is composed of two hundred merks, with
payments from the scholars of 1_s._ 6_d._ for English, and 2_s._ 6_d._
for Latin, and ‘the cock-fight dues, which are equal to one quarter’s
payment for each scholar.’[326]


_A Short Account of Scotland_, written, it is understood, by an English
gentleman named Morer, and published this year, presents a picture of
our country as it appeared to an educated stranger before the union. The
surface was generally unenclosed; oats and barley the chief grain
products; wheat little cultivated; little hay made for winter, the
horses then feeding chiefly on straw and oats. The houses of the gentry,
heretofore built for strength, were now beginning to be ‘modish, both in
fabric and furniture.’ But ‘still their avenues are very indifferent,
and they want their gardens, which are the beauty and pride of our
English seats.’ Orchards were rare, and ‘their apples, pears, and plums
not of the best kind;’ their cherries tolerably good; ‘for gooseberries,
currants, strawberries, and the like, they have of each, but growing in
gentlemen’s gardens; and yet from thence we sometimes meet them in the
markets of their boroughs.’ The people of the Lowlands partly depended
on the Highlands for cattle to eat; and the Highlanders, in turn,
carried back corn, of which their own country did not grow a
sufficiency.

Mr Morer found that the Lowlanders were dressed much like his own
countrymen, excepting that the men generally wore bonnets instead of
hats, and plaids instead of cloaks; the women, too, wearing plaids when
abroad or at church. Women of the humbler class generally went barefoot,
‘especially in summer.’ The children of people of the better sort, ‘lay
and clergy,’ were likewise generally without shoes and stockings.
Oaten-cakes, baked on a plate of iron over the fire, were the principal
bread used. Their flesh he admits to have been ‘good enough,’ but he
could not say the same for their cheese or butter. They are ‘fond of
tobacco, but more from the snish-box than the pipe.’ Snuff, indeed, had
become so necessary to them, that ‘I have heard some of them say, should
their bread come in competition with it, they would rather fast than
their snish should be taken away. Yet mostly it consists of the coarsest
tobacco, dried by the fire, and powdered in a little engine after the
form of a _tap_, which they [Sidenote: 1702.] carry in their pockets,
and is both a _mill_ to grind and a _box_ to keep it in.’

[Illustration: Dresses of the People of Scotland.—From Speed’s _Atlas_,
1676.]

Stage-coaches did not as yet exist, but there were a few hackneys at
Edinburgh, which might be hired into the country upon urgent occasions.
‘The truth is, the roads will hardly allow them those conveniences,
which is the reason that the gentry, men and women, choose rather to use
their horses. However, their great men often travel with coach-and-six,
but with so little caution, that, besides their other attendance, they
have a lusty running-footman on each side of the coach, to manage and
keep it up in rough places.’

Another Englishman, who made an excursion into Scotland in 1704, gives
additional particulars, but to the same general purport. At Edinburgh,
he got good French wine at 20_d._, and Burgundy at 10_d._ a quart. The
town appeared to him scarcely so large as York or Newcastle, but
extremely populous, and containing abundance of beggars. ‘The people
here,’ he says, ‘are very proud, and call the ordinary tradesmen
merchants.’ ‘At the best houses they dress their victuals after the
French method, though perhaps not so cleanly, and a soup is commonly the
first dish; and their reckonings are dear enough. The servant-maids
attended without shoes or stockings.’

At Lesmahago, a village in Lanarkshire, he found the people living on
cakes made of pease and barley mixed. ‘They ate no meat, nor drank
anything but water, all the year round; and the common people go without
shoes or stockings all the year round. I pitied their poverty, but
observed the people were fresh and [Sidenote: 1702.] lusty, and did not
seem to be under any uneasiness with their way of living.’

In the village inn, ‘I had,’ says he, ‘an enclosed room to myself, with
a chimney in it, and dined on a leg of veal, which is not to be had at
every place in this country.’ At another village—Crawford-John—‘the
houses are either of earth or loose stones, or are _raddled_, and the
roofs are of turf, and the floors the bare ground. They are but one
story high, and the chimney is a hole in the roof, and the fireplace is
in the middle of the floor. Their seats and beds are of turf earthed
over, and raddled up near the fireplace, and serve for both uses. Their
ale is pale, small, and thick, but at the most common minsh-houses
[taverns], they commonly have good French brandy, and often French wine,
so common are these French liquors in this country.’

Our traveller, being at Crawford-John on a Sunday, went to the parish
church, which he likens to a barn. He found it ‘mightily crowded, and
two gentlemen’s seats in it with deal-tops over them. They begin service
here about nine in the morning, and continue it till about noon, and
then rise, and the minister goes to the minsh-house, and so many of them
as think fit, and refresh themselves. The rest stay in the churchyard
for about half an hour, and then service begins again, and continues
till about four or five. I suppose the reason of this is, that most of
the congregations live too far from the church to go home and return to
church in time.’[327]

The general conditions described by both of these travellers exhibit
little, if any advance upon those presented in the journey of the
Yorkshire squire in 1688,[328] or even that of Ray the naturalist in
1661.[329]


[Sidenote: 1703. JAN. 24.]

George Young, a shopkeeper in the High Street of Edinburgh, was
appointed by the magistrates as a constable, along with several other
citizens in the like capacity, ‘to oversee the manners and order of the
burgh and inhabitants thereof.’ On the evening of the day noted, being
Sunday, he went ‘through some parts of the town, to see that the Lord’s
Day and laws made for the observance thereof were not violat.’ ‘Coming
to the house of Marjory Thom, relict of James Allan, vintner, a little
before ten o’clock, and [Sidenote: 1703.] finding in the house several
companies in different rooms, [he] did soberly and Christianly
expostulate with the mistress of the house for keeping persons in her
house at such unseasonable hours, and did very justly threaten to delate
her to the magistrates, to be rebuked for the same. [He] did not in the
least offer to disturb any of her guests, but went away, and as [he was]
going up the close to the streets, he and the rest was followed by Mr
Archibald Campbell, eldest son to Lord Niel Campbell, who quarrelled him
for offering to delate the house to the magistrates, [telling him] he
would make him repent it.’ So runs George Young’s own account of the
matter. It was rather unlucky for him, in his turn at this duty, to have
come into collision with Mr Campbell, for the latter was first-cousin to
the Duke of Argyle, and a person of too much consequence to be involved
in a law which only works sweetly against the humbler classes, being,
indeed, mainly designed for their benefit.

To pursue Young’s narrative. ‘Mr Archibald came next day with some
others towards the said George his shop, opposite to the Guard [house],
and called at his shop, which was shut by the hatch or half-door:
“Sirrah, sirrah!” which George not observing, nor apprehending his
discourse was directed to him, Mr Archibald called again to this
purpose: “I spoke to you, Young the constable.” Whereupon, George
civilly desiring to know his pleasure, he expressed himself thus:
“Spark, are you in any better humour to-day than you was last night?”
George answered, he was the same to-day he was last night. “I was about
my duty last night, and am so to-day. I hope I have not offended you;
and pray, sir, do not disturb me.” Mr Archibald, appearing angry, and
challenging George for his taking notice of Mrs Allan’s house, again
asked him if he was in any better temper, or words to that purpose; [to
which] George again replied, He was the same he was, and prayed him to
be gone, because he seemed displeased. Whereupon Mr Archibald taking
hold of his sword, as [if] he would have drawn it, George, being within
the half-door, fearing harm, threw open the door, and came out to Mr
Archibald, and endeavoured to catch hold of his sword. Mr Archibald did
beat him upon the eye twice or thrice, and again took hold of his sword
to draw and run at him; which he certainly had done, if not interrupted
by the bystanders, who took hold of his sword and held him, till that
the Town-guard seized Mr Archibald, and made him prisoner.’

Mr Campbell, being speedily released upon bail, did not wait to
[Sidenote: 1702.] be brought before the magistrates, but raised a
process against Young before the Privy Council, ‘intending thereby to
discourage all laudable endeavours to get extravagancy and disorder
[repressed].’ In the charge which he brought forward, Mr Campbell
depicts himself as walking peaceably on the High Street, when Young
attacked him, seized his sword, and declared him prisoner, without any
previous offence on his part. The Guard thereafter dragged him to their
house, maltreating him by the way, and kept him a prisoner till his
friends assembled and obtained his liberation. The process went through
various stages during the next few weeks, and at length, on the 9th of
March, the Council found Young guilty of a riot, and fined him in four
hundred merks (upwards of £22 sterling), to be paid to Mr Campbell for
his expenses; further ordaining the offender to be imprisoned till the
money was forthcoming.

To do the Duke of Argyle justice, his name does not appear in the list
of the councillors who sat that day.


[Sidenote: MAR. 6.]

Sir John Bell, a former magistrate of Glasgow, kept up a modest frame of
Episcopal worship in that Presbyterian city, having occasionally
preachers, who were not always qualified by law, to officiate in his
house. On the 30th of January, a boy-mob assailed the house while
worship was going on, and some windows were broken. However, the
magistrates were quickly on the spot, and the tumult was suppressed.

A letter from the queen to the Privy Council, dated the 4th February,
glanced favourably at the Episcopalian dissenters of Scotland, enjoining
that the clergy of that persuasion should live peaceably in relation to
the Established Church, and that they should, while doing so, be
protected in the exercise of their religion. It was a sour morsel to the
more zealous Presbyterians, clergy and laity, who, not from any spirit
of revenge, but merely from bigoted religious feelings, would willingly
have seen all Episcopalians banished at the least. At Glasgow, where a
rumour got up that some Episcopalian places of worship would be
immediately opened under sanction of her majesty’s letter, much
excitement prevailed. Warned by a letter from the Lord Chancellor, the
magistrates of the city took measures for preserving the peace, and they
went to church on the 7th of March, under a full belief that there was
no immediate likelihood of its being broken. The Episcopalians, however,
were in some alarm about the symptoms of popular feeling, and it was
deemed [Sidenote: 1703.] necessary to plant a guard of gentlemen, armed
with swords, in front of the door of Sir John Bell’s house, where they
were to enjoy the ministrations of a clergyman named Burgess. Some rude
boys gathered about, and soon came to rough words with this volunteer
guard, who, chasing them with their swords, and, it is said, violent
oaths, along the Saltmarket, roused a general tumult amongst all who
were not at church. The alarm soon passed into the churches. The people
poured out, and flocked to the house where they knew that the
Episcopalians were gathered. The windows were quickly smashed. The
worshippers barricaded and defended themselves; but the crowd broke in
with fore-hammers, though apparently hardly knowing for what purpose.
The magistrates came with some soldiers; reasoned, entreated,
threatened; apprehended a few rioters, who were quickly rescued; and
finally thought it best to limit themselves to conducting the scared
congregation to their respective homes—a task they successfully
accomplished. ‘Afterwards,’ say the magistrates, ‘we went and did see
Sir John Bell in his house, where Mr Burgess, the minister, was; and, in
the meantime, when we were regretting the misfortune that had happened
to Sir John and his family, who had merited much from his civil carriage
when a magistrate in this place, it was answered to us by one of his
sons present, that they had got what they were seeking, and would rather
that that had fallen out than if it had been otherways.’

The Privy Council, well aware how distasteful any outrages against the
Episcopalians would be at court, took pains to represent this affair in
duly severe terms in their letters to the secretaries of state in
London. They also took strong measures to prevent any similar tumult in
future, and to obtain reparation of damages for Sir John Bell.

Generally, the condition of Episcopal ministers continued to be
uncomfortable. In February 1705, Dr Richard Waddell, who had been
Archdean of St Andrews before the Revolution, and was banished from that
place in 1691, but had lately returned under protection of her majesty’s
general indemnity, became the subject of repressive measures on the part
of the Established Church. Letters of horning were raised against him by
‘John Blair, agent for the kirk,’ and, notwithstanding strong
protestations of loyalty to the queen, he was ordained by the Privy
Council once more ‘to remove furth of the town and parochine of St
Andrews, and not return thereto.’[330]

[Sidenote: 1703. APR.]

An elderly woman named Marion Lillie, residing at Spott, in East
Lothian, was in the hands of the kirk-session, on account of the general
repute she lay under as a witch. Amidst the tedious investigations of
her case in the parish register, it is impossible to see more than that
she occasionally spoke ungently to and of her neighbours, and had
frightened a pregnant woman to a rather unpleasant extremity by handling
her rudely. The _Rigwoodie Witch_,[331] as a neighbour called her, was
now turned over to a magistrate, to be dealt with according to law; but
of her final fate we have no account.

Spott is a place of sad fame, its minister having basely murdered his
wife in 1570,[332] and the estate having belonged to a gentleman named
Douglas, whom we have seen concerned in the slaughter of Sir James Home
of Eccles, and who on that account became a forfeited outlaw.[333] The
wife of a subsequent proprietor, a gambler named Murray, was daughter to
the Lord Forrester, who was stabbed with his own sword by his mistress
at Corstorphine in 1679.[334] There is extant a characteristic letter of
this lady to Lord Alexander Hay, son of the Earl of Tweeddale, on his
bargaining, soon after this time, for the estate, with her husband,
without her consent—in which she makes allusion to the witches of Spott:

  ‘THES TO LORD ALEXANDER HAY.

                                                       ‘SPOTT, _19 May_.

  ‘This way of proceeding, my lord, will seem verey abrupte and
  inconsiderat to you; but I laye my count with the severest censer you
  or may malicious enemies can or will saye of me. So, not to be
  tedious, all I have to speak is this: I think you most absurd to
  [have] bought the lands of Spott from Mr Murray without my consent,
  which you shall never have now; and I hope to be poseser of Spott hous
  when you are att the divel; and believe me, my childrin’s curse and
  mine will be a greater moth in your estate than all your ladey and
  your misirable wretchedness can make up and pray [pay].

  ‘This is no letter of my lord Bell Heavins, and tho you saye, in spite
  of the divell, you’le buy it befor this time twell month, you may come
  to repent it; but thats non of my bisnes. I shall only saye this, you
  are basely impertinent to thrust me away in a hurrey from my houss at
  Whitsunday, when I designed not [Sidenote: 1703.] to go till
  Martinmis: and I wish the ghosts of all the witches that ever was
  about Spott may haunt you, and make you the unfortountest man that
  ever lived, that you may see you was in the wrong in makeing aney such
  bargain without the consent of your mortal enemy,

                                                     CLARA MURRAY.’[335]


[Sidenote: JULY 1.]

The country was at this time in a state of incandescent madness
regarding its nationality, and the public feeling found expression
through the medium of parliament. By its order, there was this day
burned at the Cross of Edinburgh, by the hangman, a book entitled
_Historia Anglo-Scotica_, by James Drake, ‘containing many false and
injurious reflections upon the sovereignty and independency of this
nation.’ In August 1705, when the passion was even at a greater height,
the same fate was awarded by the legislature to a book, entitled _The
Superiority and Direct Dominion of the Imperial Crown of England over
the Crown and Kingdom of Scotland_; also to a pamphlet, called _The
Scots Patriot Unmasked_, both being the production of William Atwood. On
the same day that the latter order was given, the parliament decreed the
extraordinary sum of £4800 (Scots?) to Mr James Anderson, for a book he
had published, _A Historical Essay shewing that the Crown and Kingdom of
Scotland is Imperial and Independent_. Nor was this all, for at the same
time it was ordered that ‘Mr James Hodges, who hath in his writings
served this nation,’ should have a similar reward.[336]

[Sidenote: SEP. 3.]

The Scottish parliament at this time patronised literature to a
considerable extent, though a good deal after the manner of the poor
gentleman who bequeathed large ideal sums to his friends, and comforted
himself with the reflection, that it at least shewed good-will.
Alexander Nisbet had prepared a laborious work on heraldry,[337] tracing
its rise, and describing all its various figures, besides ‘shewing by
whom they are carried amongst us, and for what reasons,’ thus
instructing the gentlefolk of this country of their ‘genealogical
pennons,’ and affording assistance to ‘curious antiquaries’ in
understanding ‘seals, medals, historie, and ancient records.’ But
Alexander was unable of his own means to publish [Sidenote: 1703.] so
large a work, for which it would be necessary to get italic types,
‘whereof there are very few in this kingdom,’ and which also required a
multitude of copper engravings to display ‘the armorial ensigns of this
ancient kingdom.’ Accordingly, on his petition, the parliament
(September 3, 1703), recommended the Treasury to grant him £248, 6_s._
8_d._ sterling ‘out of what fund they shall think fit.’[338]


[Sidenote: AUG. 9.]

In 1695, the Scottish parliament forbade the sale of rum, as interfering
with the consumpt of ‘strong waters made of malt,’ and because the
article itself was ‘rather a drug than a liquor, and highly prejudicial
to the health of all who drink it.’ Now, however, Mr William Cochrane of
Kilmaronock, John Walkenshaw of Barrowfield, John Forbes of Knaperna,
and Robert Douglas, merchant in Leith, designed to set up a sugar-work
and ‘stillarie for distilling of rum’ in Leith, believing that such
could never be ‘more necessary and beneficial to the country, and for
the general use and advantage of the lieges, than in this time of war,
when commodities of that nature, how necessary soever, can hardly be got
from abroad.’ On their petition, the designed work was endowed by the
Privy Council with the privileges of a manufactory.


[Sidenote: SEP. 10.]

The steeple of the Tolbooth of Tain had lately fallen in the night, to
the great hazard of the lives of the prisoners, and some considerable
damage to the contiguous parish church. On the petition of the
magistrates of this poor little burgh, the Privy Council ordained a
collection to be made for the reconstruction of the building; and,
meanwhile, creditors were enjoined to transport their prisoners to other
jails.

Nearly about the same time, voluntary collections were ordained by the
Privy Council, for erecting a bridge over the Dee at the Black Ford; for
the construction of a harbour at Cromarty, ‘where a great quantity of
the victual that comes to the south is loadened;’ and for making a
harbour at Pennan, on the estate of William Baird of Auchmedden, in
Aberdeenshire, where such a convenience was eminently required for the
shelter of vessels, and where ‘there is likewise a millstone quarry
belonging to the petitioner [Baird], from which the greatest part of the
mills in the kingdom are served by sea.’

[Sidenote: 1703. NOV. 11.]

Amidst the endless instances of misdirected zeal and talent which mark
the time, there is a feeling of relief and gratification even in so
small and commonplace a matter as an application to the Privy Council,
which now occurs, from Mr William Forbes, advocate, for a copyright in a
work he had prepared under the name of _A Methodical Treatise of Bills
of Exchange_. The case is somewhat remarkable in itself, as an
application by an author, such applications being generally from
stationers and printers.


[Sidenote: DEC.]

Usually, in our day, the opposing solicitors in a cause do not feel any
wrath towards each other. It was different with two agents employed at
this time in the Court of Session on different interests, one of them
being Patrick Comrie, who acted in the capacity of ‘doer’ for the Laird
of Lawers. To him, one day, as he lounged through the Outer House, came
up James Leslie, a ‘writer,’ who entered into some conversation with him
about Lawers’s business, and so provoked him, that he struck Leslie in
the face, in the presence of many witnesses. Leslie appealed to the
court, on the strength of an old statute which decreed death to any one
guilty of violence in the presence of the Lords, and Comrie was
apprehended. There then arose many curious and perplexing questions
among the judges as to the various bearings of the case; but all were
suddenly solved by Comrie obtaining a remission of his offence from the
queen.[339]


In this year was published[340] the first intelligent topographical book
regarding Scotland, being ‘_A Description of the Western Isles_, by M.
Martin, Gentleman.’ It gives accurate information regarding the physical
peculiarities of these islands, and their numberless relics of
antiquity, besides many sensible hints as to means for improving the
industry of the inhabitants. The author, who seems to have been a native
of Skye, writes like a well-educated man for his age, and as one who had
seen something of life in “busier scenes than those supplied by his own
country. He has also thought proper to give an ample account of many
superstitious practices of the Hebrideans, and to devote a chapter to
the alleged power of _second-sight_, which was then commonly attributed
to special individuals throughout the whole of Celtic Scotland. All this
he does in the same sober painstaking manner in which he tells of
matters connected with the rural economy of the people, [Sidenote:
1703.] fully shewing that he himself reposed entire faith in the alleged
phenomena. In the whole article, indeed, he scarcely introduces a single
expression of a dogmatic character, either in the way of defending the
belief or ridiculing it, but he very calmly furnishes answers, based on
what he considered as facts, to sundry objections which had been taken
against it. But for his book, we should have been much in the dark
regarding a system which certainly made a great mark on the Highland
mind in the seventeenth century, and was altogether as remarkable,
perhaps, as the witch superstitions of the Lowlands during the same
period.

He tells us—‘The second-sight is a singular faculty of seeing an
otherwise invisible object, without any previous means used by the
person that sees it, for that end. The vision makes such a lively
impression upon the seers, that they neither see nor think of anything
else, except the vision, as long as it continues, and then they appear
pensive or jovial, according to the object which was represented to
them.

‘At the sight of a vision, the eyelids of the person are erected, and
the eyes continue staring until the object vanish. This is obvious to
others who are by, when the persons happen to see a vision, and occurred
more than once to my own observation, and to others who were with me.’

The seers were persons of both sexes and of all ages, ‘generally
illiterate, well-meaning people;’ not people who desired to make gain by
their supposed faculty, or to attract notice to themselves—not drunkards
or fools—but simple country people, who were rather more apt to feel
uneasy in the possession of a gift so strange, than to use it for any
selfish or unworthy purpose. It really appears to have been generally
regarded as an uncomfortable peculiarity; and there were many instances
of the seers resorting to prayers and other religious observances in
order to get quit of it.

The vision came upon the seer unpremonishedly, and in all imaginable
circumstances. If early in the morning, which was not frequent, then the
prediction was expected to be accomplished within a few hours; the later
in the day, the accomplishment was expected at the greater distance of
time. The things seen were often of an indifferent nature, as the
arrival of a stranger; often of a character no less important than the
death of individuals. If a woman was seen standing at a man’s left hand,
it was a presage that she would be his wife, even though one of the
parties might then be the mate of another. Sometimes several women would
be seen standing in a row beside a man, in which case it was expected
[Sidenote: 1703.] that the one nearest would be his first wife, and so
on with the rest in their turns.

When the arrival of a stranger was predicted, his dress, stature,
complexion, and general appearance would be described, although he might
be previously unknown to the seer. If of the seer’s acquaintance, his
name would be told, and the humour he was in would be described from the
countenance he bore. ‘I have been seen thus myself,’ says Martin, ‘by
seers of both sexes at some hundred miles’ distance; some that saw me in
this manner, had never seen me personally, and it happened according to
their visions, without any previous design of mine to go to those
places, my coming there being purely accidental.’

It will be remembered that, when Dr Johnson and Boswell travelled
through the Hebrides in 1773, the latter was told an instance of such
prediction by the gentleman who was the subject of the story—namely,
M‘Quarrie, the Laird of Ulva. ‘He had gone to Edinburgh, and taken a
man-servant along with him. An old woman who was in the house said one
day: “M‘Quarrie will be at home to-morrow, and will bring two gentlemen
with him;” and she said she saw his servant return in red and green. He
did come home next day. He had two gentlemen with him, and his servant
had a new red and green livery, which M‘Quarrie had bought for him at
Edinburgh, upon a sudden thought, not having the least intention when he
left home to put his servant in livery; so that the old woman could not
have heard any previous mention of it. This, he assured us, was a true
story.’[341]

Martin tells a story of the same character, but even more striking in
its various features. The seer in this case was Archibald Macdonald, who
lived in the isle of Skye about the time of the Revolution. One night
before supper, at Knockowe, he told the family he had just then seen the
strangest thing he ever saw in his life; to wit, a man with an ugly long
cap, always shaking his head; but the strangest thing of all was a
little harp he had, with only four strings, and two hart’s horns fixed
in the front of it. ‘All that heard this odd vision fell a laughing at
Archibald, telling him that he was dreaming, or had not his wits about
him, since he pretended to see a thing that had no being, and was not so
much as heard of in any part of the world.’ All this had no effect upon
Archibald, ‘who told them that they must excuse him if he laughed at
them after the accomplishment of the vision.’ Archibald [Sidenote:
1703.] returned to his own house, and within three or four days after, a
man exactly answering to the description arrived at Knockowe. He was a
poor man, who made himself a buffoon for bread, playing on a harp, which
was ornamented with a pair of hart’s horns, and wearing a cap and bells,
which he shook in playing. He was previously unknown at Knockowe, and
was found to have been at the island of Barray, sixty miles off, at the
time of the vision. This story was vouched by Mr Daniel Martin and all
his family—relatives, we may presume, of the author of the book now
quoted.

Martin relates a story of a predicted visit of a singular kind to the
island of Egg; and it is an instance more than usually entitled to
notice, as he himself heard of it in the interval between the vision and
its fulfilment. A seer in that island told his neighbours that he had
frequently seen the appearance of a man in a red coat lined with blue,
having on his head a strange kind of blue cap, with a very high cock on
the forepart of it. The figure always appeared in the act of making rude
advances to a young woman who lived in the hamlet, and he predicted that
it would be the fate of this girl to be treated in a dishonourable way
by some such stranger. The inhabitants considered the affair so
extremely unlikely to be realised, that they treated the seer as a fool.
Martin tells that he had the story related to him in Edinburgh, in
September 1688, by Norman Macleod of Graban, who had just then come from
the isle of Skye, there being present at the time the Laird of Macleod,
Mr Alexander Macleod, advocate, and some other persons. About a year and
a half after, a few government war-vessels were sent into the Western
Islands to reduce some of the people who had been out with Lord Dundee.
Major Fergusson, who commanded a large military party on board, had no
thought of touching at Egg, which is a very sequestered island, but some
natives of that isle, being in Skye, encountered a party of his men, and
one of the latter was slain. He consequently steered for Egg, to revenge
himself on the natives. Among other outrages, the young woman above
alluded to was carried on board the vessel, and disgracefully treated,
thus completely verifying the vision.

An instance of the second-sight, which fell under the observation of the
clever statesman Viscount Tarbat, is related by Martin as having been
reported to him by Lord Tarbat himself. While travelling in Ross-shire,
his lordship entered a house, and sat down on an arm-chair. One of his
retinue, who possessed the faculty of [Sidenote: 1703.] a seer, spoke to
some of the rest, wishing them to persuade his lordship to leave the
house, ‘for,’ said he, ‘a great misfortune will attend somebody in it,
and that within a few hours.’ This was told to Lord Tarbat, who did not
regard it. The seer soon after renewed his entreaty with much
earnestness, begging his master to remove out of that unhappy chair; but
he was only snubbed as a fool. Lord Tarbat, at his own pleasure, renewed
his journey, and had not been gone many hours when a trooper, riding
upon ice, fell and broke his thigh, and being brought into that house,
was laid in the arm-chair to have his wound dressed. Thus the vision was
accomplished.

It was considered a rule in second-sight, that a vision seen by one seer
was not necessarily visible to another in his company, unless the first
touched his neighbour. There are, nevertheless, anecdotes of visions
seen by more than one at a time, without any such ceremony. In one case,
two persons, not accustomed to see visions, saw one together, after
which, neither ever enjoyed the privilege again. They were two simple
country men, travelling along a road about two miles to the north of
Snizort church, in Skye. Suddenly they saw what appeared as a body of
men coming from the north, as if bringing a corpse to Snizort to be
buried. They advanced to the river, thinking to meet the funeral company
at the ford, but when they got there, the visionary scene had vanished.
On coming home, they told what they had seen to their neighbours. ‘About
three weeks after, a corpse was brought along that road from another
parish, from which few or none are brought to Snizort, except persons of
distinction.’

A vision of a similar nature is described as occurring to one Daniel
Stewart, an inhabitant of Hole, in the North Parish of St Mary’s, in the
isle of Skye; and it was likewise the man’s only experience of the kind.
One day, at noon, he saw five men riding northward; he ran down to the
road to meet them; but when he got there, all had vanished. The vision
was repeated next day, when he also heard the men speak. It was
concluded that the company he saw was that of Sir Donald Macdonald of
Sleat, who was then at Armadale, forty miles distant.

The important place which matrimony occupies in social existence, makes
it not surprising that the union of individuals in marriage was
frequently the alleged subject of second-sight. As already mentioned,
when a woman stood at a man’s left hand, she was expected to be his
wife. It was also understood that, when a man was seen at a woman’s left
hand, he was to be her [Sidenote: 1703.] future husband. ‘Several
persons,’ says Martin, ‘living in a certain family, told me that they
had frequently seen two men standing at a young gentlewoman’s left hand,
who was their master’s daughter. They told the men’s names, and as they
were the young lady’s equals, it was not doubted that she would be
married to one of them, and perhaps to the other, after the death of the
first. Some time after, a third man appeared, and he seemed always to
stand nearest to her of the three; but the seers did not know him,
though they could describe him exactly. Within some months after, this
man, who was last seen, did actually come to the house, and fulfilled
the description given of him by those who never saw him but in a vision;
and he married the woman shortly after. They live in the isle of Skye;
both they and others confirmed the truth of this instance when I saw
them.’

The Rev. Daniel Nicolson, minister of the parish of St Mary’s, in Skye,
was a widower of forty-four, when a noted seer of his flock, the
Archibald Macdonald already spoken of, gave out that he saw a
well-dressed lady frequently standing at the minister’s right hand. He
described her complexion, stature, and dress particularly, and said he
had no doubt such a person would in time become the second Mrs Nicolson.
The minister was rather angry at having this story told, and bade his
people pay no attention to what ‘that foolish dreamer, Archibald
Macdonald,’ had said, ‘for,’ said he, ‘it is twenty to one if ever I
marry again.’ Archibald, nevertheless, persisted in his tale. While the
matter stood in this position, it was related to Martin.

The minister afterwards attended a synod in Bute—met a Mrs Morison
there—fell in love with her, and brought her home to Skye as his wife.
It is affirmed that she was instantly and generally recognised as
answering to the description of the lady in Archibald’s vision.

About 1652, Captain Alexander Fraser, commonly called the _Tutor of
Lovat_, being guardian of his nephew, Lord Lovat, married Sybilla
Mackenzie, sister of the Earl of Seaforth, and widow of John Macleod of
Macleod. The Tutor, who had fought gallantly in the preceding year for
King Charles II. at Worcester, was thought a very lucky man in this
match, as the lady had a jointure of three hundred merks _per
annum_![342] The marriage, however, is more remarkable on account of its
having [Sidenote: 1703.] been _seen_ many years before, during the
lifetime of the lady’s first husband. We have the story told with all
seriousness, though in very obscure typography, in a letter which Aubrey
prints[343] as having been sent to him by a ‘learned friend’ of his in
the Highlands, about 1694.

Macleod and his wife, while residing, we are to understand, at their
house of Dunvegan in Skye, on returning one day from an excursion or
brief visit, went into their nursery to see their infant child. To
pursue the narration: ‘On their coming in, the nurse falls a-weeping.
They asked the cause, dreading the child was sick, or that the nurse was
scarce of milk. The nurse replied the child was well, and she had
abundance of milk. Yet she still wept. Being pressed to tell what ailed
her, she at last said that Macleod would die, and the lady would shortly
be married to another man. Being asked how she knew that event, she told
them plainly, that, as they came into the room, she saw a man with a
scarlet cloak and white hat betwixt them, giving the lady a kiss over
the shoulder; and this was the cause of her weeping; all which,’ pursues
the narrator, ‘came to pass. After Macleod’s death [which happened in
1649], the Tutor of Lovat married the lady in the same dress in which
the woman saw him.’

The Bishop of Caithness, a short while before the Revolution, had five
daughters, one of whom spoke grudgingly of the burden of the family
housekeeping lying wholly upon her. A man-servant in the house, who had
the second-sight, told her that ere long she would be relieved from her
task, as he saw a tall gentleman in black walking on the bishop’s right
hand, and whom she was to marry. Before a quarter of a year had elapsed,
the prediction was realised; and all the man’s vaticinations regarding
the marriage-feast and company also proved true.

A curious class of cases, of importance for any theory on the subject,
was that in which a visionary figure or spectre intervened for the
production of the phenomena. A spirit in great vogue in the Highlands in
old times—as, indeed, in the Lowlands also—was known by the name of
_Browny_. From the accounts we have of him, it seems as if he were in a
great measure identical with the drudging goblin of Milton, whose
shadowy flail by night would thrash the corn

                ‘That ten day-labourers could not end.’

Among our Highlanders, he presented himself as a tall man. [Sidenote:
1703.] The servants of Sir Norman Macleod of Bernera were one night
assembled in the hall of the castle in that remote island, while their
master was absent on business, without any intimation having been given
of the time of his probable return. One of the party, who had the
second-sight, saw Browny[344] come in several times and make a show of
carrying an old woman from the fireside to the door; at last, he seemed
to take her by neck and heels, and bundle her out of the house; at which
the seer laughed so heartily, that his companions thought him mad. He
told them they must remove, for the hall would be required that night
for other company. They knew, of course, that he spoke in consequence of
having had a vision; but they took it upon themselves to express a doubt
that it could be so speedily accomplished. In so dark a night, and the
approach to the island being so dangerous on account of the rocks, it
was most unlikely that their master would arrive. In less than an hour,
a man came in to warn them to get the hall ready for their master, who
had just landed. Martin relates this story from Sir Norman Macleod’s own
report.

The same Sir Norman Macleod was one day playing with some of his friends
at a game called the Tables (in Gaelic, _palmermore_), which requires
three on a side, each throwing the dice by turns. [Sidenote: 1703.] A
critical difficulty arising as to the placing of one of the table-men,
seeing that the issue of the game obviously must depend upon it, the
gentleman who was to play hesitated for a considerable time. At length,
Sir Norman’s butler whispered a direction as to the best site for the
man into his ear; he played in obedience to the suggestion, and won the
game. Sir Norman, having heard the whisper, asked who had advised him so
skilfully. He answered that it was the butler. ‘That is strange,’ quoth
Sir Norman, ‘for the butler is unacquainted with the game.’ On inquiry,
the man told that he had not spoken from any skill of his own. He had
seen the spirit, Browny, reaching his arm over the player’s head, and
touching with his finger the spot where the table-man was to be placed.
‘This,’ says Martin, ‘was told me by Sir Norman and others, who happened
to be present at the time.’

Sir Norman Macleod relates another case in which his own knowledge comes
in importantly for authentication. A gentleman in the isle of Harris had
always been ‘seen’ with an arrow in his thigh, and it was expected that
he would not go out of the world without the prediction being fulfilled.
Sir Norman heard the matter spoken of for many years before the death of
the gentleman. At length the gentleman died, without any such occurrence
taking place. Sir Norman was at his funeral, at St Clement’s kirk, in
Harris. The custom of that island being to bury men of importance in a
stone chest in the church, the body was brought on an open bier. A
dispute took place among the friends at the church door as to who should
enter first, and from words it came to blows. One who was armed with a
bow and arrows, let fly amongst them, and after Sir Norman Macleod had
appeased the tumult, one of the arrows was found sticking in the dead
man’s thigh!

Martin was informed by John Morison of Bragir, in Lewis, ‘a person of
unquestionable sincerity and reputation,’ respecting a girl of twelve
years old, living within a mile of his house, who was troubled with the
frequent vision of a person exactly resembling herself, who seemed to be
always employed just as she herself might be at the moment. At the
suggestion of John Morison, prayers were put up in the family, in which
he and the girl joined, entreating that God would be pleased to relieve
her from this unpleasant visitation; and after that she saw her double
no more. Another neighbour of John Morison was haunted by a spirit
resembling himself, who never spoke to him within doors, but pestered
him constantly out of doors with impertinent questions. [Sidenote:
1703.] At the recommendation of a neighbour, the man threw a live coal
in the face of the vision; in consequence of which, the spirit assailed
him in the fields next day, and beat him so sorely, that he had to keep
his bed for fourteen days. Martin adds: ‘Mr Morison, minister of the
parish, and several of his friends, came to see the man, and joined in
prayer that he might be freed from this trouble; but he was still
haunted by that spirit a year after I left Lewis.’

Another case in which the spirit used personal violence, but of an
impalpable kind, is related by Martin as happening at Knockowe, in Skye,
and as reported to him by the family who were present when the
circumstance occurred. A man-servant, who usually enjoyed perfect
health, was one evening taken violently ill, fell back upon the floor,
and then began to vomit. The family were much concerned, being totally
at a loss to account for so sudden an attack; but in a short while the
man recovered, and declared himself free of pain. A seer in the family
explained the mystery. In a neighbouring village lived an ill-natured
female, who had had some hopes of marriage from this man, but was likely
to be disappointed. He had seen this woman come in with a furious
countenance, and fall a-scolding her lover in the most violent manner,
till the man tumbled from his seat, albeit unconscious of the assault
made upon him.

Several instances of second-sight are recorded in connection with
historical occurrences. Sir John Harrington relates that, at an
interview he had with King James in 1607, the conversation having turned
upon Queen Mary, the king told him that her death had been seen in
Scotland before it happened, ‘being, as he said, “spoken of in secret by
those whose power of sight presented to them a bloody head dancing in
the air.” He then,’ continues Harrington, ‘did remark much on this
gift.’[345] It is related in May’s _History of England_, that when the
family of King James was leaving Scotland for England, an old
hermit-like seer was brought before them, who took little notice of
Prince Henry, but wept over Prince Charles—then three years
old—lamenting to think of the misfortunes he was to undergo, and
declaring he should be the most miserable of princes. A Scotch nobleman
had a Highland seer brought to London, where he asked his judgment on
the Duke of Buckingham, then at the height of his fortunes as the king’s
favourite. [Sidenote: 1703.] ‘Pish!’ said he, ‘he will come to nothing.
I see a dagger in his breast!’ In time the duke, as is well known, was
stabbed to the heart by Lieutenant Felton.

In one of the letters on second-sight, written to Mr Aubrey from
Scotland about 1693–94, reference is made to the seer Archibald
Macdonald, who has already been introduced in connection with instances
occurring in Skye. According to this writer, who was a divinity student
living in Strathspey, Inverness-shire, Archibald announced a prediction
regarding the unfortunate Earl of Argyle. He mentioned it at Balloch
Castle (now Castle-Grant), in the presence of the Laird of Grant, his
lady, and several others, and also in the house of the narrator’s
father. He said of Argyle, of whom few or none then knew where he was,
that he would within two months come to the West Highlands, and raise a
rebellious faction, which would be divided in itself, and disperse,
while the earl would be taken and beheaded at Edinburgh, and his head
set upon the Tolbooth, where his father’s head was before. All this
proved strictly true.

Archibald Macdonald was a friend of Macdonald of Glencoe, and
accompanied him in the expedition of Lord Dundee in 1689 for the
maintenance of King James’s interest in the Highlands. Mr Aubrey’s
correspondent, who was then living in Strathspey, relates that Dundee’s
irregular forces followed General Mackay’s party along Speyside till
they came to Edinglassie, when he turned and marched up the valley. At
the Milltown of Gartenbeg, the Macleans joined, but remained behind to
plunder. Glencoe, with Archibald in his company, came to drive them
forward; and when this had been to some extent effected, the seer came
up and said: ‘Glencoe, if you will take my advice, you will make off
with yourself with all possible haste. Ere an hour come and go, you’ll
be as hard put to it as ever you were in your life.’ Glencoe took the
hint, and, within an hour, Mackay appeared at Culnakyle, in Abernethy,
with a party of horse, and chased the Macleans up the Morskaith; in
which chase Glencoe was involved, and was hard put to it, as had been
foretold. It is added, that Archibald likewise foretold that Glencoe
would be murdered in the night-time in his own house, three months
before it happened.

A well-vouched instance of the second-sight connected with a historical
incident, is related by Drummond of Bohaldy, regarding the celebrated
Highland paladin, Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheil, who died at the age of
ninety in 1719. ‘Very early that morning [Sidenote: 1703.] [December 24,
1715] whereon the Chevalier de St George landed at Peterhead, attended
only by Allan Cameron, one of the gentlemen of his bedchamber, Sir Ewen
started, as it were, in a surprise, from his sleep, and called out so
loud to his lady (who lay by him in another bed) that his king was
landed—that his king was arrived—and that his son Allan was with him,
that she awaked.’ She then received his orders to summon the clan, and
make them drink the king’s (that is, the Chevalier’s) health—a fête they
engaged in so heartily, that they spent in it all the next day. ‘His
lady was so curious, that she noted down the words upon paper, with the
date; which she a few days after found verified in fact, to her great
surprise.’ Bohaldy remarks that this case fully approved itself to the
whole clan Cameron, as they heard their chief speak of scarcely anything
else all that day.[346]

Predictions of death formed a large class of cases of second-sight. The
event was usually indicated by the subject of the vision appearing in a
shroud, and the higher the vestment rose on the figure, the event was
the nearer. ‘If it is not seen above the middle,’ says Martin, ‘death is
not to be expected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months
longer. When it is seen to ascend higher towards the head, death is
concluded to be at hand within a few days, if not hours, as daily
experience confirms. Examples of this kind were shewn me, when the
person of whom the observation was made enjoyed perfect health.’ He
adds, that sometimes death was foretold of an individual by hearing a
loud cry, as from him, out of doors. ‘Five women were sitting together
in the same room, and all of them heard a loud cry passing by the
window. They thought it plainly to be the voice of a maid who was one of
the number. She blushed at the time, though not sensible of her so
doing, contracted a fever next day, and died that week.’

In a pamphlet on the second-sight, written by Mr John Fraser, dean of
the Isles, and minister of Tiree and Coll, is an instance of predicted
death, which the author reports on his own knowledge. Having occasion to
go to Tobermory, in Mull, to assist in some government investigations
for the recovery of treasure in the vessel of the Spanish Armada known
to have been there sunk, he was accompanied by a handsome servant-lad,
besides other attendants.[347] A woman came before he sailed, and,
through the [Sidenote: 1703.] medium of a seaman, endeavoured to
dissuade him from taking that youth, as he would never bring him back
alive. The seaman declined to communicate her story to Mr Fraser. The
company proceeded on their voyage, and met adverse weather; the boy fell
sick, and died on the eleventh day. Mr Fraser, on his return, made a
point of asking the woman how she had come to know that this lad,
apparently so healthy, was near his death. She told Mr Fraser that she
had seen the boy, as he walked about, ‘sewed up in his winding-sheets
from top to toe;’ this she always found to be speedily followed by the
death of the person so seen.

Martin relates that a woman was accustomed for some time to see a female
figure, with a shroud up to the waist, and a habit resembling her own;
but as the face was turned away, she never could ascertain who it was.
To satisfy her curiosity, she tried an experiment. She dressed herself
with that part of her clothes behind which usually was before. The
vision soon after presented itself with its face towards the seeress,
who found it to be herself. She soon after died.

Although the second-sight had sunk so much in Martin’s time, that,
according to him, there was not one seer for ten that had been twenty
years before, it continued to be so much in vogue down to the reign of
George III., that a separate treatise on the subject, containing scores
of cases, was published in 1763 by an educated man styling himself
_Theophilus Insulanus_, as a means of checking in some degree the
materialising tendencies of the age, this author considering the gift as
a proof of the immortality of the soul. When Dr Johnson, a few years
later, visited the Highlands, he found the practice, so to speak, much
declined, and the clergy almost all against it. Proofs could,
nevertheless, be adduced that there are even now, in the remoter parts
of the Highlands, occasional alleged instances of what is called
second-sight, with a full popular belief in their reality.


[Sidenote: 1704. JAN. 25.]

Charles, Earl of Hopetoun,[348] set forth in a petition to the Privy
Council, that in his minority, many years ago, his tutors had caused a
windmill to be built at Leith for grinding and refining the ore from his
lead-mines. In consequence of the unsettling of a particular bargain,
the mill had been allowed to lie unused till now, when it required some
repair in order to be fit for service. [Sidenote: 1704.] One John Smith,
who had set up a saw-mill in Leith, being the only man _seen_ in this
kind of work, had been called into employment by his lordship for the
repair of the windmill; but the wright-burgesses of Edinburgh interfered
violently with the work, on the ground of their corporation privileges,
‘albeit it is sufficiently known that none of them have been bred to
such work or have any skill therein.’ Indeed, some part of the original
work done by them had now to be taken down, so ill was it done. It was
obviously a public detriment that such a work should thus be brought to
a stand-still. The Council, entering into the earl’s views, gave him a
protection from the claims of the wright-burgesses.


[Sidenote: FEB.]

It is notorious that the purity of the Court of Session continued down
to this time to be subject to suspicion. It was generally understood
that a judge favoured his friends and connections, and could be ‘spoken
to’ in behalf of a party in a suit. The time was not yet long past when
each lord had a ‘Pate’—that is, a dependent member of the bar (sometimes
called Peat), who, being largely fee’d by a party, could on that
consideration influence his patron.

A curious case, illustrative of the character of the bench, was now in
dependence. The heritors of the parish of Dalry raised an action for the
realisation of a legacy of £3000, which had been left to them for the
founding of a school by one Dr Johnston. The defender was John Joissy,
surgeon, an executor of the testator, who resisted the payment of the
money on certain pretexts. With the assistance of Alexander Gibson of
Durie, a principal clerk of Session, Joissy gained favour with a portion
of the judges, including the president. On the other hand, the heritors,
under the patronage of the Earl of Galloway, secured as many on their
side. A severe contest was therefore to be expected. According to a
report of the case in the sederunt-book of the parish, the Lord
President managed to have it judged under circumstances favourable to
Joissy. The court having ‘accidentally appointed a peremptor day about
the beginning of February 1704 for reporting and deciding in the cause,
both parties concluded that the parish would then gain it, since one of
Mr Joissy’s lords came to be then absent. For as my Lord Anstruther’s
hour in the Outer House was betwixt nine and ten of the clock in the
morning, so the Earl of Lauderdale, as Lord Ordinary in the Outer House,
behoved to sit from ten to twelve in [Sidenote: 1704.] the forenoon: for
by the 21st act of the fourth session of the first parliament of King
William and Queen Mary, it’s statuted expressly, that if the Lord
Ordinary in the Outer Houses sit and vote in any cause in the Inner
House after the chap of ten hours in the clock, he may be _declined_ by
either party in the cause from ever voting thereafter therintill: yet
such was the Lord President’s management, that so soon as my Lord
Anstruther returned from the Outer House at ten of the clock, and that
my Lord Lauderdale was even desired by some of the lords to take his
post in the Outer House in the terms of law: yet his lordship was
pleased after ten to sit and vote against the parish, the president at
that juncture having put the cause to a vote.’

The heritors, by the advice of some of the lords in their interest, gave
in a declinature of Lord Lauderdale, on the ground of the illegality of
his sitting in the Inner House after ten o’clock; whereupon, next
morning, the Lord President came into the court in a great rage,
demanding that all those concerned in the declinature should be punished
as criminals. The leading decliner, Mr Ferguson of Cairoch, escaped from
town on horseback, an hour before the macer came to summon him. The
counsel, John Menzies of Cammo, and the agent, remained to do what they
could to still the storm. According to the naïve terms of the report,
‘the speat [flood] was so high against the parish and them all the time,
that they behoved to employ all their friends, and solicit a very
particular lord that morning before they went to the house; and my Lord
President was so high upon’t, that when Cammo told him that my Lord
Lauderdale, contrair to the act of parliament, sat after ten o’clock,
his lordship unmannerly said to Cammo, as good a gentleman as himself,
that it was a damned lie.’

Menzies, though a very eminent counsel, and the agent, found all their
efforts end in an order for their going to jail, while a suitable
punishment should be deliberated upon. After some discussion, a slight
calm ensued, and they were liberated on condition of coming to the bar
as malefactors, and there begging the Earl of Lauderdale’s pardon. The
parish report states that no remedy could be obtained, for ‘the misery
at that time was that the lords were in effect absolute, for they did as
they pleased, and when any took courage to protest for remeid of law to
the Scots parliament, they seldom or never got any redress there, all
the lords being still present, by which the parliament [Sidenote: 1704.]
was so overawed that not ane decreit among a hundred was reduced.’[349]

It is strange to reflect, that among these judges were Lord Fountainhall
and Lord Arniston, with several other men who had resisted tyrannous
proceedings of the old government, to their own great suffering and
loss. Wodrow promises of Halcraig, that, for his conduct regarding the
test in 1684, his memory would be ‘savoury.’ The same author, speaking
of the set in 1726 as dying out, says he wishes their places may be as
well filled. ‘King William,’ he says, ‘brought in a good many
substantial, honest country gentlemen, well affected to the government
and church, and many of them really religious, though there might be
some greater lawyers than some of them have been and are. But, _being
men of integrity and weight, they have acted a fair and honest part
these thirty years_, and keep the bench in great respect. May their
successors be equally diligent and conscientious!’[350] Of course, by
fairness and honesty, Wodrow chiefly meant soundness in revolution
politics, and steadfast adherence to the established church.

Another instance of the vigorous action of the Lords in the maintenance
of their dignity occurred in December 1701. A gentleman, named Cannon of
Headmark, having some litigation with the Viscount Stair and Sir James
Dalrymple, his brother Alexander, an agent before the court, used some
indiscreet expressions regarding the judges in a paper drawn up by him.
Being called before the Lords, and having acknowledged the authorship of
the paper, he was sent to prison for a month, ordered then to crave
pardon of the court on his knees, and thereafter to be for ever debarred
from carrying on business as an agent.[351]

Some letters regarding a lawsuit of William Foulis of Woodhall in
1735–37, which have been printed,[352] shew that it was even then still
customary to use influence with the Lords in favour of parties, and the
female connections appear as taking a large share in the business. One
sentence is sufficient to reveal the whole system. ‘By Lord St Clair’s
advice, Mrs Kinloch is to wait on Lady Cairnie to-morrow, to cause her
to ask the favour of Lady St Clair to solicit Lady Betty Elphinston and
Lady Dun’—the former being the wife of Lord Coupar, and the [Sidenote:
1704.] latter of Lord Dun, two of the judges. Lord St Clair’s hint to
Mrs Kinloch to get her friend to speak to his own wife—he thus keeping
clear of the affair himself—is a significant particular. Lord Dun, who
wrote a moral volume, entitled _Advices_,[353] and was distinguished for
his piety, is spoken of by tradition as such a lawyer as might well be
open to any force that was brought to bear upon him. The present Sir
George Sinclair heard Mr Thomas Coutts relate that, when a difficult
case came before the court, where Lord Dun acted alone as ‘ordinary,’ he
was heard to say: ‘Eh, Lord, what am I to do? Eh, sirs, I wiss ye wad
mak it up.’

It will be surprising to many to learn that the idea of having ‘friends’
to a cause on the bench was not entirely extinct in a reign which people
in middle life can well recollect. The amiable Charles Duke of
Queensberry, who had been the patron of Gay, was also the friend of
James Burnett of Monboddo, and had exacted a promise that Burnett should
be the next person raised to the bench. ‘On Lord Milton’s death (1767),
the duke waited on his majesty, and reminded him of his promise, which
was at once admitted, and orders were immediately given to the secretary
of state [Conway] to make out the royal letter. The lady of the
secretary was nearly allied to the family of Hamilton, and being most
naturally solicitous about the vote which Mr Burnett might give in the
great cause of which he had taken so much charge as a counsel, she and
the Duchess of Hamilton and Argyle were supposed to have induced their
brother-in-law, Mr Secretary Conway, to withhold for many weeks the
letter of appointment, and is even supposed to have represented Mr
Burnett’s character in such unfavourable colours to the Lord Chancellor
Henley, that his lordship is reported to have jocosely declared, that if
she could prove her allegations against that gentleman, instead of
making him a judge, he would _hang_ him. This delay gave rise to much
idle conjecture and conversation in Edinburgh, and it was confidently
reported that Mr Burnett’s appointment would not take place till after
the decision of the Douglas cause. Irritated by these insinuations
against his integrity, he wrote to the Duke of Queensberry, declaring
that if his integrity as a judge could be questioned in this cause, he
should positively refuse to be trusted with any other; and so highly did
he resent the opposition made by the secretary to his promotion, that he
took measures for [Sidenote: 1704.] canvassing his native county, in
order to oppose in parliament a ministry who had so grossly affronted
him. The Duke of Queensberry, equally indignant at the delay, requested
an audience of his majesty, and tendered a surrender of his commission
as justice-general of Scotland, if the royal promise was not fulfilled.
In a few days the letter was despatched, and Lord Monboddo took his seat
in the court.’[354]


[Sidenote: FEB. 2.]

Under the excitement created by the news of a Jacobite plot, the zealous
Presbyterians of Dumfriesshire rose to wreak out their long pent-up
feelings against the Catholic gentry of their district. Having fallen
upon sundry houses, and pillaged them of popish books, images, &c., they
marched in warlike manner to Dumfries, under the conduct of James
Affleck of Adamghame and John M‘Jore of Kirkland, and there made solemn
incremation of their spoil at the Cross.

A number of ‘popish vestments, trinkets, and other articles’ having been
found about the same time in and about Edinburgh, the Privy Council
(March 14) ordered such of them as were not intrinsically valuable to be
burned next day at the Cross; but the chalice, patine, and other
articles in silver and gold, to be melted down, and the proceeds given
to the kirk-treasurer.[355]

Notwithstanding this treatment, we find it reported in 1709, that
‘papists do openly and avowedly practise within the city of Edinburgh
and suburbs.’ It was intimated at the same time, that there is ‘now also
a profane and deluded crew of enthusiasts, set up in this place, who,
under pretence to the spirit of prophecy, do utter most horrid
blasphemies against the ever-glorious Trinity, such as ought not to be
suffered in any Christian church or nation.’[356]

Sir George Maxwell of Orchardton, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright,
having gone over to the Church of Rome, and the next heir, who was a
Protestant, being empowered by the statute of 1700 to claim his estate,
his uncle, Thomas Maxwell of Gelstoun, a man of seventy years of age,
came forward on this adventure (June 1704), further demanding that the
young baronet should be decerned to pay him six thousand merks as a
year’s rent of his estate for employing George Maxwell of Munshes, a
known [Sidenote: 1704.] papist, to be his factor, and five hundred more
from Munshes himself for accepting the trust.

A petition presented by the worthy Protestant uncle to the Privy
Council, makes us aware that George Maxwell of Munshes, ‘finding he
would be reached for accepting the said factory, out of malice raised a
lawburrows,’ in which Orchardton concurred, though out of the kingdom,
against Gelstoun and his son, as a mere pretext for stopping
proceedings; but he trusted the Lords would see through the trick, and
defeat it by accepting the cautioners he offered for its suspension. The
Council, doubtless duly indignant that a papist should so try to save
his property, complied with Gelstoun’s petition.[357]


[Sidenote: APR. 12.]

A statute of the Sixth James, anno 1621—said to have been borrowed from
one of Louis XIII. of France—had made it unlawful for any tavern-keeper
to allow individuals to play in his house at cards and dice, or for any
one to play at such games in a private house, unless where the master of
the house was himself playing; likewise ordaining, that any sum above a
hundred merks gained at horse-racing, or in less than twenty-four hours
at other play, should be forfeited to the poor of the district. During
the ensuing period of religious strictness, we hear little of gambling
in Scotland, but when the spring was relaxed, it began to reappear with
other vices of ease and prosperity. A case, reported in the law-books
under July 1688, makes us aware, as by a peep through a curtain, that
gentlemen were accustomed at that time to win and lose at play sums
which appear large in comparison with incomes and means then general. It
appears that Captain Straiton, who was well known afterwards as a busy
Jacobite partisan, won from Sir Alexander Gilmour of Craigmillar, at
cards, in one night, no less than six thousand merks, or £338, 6_s._
8_d._ sterling. The captain first gained four thousand, for which he
obtained a bond from Sir Alexander; then he gained two thousand more,
and got a new bond for the whole. An effort was made to reduce the bond,
but without success.

Francis Charteris, a cadet of an ancient and honourable family in
Dumfriesshire, and who had served in Marlborough’s wars, was now
figuring in Edinburgh as a member of the _beau monde_, with the
reputation of being a highly successful gambler. There is a story told
of him—but I cannot say with what truth—that, being at the Duke of
Queensberry’s one evening, and playing with the [Sidenote: 1704.]
duchess, he was enabled, by means of a mirror, or more probably a couple
of mirrors placed opposite each other, to see what cards she had in her
hand, through which means he gained from her Grace no less a sum than
three thousand pounds. It is added that the duke was provoked by this
incident to get a bill passed through the parliament over which he
presided, for prohibiting gambling beyond a certain moderate sum; but
this must be a mistake, as no such act was then passed by the Scottish
Estates; nor was any such statute necessary, while that of 1621 remained
in force. We find, however, that the Town Council at this date issued an
act of theirs, threatening vigorous action upon the statute of 1621, as
concerned playing at cards and dice in public houses, as ‘the occasion
of horrid cursing, quarrelling, tippling, loss of time, and neglect of
necessary business—the constables to be diligent in detecting offenders,
on pain of having to pay the fines themselves.’ Perhaps it was at the
instigation of the duke that this step was taken.

From Fountainhall we learn that, about 1707, Sir Andrew Ramsay of
Abbotshall lost 28,000 merks, to Sir Scipio Hill, at cards and dice, and
granted a bond upon his estate for the amount. This being in
contravention of the act of 1621, the kirk-treasurer put in his claim
for all above 100 merks on behalf of the poor, but we do not learn with
what success.


[Sidenote: JULY 4.]

Sir Thomas Dalyell of Binns—grandson of the old bearded persecutor of
the times of the Charleses—had for a long time past been ‘troubled with
a sore disease which affects his reason, whereby he is continually
exposed to great dangers to his own person, by mobs, and others that
does trouble him.’ It was also found that ‘by the force of his disease,
he is liable to squander away and dilapidate his best and readiest
effects, as is too notourly known.’ Such is the statement of Sir
Thomas’s nephew, Robert Earl of Carnwath; his sister, Magdalen Dalyell;
and her husband, James Monteith of Auldcathie, craving authority, ‘for
the preservation of his person and estate, and also for the public
peace,’ to take him into custody in his house of Binns, ‘till means be
used for his recovery;’ likewise power to employ a factor ‘for uplifting
so much of his rents as may be necessar for his subsistence, and the
employing doctors and apothecaries, according to the exigence of his
present condition.’

The Council not only granted the petition, but ordained that the
petitioners might order up a soldier or two at any [Sidenote: 1704.]
time from Blackness, to assist in restraining the unfortunate gentleman.

This Sir Thomas Dalyell died unmarried, leaving his estates and
baronetcy to a son of his sister Magdalen, grandfather of the present
baronet. The case is cited as shewing the arrangements for a lunatic man
of rank in the days of Queen Anne.


[Sidenote: JULY.]

The central authorities were now little inclined to take up cases of
sorcery; but it does not appear that on that account witches ceased to
be either dreaded or punished. Country magistrates and clergy were
always to be found who sympathised with the popular terrors on the
subject, and were ready to exert themselves in bringing witches to
justice.

At the village of Torryburn, in the western part of Fife, a woman called
Jean Neilson experienced a tormenting and not very intelligible ailment,
which she chose to attribute to the malpractices of a woman named
Lillias Adie. Adie was accordingly taken up by a magistrate, and put in
prison. On the 29th July, the minister and his elders met in session,
called Lillias before them, and were gratified with an instant
confession, to the effect that she had been a witch for several years,
having met the devil at the side of a ‘stook’ on the harvest-field, and
renounced her baptism to him, not without a tender embrace, on which
occasion she found that his skin was cold, and observed his feet cloven
like those of a stirk. She had also joined in midnight dances where he
was present. Once, at the back of Patrick Sands’s house in Valleyfield,
the festivity was lighted by a light that ‘came from darkness,’ not so
bright as a candle, but sufficient to let them see each other’s faces,
and shew the devil, who wore a cap covering his ears and neck. Several
of the women she saw on these occasions she now delated as witches. The
session met again and again to hear such recitals, and to examine the
newly accused persons. There was little reported but dance-meetings of
the alleged witches, and conversations with the devil, the whole bearing
very much the character of what we have come to recognise as
hallucinations or spectral illusions. Yet the case of Adie was
considered sufficient to infer the pains of death, and she was burned
within the sea-mark. There were several other solemn meetings of the
session to inquire into the cases of the other women accused by Adie;
but we do not learn with what result.

The extreme length to which this affair was carried may be partly
attributed to the zeal of the minister, the Rev. Allan [Sidenote: 1704.]
Logan, who is said to have been particularly knowing in the detection of
witches. At the administration of the communion, he would cast his eye
along, and say: ‘You witch-wife, get up from the table of the Lord,’
when some poor creature, perhaps conscience-struck with a recollection
of wicked thoughts, would rise and depart, thus exposing herself to the
hazard of a regular accusation afterwards. He used to preach against
witchcraft, and we learn that, in 1709, a woman called Helen Key was
accused before the Torryburn session of using some disrespectful
language about him in consequence. She told a neighbour, it appears,
that on hearing him break out against the witches, she thought him
‘daft’ [mad], and took up her stool and left the kirk. For this she was
convicted of profanity, and ordained to sit before the congregation and
be openly rebuked.[358]

Rather earlier in the year, there was a remarkable outbreak of diablerie
at the small seaport burgh of Pittenweem, in the eastern part of Fife.
Here lived a woman named Beatrix or Beatie Laing, described as ‘spouse
to William Brown, tailor, late treasurer of the burgh,’ and who must
therefore be inferred to have been not quite amongst the poorer class of
people. In a petition from the magistrates (June 13, 1704) to the Privy
Council, it was stated that Patrick Morton was a youth of sixteen, ‘free
of any known vice,’ and that, being employed by his father to make some
nails for a ship belonging to one of the merchants in Pittenweem, he was
engaged at that work in his father’s smithy, when Beatrix Laing came and
desired him to make some nails for her. He modestly refused, alleging
that he was engaged in another job requiring haste, whereupon she went
away ‘threatening to be revenged, which did somewhat frighten him,
because he knew she was under a bad fame and reputed for a witch.’

Next day, as he passed Beatrix’s door, ‘he observed a timber vessel with
some water and a fire-coal in it at the door, which made him apprehend
that it was a charm laid for him, and the effects of her threatening;
and immediately he was seized with such a weakness in his limbs, that he
could hardly stand or walk.’ He continued for many weeks in a
languishing condition, in spite of all that physicians could do for him,
‘still growing worse, having no appetite, and his body strangely
emaciated. About the beginning of May, his case altered to the worse by
his having [Sidenote: 1704.] such strange and unusual fits as did
astonish all onlookers. His belly at times was distended to a great
height; at other times, the bones of his back and breast did rise to a
prodigious height, and suddenly fell,’ while his breathing ‘was like to
the blowing of a bellows.’ At other times, ‘his body became rigid and
inflexible, insomuch that neither his arms nor legs could be bowed or
moved by any strength, though frequently tried.’ His senses were
‘benumbed, and yet his pulse [continued] in good order.’ His head
sometimes turned half about, and no force could turn it back again. He
suffered grievous agonies. His tongue was occasionally drawn back in his
throat, ‘especially when he was telling who were his tormentors.’
Sometimes the magistrates or minister brought these people to his house,
and before he saw them, he would cry out they were coming, and name
them. The bystanders would cover his face, bring in the women he had
accused of tormenting him, besides others, and cause them to touch him
in succession; when he expressed pain as the alleged tormentors laid
their hands upon him, and in the other instances ‘no effect followed.’
It seemed to the magistrates that the young man was in much the same
condition with ‘that of Bargarran’s daughter in the west.’

Beatrix, and the other accused persons, were thrown into the jail of the
burgh by the minister and magistrates, with a guard of drunken fellows
to watch over them. Beatrix steadily refused to confess being a witch,
and was subjected to pricking, and kept awake for five days and nights,
in order to bring her to a different frame of mind. Sorely wounded, and
her life a burden to her, she at length was forced, in order to be rid
of the torment, to admit what was imputed to her. It will thus be
observed that the humane practice maintained during the whole of the
late cavalier reigns, of only accepting _voluntary_ confessions from
persons taxed with witchcraft, was no longer in force. The poor woman
afterwards avowing that what she had told them of her seeing the devil
and so forth was false, ‘they put her in the stocks, and then carried
her to the Thieves’ Hole, and from that transported her to a dark
dungeon, where she was allowed no manner of light, or human converse,
and in this condition she lay for five months.’ During this interval,
the sapient magistrates, with their parish minister, were dealing with
the Privy Council to get the alleged witches brought to trial. At first,
the design was entertained of taking them to Edinburgh for that purpose;
but ultimately, through the humane interference of the Earl of
[Sidenote: 1704.] Balcarres and Lord Anstruther,[359] two members of
council connected with the district, the poor women were set at liberty
on bail (August 12). This, however, was so much in opposition to the
will of the rabble, that Beatrix Laing was obliged to decamp from her
native town. ‘She wandered about in strange places, in the extremity of
hunger and cold, though she had a competency at home, but dared not come
near her own house for fear of the fury and rage of the people.’

It was indeed well for this apparently respectable woman that she, for
the meantime, remained at a distance from home. While she was wandering
about, another woman, named Janet Cornfoot, was put in confinement at
Pittenweem, under a specific charge from Alexander Macgregor, a
fisherman, to the effect that he had been beset by her and two others
one night, along with the devil, while sleeping in his bed. By torture,
Cornfoot was forced into acknowledging this fact, which she afterwards
denied privately, under equal terror for the confession and the
retractation. However, her case beginning to attract attention from some
persons of rank and education in the neighbourhood, the minister seems
to have become somewhat doubtful of it, and by his connivance she
escaped. Almost immediately, an officious clergyman of the neighbourhood
apprehended her again, and sent her back to Pittenweem in the custody of
two men.

Falling there into the hands of the populace, the wretched woman was
tied hard up in a rope, beaten unmercifully, and then dragged by the
heels through the streets and along the shore. The appearance of a
bailie for a brief space dispersed the crowd, but only to shew how
easily the authorities might have protected the victim, if they had
chosen. Resuming their horrible work, the rabble tied Janet to a rope
stretching between a vessel in the harbour and the shore, swinging her
to and fro, and amusing themselves by pelting her with stones. Tiring at
length of this sport, they let her down with a sharp fall upon the
beach, beat her again unmercifully, and finally, covering her with a
door, pressed her to death (January 30, 1705). A daughter of the
[Sidenote: 1704.] unhappy woman was in the town, aware of what was going
on, but prevented by terror from interceding. This barbarity lasted
altogether three hours, without any adequate interruption from either
minister or magistrates. Nearly about the same time, Thomas Brown, one
of those accused by the blacksmith, died in prison, ‘after a great deal
of hunger and hardship;’ and the bodies of both of these victims of
superstition were denied Christian burial.

The matter attracted the attention of the Privy Council, who appointed a
committee to inquire into it, but the ringleaders of the mob had fled;
so nothing could be immediately done. After some time, they were allowed
to return to the town free of molestation on account of the murder.
Well, then, might Beatrix Laing dread returning to her husband’s
comfortable house in this benighted burgh. After a few months, beginning
to gather courage, she did return, yet not without being threatened by
the rabble with the fate of Janet Cornfoot; wherefore it became
necessary for her to apply to the Privy Council for a protection. By
that court an order was accordingly issued to the Pittenweem
magistrates, commanding them to defend her from any tumults, insults, or
violence that might be offered to her.

At the close of this year, George and Lachlan Rattray were in durance at
Inverness, ‘alleged guilty of the horrid crimes of mischievous charms,
by witchcraft and malefice, sorcery or necromancy.’ It being
inconvenient to bring them to Edinburgh for trial, the Lords of Privy
Council issued a commission to Forbes of Culloden, Rose of
Kilravock, ... Baillie, commissary of Inverness, and some other
gentlemen, to try the offenders. The judges, however, were enjoined to
transmit their judgment for consideration, and not allow it to be put in
execution without warrant from the Council.

On the 16th July 1706, a committee of Council took into consideration
the verdict in the case of the two Rattrays, and finding it ‘agreeable
to the probation,’ ordained the men to be executed, under the care of
the magistrates of Inverness, on the last Wednesday of September next to
come. This order is subscribed by Montrose, Buchan, Northesk, Forfar,
Torphichen, Elibank, James Stewart, Gilbert Elliot, and Alexander
Douglas.


[Sidenote: AUG. 25.]

The functions of the five Lords Commissioners of Justiciary being of the
utmost importance, ‘concerning both the lives and fortunes of her
majesty’s lieges,’ the parliament settled on these [Sidenote: 1704.]
officers a salary of twelve hundred pounds Scots each, being about one
hundred pounds sterling.[360] They had previously had the same income
nominally, but being payable by precept of the commissioners of the
treasury, or the cash-keeper, it was, like most such dues, difficult to
realise, and, perhaps, could scarcely be said to exist.

At this time, the fifteen judges of the Court of Session had each two
hundred pounds sterling per annum, the money being derived from a grant
of £20,000 Scots out of the customs and interest on certain sums
belonging to the court.[361] Five of them, who were lords of the
criminal court also, were, as we here see, endowed with a further
salary, making three hundred in all. The situation of president—‘ane
imployment of great weight, requiring are assiduous and close
application,’ says the second President Dalrymple[362]—had usually, in
addition to the common salary, a pension, and a present of wines from
the Treasury, making up his income to about a thousand a year. By the
grace of Queen Anne, after the Union, the puisne judges of the Court of
Session got £300 a year additional, making five hundred in all;[363] and
this was their income for many years thereafter, the president
continuing to have one thousand per annum. In the salaries of the same
officers at the present day—£3000 to a puisne civil judge, with expenses
when he goes on circuit; £4800 to the President; and to the Lord
Justice-clerk, £4500—we see, as powerfully as in anything, the contrast
between the Scotland of a hundred and fifty years ago, and the Scotland
of our own time.


[Sidenote: AUG. 30.]

Patrick Smith professed to have found out a secret ‘whereby malt may be
dried by all sorts of fuel, whether coals, wood, or turf, so as to
receive no impression from the smoke thereof, and that in a more short
and less expensive manner than hath been known in the kingdom.’ He
averred that ‘the drink brewn of the said malt will be as clear as white
wine, free of all bad tincture, more relishing and pleasant to the
taste, and altogether more agreeable to human health than the ale hath
been heretofore known in the kingdom.’ Seeing how ‘ale is the ordinary
drink of the inhabitants thereof,’ the public utility of the discovery
was obvious. Patrick announced himself to the Privy Council as
[Sidenote: 1704.] willing to communicate his secret for the benefit of
the country, if allowed during a certain term to use it in an exclusive
manner, and sell the same right to others.

Their Lordships granted the desired privilege for nine years.


[Sidenote: AUG. 30.]

Ever since the year 1691, there had been a garrison of government
soldiers in Invergarry House, in Inverness-shire, the residence of
Macdonald of Glengarry. The proprietor esteemed himself a sufferer to
the extent of a hundred and fifty pounds a year, by damages to his lands
and woods, besides the want of the use of his house, which had been
reduced to a ruinous condition; and he now petitioned the government for
some redress, as well as for a removal of the garrison, the ‘apparent
cause’ of planting which had long ago ceased, ‘all that country being
still peaceable and quiet in due obedience to authority, without the
least apprehension of disturbance or commotion.’

The Council ordered Macdonald to be heard in his own cause before the
Lords of the Treasury, in presence of Brigadier Maitland, governor of
Fort-William, that a statement might be drawn up and laid before the
queen. ‘His circumstances,’ however, ‘being such, that he cannot safely
appear before their Lordships without ane personal protection,’ the
Council had to grant a writ discharging all macers and messengers from
putting any captions to execution against him up to the 20th of
September.

Before the time for the conference arrived, the Duke of Argyle put in a
representation making a claim upon Glengarry’s estate, so that it became
necessary to call in the aid of the Lord Advocate to make up the
statement for the royal consideration.


[Sidenote: SEP. 16.]

The family of the Gordons of Gicht have already attracted our attention
by their troubles as Catholics under Protestant persecution, and their
tendency to wild and lawless habits. After two generations of silence,
the family comes up again in antagonism to the law, but in the person of
the husband of an heiress. It appears that the Miss Gordon of Gicht who
gave birth to George Lord Byron, was not the first heiress who married
unfortunately.

The _heretrix_ of this period had taken as her husband Alexander
Davidson, younger of Newton, who, on the event, became with his father
(a rich man) bound to relieve the mother of his bride—‘the old Lady
Gicht’—of the debts of the family, in requital for certain advantages
conferred upon him. The mother had married as a [Sidenote: 1704.] second
husband Major-general Buchan, who commanded the Cavalier army after the
death of Lord Dundee, till he was defeated by Sir Thomas Livingstone at
Cromdale. By and by, Alexander Davidson, under fair pretences, through
James Hamilton of Cowbairdie, borrowed from his mother-in-law her copy
of the marriage-contract, which had not yet been registered; and when
the family creditors applied for payment of their debts, he did not
scruple to send them, or allow them to go to the old Lady Gicht and her
husband for payment. They, beginning to feel distressed by the
creditors, sought back the copy of the contract for their protection;
but as no entreaty could induce Davidson to return it to Cowbairdie,
they were obliged at last to prosecute the latter gentleman for its
restitution.

Cowbairdie, being at length, at the instance of old Lady Gicht and her
husband, taken upon a legal caption, was, with the messenger, John Duff,
at the Milton of Fyvie, at the date noted, on his way to prison, when
Davidson came to him with many civil speeches, expressive of his regret
for what had taken place. He entreated Duff to leave Cowbairdie there on
his parole of honour, and go and intercede with General Buchan and his
wife for a short respite to his prisoner, on the faith that the contract
should be registered within a fortnight, which he pledged himself should
be done. Duff executed this commission successfully; but when he came
back, Davidson revoked his promise. It chanced that another gentleman
had meanwhile arrived at the Milton, one Patrick Gordon, who had in his
possession a caption against Davidson for a common debt of a hundred
pounds due to himself. Seeing of what stuff Davidson was made, he
resolved no longer to delay putting this in execution; so he took Duff
aside, and put the caption into his hand, desiring him to take Gicht, as
he was called, into custody, which was of course immediately done.

In the midst of these complicated proceedings, a message came from the
young Lady Gicht, entreating them to come to the family mansion, a few
miles off, where she thought all difficulties might be accommodated. The
whole party accordingly went there, and were entertained very hospitably
till about two o’clock in the morning (Sunday), when the strangers rose
to depart, and Davidson came out to see them to horse, as a host was
bound to do in that age, but with apparently no design of going along
with them. Duff was not so far blinded by the Gicht hospitality, as to
forget that he would be under a very heavy responsibility if he should
allow Davidson to slip through his fingers. Accordingly, [Sidenote:
1704.] he reminded the laird that he was a prisoner, and must come along
with them; whereupon Davidson drew his sword, and called his servants to
the rescue, but was speedily overpowered by the messenger and his
assistant, and by the other gentlemen present. He and Cowbairdie were,
in short, carried back as prisoners that night to the Milton of Fyvie.

This place being on the estate of Gicht, Duff bethought him next day
that, as the tenants were going to church, they might gather about their
captive laird, and make an unpleasant disturbance; so he took forward
his prisoners to the next inn, where they rested till the Sabbath was
over. Even then, at Davidson’s entreaty, he did not immediately conduct
them to prison, but waited over Monday and Tuesday, while friends were
endeavouring to bring about an accommodation. This was happily so far
effected, the Earl of Aberdeen, and his son Lord Haddo, paying off Mr
Gordon’s claim on Davidson, and certain relatives becoming bound for the
registration of the marriage-contract.

From whatever motive—whether, as alleged, to cover a vitiation in the
contract, or merely out of revenge—Davidson soon after raised a process
before the Privy Council against Cowbairdie, Gordon, and Duff, for
assault and private imprisonment, concluding for three thousand pounds
of damages; but after a long series of proceedings, in the course of
which many witnesses were examined on both sides, the case was
ignominiously dismissed, and Davidson decerned to pay a thousand merks
as expenses.[364]


[Sidenote: DEC.]

Cash being scarce in the country, a rumour arose—believed to be promoted
by malicious persons—that the Privy Council intended by proclamation to
raise the value of the several coins then current. The unavoidable
consequence was a run upon the Bank of Scotland, which lasted twenty
days, and with such severity, that at last the money in its coffers was
exhausted, and payments at the bank were suspended; being the only
stoppage or suspension, properly so called, which has ever taken place
in this venerable institution since its starting in 1695, down to the
present day, besides one of an unimportant character, to be afterwards
adverted to. ‘That no person possessed of bank-notes should be a loser,
by having their money lie dead and useless, the proprietors of the bank,
in a general meeting, declared all bank-notes then current to bear
interest from the day that payments [Sidenote: 1704.] were stopped,
until they should be called in by the directors in order to
payment.’[365]

[Sidenote: DEC. 19.]

The Court of Directors (December 19) petitioned the Privy Council to
send a committee to inspect their books, and ‘therein see the
sufficiency of the security to the nation for the bank-notes that are
running, and to take such course as in their wisdom they might think
fit, for the satisfaction of those who might have bank-notes in their
hands.’

Accordingly, a committee of Council, which included Lord Belhaven, the
President of the Court of Session, the Lord Advocate, and the
Treasurer-depute, met in the bank-office at two o’clock next day; and
having examined the accounts both in charge and discharge, found that
‘the bank hath sufficient provisions to satisfy and pay all their
outstanding bills and debts, and that with a considerable overplus,
exceeding by a fourth part at least the whole foresaid bills and debts,
conform to ane abstract of the said account left in the clerk of
Council’s hands for the greater satisfaction of all concerned.’[366]

This report being, by permission of the Privy Council, printed, ‘gave
such universal satisfaction, that payments thereafter were as current as
ever, and no stop in business, everybody taking bank-notes, as if no
stop had been for want of specie, knowing that they would at last get
their money with interest.

‘At this time, the Company thought fit to call in a tenth of stock
[£10,000] from the adventurers, which was punctually paid by each
adventurer [being exactly a duplication of the acting capital, which was
only £10,000 before]; and in less than five months thereafter, the
Company being possessed of a good cash, the directors called in the
notes that were charged with interest, and issued new notes, or made
payments in money, in the option of the possessors of the old notes. And
very soon the affairs and negotiations of the bank went on as formerly,
and all things continued easy until the year 1708.’[367]


[Sidenote: DEC.]

Notwithstanding the extreme poverty now universally complained of,
whenever a man of any figure or importance died, there was enormous
expense incurred in burying him. On the death, at this time, of Lachlan
Mackintosh of Mackintosh—that is, the chief of the clan Mackintosh—there
were funeral [Sidenote: 1704.] entertainments at his mansion in
Inverness-shire for a whole month. Cooks and confectioners were brought
from Edinburgh, at great expense, to provide viands for the guests, and
liquors were set aflowing in the greatest profusion. On the day of the
interment, the friends and dependants of the deceased made a procession,
reaching all the way from Dalcross Castle to the kirk of Petty, a
distance of four miles! ‘It has been said that the expense incurred on
this occasion proved the source of pecuniary embarrassments to the
Mackintosh family to a recent period.’[368]

In the same month died Sir William Hamilton, who had for several years
held the office of a judge under the designation of Lord Whitelaw, and
who, for the last two months of his life, was Lord Justice-clerk, and
consequently, in the arrangements of that period, an officer of state.
It had pleased his lordship to assign the great bulk of his fortune,
being £7000 sterling, to his widow, the remainder going to his heir,
Hamilton of Bangour, of which family he was a younger son. Lord Whitelaw
was buried in the most pompous style, chiefly under direction of the
widow, but, to all appearance, with the concurrence of the heir, who
took some concern in the arrangements, or at least was held as
sanctioning the whole affair by his presence as chief mourner. The
entire expenses were £5189 Scots, equal to £432, 8_s._ 4_d._ sterling,
being more than two years’ salary of a judge of the Court of Session at
that time. The lady paid the tradesmen’s bills out of her ‘donative,’
which was thought a singularly large one; but, by and by, marrying
again, she raised an action against Bangour, craving allowance for Lord
Whitelaw’s funeral charges ‘out of her intromission with the
executry’—that is, out of the proceeds of the estate, apart from her
jointure. The heir represented that the charges were inordinate, while
his inheritance was small; but this view of the matter does not appear
to have been conclusive, for the Lords, by a plurality, decided that the
funeral expenses of a deceased person ‘must be allowed to the utmost of
what his character and quality will admit, without regard to what small
part of his fortune may come to his heir.’[369] They did, indeed,
afterwards modify this decision, allowing only just and necessary
expenses; but, what is to our present purpose, they do not appear to
have been startled at the idea of spending as much as two years of a
man’s income in laying him under the soil.

[Sidenote: 1704.]

The account of expenses at the funeral of a northern laird—Sir Hugh
Campbell of Calder, who died in March 1716—gives us, as it were, the
anatomy of one of these ruinous ceremonials. There was a charge of £55,
15_s._ ‘to buy ane cow, ane ox, five kids, two wedders, eggs, geese,
turkeys, pigs, and moorfowl,’ the substantials of the entertainment.
Besides £40 for brandy to John Finlay in Forres, £25, 4_s._ for claret
to John Roy in Forres, £82, 6_s._ to Bailie Cattenach at Aberdeen for
claret, and £35 to John Fraser in Clunas for ‘waters’—that is,
whisky—there was a charge by James Cuthbert, merchant, of £407, 8_s._
4_d._ for ‘22 pints brandy at 48_s._ per pint, 18 wine-glasses, 6 dozen
pipes, and 3 lb. cut tobacco, 2 pecks of apples, 2 gross corks, one
large pewter flagon at £6, and one small at £3, currants, raisins,
cinnamon, nutmegs, mace, ginger, confected carvy, orange and citron
peel, two pair black shambo gloves for women,’ and two or three other
small articles. There was also £40 for flour, £39, 12_s._ to the cooks
and baxters, and ‘to malt brewn from the said Sir Hugh’s death to the
interment, sixteen bolls and ane half,’ £88. [Sir Hugh’s body lay from
the 11th to the 29th March, and during these eighteen days there had
been ale for all comers.] The outlay for ‘oils, cerecloth, and
frankincense,’ used for the body, was £60; for ‘two coffins, tables, and
other work,’ £110, 13_s._ 4_d._; for the hearse and adornments connected
with it (inclusive of ‘two mortheads at 40_s._ the piece’), £358. With
the expenses for the medical attendant, a suit of clothes to the
minister, and some few other matters, the whole amounted to £1647,
16_s._ 4_d._, Scots money.[370] This sum, it will be observed, indicates
a comparatively moderate funeral for a man of such eminence; and we must
multiply everything by three, in order to attain a probable notion of
the eating, the drinking, and the pomp and grandeur which attended Lord
Whitelaw’s obsequies.

The quantity of liquor consumed at the Laird of Calder’s funeral
suggests that the house of the deceased must have been, on such
occasions, the scene of no small amount of conviviality. It was indeed
expected that the guests should plentifully regale themselves with both
meat and drink, and in the Highlands especially the chief mourner would
have been considered a shabby person if he did not press them to do so.
At the funeral of Mrs Forbes of Culloden, or, to use the phrase of the
day, Lady Culloden, her son Duncan, who afterwards became Lord President
[Sidenote: 1704.] of the Court of Session, conducted the festivities.
The company sat long and drank largely, but at length the word being
given for what was called the _lifting_, they rose to proceed to the
burialground. The gentlemen mounted their horses, the commonalty walked,
and all duly arrived at the churchyard, when, behold, no one could give
any account of the corpse! They quickly became aware that they had left
the house without thinking of that important part of the ceremonial; and
Lady Culloden still reposed in the chamber of death. A small party was
sent back to the house to ‘bring on’ the corpse, which was then
deposited in the grave with all the decorum which could be mustered in
such anti-funereal circumstances.[371]

Strange as this tale may read, there is reason to believe that the
occurrence was not unique. It is alleged to have been repeated at the
funeral of Mrs Home of Billie, in Berwickshire, in the middle of the
eighteenth century.

In our own age, we continually hear of the vice of living for
appearances, as if it were something quite unknown heretofore; but the
truth is, that one of the strongest points of contrast between the past
and the present times, is the comparative slavery of our ancestors to
irrational practices which were deemed necessary to please the eye of
society, while hurtful to the individual. This slavery was shewn very
strikingly in the customs attending funerals, and not merely among
people of rank, but in the humblest grades of the community. It was also
to be seen very remarkably in the custom of pressing hospitality on all
occasions beyond the convenience of guests, in drinking beyond one’s own
convenience to encourage them, and in the customs of the table
generally; not less so in the dresses and decorations of the human
figure, in all of which infinitely more personal inconvenience was
submitted to, under a sense of what was required by fashion, than there
is at the present day.


[Sidenote: 1705. JAN.]

Roderick Mackenzie, secretary to the African Company, advertised what
was called _An Adventure for the Curious_—namely, a raffle for the
possession of ‘a pair of extraordinary fine Indian screens,’ by a
hundred tickets at a guinea each. The screens were described as being on
sight at his office in Mylne’s Square, but only by ticket (price 5_d._),
in order to prevent that pressure of the [Sidenote: 1705.] mob which
might otherwise be apprehended. In these articles, the public was
assured, ‘the excellence of art vied with the wonderfulness of nature,’
for they represented a ‘variety of several kinds of living creatures,
intermixed with curious trees, plants, and flowers, all done in raised,
embossed, loose, and coloured work, so admirably to the life, that, at
any reasonable distance, the most discerning eye can scarcely
distinguish those images from the real things they represent,’ Nothing
of the kind, it was averred, had ever been seen in Scotland before,
‘excepting one screen of six leaves only, that is now in the palace at
Hamilton.’[372]


[Sidenote: JAN. 5.]

A general arming being now contemplated under the Act of Security, it
became important that arms should be obtained cheaply within the
country, instead of being brought, as was customary, from abroad. James
Donaldson, describing himself as ‘merchant in Edinburgh,’ but identical
with the Captain Donaldson who had established the _Edinburgh Gazette_
in 1699, came forward as an enterpriser who could help the country in
this crisis. He professed to have, ‘after great pains, found out ane
effectual way to make machines, whereby several parts of the art and
calling of smith-craft, particularly with relation to the making of
arms, may be performed without the strength and labour of men, such as
blowing with bellows, boring with run spindles, beating with hammers,
[and] striking of files.’ He craved permission of the Privy Council to
set up a work for the making of arms in this economical way, with
exclusive privileges for a definite period, as a remuneration.

The Council remitted the matter to the deacon of the smiths, for his
judgment, which was very much putting the lamb’s case to the wolf’s
decision. The worshipful deacon by and by reported that James Donaldson
was well known to possess no mechanic skill, particularly in smith-work,
so that his proposal could only be looked upon as ‘ane engine to
inhaunce a little money to supply his necessity.’ The ordinary smiths
were far more fit to supply the required arms, and had indeed a right to
do so, a right which Donaldson evidently meant to infringe upon. In
short, Donaldson was an insufferable interloper in a business he had
nothing to do with. The Council gave force to this report by refusing
Donaldson’s petition.

Not satisfied with this decision, Donaldson, a few days later,
[Sidenote: 1705.] presented a new petition, in which he more clearly
explained the kinds of smith-work which he meant to facilitate—namely,
‘forging, boring, and beating of gun-barrels, cutting of files, [and]
grinding and polishing of firearms,’ He exhibited ‘the model of the
engine for boring and polishing of gun-barrels, and demonstrated the
same, so that their lordships commended the same as ingenious and very
practicable.’ He further disclaimed all idea of interfering with the
privileges of the hammermen of Edinburgh, his ‘motive being nothing else
than the public good and honour of his country,’ and his intention being
to set up his work in a different place from the capital. What he
claimed was no more than what had been granted to other ‘inventors of
engines and mechanical improvements, as the manufactures for wool and
tow cards, that for gilded leather, the gunpowder manufacture, &c.’

The Lords, learning that much of the opposition of the hammermen was
withdrawn, granted the privileges claimed, on the condition that the
work should not be set up in any royal burgh, and should not interfere
with the rights of the Edinburgh corporation.


[Sidenote: FEB. 2.]

Under strong external professions of religious conviction, rigorous
Sabbath observance, and a general severity of manners, there prevailed
great debauchery, which would now and then come to the surface. On this
evening there had assembled a party in Edinburgh, who carried drink and
excitement to such a pitch, that nothing less than a dance in the
streets would satisfy them. There was Ensign Fleming of a Scots regiment
in the Dutch service (son of Sir James Fleming, late provost of
Edinburgh); there were Thomas Burnet, one of the guards; and John, son
of the late George Galbraith, merchant. The ten o’clock bell had rung,
to warn all good citizens home. The three bacchanals were enjoying their
frolic in the decent Lawnmarket, where there was no light but what might
come from the windows of the neighbouring houses; when suddenly there
approaches a sedan-chair, attended by one or two footmen, one of them
carrying a lantern. It was the Earl of Leven, governor of the Castle,
and a member of the Privy Council, passing home to his aërial lodging.
Most perilous was it to meddle with such a person; but the merry youths
were too far gone in their madness to inquire who it was or think of
consequences; so, when Galbraith came against one of the footmen, and
was warned off, he answered with an imprecation, and, turning to Fleming
and Burnet, told them what [Sidenote: 1705.] had passed. Fleming said it
would be brave sport for them to go after the chair and overturn it in
the mud; whereupon the three assailed Lord Leven’s servants, and broke
the lantern. His lordship spoke indignantly from his chair, and Fleming,
drawing his sword, wounded one of the servants, but was quickly
overpowered along with his companions.

The young delinquents speedily became aware of the quality of the man
they had insulted, and were of course in great alarm, Fleming in
particular being apprehensive of losing his commission. After a month’s
imprisonment, they were glad to come and make public profession of
penitence on their knees before the Council, in order to obtain their
liberty.[373]

On a Sunday, early in the same month, four free-living gentlemen,
including Lord Blantyre—then a hot youth of two-and-twenty—drove in a
hackney-coach to Leith, and sat in the tavern of a Mrs Innes all the
time of the afternoon-service. Thereafter they went out to take a ramble
on the sands, but by and by returned to drinking at the tavern of a
Captain Kendal, where they carried on the debauch till eight o’clock in
the evening. Let an Edinburgh correspondent of Mr Wodrow tell the
remainder of the story. Being all drunk—‘when they were coming back to
Edinburgh, in the very street of Leith, they called furiously to the
coachman and post-boy to drive. The fellows, I think, were drunk, too,
and ran in on the side of the causey, dung down [knocked over] a woman,
and both the fore and hind wheel went over her. The poor woman cried;
however, the coach went on; the woman died in half an hour. Word came to
the Advocate to-morrow morning, who caused seize the two fellows, and
hath been taking a precognition of the witnesses ... it will be a great
pity that the gentlemen that were in the coach be not soundly fined for
breach of Sabbath. One of them had once too great a profession to [make
it proper that he should] be guilty now of such a crime.’[374]

The desire to see these scapegraces punished for what was called breach
of Sabbath, without any regard to that dangerous rashness of conduct
which had led to the loss of an innocent life, is very characteristic of
Mr Wodrow’s style of correspondents.


[Sidenote: FEB. 19.]

Donaldson’s paper, _The Edinburgh Gazette_, which had been established
in 1699, continued in existence; and in the intermediate [Sidenote:
1705.] time there had also been many flying broadsides printed and sold
on the streets, containing accounts of extraordinary occurrences of a
remarkable nature, often scandalous. The growing inclination of the
public for intelligence of contemporary events was now shewn by the
commencement of a second paper in Edinburgh, under the title of _The
Edinburgh Courant_. The enterpriser, Adam Boig, announced that it would
appear on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, ‘containing most of the
remarkable foreign news from their prints, and also the home news from
the ports within this kingdom, when ships comes and goes, and from
whence, which it is hoped will prove a great advantage to merchants and
others within this nation (it being now altogether neglected).’ Having
obtained the sanction of the Privy Council, he, at the date noted,
issued the first number, consisting of a small folio in double columns,
bearing to be ‘printed by James Watson in Craig’s Close,’ and containing
about as much literary matter as a single column of a modern newspaper
of moderate size. There are two small paragraphs regarding criminal
cases then pending, and the following sole piece of mercantile
intelligence: ‘LEITH, _Feb. 16_.—This day came in to our Port the _Mary
Galley_, David Preshu, commander, laden with wine and brandy.’ There are
also three small advertisements, one intimating the setting up of
post-offices at Wigton and New Galloway, another the sale of lozenges
for the kinkhost [chincough] at 8_s._ the box.

The superior enterprise shewn in the conducting of the _Courant_, aided,
perhaps, by some dexterous commercial management, seems to have quickly
told upon the circulation of the _Gazette_; and we must regret, for the
sake of an old soldier, that the proprietor of the latter was unwise
enough to complain of this result to the Privy Council, instead of
trying to keep his ground by an improvement of his paper. He insinuated
that Boig, having first undersold him by ‘giving his paper to the
ballad-singers four shillings [4_d._ sterling] a quire below the common
price, as he did likewise to the postmaster,’ did still ‘so practise the
paper-criers,’ as to induce them to neglect the selling of the
_Gazette_, and set forth the _Courant_ as ‘preferable both in respect of
foreign and domestic news.’ By these methods, ‘the _Courant_ gained
credit with some,’ though all its foreign news was ‘taken verbatim out
of some of the London papers, and most part out of _Dyer’s Letter_ and
the _London Courant_, which are not of the best reputation.’ He, on the
other hand, ‘did never omit any domestic news that he judged pertinent,
though he never meddled [Sidenote: 1705.] with matters that he had cause
to believe would not be acceptable [flattery to the Privy Council], nor
every story and trifling matter he heard.’

A triumphant answer to such a complaint was but too easy. ‘The
petitioner,’ says Boig, ‘complains that I undersold him; that my
_Courant_ bore nothing but what was collected from foreign newspapers;
and that it gained greater reputation than his _Gazette_. As to the
first, it was his fault if he kept the _Gazette_ too dear; and I must
say that his profit cannot but be considerable when he sells at my
price, for all my news comes by the common post, and I pay the postage;
whereas John Bisset, his conjunct [that is, partner], gets his news all
by the secretary’s packet free of postage, which is at least eight
shillings sterling a week free gain to them. As to the second, I own
that the foreign news was collected from other newspapers, and I suppose
Mr Donaldson has not his news from first hands more than I did. But the
truth is, the _Courant_ bore more, for it always bore the home news,
especially anent our shipping, which I humbly suppose was one of the
reasons for its having a good report; and Mr Donaldson, though he had a
yearly allowance from the royal burghs, never touched anything of that
nature, nor settled a correspondent at any port in the kingdom, no, not
so much as at Leith. As to the third, it’s left to your Grace and
Lordships to judge if it be a crime in me that the _Courant_ had a
greater reputation than the _Gazette_.’

Connected, however, with this controversy, was an unlucky misadventure
into which Boig had fallen, in printing in his paper a petition to the
Privy Council from Evander M‘Iver, tacksman of the Scots Manufactory
Paper-mills, and James Watson, printer, for permission to complete the
reprinting of an English book, entitled _War betwixt the British
Kingdoms Considered_. While these petitioners thought only of their
right to reprint English books ‘for the encouragement of the
paper-manufactory and the art of printing at home, and for the keeping
of money as much as may be in the kingdom,’ the Council saw political
inconvenience and danger in the book, and every reference to it, and at
once stopped both the _Courant_, in which the advertisement appeared,
and the _Gazette_, which piteously as well as justly pleaded that it had
in no such sort offended. It was in the course of this affair that
Donaldson complained of Boig’s successful rivalry, and likewise of an
invasion by another person of his monopoly of burial-letters.

After an interruption of three months, Adam Boig was allowed to resume
his publication, upon giving strong assurance of more [Sidenote: 1705.]
cautious conduct in future. His paper continued to flourish for several
years. (See under March 6, 1706.)


[Sidenote: MAR. 5.]

In the early part of 1704, the sense of indignity and wrong which had
been inspired into the national mind by the Darien disasters and other
circumstances, was deepened into a wrathful hatred by the seizure of a
vessel named the _Annandale_, which the African Company was preparing
for a trading voyage to India. This proceeding, and the subsequent
forfeiture of the vessel before the Court of Exchequer, were defensive
acts of the East India Company, and there can be little doubt that they
were grossly unjust. In the subsequent autumn, an English vessel, named
the _Worcester_, belonging to what was called the Two Million Company (a
rival to the East India Company), was driven by foul weather into the
Firth of Forth. It was looked upon by the African Company as fair game
for a reprisal. On the 12th August, the secretary, Mr Roderick
Mackenzie, with a few associates, made an apparently friendly visit to
the ship, and was entertained with a bowl of punch. Another party
followed, and were received with equal hospitality. With only eleven
half-armed friends, he that evening overpowered the officers and crew,
and took the vessel into his possession. In the present temper of the
nation, the act, questionable as it was in every respect, was sure to
meet with general approbation.

Before Captain Green and the others had been many days in custody,
strange hints were heard amongst them of a piratical attack they had
committed in the preceding year upon a vessel off the coast of Malabar.
The African Company had three years ago sent out a vessel, called the
_Speedy Return_, to India, with one Drummond as its master, and it had
never since been heard of. It was concluded that the people of the
_Worcester_ had captured the _Speedy Return_, and murdered its crew, and
that Providence had arranged for their punishment, by sending them for
shelter from a storm to the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. Vainly might it
have been pointed out that there was no right evidence for even the fact
of the piracy, still less for the _Speedy Return_ being the subject of
the offence. Truth and justice were wholly lost sight of in the
universal thirst for vengeance against England and its selfish
mercantile companies.

Green, the captain of the _Worcester_, Mather, the chief-mate, Reynolds,
the second-mate, and fifteen others, were tried at this date before the
Court of Admiralty, for the alleged crime of [Sidenote: 1705.] attacking
a ship, having English or Scotch aboard, off the coast of Malabar, and
subsequently murdering the crew—no specific vessel or person being
mentioned as the subjects of the crime, and no nearer date being cited
than the months of February, March, April, or May 1703. The jury had no
difficulty in bringing them in guilty, and they were all condemned to be
hanged on the sands of Leith, the usual place for the execution of
pirates.

The English government was thrown into great anxiety by this violent
proceeding, but they could make no effectual resistance to the current
of public feeling in Scotland. There the general belief in the guilt of
Green and his associates was corroborated after the trial by three
several confessions, admitting the piratical seizing of Drummond’s
vessel, and the subsequent murder of himself and his crew—confessions
which can now only be accounted for, like those of witches, on the
theory of a desire to conciliate favour, and perhaps win pardon, by
conceding so far to the popular prejudices. The queen sent down
affidavits shewing that Drummond’s ship had in reality been taken by
pirates at Madagascar, while himself was on shore—a view of the fact
which there is now ample reason to believe to have been true. She also
sent to the Privy Council the expression of her desire that the men
should be respited for a time. But, beyond postponement for a week, all
was in vain. The royal will was treated respectfully, but set aside on
some technical irregularity. When the day approached for the execution
of the first batch of the condemned, it became evident that there was no
power in Scotland which could have saved these innocent men. The
Council, we may well believe, would have gladly conceded to the royal
will, but, placed as it was amidst an infuriated people, it had no
freedom to act. On the fatal morning (11th April), its movements were
jealously watched by a vast multitude, composed of something more than
the ordinary citizens of Edinburgh, for on the previous day all the more
ardent and determined persons living within many miles round had poured
into the city to see that justice was done. No doubt can now be
entertained that, if the authorities had attempted to save the condemned
from punishment, the mob would have torn them from the Tolbooth, and
hung every one of them up in the street. What actually took place is
described in a letter from Mr Alexander Wodrow to his father, the
minister of Eastwood: ‘I wrote last night,’ he says, ‘of the uncertainty
anent the condemned persons, and this morning things were yet at a
greater uncertainty, for the current report was that ane express was
come for a reprieve. [Sidenote: 1705.] How this was, I have not yet
learned; but the councillors went down to the Abbey [Palace of Holyrood]
about eight, and came up to the Council-house about nine, against which
time there was a strange gathering in the streets. The town continued in
great confusion for two hours, while the Council was sitting, and a
great rabble at the Netherbow port. All the guards in the Canongate were
in readiness if any mob had arisen. About eleven, word came out of the
Council [sitting in the Parliament Square] that three were to be
hanged—namely, Captain Green, Mather, and Simson. This appeased the mob,
and made many post away to Leith, where many thousands had been
[assembled], and were on the point of coming up in a great rage. When
the chancellor came out, he got many huzzas at first; but at the Tron
Kirk, some surmised to the mob that all this was but a sham; upon which
they assaulted his coach, and broke the glasses, and forced him to come
out and go into Mylne’s Square, and stay for a considerable time.

‘The three prisoners were brought with the Town-guards, accompanied with
a vast mob. They went through all the Canongate, and out at the
Water-port to Leith. There was a battalion of foot-guards, and also some
of the horse-guards, drawn up at some distance from the place of
execution. There was the greatest confluence of people there that ever I
saw in my life, for they cared not how far they were off, so be it they
saw. Green was first execute, then Simson, and last of all Mather. They
every one of them, when the rope was about their necks, denied they were
guilty of that for which they were to die. This indeed put all people to
a strange demur. There’s only this to alleviate it, that they confessed
no other particular sins more than that, even though they were posed
anent their swearing and drunkenness, which was weel known.’[375]


[Sidenote: SEP. 11.]

The Scottish parliament was not much given to the patronising of
literature. We have, indeed, seen it giving encouragement to Adair’s
maps of the coasts, and Slezer’s views of the king’s and other mansions;
but it was in a languid and ineffective way, by reason of the lack of
funds. At this time, the assembled wisdom of the nation was pleased to
pass an act enabling the town-council of Glasgow to impose two pennies
(⅕th of a penny sterling) upon the pint of ale brewn and vended in that
town; and out of this [Sidenote: 1705.] ‘gift in favours of the town of
Glasgow,’ as it was quite sincerely called, there was granted three
thousand six hundred pounds (£300 sterling) to Mr James Anderson, writer
to her majesty’s signet, ‘for enabling him to carry on an account of the
ancient and original charters and seals of our kings in copper-plates.’
Why the ale-drinkers of Glasgow should have been called upon to furnish
the country with engraved copies of its ancient charters, was a question
which probably no one dreamed of asking.

In February 1707, the parliament, then about to close its existence,
ordered to Mr Anderson the further sum of £590 sterling, to repay him
for his outlay on the work, with a further sum of £1050 to enable him to
go on and complete it. This was done after due examination by a
committee, which reported favourably of the curious and valuable
character of his collections. Soon after, the parliament, in
consideration of the great sufferings of the town of Dundee in the time
of the troubles and at the Revolution, and of ‘the universal decay of
trade, especially in that burgh,’ granted it an imposition of two
pennies Scots on every pint of ale or beer made or sold in the town for
twenty-four years; but this _gift_ was _burdened_ with a hundred pounds
sterling _per annum_ for six years to Mr James Anderson, as part of the
sum the parliament had agreed to confer upon him for the encouragement
of his labours.[376]


[Sidenote: NOV.]

Died Alexander third Earl of Kincardine, unmarried, a nobleman of
eccentric character. His father, the second earl, is spoken of by Burnet
in the highest terms; his mother was a Dutch lady, Veronica, daughter of
Corneille, Lord of Sommelsdyk and Spycke. [Readers of Boswell will
remember his infant daughter Veronica, with whom Johnson was pleased, so
named from the biographer’s great-grandmother, Veronica, Countess of
Kincardine.] The earl now deceased, probably through his parental
connection with the Low Countries, had contracted the religious
principles of the Flemish saint or seeress, Antonia Bourignon, which,
like every other departure from pure Presbyterianism and the Westminster
Confession, were detested in Scotland. Wodrow tells us: ‘I have it from
very good hands, Lieutenant-colonel Erskine[377] and Mr Allan Logan,
[Sidenote: 1705.] who were frequently with him, that the late Earl of
Kincardine did fast forty days and nights after he turned Burrignianist,
[and] lived several years after. He was very loose before he turned to
these errors; and after a while being in them, he turned loose again,
and died in a very odd manner. Many thought him possessed. He would have
uttered the most dreadful blasphemies that can be conceived, and he told
some things done at a distance, and repeated Mr Allan Logan’s words,
which he had in secret, and told things it was impossible for anybody to
know.’[378]


The more active minds of the country continued constantly seething with
schemes for the promotion of industry, and the remedy of the standing
evil of poverty. In this year there was published an _Essay on the New
Project of a Land Mint_, which might be considered a type of the more
visionary plans. It rested on what would now be called one of the
commonplaces of false political economy. The proposed Land Mint was a
kind of bank for the issue of notes, to be given only on landed
security. Any one intending to borrow, say a thousand pounds of these
notes, pledged unentailed land-property to that amount, _plus_ interest
and possible expenses, undertaking to pay back a fifth part each year,
with interest on the outstanding amount, till all was discharged. It was
thought that, by these means, money would be, as it were, created; the
country would be spirited up to hopeful industrial undertakings;
and—everything requiring a religious aspect in those days—the people
would be enabled to resist the designs of a well-known sovereign,
‘aiming now at a Catholic monarchy;’ for, while Louis XIV. might become
sole master of the plate (that is, silver) of the world, what would it
matter ‘if we and other nations should substitute another money, equal
in all cases to plate?’ The only fear the author could bring himself to
entertain, was as to possible counterfeiting of the notes. This being
provided against by an ingenious expedient suggested by himself, there
remained no difficulty and no fear whatever.[379]


[Sidenote: 1706. MAR.]

Although the incessant violences which we have seen mark an early period
embraced by our Annals were no more, it cannot be [Sidenote: 1705.] said
that the crimes of violent passion had become infrequent. On the
contrary, it appeared as if the increasing licence of manners since the
Revolution, and particularly the increasing drunkenness of the upper
classes, were now giving occasion for a considerable number of homicides
and murders. We have seen a notable example of reckless violence in the
case of the Master of Rollo in 1695. There was about the same time a
Laird of Kininmont, who—partly under the influence of a diseased
brain—was allowed to commit a considerable number of manslaughters
before it was thought necessary to arrest him in his course.

Archibald Houston, writer to the signet in Edinburgh, acted as factor
for the estate of Braid, the property of his nephew, and in this
capacity he had incurred the diligence of the law on account of some
portion of Bishops’ rents which he had failed to pay. Robert Kennedy of
Auchtyfardel, in Lanarkshire, receiving a commission to uplift these
arrears, found it to be his duty to give Houston a charge of horning for
his debt.

[Sidenote: MAR. 20.]

One day, Kennedy and his two sons left their house in the Castle Hill of
Edinburgh, to go to the usual place of rendezvous at the Cross, when,
passing along the Luckenbooths, he was accosted by Mr Houston with
violent language, referring to the late legal proceedings. Kennedy, if
his own account is to be trusted, gave no hard language in return, but
made an effort to disengage himself from the unseemly scene, and moved
on towards the Cross. Houston, however, followed and renewed the brawl,
when it would appear that Gilbert Kennedy, Auchtyfardel’s eldest son,
was provoked to strike his father’s assailant on the face. The people
now began to flock about the party—Kennedy again moved on; but before he
had got many paces away, he heard the sounds of a violent collision, and
turned back with his cane uplifted to defend his son. It is alleged that
Kennedy fell upon Houston with his cane—he had no weapon on his
person—and while he did so, young Gilbert Kennedy drew his sword, and,
rushing forward, wounded Houston mortally in the belly. The unfortunate
man died a few days afterwards.[380]

Auchtyfardel’s share in this transaction was held to infer his liability
to an arbitrary punishment. Gilbert fled, and was outlawed, but
afterwards was permitted to return home, and in time he succeeded to his
father’s estate. We hear of him in [Sidenote: 1705.] 1730, as having
been brought by that sad act of his youth into a very serious and
religious frame of life. He was an elder of the church, and took great
care of the morals of his servants. A maid, whom he on one occasion
reproved severely, was led, by a diabolic spite, to mix some arsenic
with the bread and milk which she prepared for the family breakfast, and
the death of Houston had very nearly been avenged at the distance of
twenty-four years from its occurrence. Happily, through the aid of a
physician, the laird and his family escaped destruction.[381]

A case more characteristic of the age than that of young Auchtyfardel
occurred in the ensuing year. David Ogilvie of Cluny, having first
thrust himself upon a funeral-party at the village of Meigle, and there
done his best to promote hard drinking, insisted on accompanying two or
three of the gentlemen on their way home, though his own lay another
way. While proceeding along, he gave extreme annoyance to Andrew Cowpar,
younger of Lochblair, by practical jokes of a gross kind, founded on the
variance of sex in their respective horses. At length, Cowpar giving the
other’s horse a switch across the face, to make it keep off, Ogilvie
took violent offence at the act, demanded Cowpar’s whip under a threat
of being otherwise pistolled, and, on a refusal, actually took out a
pistol and shot his companion dead. The wretched murderer escaped
abroad.

In January 1708, Robert Baird, son of Sir James Baird of Sauchtonhall,
had a drinking-match in a tavern at Leith, where he particularly
insisted on his friend, Mr Robert Oswald, being filled drunk. On Oswald
resisting repeated bumpers, Baird demanded an apology from him, as if he
had committed some breach of good-manners. He refused, and thus a
drunken sense of resentment was engendered in the mind of Baird. At a
late hour, they came up to Edinburgh in a coach, and leaving the vehicle
at the Nether Bow, were no sooner on the street, than Baird drew his
sword, and began to push at Oswald, upon whom he speedily inflicted two
mortal wounds. He fled from the scene, leaving a bloody and broken sword
beside his expiring victim.

On the ground of its not being ‘forethought felony,’ Baird was some
years afterwards allowed by the Court of Justiciary to have the benefit
of Queen Anne’s act of indemnity.


[Sidenote: 1706. OCT.]

Early in this month, Scotland was honoured with a visit from [Sidenote:
1705.] the celebrated Daniel Defoe. His noted power and probity as a
Whig pamphleteer suggested to the English ministry the propriety of
sending him down for a time to Edinburgh, to help on the cause of the
Union. He came with sympathies for the people of Scotland, founded on
what they had suffered under the last Stuart reigns. Instead of
believing all to be barren and hopeless north of the Tweed, he viewed
the country as one of great capabilities, requiring only peace and
industry to become a scene of prosperity equal to what prevailed in
England. To this end he deemed an incorporating union of the two
countries necessary, and it was therefore with no small amount of
good-will that he undertook the mission assigned to him.

Even, however, from one regarding it so fraternally as Defoe, Scotland
was little disposed to accept a recommendation of that measure. It was
in vain that he published a complaisant poem about the people, under the
name of _Caledonia_, in which he commended their bravery, their
learning, and abilities. Vainly did he declare himself their friend,
anxious to promote their prosperity by pointing to improved agriculture,
to fisheries, to commerce, and to manufactures. The Edinburgh people saw
him daily closeted with the leaders of the party for the hated union,
and that was enough. His pen displayed its wonted activity in answers to
the objectors, and his natural good-humour seems never to have failed
him, even when he was assailed with the most virulent abuse. But his
enemies did not confine themselves to words: threats of assassination
reached him. His lodgings were marked, and his footsteps were tracked;
yet he held serenely on in his course. He even entered upon some little
enterprises in the manufacture of linen, for the purpose of shewing the
people what they might do for themselves, if they would adopt right
methods. It appears that, during the tumults which took place in
Edinburgh while the measure was passing through parliament, he was in
real danger. One evening, when the mob was raging in the street, he
looked out of his window to behold their proceedings, and was nearly hit
by a large stone which some one threw at him, the populace making a
point that no one should look over windows at them, lest he might
recognise faces, and become a witness against individual culprits.

Defoe spent sixteen months in Scotland on this occasion, rendering much
modest good service to the country, and receiving for it little
remuneration besides abuse. Amongst other fruits of his industry during
the period is his laborious work, [Sidenote: 1706.] _The History of the
Union of Great Britain_. One could have wished a record tracing the
daily life of this remarkable man in Scotland. “We only get an obscure
idea of some of his public transactions. One of the few private
particulars we have learned, is that he paid a visit to the Duke of
Queensberry at Drumlanrig, and by his Grace’s desire, took a view of his
estates, with a view to the suggestion of improvements.

Defoe revisited Scotland in the summer of 1708, on a mission the purpose
of which has not been ascertained; and again in the summer of 1709. His
stay on the last occasion extended to nearly two years, during part of
which time, in addition to constant supplies of articles for his
_Review_ in London, he acted as editor of the _Edinburgh Courant_
newspaper.[382] (See the next article).


[Sidenote: 1707. MAR. 6.]

In a folio published this day by Captain James Donaldson, under the
title of the _Edinburgh Courant Reviewed_, we learn that the _Edinburgh
Gazette_, which, as we have seen, was commenced in 1699, had now
succumbed to fate: damaged by the persevering policy of Adam Boig of the
_Courant_, the _Gazette_ ‘of late has been laid aside, as a thing that
cannot be profitably carried on.’

Donaldson here reviews the charges made against his paper, as to
partiality and staleness of news, defends it to some extent, but
practically admits the latter fault, by stating that he was about to
remedy it. He was going to recommence the _Edinburgh Gazette_ in a new
series, in which he would ‘take a little more liberty, and give stories
as they come,’ without waiting, as before, for their authentication,
though taking care where they were doubtful to intimate as much. The
_Gazette_ did, accordingly, resume its existence on the 25th of the same
month, as a twice-a-week paper. The first number contains three
advertisements, one of a sale of house-property, another of the wares of
the Leith glass-work, and a third as follows: ‘There is a gentleman in
town, who has an secret which was imparted to him by his father, an
eminent physician in this kingdom, which by the blessing of God cures
the Phrensie and Convulsion Fits. He takes no reward for his pains till
the cure be perfyted. He will be found at the Caledonian Coffee-house.’

In a series of the _Gazette_ extending from the commencement to the
140th number, published on the 2d September 1708, there is a remarkable
sterility of home-news, and anything that is [Sidenote: 1707.] told is
told, in a dry and sententious way. The following alone seem worthy of
transcription:

‘LEITH, _May 19_ [1707].—Last Saturday, about 50 merchant-ships, bound
for Holland, sailed from our Road, under convoy of two Dutch
men-of-war.’

‘EDINBURGH, _August 5_.—This day the Equivalent Money came in here from
South Britain, in thirteen waggons drawn by six horses.’

_Sep. 30._—‘_Dyer’s Letter_ says: Daniel de Foe is believed by this time
in the hands of justice at the complaint of the Swedish minister, and
now a certain man of law may have an opportunity to reckon with him for
a crime which made him trip to Scotland, and make him oblige the world
with another _Hymn to the Pillory_.’

Strange to say, less than three years after this date, namely, in
February 1710, the ‘unabashed Defoe’ was conducting the rival newspaper
in Edinburgh—the _Courant_—succeeding in this office Adam Boig, who had
died in the preceding month. The authority of Defoe for his editorship
appears in the following decree of the Town Council:

                                ‘Att Edinburgh the first day of February
                                    j^m. vij^c. and ten years:

‘The same day The Councill authorized Mr Daniel Defoe to print the
_Edinburgh Currant_ in place of the deceast Adam Bog Discharging hereby
any other person to print News under the name of the _Edinburgh
Currant_.’

The advertisements are also very scanty, seldom above three or four, and
most of these repeated frequently, as if they were reprinted
gratuitously, in order to make an appearance of business in this line.
The following are selected as curious:

_May 13, 1707._—‘This is to give notice to all who have occasion for a
black hersse, murning-coach, and other coaches, just new, and in good
order, with good horses well accoutred, that James Mouat, coachmaster in
Lawrence Ord’s Land at the foot of the Canongate, will serve them
thankfully at reasonable rates.’

‘Ralph Agutter of London, lately come to Edinburgh, Musical
Instrument-maker, is to be found at Widow Pool’s, perfumer of gloves, at
her house in Stonelaw’s Close, a little below the Steps; makes the
Violin, Bass Violin, Tenor Violin, the Viol de Gambo, the Lute Quiver,
the Trumpet Marine, the Harp; and mendeth and putteth in order and
stringeth all those instruments as fine as any man whatsoever in the
three kingdoms, or elsewhere, and [Sidenote: 1707.] mendeth the
Virginal, Spinnat, and Harpsichord, all at reasonable rates.’

_Oct. 16._—‘There is just now come to town the Excellent Scarburray
Water, good for all diseases whatsomever except consumption; and this
being the time of year for drinking the same, especially at the fall of
the leaf and the bud, the price of each chopin bottle is fivepence, the
bottle never required, or three shilling without the bottle. Any person
who has a mind for the same may come to the Fountain Close within the
Netherbow of Edinburgh, at William Mudie’s, where the Scarsburray woman
sells the same.’

_August 12, 1708._—‘George Williamson, translator [_alias_ cobbler] in
Edinburgh, commonly known by the name of Bowed Geordie, who swims on
face, back, or any posture, forwards or backwards; plums, dowks, and
performs all the antics that any swimmer can do, is willing to attend
any gentleman, and to teach them to swim, or perform his antics for
their divertisement: is to be found in Luckie Reid’s at the foot of
Gray’s Close, on the south side of the street, Edinburgh.’

In September 1707, it is advertised that at the Meal Girnel of Primrose,
oatmeal, the produce of the place, was sold at four pounds Scots the
boll for the crop of 1706, while the crop of the preceding year was £3,
13_s._ 4_d._; in the one case, 6_s._ 8_d._; in the other, 6_s._ 4_d._
sterling.


[Sidenote: APR. 9.]

The Master of Burleigh—eldest son of Lord Balfour of Burleigh, a peer
possessed of considerable estates in Fife—had fallen in love with a girl
of humble rank, and was sent abroad by his friends, in the hope that
time and change of scene would save him from making a low marriage. He
was heard to declare before going, that if she married in his absence,
he would take the life of her husband. The girl was, nevertheless,
married to Henry Stenhouse, schoolmaster of Inverkeithing. The Master
was one of those hot-headed persons whom it is scarcely safe to leave at
large, and who yet do not in general manifest the symptoms that justify
restraint. Learning that his mistress was married, and to whom, he came
at this date with two or three mounted servants to the door of the poor
schoolmaster, who, at his request, came forth from amongst his pupils to
speak to the young gentleman.

‘Do you know me?’ said Balfour.

‘No.’

[Sidenote: 1707.]

‘I am the Master of Burleigh. You have spoken to my disadvantage, and I
am come to fight you,’

‘I never saw you before,’ said the schoolmaster, ‘and I am sure I never
said anything against you.’

‘I must nevertheless fight with you, and if you won’t, I will at once
shoot you.’

‘It would be hard,’ said the schoolmaster, ‘to force a man who never
injured you into a fight. I have neither horse nor arms, and it is
against my principles to fight duels.’

‘You must nevertheless fight,’ said the Master, ‘or be shot instantly;’
and so saying, he held a pistol to Stenhouse’s breast.

The young man continuing to excuse himself, Balfour at length fired, and
gave the schoolmaster a mortal wound in the shoulder, saying with savage
cruelty: ‘Take that to be doing with.’ Then, seeing that an alarm had
arisen among the neighbours, he rode off, brandishing a drawn sword, and
calling out: ‘Hold the deserter!’ in order to divert the attention of
the populace. The unfortunate schoolmaster died in a few days of his
wound.

The Master for a time escaped pursuit, but at length he was brought to
trial, July 28, 1709, and adjudged to be beheaded at the Cross of
Edinburgh, on the ensuing 6th of January. During this unusually long
interval, he escaped from the Tolbooth by changing clothes with his
sister. He was not again heard of till May 1714, when he appeared
amongst a number of Jacobite gentlemen at the Cross of Lochmaben, to
drink the health of James VIII. The family title had by this time
devolved on him by the death of his father; but his property had all
been escheat by sentence of the Court of Justiciary. His appearance in
the rebellion of 1715, completed by attainder the ruin of his family,
and he died unmarried and in obscurity in 1757.[383]


[Sidenote: APR. 25.]

A great flock of the _Delphinus Deductor_, or Ca’ing Whale—a cete about
twenty-five feet long—came into the Firth of Forth, ‘roaring, plunging,
and threshing upon one another, to the great terror of all who heard the
same.’ It is not uncommon for this denizen of the arctic seas to appear
in considerable numbers on the coasts of Zetland; and occasionally they
present themselves on the shores of Caithness and Sutherlandshire; but
to come so far south as the Firth of Forth is very rare: hence the
astonishment which the incident seems to have created. The contemporary
[Sidenote: 1707.] chronicler goes on to state: ‘Thirty-five of them were
run ashore upon the sands of Kirkcaldy, where they made yet a more
dreadful roaring and tossing when they found themselves aground,
insomuch that the earth trembled.’ ‘What the unusual appearance of so
great a number of them at this juncture [the union of the kingdoms] may
portend shall not be our business to inquire.’[384]


[Sidenote: AUG.]

The fifteenth article of the treaty of Union provided that England
should pay to Scotland the sum of £398,085, 10_s._, because of the
arrangement for the equality of trade between the two countries having
necessitated that Scotland should henceforth pay equal taxes with
England—a rule which would otherwise have been inequitable towards
Scotland, considering that a part of the English revenue was required
for payment of the interest on her seventeen millions of national debt.
It was likewise provided by the act of Union, that out of this
Equivalent Money, as it was called, the commissioners to be appointed
for managing it should, in the first place, pay for any loss to be
incurred by the renovation of the coin; in the second, should discharge
the losses of the African Company, which thereupon was to cease; the
overplus to be applied for payment of the comparatively trifling
state-debts of Scotland, and to furnish premiums to the extent of £2000
a year for the improvement of the growth of wool for seven
years—afterwards for the improvement of fisheries and other branches of
the national industry.

Defoe, who was now living in Scotland, tells how those who hated the
Union spoke and acted about the Equivalent. The money not being paid in
Scotland on the very day of the incorporation of the two countries, the
first talk was—the English have cheated us, and will never pay; they
intended it all along. Then an idea got abroad, that by the non-payment
the Union was dissolved; ‘and there was a discourse of some gentlemen
who came up to the Cross of Edinburgh, and protested, in the name of the
whole Scots nation, That, the conditions of the treaty not being
complied with, and the terms performed, the whole was void.’ At length,
in August, the money came in twelve wagons, guarded by a party of Scots
dragoons, and was carried directly to the Castle. Then those who had
formerly been loudest in denouncing the English for not forwarding the
money, became furious because [Sidenote: 1707.] it was come. They hooted
at the train as it moved along the street, cursing the soldiers who
guarded it, and even the horses which drew it. One person of high
station called out that those who brought that money deserved to be cut
to pieces. The excitement increased so much before the money was secured
in the Castle, that the mob pelted the carters and horses on their
return into the streets, and several of the former were much hurt.

It was soon discovered that, after all, only £100,000 of the money was
in specie, the rest being in Exchequer bills, which the Bank of England
had ignorantly supposed to be welcome in all parts of her majesty’s
dominions. This gave rise to new clamours. It was said the English had
tricked them by sending paper instead of money. Bills, only payable four
hundred miles off, and which, if lost or burned, would be irrecoverable,
were a pretty price for the obligation Scotland had come under to pay
English taxes. The impossibility of satisfying or pleasing a defeated
party was never better exemplified.

The commissioners of the Equivalent soon settled themselves in one of Mr
Robert Mylne’s houses in Mylne’s Court, and proceeded to apply the money
in terms of the act. One of their first proceedings was to send to
London for £50,000 in gold, in substitution for so much of paper-money,
that they might, as far as possible, do away with the last clamour. ‘Nor
had this been able to carry them through the payment, had they not very
prudently taken all the Exchequer bills that any one brought them, and
given bills of exchange for them payable in London.’[385] Defoe adverts
to a noble individual—doubtless the Duke of Hamilton—who came for
payment of his share of the African Company’s stock (£3000), with the
interest, and who refused to take any of the Exchequer bills, probably
thinking thus to create some embarrassment; but the commissioners
instantly ordered the claim to be liquidated in gold.

Notwithstanding all the ravings and revilings about the Equivalent,
Defoe assures us that, amongst the most malcontent persons he never
found any who, having African stock, refused to take their share of the
unhallowed money in exchange for it. Even the despised Exchequer bills
were all despatched so quickly, that, in six months, not one was to be
seen in the country.

Out of the Equivalent, the larger portion—namely, £229,611, 4_s._
8_d._—went to replace the lost capital of the African Company,
[Sidenote: 1707.] and so could not be considered as rendered to the
nation at large. For ‘recoining the Scots and foreign money, and
reducing it to the standard of the coin of England,’ £49,888, 14_s._
11⅙_d._ was expended. There was likewise spent out of this fund, for the
expenses of the commissioners and secretaries who had been engaged in
carrying through the Union, £30,498, 12_s._ 2_d._ After making sundry
other payments for public objects, there remained in 1713 but £16,575,
14_s._ 0½_d._ unexpended.[386]

We shall afterwards see further proceedings in the matter of the
Equivalent.


[Sidenote: OCT. 3.]

Walter Scott of Raeburn, grandson of the Quaker Raeburn who suffered so
long an imprisonment for his opinions in the reign of Charles II.,[387]
fought a duel with Mark Pringle, youngest son of Andrew Pringle of
Clifton. It arose from a quarrel the two gentlemen had the day before at
the head-court of Selkirk. They were both of them young men, Scott being
only twenty-four years of age, although already four years married, and
a father. The contest was fought with swords in a field near the town,
and Raeburn was killed. The scene of this melancholy tragedy has ever
since been known as _Raeburn’s Meadow-spot_.

Pringle escaped abroad; became a merchant in Spain; and falling, on one
occasion, into the hands of the Moors, underwent such a series of
hardships, as, with the Scottish religious views of that age, he might
well regard as a Heaven-directed retribution for his rash act.
Eventually, however, realising a fortune, he returned with honour and
credit to his native country, and purchased the estate of Crichton in
Edinburghshire. He died in 1751, having survived the unhappy affair of
Raeburn’s Meadow-spot for forty-four years; and his grandson, succeeding
to the principal estate of the family, became Pringle of Clifton.


The sixteenth article of the act of Union, while decreeing that a
separate mint should be kept up in Scotland ‘under the same rules as the
mint in England’—an arrangement afterwards broken through—concluded that
the money thereafter used should be of the same standard and fineness
throughout the United Kingdom. It thus became necessary to call in all
the existing coin of Scotland, and substitute for it money uniform with
that of England. It was at the same time provided by the act of Union,
that any [Sidenote: 1707.] loss incurred by the renewal of the coin of
Scotland should be compensated out of the fund called the
Equivalent.[388]

The business of the change of coinage being taken into consideration by
the Privy Council of Scotland, several plans for effecting it were laid
before that august body; but none seemed so suitable or expedient as one
proposed by the Bank of Scotland, which was to this effect: ‘The
Directors undertook to receive in all the species that were to be
recoined, at such times as should be determined by the Privy Council,
and to issue bank-notes or current money for the same, in the option of
the ingiver of the old species, and the Privy Council allowing a half
_per cent._ to the Bank for defraying charges;’[389] the old money to be
taken to the mint and coined into new money, which should afterwards
replace the notes.

Mr David Drummond, treasurer of the Bank, ‘a gentleman of primitive
virtue and singular probity,’ according to Thomas Ruddiman—a hearty
Jacobite, too, if his enemies did not belie him—had a chief hand in the
business of the renovation of the coin, about which he communicated to
Ruddiman some memoranda he had taken at the time.

‘There was brought into the Bank of Scotland in the year 1707:

                                                      Value in Sterling
                                                            Money.

 Of foreign silver money,                             £132,080 : 17 : 00

 Milled Scottish coins [improved coinage subsequent
   to 1673],                                            96,856 : 13 : 00

 Coins struck by hammer [the older Scottish coin],     142,180 : 00 : 00

 English milled coin,                                   40,000 : 00 : 00

                                                      ——————————————————

 Total,                                               £411,117 : 10 : 00

‘This sum, no doubt, made up by far the greatest part of the silver
coined money current in Scotland at that time; but it was not to be
expected that the whole money of that kind could be brought into the
bank; for the folly of a few misers, or the fear that people might have
of losing their money, or various other dangers and accidents, prevented
very many of the old Scots coins from being brought in. A great part of
these the goldsmiths, in aftertimes, consumed by melting them down; some
of them have been exported to foreign countries; a few are yet [1738] in
private hands.’[390]

[Sidenote: 1707.]

Ruddiman, finding that, during the time between December 1602 and April
1613, there was rather more estimated value of gold than of silver
coined in the Scottish mint, arrived at the conclusion (though not
without great hesitation), that there was more value of gold coin in
Scotland in 1707 than of silver, and that the sum-total of gold and
silver money together, at the time of the Union, was consequently ‘not
less than nine hundred thousand pounds sterling.’ We are told, however,
in the _History of the Bank of Scotland_, under 1699, that ‘nothing
answers among the common people but silver-money, _even gold being
little known amongst them_;’ and Defoe more explicitly says, ‘there was
at this time _no Scots gold coin current, or to be seen, except a few
preserved for antiquity_.’[391] It therefore seems quite inadmissible
that the Scottish gold coin in 1707 amounted to nearly so much as
Ruddiman conjectures. More probably, it was not £30,000.

It would appear that the Scottish copper-money was not called in at the
Union, and Ruddiman speaks of it in 1738 as nearly worn out of
existence, ‘so that the scarcity of copper-money does now occasion
frequent complaints.’

If the outstanding silver-money be reckoned at £60,000, the gold at
£30,000, and the copper at £60,000, the entire metallic money in use in
Scotland in 1707 would be under six hundred thousand pounds sterling in
value. It is not unworthy of observation, as an illustration of the
advance of wealth in the country since that time, that a private
gentlewoman died in 1841, with a nearly equal sum at her account in the
banks, besides other property to at least an equal amount.

In March 1708, while the renovation of the coinage was going on, the
French fleet, with the Chevalier de St George on board, appeared at the
mouth of the Firth of Forth, designing to invade the country. The Bank
got a great alarm, for it ‘had a very large sum lying in the mint in
ingots,’ and a considerable sum of the old coin in its own coffers,
‘besides a large sum in current species; all of which could not have
easily been carried off and concealed.’[392] The danger, however, soon
blew over. ‘Those in power at the time, fearing lest, all our
silver-money having been brought into our treasury, or into the Bank, a
little before, there should be a want of money for the expenses of the
war, ordered the [Sidenote: 1707.] forty-shilling pieces to be again
issued out of the banks; of which sort of coin there was great plenty at
that time in Scotland, and commanded these to be distributed for pay to
the soldiers and other exigencies of the public; but when that
disturbance was settled, they ordered that kind of money also to be
brought into the bank; and on a computation being made, it was found
that the quantity of that kind, brought in the second time, exceeded
that which was brought in the first time [by] at least four thousand
pounds sterling.’[393]

We are told by the historian of the Bank, that ‘the whole nation was
most sensible of the great benefit that did redound from the Bank’s
undertaking and effectuating the recoinage, and in the meantime keeping
up an uninterrupted circulation of money.’ Its good service was
represented to the queen, considered by the Lords of the Treasury and
Barons of Exchequer, and reported on favourably. ‘But her majesty’s
death intervening, and a variety of public affairs on that occasion and
since occurring, the directors have not found a convenient opportunity
for prosecuting their just claim on the government’s favour and reward
for that seasonable and very useful service.’


[Sidenote: NOV. 3.]

Mr John Strahan, Writer to the Signet in Edinburgh, was at this time
owner of Craigcrook, a romantically situated old manor-house under the
lee of Corstorphine Hill—afterwards for many years the residence of Lord
Jeffrey. Strahan had also a house in the High Street of Edinburgh. He
was the owner of considerable wealth, the bulk of which he ultimately
‘mortified’ for the support of poor old men, women, and orphans; a
charity which still flourishes.

Strahan had a servant named Helen Bell to keep his town mansion, and
probably she was left a good deal by herself. As other young women in
her situation will do, she admitted young men to see her in her master’s
house. On Hallowe’en night this year, she received a visit from two
young artisans, William Thomson and John Robertson, whom she happened to
inform that on Monday morning—that is, the second morning thereafter—she
was to go out to Craigcrook, leaving the town-house of course empty.

About five o’clock on Monday morning, accordingly, this innocent young
woman locked up her master’s house, and set forth on [Sidenote: 1707.]
her brief journey, little recking that it was the last she would ever
undertake in this world. As she was proceeding through the silent
streets, her two male friends joined her, telling her they were going
part of her way; and she gave them a couple of bottles and the key of
the house to carry, in order to lighten her burden. On coming to a
difficult part of the way, called the _Three Steps_, at the foot of the
Castle Rock, the two men threw her down and killed her with a hammer.
They then returned to town, with the design of searching Mr Strahan’s
house for money.

According to the subsequent confession of Thomson, as they returned
through the Grassmarket, they swore to each other to give their souls
and bodies to the devil, if ever either of them should inform against
the other, even in the event of their being captured. In the empty
streets, in the dull gray of the morning, agitated by the horrid
reflections arising from their barbarous act and its probable
consequences, it is not very wonderful that almost any sort of
hallucination should have taken possession of these miserable men. It
was stated by them that, on Robertson proposing that their engagement
should be engrossed in a bond, a man started up between them in the
middle of the West Bow, and offered to write the bond, which they had
agreed to subscribe with their blood; but, on Thomson’s demurring, this
stranger immediately disappeared. No contemporary of course could be at
any loss to surmise who this stranger was.[394]

The two murderers having made their way into Mr Strahan’s house, broke
open his study, and the chest where his cash was kept. They found there
a thousand pounds sterling, in bags of fifty pounds each, ‘all milled
money,’ except one hundred pounds, which was in gold; all of which they
carried off. Robertson proposed to set the house on fire before their
departure; but Thomson said he had done wickedness enough already, and
was resolved not to commit more, even though Robertson should attempt to
murder him for his refusal.

Mr Strahan advertised a reward of five hundred merks for the detection
of the perpetrator or perpetrators of these atrocities;[395] but for
some weeks no trace of the guilty men was discovered. At length, some
suspicion lighting upon Thomson, he was taken up, and, having made a
voluntary [Sidenote: 1707.] confession of the murder and robbery, he
expiated his offence in the Grassmarket.[396]


[Sidenote: DEC. 9.]

A poor man named Hunter, a shoemaker in the Potterrow, Edinburgh, had
become possessed of a ‘factory’ for the uplifting of ten or eleven
pounds of wages due to one Guine, a seaman, for services in a ship of
the African Company. The money was now payable out of the Equivalent,
but certain signatures were required which it was not possible to
obtain. With the aid of a couple of low notaries and two other persons,
these signatures were forged, and the money was then drawn.

Detection having followed, the case came before the Court of Session,
who viewed it in a light more grave than seems now reasonable, and
remitted it to the Lords of Justiciary. The result reminds us of the
doings of Justice, when she _did_ act, in the reign of James VI. Hunter
and Strachan, a notary, were hanged on the 18th of February, ‘as an
example to the terror of others,’ says Fountainhall. Three other
persons, including a notary, were glad to save themselves from a trial,
by voluntary banishment. ‘Some moved that they might be delivered to a
captain of the recruits, to serve as soldiers in Flanders; but the other
method was judged more legal.’[397]


[Sidenote: DEC. 30.]

The parish of Spott, in East Lothian, having no communion-cups of its
own, was accustomed to borrow those of the neighbouring parish of
Stenton, when required. The Stenton kirk-session latterly tired of this
benevolence, and resolved to charge half-a-crown each time their cups
were borrowed by Spott. Spott then felt a little ashamed of its
deficiency of communion-cups, and resolved to provide itself with a
pair. Towards the sum required, the minister was directed to take all
the foreign coin now in the box, as it was to be no longer current, and
such further sum as might be necessary.

The parish is soon after found sanctioning the account of Thomas Kerr,
an Edinburgh goldsmith, for ‘ane pair of [Sidenote: 1707.]
communion-cups, weighing 33 oz. 6 drops, at £3, 16_s._ per oz.,’ being
£126, 12_s._ in all, Scots money, besides ‘two shillings sterling of
drink-money given to the goldsmith’s men.’[398]


[Sidenote: 1708.]

The Union produced some immediate effects of a remarkable nature on the
industry and traffic of Scotland—not all of them good, it must be owned,
but this solely by reason of the erroneous laws in respect of trade
which existed in England, and to which Scotland was obliged to conform.

Scotland had immediately to cease importing wines, brandy, and all
things produced by France; with no remeed but what was supplied by the
smuggler. This was one branch of her public or ostensible commerce now
entirely destroyed. She had also, in conformity with England, to cease
exporting her wool. This, however, was an evil not wholly unalleviated,
as will presently be seen.

Before this time, as admitted by Defoe, the Scotch people had ‘begun to
come to some perfection in making broad cloths, druggets, and [woollen]
stuffs of all sorts.’ Now that there was no longer a prohibition of
English goods of the same kinds, these began to come in in such great
quantity, and at such prices, as at once extinguished the superior
woollen manufacture in Scotland. There remained the manufacture of
coarse cloths, as Stirling serges, Musselburgh stuffs, and the like; and
this now rather flourished, partly because the wool, being forbidden to
be sent abroad, could be had at a lower price, and partly because these
goods came into demand in England. Of course, the people at large were
injured by not getting the best price for their wool, and benefited by
getting the finer English woollen goods at a cheaper rate than they had
formerly paid for their own manufactures of the same kinds; but no one
saw such matters in such a light at that time. The object everywhere
held in view was to benefit _trade_—that is, everybody’s peculium, as
distinguished from the general good. The general good was left to see
after itself, after everybody’s peculium had been served; and small
enough were the crumbs usually left to it.

On the other hand, duties being taken off Scottish linen introduced into
England, there was immediately a large increase to that branch of the
national industry. Englishmen came down and established works for
sail-cloth, for damasks, and other linen [Sidenote: 1708.] articles
heretofore hardly known in the north; and thus it was remarked there was
as much employment for the poor as in the best days of the woollen
manufacture.

The colonial trade being now, moreover, open to Scottish enterprise,
there was an immediate stimulus to the building of ships for that
market. Cargoes of Scottish goods went out in great quantity, in
exchange for colonial products brought in. According to Defoe, ‘several
ships were laden for Virginia and Barbadoes the very first year after
the Union.’[399]

We get a striking idea of the small scale on which the earlier
commercial efforts were conducted, from a fact noted by Wodrow, as to a
loss made by the Glasgow merchants in the autumn of 1709. ‘In the
beginning of this month [November],’ says he, ‘Borrowstounness and
Glasgow have suffered very much by the fleet going to Holland, its being
taken by the French. It’s said that in all there is about eighty
thousand pounds sterling lost there, _whereof Glasgow has lost ten
thousand pounds_. I wish trading persons may see the language of such a
providence. I am sure the Lord is remarkably frowning upon our trade, in
more respects than one, since it was put in the room of religion, in the
late alteration of our constitution.’[400]

When one thinks of the present superb wealth and commercial distinction
of the Queen of the West, it is impossible to withhold a smile at
Wodrow’s remarks on its loss of ten thousand pounds. Yet the fact is,
that up to this time Glasgow had but a petty trade, chiefly in sugar,
herrings, and coarse woollen wares. Its tobacco-trade, the origin of its
grandeur, is understood to date only from 1707, and it was not till 1718
that Glasgow sent any vessel belonging to itself across the Atlantic.
Sir John Dalrymple, writing shortly before 1788, says: ‘I once asked the
late Provost Cochrane of Glasgow, who was eminently wise, and who has
been a merchant there for seventy years, to what causes he imputed the
sudden rise of Glasgow. He said it was all owing to four young men of
talents and spirit, who started at one time in business, and whose
success gave example to the rest. _The four had not ten thousand pounds
amongst them when they began._’[401]

[Sidenote: 1708.]

Defoe tells us that, within little more than a year after the Union,
Scotland felt the benefit of the liberation of her commerce in one
article to a most remarkable extent. In that time, she sent 170,000
bolls of grain into England, besides a large quantity which English
merchants bought up and shipped directly off for Portugal. The hardy
little cattle of her pastures, which before the Union had been sent in
large droves into England, being doubtless the principal article
represented in the two hundred thousand pounds which Scotland was
ascertained to obtain annually from her English customers, were now
transmitted in still larger numbers, insomuch that men of birth and
figure went into the trade. Even a Highland gentleman would think it not
beneath him to engage in so lucrative a traffic, however much in his
soul he might despise the Saxons whose gluttony he considered himself as
gratifying. It has often been told that the Honourable Patrick Ogilvie,
whom the reader has already seen engaged in a different career of
activity, took up the cattle-trade, and was soon after remonstrated with
by his brother, the Earl of Seafield, who, as Chancellor of Scotland,
had been deeply concerned in bringing about the Union. The worthy scion
of nobility drily remarked in answer: ‘Better sell nowte than sell
nations.’[402]

A sketch given of a cattle-fair at Crieff in 1723 by an intelligent
traveller, shews that the trade continued to prosper. ‘There were,’ says
he, ‘at least thirty thousand cattle sold there, most of them to English
drovers, who paid down above thirty thousand guineas in ready money to
the Highlanders; a sum they had never before seen. The Highland
gentlemen were mighty civil, dressed in their slashed waistcoats, a
trousing (which is, breeches and stockings of one piece of striped
stuff), with a plaid for a cloak, and a blue bonnet. They have a poniard
knife and fork in one sheath, hanging at one side of their belt, their
pistol at the other, and their snuff-mill before; with a great
broadsword by their side. Their attendance was very numerous, all in
belted plaids, girt like women’s petticoats down to the knee; their
thighs and half of the leg all bare. They had also each their broadsword
and poniard, and spake all Irish, an unintelligible language to the
English. However, these poor creatures hired themselves out for a
shilling a day, to drive the cattle to England, and to return home at
their own charge.’[403]

[Sidenote: 1708. MAY 1.]

Previous to the Union, the Customs and Excise of Scotland were farmed
respectively at £30,000 and £35,000 per annum,[404] which, after every
allowance is made for smuggling, must be admitted as indicative of a
very restricted commercial system, and a simple and meagre style of
living on the part of the people. At the Union, the British government
took the Customs and Excise of Scotland into its own hands, placing them
severally under commissions, partly composed of Englishmen, and also
sending English officers of experience down to Scotland, to assist in
establishing proper arrangements for collection. We learn from Defoe
that all these new fiscal arrangements were unpopular. The anti-union
spirit delighted in proclaiming them as the outward symptoms of that
English tyranny to which poor Scotland had been sold. Smuggling
naturally flourished, for it became patriotic to cheat the English
revenue-officers. The people not only assisted and screened the
contrabandist, but if his goods chanced to be captured, they rose in
arms to rescue them. Owing to the close of the French trade, the
receiving of brandy became a favourite and flourishing business. It was
alleged that, when a Dutch fleet approached the Scottish shores some
months after the Union, several thousands of small casks of that liquor
were put ashore, with hardly any effort at concealment.

Assuming the Excise as a tolerably fair index to the power of a people
to indulge in what they feel as comforts and luxuries, the progress of
this branch of the public revenue may be esteemed as a history of wealth
in Scotland during the remarkable period following upon the Union. The
summations it gives us are certainly of a kind such as no Scotsman of
the reign of Queen Anne, adverse or friendly to the incorporation of the
two countries, could have dreamed of. The items in the account of the
first year ending at May 1, 1708, are limited to four—namely, for beer,
ale, and vinegar, £43,653; spirits, £901; mum,[405] £50; fines and
forfeitures, £58; giving—when £6350 for salaries, and some other
deductions, were allowed for—a net total of £34,898, as a contribution
to the revenue of the country.

The totals, during the next eleven years, go on thus: £41,096, £37,998,
£46,795, £51,609, £61,747, £46,979, £44,488, £45,285—this [Sidenote:
1708.] refers to the year of the Rebellion—£48,813, £46,649, £50,377. On
this last sum the charges of management amounted to £15,400. After this,
the total net produce of the Excise, exclusive of malt, never again came
up to fifty thousand pounds, till the year 1749. The malt tax, which was
first imposed in 1725, then amounted to £22,627, making the entire
Excise revenue of Scotland in the middle of the eighteenth century no
more than £75,987. It is to be feared that increase of dexterity and
activity in the smuggler had some concern in keeping down these returns
at so low an amount;[406] yet when large allowance is made on that
score, we are still left to conclude that the means of purchasing
luxuries remained amongst our people at a very humble point.

I am informed by a gentleman long connected with the Excise Board in
Scotland, that the books exhibited many curious indications of the
simplicity, as well as restrictedness, of all monetary affairs as
relating to our country in the reigns of Anne and the first George.
According to a recital which he has been kind enough to communicate in
writing, ‘The remittances were for the most part made in coin, and
various entries in the Excise accounts shew that what were called _broad
pieces_ frequently formed a part of the moneys sent. The commissioners
were in the habit of availing themselves of the opportunity of persons
of rank travelling to London, to make them the bearers of the money; and
it is a curious historical fact, that the first remittance out of the
Excise duties, amounting to £20,000, was sent by the Earl of Leven, who
delivered £19,000 of the amount at the proper office in London,
retaining the other thousand pounds for his trouble and risk in the
service. As the Board in Scotland could only produce to their
comptroller a voucher for the sum actually delivered in London, he could
not allow them credit for more. The £1000 was therefore placed “insuper”
upon the accounts, and so remained for several years; until at last a
warrant was issued by the Treasury, authorising the sum to be passed to
the credit of the commissioners.’

After the middle of the century, the progress is such as to shew that,
whether by the removal of repressive influences, or the imparting of
some fresh spring of energy, the means of the people were at length
undergoing a rapid increase. In 1761, [Sidenote: 1708.] including part
of the first year of George III., the net total Excise revenue had
sprung up to £100,985. It included taxes on glass (£1151), candles
(£6107), leather (£8245), soap and paper (£2992), and wheel-carriages
(£2308). The total had, however, receded fully fourteen thousand pounds
by 1775. After that time, war increased the rate of taxation, and we
therefore need not be surprised to find the Scottish Excise producing
£200,432 in 1781. In 1790, when Robert Burns honoured this branch of the
revenue by taking an office in it, it had reached but to the
comparatively insignificant sum of £331,117. In 1808, being the
hundredth year of its existence, it yielded £1,793,430, being rather
more than _fifty-one_ times its produce during the first year.[407]


[Sidenote: JUNE 1.]

The Duke of Argyle resigning his place as an extraordinary Lord of
Session, in order to follow his charge in the army, his younger brother,
the Earl of Ilay, succeeded him, though under twenty-five years of age;
not apparently that he might take part in the decisions of the bench,
but rather that he might be a learner there, it ‘being,’ says
Fountainhall, ‘the best school for the nobility to learn that is in
Europe.’


[Sidenote: JUNE 26.]

The election of a knight to represent Ross-shire in the British
parliament took place at Fortrose, under the presidency of the sheriff,
Hugh Rose, of Kilravock. There was much dissension in the county, and
the sheriff, whose son was elected, had probably reasons of his own for
appointing the last day of the week for the ceremony. This, however,
having led to travelling on Sunday, was taken into consideration by the
synod some months later, as a breach of decorum on the part of the
sheriff, who consequently received a letter from one of their number who
had been appointed to administer their censure. It set forth how, even
if the meeting had been dissolved on the Saturday evening, many could
not have got home without breaking the fourth commandment; but Kilravock
had caused worse than this, for, by making the meeting late in the day,
he had ‘occasioned the affair to be protracted till the Sabbath began
more than to dawn [two o’clock],’ and there had been ‘gross disorders,’
in consequence of late drinking in taverns. ‘Some,’ says the document,
‘who were in your own [Sidenote: 1708.] company, are said to have sung,
shott, and danced in their progress to the ferry, without any check or
restraint, as if they meant to spit in the face of all sacred and civil
laws,’ The synod had found it impossible to keep silence and allow such
miscarriages to remain unreproved.

It is to be feared that Kilravock was little benefited by their censure,
as he left the paper docketed in his repositories as ‘a comical
synodical rebuke.’[408]


[Sidenote: AUG. 18.]

That remarkable property of human nature—the anxiety everybody is under
that all other people should be virtuous—had worked itself out in sundry
famous acts of parliament, general assembly, and town-council,
throughout our history subsequent to the Reformation. There was an act
of Queen Mary against adultery, and several of Charles II. against
profaneness, drunkenness, and other impurities of life. There was not
one of William and Mary for the enforcement of the fifth commandment;
but the general principle operated in their reign very conspicuously
nevertheless, particularly in regard to profaneness and profanation of
the Lord’s Day. King William had also taken care in 1698 to issue a
proclamation containing an abbreviate of all the acts against
immorality, and in which that of Charles II. against cursing and beating
of parents was certainly not overlooked, as neither were those against
adultery. So far had the anxiety for respectable conduct in others gone
in the present reign, that sheriffs and magistrates were now enjoined by
proclamation to hold courts, once a month at least, for taking notice of
vice and immorality, fining the guilty, and rewarding informers;
moreover, all naval and military officers were ordered to exemplify the
virtues for the sake of those under them, and, above all, see that the
latter duly submitted themselves to kirk discipline.

An act of the town-council of Edinburgh ‘anent prophaneness,’ in August
1693, threatened a rigorous execution of all the public statutes
regarding immoral conduct, such as swearing, sitting late in taverns,
and desecration of the Lord’s Day. It strictly prohibited all persons
within the city and suburbs ‘to brew, or to work any other handiwork, on
the Lord’s Day, or to be found on the streets, standing or walking idly,
or to go in company or vague to the Castlehill [the only open space then
within the city [Sidenote: 1708.] walls], public yards, or fields.’ It
discharged all going to taverns on that day, unseasonably or
unnecessarily, and forbade ‘all persons to bring in water from the wells
to houses in greater quantities than single pints.’ By another act in
1699, tavern-keepers were forbidden to have women for servants who had
not heretofore been of perfectly correct conduct. All these
denunciations were renewed in an act of February 1701, in which,
moreover, there was a severe threat against barbers who should shave or
trim any one on Sunday, and against all who should be found on that day
carrying periwigs, clothes, or other apparel through the streets.

Not long after this, the Edinburgh council took into their consideration
three great recent calamities—namely, the fire in the Kirk-heugh in
February 1700; another fire ‘which happened on the north side of the
Land market, about mid-day upon the 28th of October 1701, wherein
several men, and women, and children were consumed in the flames, and
lost by the fall of ruinous walls;’ and finally, ‘that most tremendous
and terrible blowing up of gunpowder in Leith, upon the 3d of July
last;’ and, reflecting on these things as tokens of God’s wrath, came to
the resolution, ‘to be more watchful over our hearts and ways than
formerly, and each of us in our several capacities to reprove vice with
zeal and prudence, and promote the execution of the laws for punishing
the vicious.’

All originality is taken from a notorious parliamentary enactment of our
time by a council act of April 1704, wherein, after reference to the
great decay of virtue and piety, and an acknowledgment that ‘all manner
of scandals and immoralities do daily abound,’ it is ordered that
taverners, under strong penalties, shall shut at ten o’clock at night,
all persons harbouring there at a later hour to be likewise punished.

Inordinate playing at cards and dice in taverns is instanced in a
council act of about the same period, as one of the most flagrant vices
of the time.

It is to be understood that the discipline of the church over the morals
of congregations was at the same time in full vigour, although not now
fortified by a power of excommunication, inferring loss of civil rights,
as had been the case before the Revolution. Much was done in this
department by fines, proportioned to the quality of offenders, and for
the application of these to charitable uses there was a lay-officer,
styled the Kirk-treasurer, who naturally became a very formidable
person. The [Sidenote: 1708.] poems of Ramsay and others during the
earlier half of the eighteenth century are full of waggish allusions to
the terrible powers of even the ‘man’ or servant of the Kirk-treasurer;
and in a parody of the younger Ramsay on the _Integer Vitæ_ of Horace,
this personage is set forth as the analogue of the Sabine wolf:

      ‘For but last Monday, walking at noon-day,
      Conning a ditty, to divert my Betty,
      By me that sour Turk (I not frighted) our Kirk-
          Treasurer’s man passed.

      And sure more horrid monster in the Torrid
      Zone cannot be found, sir, though for snakes renowned, sir;
      Nor does Czar Peter’s empire boast such creatures,
          Of bears the wet-nurse.’[409]

Burt, who, as an English stranger, viewed the moral police of Scotland
with a curious surprise, broadly asserts that the Kirk-treasurer
employed spies to track out and report upon private individuals; so that
‘people lie at the mercy of villains who would perhaps forswear
themselves for sixpence.’ Sometimes, a brother and sister, or a man and
his wife, walking quietly together, would find themselves under the
observation of emissaries of the Kirk-treasurer. Burt says he had known
the town-guard in Edinburgh under arms for a night besetting a house
into which two persons had been seen to enter. He at the same time
remarks the extreme anxiety about Sabbath observance. It seemed as if
the Scotch recognised no other virtue. ‘People would startle more at the
humming or whistling of a tune on a Sunday, than if anybody should tell
them you had ruined a family.’[410]

It must have been a great rejoicement to the gay people, when a
Kirk-treasurer—as we are told by Burt[411]—‘having a round sum of money
in his keeping, the property of the kirk, marched off with the cash, and
took his neighbour’s wife along with him to bear him company and partake
of the spoil.’

The very imperfect success of acts and statutes for improving the habits
of the people, is strongly hinted at by their frequent repetition or
renewal. We find it acknowledged by the Town Council of Edinburgh, in
June 1709, that the Lord’s Day is still ‘profaned by people standing on
the streets, and vaguing to fields and gardens, and to the Castlehill;
also by standing idle gazing [Sidenote: 1708.] out at windows, and
children, apprentices, and other servants playing on the streets.’[412]


[Sidenote: NOV. 22.]

James Stirling of Keir, Archibald Seton of Touch, Archibald Stirling of
Carden, Charles Stirling of Kippendavie, and Patrick Edmondstone of
Newton, were tried for high treason in Edinburgh, on the ground of their
having risen in arms in March last, in connection with the French plan
of invasion, and marched about for several days, encouraging others to
rise in like manner, and openly drinking the health of the Pretender.
Considering the openness of this treason, the charges against the five
gentlemen were remarkably ill supported by evidence, the only witnesses
being David Fenton, a tavern-keeper at Dunkeld; John Macleran,
‘change-keeper’ at Bridge of Turk; and Daniel Morison and Peter Wilson,
two servants of the Laird of Keir. These persons were all free to
testify that the gentlemen carried swords and pistols, which few people
travelled without in that age; but as for treasonable talk, or drinking
of treasonable healths, their memories were entirely blank. Wilson knew
of no reason for Keir leaving his own house but dread of being taken up
on suspicion by the soldiers in Stirling Castle. A verdict of Not Proven
unavoidably followed.[413]

It has been constantly remembered since in Keir’s family, that as he was
riding home after the trial, with his servant behind him—probably
Wilson—he turned about, and asked from mere curiosity, how it came to
pass that his friend had forgotten so much of what passed at their
parade for the Chevalier in March last, when the man responded: ‘I ken
very weel what you mean, laird; but my mind was clear to trust my saul
to the mercy o’ Heaven, rather than your honour’s body to the mercy o’
the Whigs.’


[Sidenote: NOV.]

Sir James Hall of Dunglass was proprietor of a barony called Old Cambus.
Within it was a ‘room’ or small piece of land belonging to Sir Patrick
Home of Renton, a member of a family of whose hotness of blood we have
already seen some evidences. To save a long roundabout, it had been the
custom for the tenants of the ‘room’ to drive peats from Coldingham Muir
through the Old Cambus grounds, but only on sufferance, and when the
corn [Sidenote: 1708.] was off the fields, nor even then without a quart
of ale to make matters pleasant with Sir James’s tenants. Some dispute
having now arisen between the parties, the tenant of Headchester forbade
Sir Patrick Home’s people to pass through his farm any more with their
peats; and they, on the other hand, determined that they should go by
that short passage as usual. The winter stock of fuel being now
required, the time had come for making good their assumed right. Mr John
Home, eldest son of Sir Patrick, accompanied the carts, with a few
servants to assist in making way. A collision took place, attended with
much violence on both sides, but with no exhibition of weapons that we
hear of, excepting Mr John’s sword, which, he alleged, he did not offer
to draw till his horse had been ‘beat in the face with a great rung
[stick].’ The affair was nevertheless productive of serious
consequences, for a blacksmith was trod to death, and several persons
were hurt. Had it happened eighty years earlier, there would have been
both swords and pistols used, and probably a dozen people would have
been killed.

The justices of the peace for Berwickshire took up the matter, and
imposed a fine of fifty pounds upon Mr John Home, as the person chiefly
guilty of the riot. He appealed to the Court of Session, setting forth
several objections to the sentence. The Earl of Marchmont, whose
daughter had married Sir James Hall, and two other members of the
justice-court, ought to be held as disqualified by affinity to sit in
judgment in the case. To this it was answered, that Sir James was not
the complainer, and his lady was dead. Home then alleged a right to the
passage. It was shewn, on the other hand, that there never had been a
passage save by tolerance and on consideration of the quart of ale; and
though it had been otherwise, he ought to have applied to the
magistrates, and not taken the law into his own hands: ‘however one
enters into possession, though cast in with a sling-stone, yet he must
be turned out by order of law. The Lords would not hear of reversing the
award of the justices; but they reduced the fine to thirty pounds.’[414]


[Sidenote: 1709. MAR.]

The family of the antiquary, Sir James Balfour, to whom we owe the
preservation of so many historical manuscripts, appears to have been a
very unfortunate one. We have seen that his youngest son and successor,
Sir Robert, was slaughtered in the [Sidenote: 1709.] reign of Charles
II. by M‘Gill of Rankeillour.[415] The head of a succeeding generation
of the family, Sir Michael Balfour, was a quiet country gentleman, with
a wife and seven children, residing at the semi-castellated old
manor-house, which we now see standing a melancholy ruin, in a pass
through the Fife hills near Newburgh. He appears to have had debts; but
we do not anywhere learn that they were of serious extent, and we hear
of nothing else to his disadvantage. One day in this month, Sir Michael
rode forth at an early hour ‘to visit some friends and for other
business,’ attended by a servant, whom, on his return home, he
despatched on an errand to Cupar, telling him he would be home before
him. From that hour, Denmill was never again seen. He was searched for
in the neighbourhood. Inquiries were made for him in the towns at a
distance. There were even advertisements inserted in London and
continental newspapers, offering rewards for any information that might
enable his friends to ascertain his fate. All in vain. ‘There were many
conjectures about him,’ says a contemporary judge of the Court of
Session, ‘for some have been known to retire and go abroad upon
melancholy and discontent; others have been said to be transported and
carried away by spirits; a third set have given out they were lost, to
cause their creditors compound, as the old Lord Belhaven was said to be
drowned in Solway Sands, and so of Kirkton, yet both of them afterwards
appeared. The most probable opinion was, that Denmill and his horse had
fallen under night into some deep coal-pit, though these were also
searched which lay in his way home.’ At the distance of ten months from
his disappearance, his wife applied to the Court of Session, setting
forth that her husband’s creditors were ‘falling upon his estate, and
beginning to use diligence,’ and she could not but apprehend serious
injury to the means of the family, though these far exceeded the debts,
unless a factor were appointed. We learn that the court could better
have interposed if the application had come from the creditors; but,
seeing ‘the case craved some pity and compassion,’ they appointed a
factor for a year, to manage the estate for both creditors and relict,
hoping that, before that time elapsed, it would be ascertained whether
Denmill were dead or alive.[416]

The year passed, and many more years after it, without clearing up the
mystery. We find no trace of further legal proceedings regarding the
missing gentleman, his family, or property. The [Sidenote: 1709.] fact
itself remained green in the popular remembrance, particularly in the
district to which Sir Michael belonged. In November 1724, the public
curiosity was tantalised by a story published on a broadside, entitled
_Murder will Out_, and professing to explain how the lost gentleman had
met his death. The narrative was said to proceed on the death-bed
confession of a woman who had, in her infancy, seen Sir Michael murdered
by her parents, his tenants, in order to evade a debt which they owed
him, and of which he had called to crave payment on the day of his
disappearance. Stabbing him with his own sword as he sat at their
fireside, they were said to have buried his body and that of his horse,
and effectually concealed their guilt while their own lives lasted. Now,
it was said, their daughter, who had involuntarily witnessed a deed she
could not prevent, had been wrought upon to disclose all the
particulars, and these had been verified by the finding of the bones of
Sir Michael, which were now transferred to the sepulchre of his family.
But this story was merely a fiction trafficking on the public curiosity.
On its being alluded to in the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_ as an actual
occurrence, ‘the son and heir of the defunct Sir Michael’ informed the
editor of its falsity, which was also acknowledged by the printer of the
statement himself; and pardon was craved of the honourable family and
their tenants for putting it into circulation. On making inquiry in the
district, I have become satisfied that the disappearance of this
gentleman from the field of visible life was never explained, as it now
probably never will be. In time, the property was bought by a
neighbouring gentleman, who did not require to use the mansion as his
residence. Denmill Castle accordingly fell out of order, and became a
ruin. The fathers of people still living thereabouts remembered seeing
the papers of the family—amongst which were probably some that had
belonged to the antiquarian Sir James—scattered in confusion about a
garret pervious to the elements, under which circumstances they were
allowed to perish.


[Sidenote: MAY.]

There was at this time a dearth of victual in Scotland, and it was
considered to be upon the increase. The magistrates and justices of
Edinburgh arranged means for selling meal in open market, though in
quantities not exceeding a firlot, at twelve shillings Scots per peck.
They also ordered all possessors of grain to have it thrashed out and
brought to market before the 20th of May, reserving none to themselves,
and forbade, [Sidenote: 1709.] on high penalties, any one to buy up
grain upon the road to market.[417]

A well-disposed person offered in print an expedient for preventing the
dearth of victual. He discommended the fixing of a price at market, for
when this plan was tried in the last dearth, farmers brought only some
inferior kind of grain to market, ‘so that the remedy was worse than the
disease.’ Neither could he speak in favour of the plan of the French
king—namely, the confiscating of all grain remaining after harvest—for
it had not succeeded in France, and would still less suit a country
where the people were accustomed to more liberty. He suggested the
prohibition of exportation; the recommending possessors of grain to sell
it direct to the people, instead of victual-mongers; and the use of
strict means for fining all who keep more than a certain quantity in
reserve. This writer thought that the corn was in reality not scarce;
all that was needed was, to induce possessors of the article to believe
it to be best for their interest to sell immediately.[418]


[Sidenote: JULY 21.]

There is an ancient and well-known privilege, still kept up, in
connection with the palace and park of Holyroodhouse, insuring that a
debtor otherwise than fraudulent, and who has not the crown for his
creditor, cannot have diligence executed against him there;
consequently, may live there in safety from his creditors. At this time,
the privilege was taken advantage of by Patrick Haliburton, who was in
debt to the extraordinary amount of nearly £3000 sterling, and who was
believed to have secretly conveyed away his goods.

It being also part of the law of Scotland that diligence cannot be
proceeded with on Sunday, the Abbey Lairds, as they were jocularly
called, were enabled to come forth on that day and mingle in their
wonted society.

It pleased Patrick Haliburton to come to town one Sunday, and call upon
one of his creditors named Stewart, in order to treat with him regarding
some proposed accommodation of the matters that stood between them. Mr
Stewart received Patrick with apparent kindness, asked him to take
supper, and so plied his hospitality as to detain him till past twelve
o’clock, when, as he was leaving the house, a messenger appeared with a
writ of caption, and conducted him to prison. Patrick considered himself
as [Sidenote: 1709.] trepanned, and presented a complaint to the Court
of Session, endeavouring to shew that a caption, of which all the
preparatory steps had been executed on the Sunday, was the same as if it
had been executed on the Sunday itself; that he had been treacherously
dealt with; and that he was entitled to protection under the queen’s
late indemnity. The Lords repelled the latter plea, but ‘allowed trial
to be taken of the time of his being apprehended, and the manner how he
was detained, or if he offered to go back to the Abbey, and was enticed
to stay and hindered to go out.’[419] The termination of the affair does
not appear.

A case with somewhat similar features occurred in 1724. Mrs Dilks being
a booked inmate of the Abbey sanctuary, one of her creditors formed a
design of getting possession of her person. He sent a messenger-at-law,
who, planting himself in a tavern within the privileged ground, but
close upon its verge, sent for the lady to come and speak with him. She,
obeying, could not reach the house without treading for a few paces
beyond ‘the girth,’ and the messenger’s concurrents took the opportunity
to lay hold of her. This, however, was too much to be borne by a
fairplay-loving populace. The very female residents of the Abbey rose at
the news, and, attacking the party, rescued Mrs Dilks, and bore her back
in triumph within the charmed circle.[420]


The Rev. James Greenshields, an Irish curate, but of Scottish birth and
ordination—having received this rite at the hands of the deposed Bishop
of Ross in 1694—set up a meeting-house in a court near the Cross of
Edinburgh, where he introduced the English liturgy, being the first time
a prayer-book had been publicly presented in Scotland since the Jenny
Geddes riot of July 1637. Greenshields was to be distinguished from the
nonjurant Scottish Episcopalian clergy, for he had taken the oath of
abjuration (disclaiming the ‘Pretender’), and he prayed formally for the
queen; but he was perhaps felt to be, on this account, only the more
dangerous to the Established Church. It was necessary that something
should be done to save serious people from the outrage of having a
modified idolatry practised so near them. The first effort consisted of
a process raised by the landlord of the house against Mr Greenshields,
in the Dean [Sidenote: 1709.] of Guild’s court, on account of his having
used part of the house, which he took for a dwelling, as a chapel, and
for that purpose broken down certain partitions. The Dean readily
ordained that the house should be restored to its former condition. Mr
Greenshields having easily procured accommodation elsewhere, it became
necessary to try some other method for extinguishing the nuisance. A
petition to the presbytery of Edinburgh, craving their interference, was
got up and signed by two or three hundred persons in a few hours. The
presbytery, in obedience to their call, cited Mr Greenshields to appear
before them. He declined their jurisdiction, and they discharged him
from continuing to officiate, under high pains and penalties.

[Sidenote: SEP.]

Mr Greenshields having persisted, next Sunday, in reading prayers to his
congregation, the magistrates, on the requirement of the presbytery,
called him before them, and formally demanded that he should discontinue
his functions in their city. Daniel Defoe, who could so cleverly expose
the intolerance of the Church of England to the dissenters, viewed an
Episcopalian martyrdom with different feelings. He tells us that
Greenshields conducted himself with ‘haughtiness’ before the civic
dignitaries—what his own people of course regarded as a heroic courage.
He told them positively that he would not obey them; and accordingly,
next Sunday, he read the service as usual in his obscure chapel. Even
now, if we are to believe Defoe, the magistrates would not have
committed him, if he had been modest in his recusancy; but, to their
inconceivable disgust, this insolent upstart actually appeared next day
at the Cross, among the gentlemen who were accustomed to assemble there
as in an Exchange, and thus seemed to brave their authority! For its
vindication, they were, says Defoe, ‘brought to an absolute necessity to
commit him;’ and they committed him accordingly to the Tolbooth.

Here he lay till the beginning of November, when, the Court of Session
sitting down, he presented a petition, setting forth the hardship of his
case, seeing that there was no law forbidding any one to read the
English liturgy, and he had fully qualified to the civil government by
taking the necessary oaths. It was answered for the magistrates, that
‘there needs no law condemning the English service, for the introducing
the Presbyterian worship explodes it as inconsistent,’ and the statute
had only promised that the oath-taking should protect ministers who had
been in possession of charges. ‘The generality of the [Sidenote: 1709.]
Lords,’ says Fountainhall, ‘regretted the man’s case;’[421] but they
refused to set him at liberty, unless he would engage to ‘forbear the
English service.’ Amongst his congregation there was a considerable
number of English people, who had come to Edinburgh as officers of
Customs and Excise. It must have bewildered them to find what was so
much venerated in their own part of the island, a subject of such
wrathful hatred and dread in this.

Greenshields, continuing a prisoner in the Tolbooth, determined, with
the aid of friends, to appeal to the House of Lords against the decision
of the Court of Session. Such appeals had become possible only two years
ago by the Union, and they were as yet a novelty in Scotland. The local
authorities had never calculated on such a step being taken, and they
were not a little annoyed by it. They persisted, nevertheless, in
keeping the clergyman in his loathsome prison, till, after a full year,
an order of the House of Lords came for his release. Meanwhile, other
troubles befell the church, for a Tory ministry came into power, who,
like the queen herself, did not relish seeing the Episcopalian clergy
and liturgy treated contumeliously in Scotland. The General Assembly
desired to have a fast on account of ‘the crying sins of the land,
irreligion, popery, many errors and delusions;’ and they chafed at
having to send for authority to Westminster, where it was very
grudgingly bestowed. It seemed as if they had no longer a barrier for
the protection of that pure faith which it was the happy privilege of
Scotland, solely of all nations on the face of the earth, to enjoy.
Their enemies, too, well saw the advantage that had been gained over
them, and eagerly supported Greenshields in his tedious and expensive
process, which ended (March 1711) in the reversal of the Session’s
decision. ‘It is a tacit rescinding,’ says Wodrow, ‘of all our laws for
the security of our worship, and that unhappy man [an Irish curate of
fifteen pounds a year, invited to Edinburgh on a promise of eighty] has
been able to do more for the setting up of the English service in
Scotland than King Charles the First was able to do.’


[Sidenote: NOV. 9.]

The Lords of Session decided this day on a critical question, involving
the use of a word notedly of uncertain meaning. John Purdie having
committed an act of immorality on which a parliamentary act of 1661
imposed a penalty of a hundred pounds in [Sidenote: 1709.] the case of
‘a gentleman,’ the justices of peace fined him accordingly, considering
him a gentleman within the construction of the act, as being the son of
‘a heritor,’ or land-proprietor. ‘When charged for payment by Thomas
Sandilands, collector of these fines, he suspended, upon this ground
that the fine was exorbitant, in so far as he was but a small heritor,
and, as all heritors are not gentlemen, so he denied that he had the
least pretence to the title of a gentleman. The Lords sustained the
reason of suspension to restrict the fine to ten pounds Scots, _because
the suspender had not the face or air of a gentleman_: albeit it was
alleged by the charger [Sandilands] that the suspender’s profligateness
and debauchery, the place of the country where he lives, and the company
haunted by him, had influenced his mien.’[422]


An anonymous gentleman of Scotland, writing to the Earl of Seafield, on
the improvement of the salmon-fishing in Scotland, informs us how the
fish were then, as now, massacred in their pregnant state, by country
people. ‘I have known,’ he says, ‘a fellow not worth a groat kill with a
spear in one night’s time a hundred black fish or kipper, for the most
part full of rawns unspawned.’ He adds: ‘Even a great many gentlemen,
inhabitants by the rivers, are guilty of the same crimes,’ little
reflecting on ‘the prodigious treasure thus miserably dilapidated.’

Notwithstanding these butcheries, he tells us that no mean profit was
then derived from the salmon-fishing in Scotland; he had known from two
to three thousand barrels, worth about six pounds sterling each,
exported in a single year. ‘Nay, I know Sir James Calder of Muirton
alone sold to one English merchant a thousand barrels in one year’s
fishing.’ He consequently deems himself justified in estimating the
possible product of the salmon-fishing, if rightly protected and
cultivated, at forty thousand barrels, yielding £240,000 sterling, per
annum.[423]


[Sidenote: 1710. FEB.]

At Inchinnan, in Renfrewshire, there fell out a ‘pretty peculiar
accident.’ One Robert Hall, an elder, and reputed as an estimable man,
falling into debt with his landlord, the Laird of Blackston, was
deprived of all he had, and left the place. Two months before this date,
he returned secretly, and being unable to live [Sidenote: 1710.]
contentedly without going to church, he disguised himself for that
purpose in women’s clothes. It was his custom to go to Eastwood church,
but curiosity one day led him to his own old parish-church of Inchinnan.
As he crossed a ferry, he was suspected by the boatman and a beadle of
being a man in women’s clothes, and traced on to the church. The
minister, apprised of the suspicion, desired them not to meddle with
him; but on a justice of peace coming up, he was brought forward for
examination. He readily owned the fact, and desired to be taken to the
minister, who, he said, would know him. The minister protected him for
the remainder of the day, that he might escape the rudeness of the mob;
and on the ensuing day, he was taken to Renfrew, and liberated, at the
intercession of his wife’s father.[424]


[Sidenote: MAY.]

The General Assembly passed an act, declaring the marriage of Robert
Hunter, in the bounds of the presbytery of Biggar, with one John [Joan]
Dickson to be incestuous, the woman having formerly been the mother of a
child, the father of which was grand-uncle to her present husband. The
act discharged the parties from remaining united under pain of highest
censure.

The church kept up long after this period a strict discipline regarding
unions which involved real or apparent relationship. In May 1730, we
find John Baxter, elder in Tealing parish, appealing against a finding
of the synod, that his marriage with his deceased wife’s brother’s
daughter’s daughter, was incestuous. Two years later, the General
Assembly had under its attention a case, which, while capable of being
stated in words, is calculated to rack the very brain of whoever would
try to realise it in his conceptions. A Carrick man, named John
M‘Taggart, had unluckily united himself to a woman named Janet Kennedy,
whose former husband, Anthony M‘Harg, ‘was a brother to John M‘Taggart’s
grandmother, which grandmother was said to be natural daughter of the
said Anthony M‘Harg’s father!’ The presbytery of Ayr took up the case,
and M‘Taggart was defended by a solicitor, in a paper full of derision
and mockery at the law held to have been offended; ‘a new instance,’
says Wodrow,’ of the unbounded liberty that lawyers take.’[425] The
presbytery having condemned the marriage as incestuous, M‘Taggart
appealed in wonted form to the synod, which affirmed the former
decision, and ordered a retractation of the offensive paper on pain of
[Sidenote: 1710.] excommunication. The case then came before the General
Assembly, who left it to be dealt with by its commission. It hung here
for six years, during which it may be presumed that M‘Taggart and his
wife were either separated or only lived together under the load of
presbyterial censure; and at length, in March 1738, it was sent back,
along with the still older case of Baxter, by the commission to the
Assembly itself.[426] How it was ultimately disposed of, I have not
learned.

What would these church authorities have thought of a recent act of the
state of Indiana, which permits marriages with any of the relations of a
deceased partner, and forbids the union of cousins!


[Sidenote: JUNE.]

‘Some ill-disposed persons, said to be of the suppressed parish of
Barnweil [Ayrshire], set fire to the new church of Stair in the
night-time; but it was quickly smothered. The occasion was thought
to be the bringing the bell from Barnweil to Stair. I have scarce
heard of such are instance of fire being wilfully set to a
church.’—_Wodrow._[427] The parish of Barnweil having been
suppressed, and half the temporalities assigned to the new parish of
Stair, the inhabitants appear to have been exasperated beyond all
bounds, and hence this offence.


[Sidenote: AUG. 19.]

David Bruce, a youth of fifteen, accompanied by five companions of about
the same age, all of the city of St Andrews, went out in a boat to amuse
themselves, but, losing one of their oars, and being carried out to sea,
they were unable to return. It was late in the evening before their
friends missed them. A boat was sent in the morning in quest of them,
but in vain. Meanwhile, the boys were tossed up and down along the
waters, without being able to make any shore, although they were daily
in sight of land. At length, after they had been six days at sea without
food or drink, an easterly wind brought them ashore at a place called
_Hernheuch_, four miles south of Aberdeen, and fifty north of St
Andrews. They were all of them in an exhausted condition, and two of
them near death. By the direction of an honest countryman, John
Shepherd, two of the boys were able to climb up the steep cliff beneath
which their skiff had touched shore. Shepherd received them into his
house, and lost no time in sending for help to Aberdeen. Presently, the
Dean of Guild, [Sidenote: 1710.] Dr Gregory a physician, and Mr Gordon a
surgeon, were on the spot, exerting themselves by all judicious means to
preserve the lives of the six boys, five of whom entirely recovered.

Robert Bruce, goldsmith in Edinburgh, father of David Bruce, ‘in
thankful commemoration of the preservation of his son,’ had a
copperplate engraved by Virtue, with a full-length portrait of the lad,
and a view of the six boys coming ashore in the boat. David Bruce was
for many years head cashier of Drummond’s bank at Charing Cross, and
lived till 1771.[428]


[Sidenote: SEP.]

‘One Robert Fleming, a very poor man, who taught an English school at
Hamilton, was taken up for cheating some poor people with
twenty-shilling notes, all wrote with his own hand, and a dark
impression made like the seal of the Bank [of Scotland]. He was
prosecuted for the forgery; and, on his own confession, found guilty,
and condemned to death; but having been reprieved by her majesty several
times, and at last during pleasure, he, after her majesty’s death,
obtained a remission.’[429]

This poor man, in his confession before the Lords who examined him, said
he had forged fifty, but only passed four notes, the first being given
for a shawl to his wife. ‘He declared that he intended to have coined
crown-pieces; and the stamp he had taken in clay, which he shewed; but,
which is most remarkable of all, [he] confessed that he made use of one
of the Psalms, that he might counterfeit the print of the notes the
better by practice, in writing over those letters that were in the
Psalm, and which he had occasion to write in the bank-notes. My Lord
Forglen had forgot what Psalm it was; but the man said the first words
of the Psalm which appeared to him was to this purpose: “The eyes of the
Lord behold the children of men;” which was truly remarkable.’[430]


[Sidenote: NOV. 30.]

Died at Paisley Abbey, of small-pox, the Countess of Dundonald,
celebrated for her beauty, and not less remarkable for her amiable and
virtuous character. She left three infant daughters, all of whom grew in
time to be noted ‘beauties,’ and of whom one became Duchess of Hamilton,
and the other two the Countesses of Strathmore and Galloway. The death
of the lovely young Lady Dundonald of a disease so loathsome and
[Sidenote: 1710.] distressing, was deeply deplored by a circle of noble
kindred, and lamented by the public in general, notwithstanding the
drawback of her ladyship being an adherent of the Episcopal communion.
Wodrow, who condemns the lady as ‘highly prelatical in her principles,’
but admits she was ‘very devote and charitable,’ tells us how, at the
suggestion of Dr Pitcairn, Bishop Rose waited on the dying lady, while
the parish minister came to the house, but was never admitted to her
chamber. Wodrow also states, that for several Sundays after her death,
the earl had sermon preached in his house every Sunday by Mr Fullarton,
an Episcopalian, ‘or some others of that gang;’ and on Christmas Day
there was an administration of the communion, ‘for anything I can hear,
distributed after the English way.’ ‘This,’ adds Wodrow, ‘is the first
instance of the communion at Yule so openly celebrate in this country’
since the Revolution.[431]


The last time we had the Post-office under our attention (1695), it was
scarcely able to pay its own expenses. Not long after that time, in
accordance with the improved resources of the country, it had begun to
be a source of revenue, though to a very small amount. It was conducted
for three years before the Union by George Main, jeweller in Edinburgh,
with an average yearly return to the Exchequer of £1194, 8_s._ 10_d._,
subject to a deduction for government expresses and the expense (£60) of
the packet-boat at Portpatrick. Immediately after that time, the
business of the central office in Edinburgh was conducted in a place no
better than a common shop, by seven officials, the manager George Main
having £200 a year, while his accountant, clerk, and clerk’s assistant
had respectively £56, £50, and £25, and three runners or letter-carriers
had each 5_s._ per week.

An act of the British parliament[432] now placed the Scottish
Post-office under that of England, but with ‘a chief letter-office’ to
be kept up in Edinburgh. The charge for a letter from London to
Edinburgh was established at sixpence, and that for other letters at
twopence for distances within fifty English miles, greater distances
being in proportion. For the five years following the Union, there was
an annual average gain of £6000—a striking improvement upon 1698, when
Sir Robert Sinclair found he could not make it pay expenses, even with
the benefit of a pension of £300 a year.

[Sidenote: 1711. SEP.]

The light-thoughted part of the public was at this time regaled by the
appearance of a cluster of small brochures printed in blurred type on
dingy paper, being the production of William Mitchell, tin-plate worker
in the Bow-head of Edinburgh, but who was pleased on his title-pages to
style himself the _Tinklarian Doctor_. Mitchell had, for twelve years,
been employed by the magistrates of the city as manager of the lighting
of the streets, at the moderate salary of five pounds. He represented
that his predecessor in the office had ten pounds; but ‘I took but five,
for the town was in debt.’ The magistrates, doubtless for reasons
satisfactory to themselves, and which it is not difficult to divine, had
deprived him of his post. ‘Them that does them a good turn,’ says he,
‘they forget; but they do not forget them that does them an ill turn;
as, for example, they keep on a captain [of the town-guard, probably]
for love of Queensberry, for making the Union—I believe he never did
them a good turn, but much evil to me, [as] he would not let me break up
my shop-door the time of the fire, before my goods was burnt.’ The poor
man here alludes to a calamity which perhaps had some share in driving
his excitable brain out of bounds. Being now in comparative indigence,
and full of religious enthusiasm, he took up at his own hands an office
of which he boasted that no magistrate could deprive him, no less than
that of giving ‘light’ to the ministers of the Church of Scotland, who,
he argued, needed this service at his hands—‘otherwise God would not
have raised me up to write to them.’ The ministers, he candidly informs
us, did not relish his taking such a duty upon him, since he had never
received any proper call to become a preacher: some of them called him a
fool, and the principal of a college at St Andrews went the length of
telling him to burn his books. But he acted under an inward call which
would not listen to any such objections. He thought the spirit of God
‘as free to David and Amos the herds, and to James, John, and Simon the
fishers, and Matthew and Levi the customers, as to any that will bide
seven years at college.’ And, if to shepherds and fishermen, why not to
a tin-plate worker or tinkler? ‘Out of the mouths of babes,’ &c.

The _Tinkler’s Testament_, which was the great work of Mitchell, was
heralded by an Introduction, dedicating his labours to Queen Anne. He
claimed her majesty’s protection in his efforts to illuminate the
clergy, and hinted that a little money to help in printing his books
would also be useful. He would willingly go to converse with her
majesty; but he was without the means of travelling, [Sidenote: 1711.]
and his ‘loving wife and some small children’ hindered him. This brings
him to remark that, while he lived upon faith, ‘my wife lives much upon
sense,’ as the wives of men of genius are very apt to do. After all,
‘although I should come, I am nothing but a little black man, dull-like,
with two scores upon my brow and a mole on my right cheek;’ which marks
‘I give to your majesty, in case any person come up in a counterfeit
manner;’ nevertheless, ‘if I had clothes, I would look as big as some
gentlemen.’[433]

In this pamphlet, Mitchell abuses the ministers roundly for neglect of
their flocks, telling that for six years the pastor of his parish had
never once inquired for him. They would go and play at bowls, alleging
it was for their health, and allow suffering souls to perish. It was as
if he were employed by a gentleman to make lanterns—took the money—but
never made the articles required, for want of which the gentleman’s
servants were hindered in their work, and perished in pits. ‘Now whether
think ye an immortal soul or my lanterns of most value? I will sell a
good lantern at ten shillings [Scots], though it be made of brass; but
the whole world cannot balance one soul.’

The _Tinkler’s Testament_ he dedicated to the Presbyterian ministers of
Scotland, telling them ‘not to be offended, although I be set over you
by providence,’ nor ‘think that I shall be like the bishops that were
before me—necessity gives me a right to be your overseer—necessity that
hath neither law nor manners.’ ‘I know you will not hear of a bishop
over you, and therefore I shall be over you, as a coachman to drive you
to your duty.’ He saw their deficiencies in what had happened in his own
case. In his evil days, they never told him sufficiently of his sins. He
might almost have supposed he was on the way to heaven for anything they
said to him. It was affliction, not their ministrations, which had
loosed him from the bonds of sin. Their own preachings were cold and
worthless, and so were those of the young licentiates whom they so often
engaged to hold forth in their stead. Here he applied another
professional parable. ‘You employ me to make a tobacco-box. I spoil it
in the making. Whether is you [Sidenote: 1711.] or I obliged to pay the
loss? I think ye are not obliged to pay it. Neither am I obliged to take
these sermons off your hand.’ ‘Perhaps,’ he adds, ‘you trust in your
elders.’ But ‘I may keep strange women in my house for them; I may stay
out till twelve o’clock at night and be drunk for them: a cart-horse,
when he comes up the Bow, may teach them their duty, for it will do its
duty to the outmost of its power; and before it will disobey, it will
fall to the ground.’ In short, the Tinkler had been used by these clergy
with a lenity which he felt to be utterly inexcusable.

It is to be feared that the Tinkler was one of those censors whom no
kind of conduct in persons of authority will please, for we find him in
this brochure equally furious at the ministers for not preaching
evangelical discourses, and for being so slack in telling their flocks
of the weighty matters of the law. He threatens to tell very sad things
of them at the great day, and yet he protests that it is not from hatred
to them. If such were his feelings, he would not be at the pains to
reprove them; still less would he have ever given Dean of Guild Neilson
a speaking-trumpet for a seat in the kirk, not worth twenty shillings
sterling, seeing it is but a back-seat, where he may fall asleep, and
the minister never once call on him to sit up. ‘This,’ however, ‘is only
a word by the by.’

One great charge which the Tinkler has to make against the clergy is,
that they are afraid to preach freely to the consciences of men, for
fear of angering the great. ‘If ye be feared to anger them, God will not
be feared to anger you. “Cry aloud and spare not; tell the poor their
transgressions, and the great folk their sins.”’ Then he proposes to
relate something of the justice he had himself experienced. ‘The Laird
of Cramond hath laid down a great cairn of stones before my shop-door,
which takes away my light. They have lain near these two years (because
he is rich). If I lay down but two carts-full, I believe they would not
lie twenty-four hours. I pursued a man at court; I could both have sworn
and proved that he was owing me; yet, because he had a blue cloak and a
campaign wig, the judge would not take his oath, and would not take my
word. I had a mind to buy a blue cloak, that I might get justice; but I
was disappointed by the dreadful fire. I bought some wool from a man. He
would not give it out of his house till I gave my bill. The goods was
not weighed, and I feared they came not to so much money; yet the man
persuaded me if it was not so, he would [Sidenote: 1711.] restore me the
money back. I believed his word, because I am a simple man. So I pursued
the man, thinking to get my money. The judge told me I would get no
money, although there were a hundred pounds of it; so I went home with
less money than I came out.... Ye will say, what is the reason there is
so little justice; I shall tell you my opinion of it. I have a vote for
choosing our deacon. A man comes to me and offers me a pint to vote for
such a man. I take it because he never did me no ill, and because I am a
fool-body. I vote for the man. So fool-tradesmen make fool-deacons, and
fool-deacons make fool-magistrates, and fool-magistrates make
fool-ministers. That is the reason there is so little justice in the
city.’ The crazy whitesmith has here touched a point of failure in
democratic institutions which wiser men have overlooked.

This singular genius afterwards published a brochure, entitled _The
Great Tinklarian Doctor Mitchell his Fearful Book, to the Condemnation
of all Swearers_, at the end of which he announced another ‘concerning
convictions;’ ‘the like of it ye have not heard since Cromwell’s days.’
But probably the reader has now heard enough of the effusions of the
white-ironsmith of the Bow-head.[434]

[Sidenote: 1711. NOV. 6.]

Notwithstanding the severity of the laws against Catholic priests, and
particularly that of 1701, which a proclamation two years back put into
fresh vigour, there was at least one minister of the hated faith of Rome
sheltered in Edinburgh. It would be curious to learn under what disguise
he contrived to live in a city where all, except a handful of people,
were disposed to tear him in pieces. From its being mentioned that his
paraphernalia for worship belonged to Lady Seaforth, it may be surmised
that he lived under her protection. Thomas Mackie, being now at last
apprehended by the magistrates, and ordained to remove immediately out
of Britain, was so bold as to call for a suspension of their act in the
Court of Session, setting forth that he had lived for many years
inoffensively in Edinburgh—the vestments, altar, crucifixes, &c., found
in his house belonged to the Countess of Seaforth—he had not been taken
in the act of saying mass, and it had not been proved that he was a
priest—finally, and above all, the magistrates of Edinburgh were going
beyond their powers in banishing any one forth of the island. The
magistrates having answered these objections, the Lords ‘ordained him to
enact himself to remove betwixt and a day out of the kingdom; and in
case of refusal, to be imprisoned till a ship was ready to transport
him.’[435]


[Sidenote: 1712. JAN. 14.]

Immemorial custom gave a right to the steward-depute of the stewartry of
Kirkcudbright to get a mart cow out of every parish in his jurisdiction,
being twenty-nine in number. He was not required to observe any
particular form or ceremony in raising this mail, beyond sending an
officer to the parish to pitch upon and seize the cow, and offer the
owner five shillings Scots, called the Queen’s Money, which entitled him
to relief from his fellow-parishioners, according to the value of their
respective estates. In October 1711, William Lindsay of Mains,
steward-depute under the Marquis of Annandale, principal steward, sent
his officer, William Hislop, to take a cow from the parish of Southwick,
and the man pitched upon a beast belonging to John Costein of Glensoane.
John, however, ‘did violently oppose the officer in the execution of his
office to uplift the cow; and making a convocation of his tenants and
others, his complices, by force of arms resisted the officer, whom he
beat and bruised with many strokes, and rescued his cow.’

[Sidenote: 1712.]

For this offence, Costein and his associates were now brought before the
Court of Justiciary. They pleaded several objections to the custom, as a
defence of their conduct; but all these were overruled by the Lords, and
their offence was declared to be liable to an arbitrary punishment.[436]


[Sidenote: FEB.]

‘About the beginning of this month, Whiston’s _Primitive Christianity_
came down to Edinburgh, and was seized in the booksellers’ shops by the
magistrates.’[437]


[Sidenote: MAR.]

‘The end of this last and the beginning of this month, we have some
accounts of a sickness in Fife, from some of the crew of a ship that
came out before their quarantine was performed; but it seems the Lord
hath hitherto prevented it. It’s, indeed, a wonder we are not visited
with some heavy rod.’[438]


The art of printing had fallen sadly off in Scotland during the latter
half of the seventeenth century. James Watson[439] points out truly that
Bassandyne’s folio Bible of 1576, Arbuthnot’s first edition of
Buchanan’s _History_ in 1582, Andro Hart’s Bible of 1610, and the
_Muses’ Welcome to King James_ in 1618, were well printed books; the
last of these Bibles so much so, that ‘many after-impressions of the
Bible in folio, had, as the greatest commendation that could be made of
them, at the foot of their title-pages, that they were “conform to the
edition printed by Andro Hart.”’ Watson adds: ‘The folio Common
Prayer-book, printed before the Troubles by Robert Young, then printer
for this kingdom to the Royal Martyr, is a pregnant instance of this. I
have with great pleasure viewed and compared that book with the English
one in the same volume, printed about the same time by the king’s
printer in England; and Mr Young’s book so far exceeded the other, that
there could be no comparison made between them. You’ll see by that
printed here, the master furnished with a very large fount, four sheets
being inset together; a vast variety of curiously cut head-pieces,
finis’s, blooming letters, fac-totums, flowers, &c. You’ll see the
compositor’s part done with the greatest regularity and niceness in the
Kalendar, and throughout the rest of the book; the pressman’s part done
to a wonder in the red and black, and the whole printed in so [Sidenote:
1712.] beautiful and equal a colour, that there is not any appearance of
variation. But this good and great master was ruined by the Covenanters
for doing this piece of work, and forced to fly the kingdom.’

After the Restoration, one Archibald Hislop, a bookseller, with William
Carron as his workman, produced a neat edition of Thomas à Kempis and
some other small books. Some Dutchmen, who had been brought over to
assist Hislop’s successor, John Cairns, also printed a few respectable
volumes, including the acts of parliament, and Sir Robert Sibbald’s
_Prodromus_; but all tendency to attain or maintain the level formerly
attained, was checked by a monopoly which was granted to one Andrew
Anderson in 1671. This Anderson, who seems to have come from Glasgow,
was early in that year condemned by the Privy Council for a very faulty
edition of the New Testament; yet, for ‘payment of a composition in
exchequer and other weighty reasons,’ they immediately after granted
him, as king’s printer, an exclusive right to print all kinds of lawful
books in Edinburgh, with a right of supervision over all other
typographers within the kingdom. He died in 1679; but his widow
succeeded to the monopoly, and exercised it for some years with the
greatest rigour, persecuting all who attempted to interfere with the
business of printing. As might be expected, the productions of her own
press were miserable beyond all example; she both produced bad and
erroneous editions of the Bible, and much fewer of them than were
required to satisfy the demands of the public. A restriction was at
length put upon her privilege, so as to allow general printing to be
executed by others; but she continued through the whole term of her
patent to be the sole printer of the Scriptures in Scotland. Fac-similes
of a few pages from her Bibles—in poor blurred type, almost
unintelligible with errors, with italic letters employed wherever the
Roman fount fell short, and some lines wholly without spaces between the
words—would appal the reader. It plainly appears that no such
functionary as a corrector was at any time kept by Mrs Anderson; nor was
she herself able to supply the deficiency. The Bible being then almost
the only school-book in use, we may imagine what unrequired difficulties
were added to the task of gaining a knowledge of the elements of the
English language. What, for example, was a poor child to make of the
following passage in her duodecimo Bible of 1705: ‘Whyshoulditbethoug
tathingincredi ble w^tyou, y^t God should raise the dead?’ Mrs
Anderson’s Bibles being of such [Sidenote: 1712.] a character, there was
a great importation of English and foreign copies, but only in despite
of strenuous efforts on her part to keep them out. Strange to say, when
now her government patent expired, she contrived to obtain the
appointment of printer to the Church of Scotland. Her ability to buy up
a heavy stock of acts of the General Assembly was what secured her this
piece of otherwise most unmerited patronage.

Had the government patent expired a few years earlier, she might, for
anything that appears, have obtained a renewal of it also. But, now that
a Tory ministry was in power, this lucrative privilege was conferred on
two zealous Jacobites—Mr Robert Freebairn, publisher, and Mr James
Watson, printer. These gentlemen were better typographers than Mrs
Anderson; and the Bibles they issued were much superior. But their Tory
principles prevented them from long enjoying the privilege. Probably
acting in the spirit of their patrons, they ‘seem to have exercised a
discretionary power of declining to publish royal proclamations when
they were not consonant with their own views; otherwise it is difficult
to discover why the queen’s proclamation against unlawful intruders into
churches and manses was printed, not by either of her majesty’s
printers, but by John Reid in Bell’s Wynd.’[440] This zeal led
Freebairn, on the breaking out of the rebellion in 1715, to go to Perth
with printing apparatus and materials, to act as printer for the person
whom he called James the Eighth; and he consequently forfeited his
patent.[441] Politics now favoured Mrs Anderson. In partnership with an
Englishman named Baskett, the king’s printer for England, she once more
became the exclusive printer of the Scriptures in Scotland, and for
forty-one years more! The Bibles produced during the greater part of
that time were indeed a little better than those under the former
patent—the general progress of the country necessitated some little
improvement—but they were still far inferior to the unprivileged
productions of the Scottish press during the same epoch.

There is a reflection which must, or ought somewhat to modify [Sidenote:
1712.] our feeling regarding this monstrous absurdity; namely, that the
printing of the Scriptures was kept upon the footing of a monopoly, with
the effect of poor work and high prices, till our own age, and that so
lately as 1823 the patentees, in a legal document, set forth their
expenses in erecting a printing-office and ‘other charges of various
descriptions,’ as entitling them ‘to enjoy the relative profits and
emoluments without interference from any quarter.’


[Sidenote: MAR.]

Encouraged by the triumph of Mr Greenshields, and the popularity of the
Tory administration, the Scottish Episcopalians began in many places to
introduce the liturgy of the Church of England. The old Scottish horror
for that form of devotion was excited in a high degree; church-courts
were full of terror and grief; in some parts, the mob was ready to make
a new reformation. In the course of 1711, a good deal of pretty
effectual work was done for the appeasing of the popular anxiety.
According to a contemporary narration—‘Mr Honeyman, for using the Church
of England liturgy at Crail, was prosecuted and deposed by the
presbytery, and if the magistrates and people were not Episcopal, he had
fallen under very severe punishments. It is but few months since Mr
Dunbreck was libelled by the presbytery, prosecuted by the magistrates,
and threatened by the Lord Advocate, for using the English liturgy in
the Earl Marischal’s own house at Aberdeen, to whom he was chaplain. The
Earl of Carnwath this summer was threatened to have his house burned
over his head, if he continued the English service in it, and his
chaplain thereafter forced to leave his family.’ In November 1711, the
presbytery of Perth deposed Henry Murray, a pre-Revolution incumbent of
Perth hitherto undisturbed, because he used the English service at
baptisms and burials, and the liturgy in worship.[442]

At the date of the present article, the two parties had what Wodrow
calls ‘a little ruffle’ at Auchterarder—a bleak parish in Strathearn,
which has at various times contrived to make a prominent appearance in
ecclesiastical politics. The trouble arose in consequence of an attempt
to use the funeral-service of the English Church at a funeral. ‘The
common people,’ says Wodrow, ‘though not very Presbyterian in their
principles, yet they reckoned the service popery, and could not away
with it. When the corpse came to [Sidenote: 1712.] the churchyard, the
women and country-people began and made a great mutiny. The Lord Rollo,
a justice of the peace, interposed, but to no purpose. The Duke of
Montrose’s bailie, Graham of Orchil, was there; and writes it was not
Presbyterians, but the whole of the common people there; and they chased
off the liturgy-man, and they behoved to bury in their wonted manner.’

Just at this crisis, the Tory administration of the
Church-of-England-loving Anne interposed with an act of toleration for
the distressed Episcopalians of Scotland, enabling clergymen, who had
orders from Protestant bishops, and took the oaths of allegiance,
assurance, and abjuration, to celebrate divine service—using, if they
chose, the English liturgy—and to perform baptisms and marriages,
without molestation; only further enjoining such clergymen to pray for
the queen, the Princess Sophia, and the rest of the royal family, under
a penalty of twenty pounds. The church commission had fasts, and
prayers, and addresses against the measure—even spoke of reviving the
Solemn League and Covenant—but their resistance was in vain.

Hitherto, the western section of the country had been clear of this
abomination; but, in November, to the great distress of the serious
people of Glasgow, an attempt was made there to set up the Episcopal
form of worship. The minister officiating was one Cockburn, ‘an immoral
profane wretch, and very silly,’ according to Mr Wodrow, ‘a tool fit
enough for beginning such a work;’ who, however, had prepared well his
ground by qualifying to the government. A number of persons of social
importance joined the congregation. ‘The Earl of Marr, and [the Laird
of] Bannockburn were there lately with two coaches, and many go out of
curiosity to see it.’[443] The boys took the matter up in their usual
decisive manner; but the Toleration Act compelled protection from the
magistrates, and three town-officers stood guard at the chapel door. On
the 27th of December, an English soldier having died, his officers
wished to have him buried according to the solemn ritual of his church,
and Mr Cockburn performed the ceremony in canonicals in the cathedral
cemetery, the company all uncovered, and a rabble looking on with
suppressed rage. The clergy took a look into the statute-book, to see if
they should be obliged to endure this kind of insolence as well as the
liturgy. Wodrow had hopes that Cockburn’s congregation would tire of
[Sidenote: 1712.] supporting him, though his ‘encouragement’ did not
exceed twenty-two pounds a year, or that his free conversation and
minced oaths would make them put him away. A foolish shoemaker who
attended his chapel having lost his wife, Cockburn wished to have a
second exhibition of the funeral-service; but the magistrates would not
allow it. One day, he was baptising a soldier’s child at a house in the
Gorbals, and great was the commotion which it occasioned among the
multitude. On coming out, he was beset by a host of boys calling to him
‘Amen, Amen!’ the use of this word in the service being so odious to the
public, that it had stuck to Cockburn as a nickname. For nearly two
years were the religious feelings of the people outraged by the open and
avowed practice of the ‘modified idolatry’ in the midst of them, when at
length a relief came with the Hanover succession. As soon as it was
known that Queen Anne was no more, occidental human nature could no
longer be restrained. On the evening of the 6th of August 1714, the
little chapel was fairly pulled down, and the minister and his wife were
glad to flee for their lives. So ended Episcopalian worship in Glasgow
for a time.[444] A few verses from a popular ballad will assist in
giving us some idea of the local feelings of the hour:

                  ‘We have not yet forgot, sir,
                  How Cockburn’s kirk was broke, sir,
                  The pulpit-gown was pulled down,
                  And turned into nought, sir.

                         ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

                  Long-neckèd Peggie H[ome], sir,
                  Did weep and stay at home, sir,
                  Because poor Cockburn and his wife
                  Were forced to flee the town, sir.

                         ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

                  The chess-window did reel, sir,
                  Like to a spinning-wheel, sir,
                  For Dagon he is fallen now;
                  I hope he’ll never rise, sir.’[445]

[Sidenote: MAR.]

A Dumfriesshire minister communicated to Wodrow an account he had got
from the Laird of Waterside, a factor of the Duke of Queensberry, of a
spectacle which the laird and many others had [Sidenote: 1712.] seen
about sunset one evening in this month, about a mile from Penpont.
‘There appeared to them, towards the sea, two large fleets of ships,
near a hundred upon every side, and they met together and fairly
engaged. They very clearly saw their masts, tackling, guns, and their
firing one at another. They saw several of them sunk; and after a
considerable time’s engagement they sundered, and one part of them went
to the west and another to the south.’

Wodrow goes on to relate what Mr James Boyes told him of shootings heard
one morning about the same time in Kintyre. ‘The people thought it had
been thunder, and went out to see what sort of day it was like to be.
All appears clear, and nothing like thunder. There were several
judicious people that saw, at some distance from them, several very
great companies of soldiers marching with their colours flying and their
drums beating, which they heard distinctly, and saw the men walking on
the ground in good order; and yet there were no soldiers at all in that
country, nor has been a long time. They heard likewise a very great
shooting of cannon: ... so distinct and terrible, that many of the
beasts broke the harrow and came running home.’


[Sidenote: MAY.]

Wodrow notes, at this time, a piece of bad taste on the part of Sir
James Hall of Dunglass, whose family had in recent times acquired by
purchase that ancient possession of the Home family. The old
burial-place of the Earls of Home had been turned by Sir James into a
stable, and he resisted both the clamour of the public and the private
remonstrance of the aggrieved family on the subject. ‘Because the
minister shewed some dislike at this unnatural thing, he is very uneasy
to him.’

This act of Sir James Hall necessarily shocked Episcopalians; and to
such an extent was the feeling carried, that a distinct pamphlet on the
subject was published in London. The writer of this tells us, that,
having made an excursion into Scotland in the summer of 1711, he tarried
for a while at the post-house of Cockburnspath, and thus had an
opportunity of seeing the ‘pretty little church’ near Dunglass House. He
found that Sir James had gathered off all the grave-stones from the
churchyard, to give scope for the growing of grass. He had ‘made the
nave of the church a stable for his coach-mares, and dug up the graves
of the dead, throwing away their bones, to make way for a pavement for
his horses.... He has made the choir a coach-house, and [Sidenote:
1712.] broken down the great east end wall, to make a great gate to let
his coaches in, that they may stand where the altar of God did stand.
The turret is a pigeon-house, and over this new stable he has made a
granary. There is also a building called an aile, adjoining the north
side of the church, which is still a burying-place (still belonging to
the Earl of Home), in which Sir James keeps hay for his horses, though
his own first lady, who was daughter to Sir Patrick Home of Polwarth
(now Earl of Marchmont), and his own only son, lie buried there.’

The writer states that Sir James’s father, though ‘of no family,’ but
only a lord mayor of Edinburgh, had kept this church in good repair all
his lifetime, and bestowed upon it a new pulpit. The neighbouring
gentlemen had remonstrated against the desecration, and one had offered
to build for him separate conveniences such as he wanted, provided he
would spare the church; but all in vain. He adds: ‘Sir James is still as
well esteemed by the whole party as ever he was, and in full communion
with their kirk; nor could I learn of any reproof he ever had from his
spiritual guides, the Mass Johns, upon this account; though ’tis most
apparent that, had his Presbyterian holders-forth interposed, as they
might and ought to have done, and as in other cases they are very apt to
do when religion or even morality are not near so much concerned as
here, Sir James durst not have attempted the doing this wicked thing.’

The writer goes on to remark what he calls the inconsistency of the
Presbyterians in insisting that baptism shall always be performed in a
church. ‘There are instances to be given, if need were, of their letting
infants die without their baptism, rather than sprinkle them out of a
church.’ ‘I shall mention but one other of their inconsistencies; ’tis
that of their Judaical, if not Pharisaical observation of the Lord’s
Day, which they call the Sabbath. This they set up most rigidly as their
characteristic, though they pretend to admit of nothing as a principle,
nor allow of any stated practice ecclesiastic, for which they have not a
positive command in the Holy Scriptures. They despise the decrees and
canons of the church, even in the early ages of it; nor does the
unanimous consent of the primitive fathers of the first three centuries
weigh with them; and yet I humbly think they must either take the
observation of the first day of the week as the Lord’s Day or weekly
Easter from the authority of the church; else it would puzzle them to
get clear of the observation of the seventh day or [Sidenote: 1712.]
Jewish Sabbath from the morality of the fourth commandment by any
positive gospel precept.’[446]


[Sidenote: MAY 29.]

An ingenious piece of masked Jacobitism is described in a newspaper as
taking place in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. ‘Thursday last’—so runs
the paragraph—‘being the anniversary of the birth and happy restoration
of King Charles II., of ever-blessed memory, was solemnly observed by
Charles Jackson, merchant in Edinburgh, who had the honour to have his
majesty stand godfather to him in the church of Keith at his baptism;
and his majesty, by assuming the name of Jackson, was happily preserved
from his enemies’ hands, after his escape out of the Royal Oak. In
consideration of these honours conferred upon him by his sacred majesty,
and being lineally descended from a stock of the loyalists, he invited
all such, by public advertisement, to solemnise that memorable day, at
an enclosure called Charles’s Field, lying a mile south from this city
(where he hath erected a very useful bleaching-field), and there
entertained them with diversity of liquors, fine music, &c. He had
likewise a splendid bonfire, and a spacious standard erected, with a
banner displayed upon it, whereon was very artfully drawn his sacred
majesty in the Royal Oak, the bark wherein he made his escape, and the
colonel who conducted him on board, taking leave of his majesty. The
company round the bonfire drank her majesty, Queen Anne’s [health], and
the memory of the happy Restoration, with great joy and demonstrations
of loyalty. The night concluded with mirth; and the standard being
brought back to Mr Jackson’s lodgings, carried by a loyal gentleman
bareheaded, and followed by several others with trumpets, hautboys, and
bagpipes playing before them, where they were kindly entertained.’[447]


[Sidenote: JUNE 10.]

Whatever might be the personal delinquencies and shortcomings of the
judges, they never could be charged with a disposition to let other
people off too easily. On the contrary, one is always struck by the
appearances of severity in their treatment of those who fell into their
hands. Two men of a humble order, named Rutherford and Gray, had been
induced by a low agent, [Sidenote: 1712.] named Alexander Pitblado, to
adhibit their names as witnesses to a paper bearing to be a guarantee by
Dean of Guild Warrender for the rent of a house occupied by one Isabel
Guild, being the insignificant sum of £25 Scots. It became Pitblado’s
fortune—doubtless, not undeservedly—to be carried away as a recruit to
Flanders. The guarantee was detected to be a forgery. Rutherford and
Gray were taken into custody, and carried before the magistrates, where
they readily admitted that Pitblado had induced them to give their
signatures, on the assurance that Warrender had signed the paper.

The Lord Advocate thought the case worthy of the notice of the judges;
so the two men were brought up to the court, with a statement of their
offence against the 5th act 1681. It was determined that the matter was
proper to be decided summarily, and the culprits made no objection to
this course, for, as they said, they had not means of living in jail to
wait for a more deliberate trial. It was also determined that the Lords
could decide in the case with shut doors. Rutherford, now fearing that
his fault inferred death, withdrew his former confession, but was at
length prevailed on to confess once more, telling, what we can well
believe to have been the truth, that he had been ensnared by Gray to do
what he did in pure simplicity. ‘The Lords considered that, though it
was a very small sum, yet it was a dangerous case to let witnesses
escape on pretence of simplicity, where they neither see the party sign
nor own the subscription; therefore resolved to impose some stigma and
censure to terrify others; and so ordained them to be brought on
Wednesday, being the market-day, to the great door of the Parliament
House, by the hand of the hangman, with a paper on their breasts bearing
their crime, and there to stand betwixt ten and eleven in the forenoon,
and from that to be conducted to the pillory at the Tron, and there to
stand the other hour between eleven and twelve, with papers on their
breast: and in regard Gray had seduced Rutherford to sign, they ordained
his lug to be nailed to the Tron; and being informed that Rutherford was
a notar, they deprived him, and declared them both infamous.’

Four days later, having in the interval undergone their sentence, they
petitioned for liberation from jail, which was granted. Then, however,
came in George Drummond, the Goodman of the Tolbooth, with a claim for
his dues, which they were totally unable to pay. Before the Union, the
Lords in such a case could throw the expense upon the Treasury; but now
they were [Sidenote: 1712.] without any such resource, and neither could
they force the jailer to pass from his demand. In this dilemma, they
after all acted a humane part, and made up the necessary sum out of
their own pockets.[448]


[Sidenote: JUNE 21.]

The _Edinburgh Courant_ intimated, in an advertisement, that ‘Robert
Campbell, commonly known by the name of Rob Roy Macgregor, being lately
intrusted by several noblemen and gentlemen with considerable sums for
buying cows for them in the Highlands, has treacherously gone off with
the money, to the value of £1000 sterling, which he carries along with
him.’ This is the first public reference to a person who has become the
theme of popular legend in Scotland to an extent little short of Robin
Hood in England, and finally has had the fortune to be embalmed in a
prose fiction by one of the greatest masters in modern literature.

It is generally admitted that Rob Roy was a man of good birth and
connections, though belonging to a family or clan which for upwards of a
century had been under proscription, and obliged to live a rather
skulking kind of life. He had become possessed in an honourable manner
of certain lands on the skirts of Ben Lomond, in the county of Stirling,
composed wholly of mountain-ground, and of little annual value, yet
sufficient to maintain him, the principal place being Inversnaid, on the
isthmus between the Lochs Lomond and Katrine, where hundreds of tourists
now pass every summer-day, but which was considered a very outlandish
situation in the time of Queen Anne. His family name being illegal by
act of parliament, he had adopted that of Campbell, in compliment to the
Argyle family, which patronised him. The business of purchasing Highland
cattle at the Crieff and other markets, and getting them transferred to
England, where they were to be fattened and consumed, was for some years
after the Union a favourite one amongst gentlemen of good rank, and it
attracted the sagacious and active mind of Robert Macgregor Campbell.
With some funds supplied by his neighbours, and part of which, at least,
is said to have come primarily from the Duke of Montrose, on an
understanding that the lenders were to share in the profits, he entered
on the traffic with spirit, and conducted it for a time with success;
but the defalcations of a subordinate agent or partner, named Macdonald,
cut short his [Sidenote: 1712.] career in trade, and left him in serious
pecuniary difficulties. The aspect which the affair took at the Court of
Session in Edinburgh was, that Robert Macgregor Campbell drew bills on
Graham of Gorthie and other gentlemen for cattle he was to buy for them,
realised the money, and then ‘did most fraudulently withdraw, and fled,
without performing anything on his part, and thereby became
unquestionably a notour and fraudulent bankrupt;’[449] while in reality
he was probably only the victim of a fraud, and obliged to keep out of
the way in consequence of the unreasonable severities of the law towards
men in his situation. It was a sufficiently barbarous measure to
advertise an unfortunate man as a fraudulent bankrupt seeking to screen
himself from justice; but the Duke of Montrose—in some other respects
but a poor representative of his illustrious great-grandfather—went
further: he caused his factor, Mr Graham of Killearn, to fall upon
Macgregor’s poor little holding of Craigrostan and Inversnaid, and
thrust out from it the wife and family of the late owner.

This treatment turned the milk of Macgregor’s nature to bitterness, and
it is not surprising, when the general condition of the country, and the
ordinary strain of men’s ideas in that age are considered, that he
sought in a wild and lawless way to right himself with his
oppressors—above all with the Duke of Montrose. From the rough country
round Ben Lomond, he could any night stoop upon his Grace’s Lowland
farms, and make booty of meal and cattle. Strange to say, while thus
setting the law at defiance, he obtained a certain steady amount of
countenance and protection from both of the great Campbell chiefs,
Argyle and Breadalbane. The government made an effort to impose a check
upon his career by planting a little fort at Inversnaid;[450] but Rob
Roy, nevertheless, continued in his lawless course of [Sidenote: 1712.]
life. On the side of Loch Lomond, near Inversnaid, there is a cave
formed by a flexure in the stratification of the mountain: here Rob
occasionally took refuge when hard pressed. It is curious to reflect
that this strange exemplification of predatory life was realised in a
not very remote part of our island, in the days when Addison and Pope
were regaling the refined people of London with the productions of their
genius. Rob is described as a short, robust man, with bushy hair and
beard, and legs covered so thickly with red hair as to resemble those of
a Highland bull. His cognomen ‘Roy’ expresses his ruddy complexion. It
is admitted that, amidst his wild life, he was not without humanity or
feeling for the unfortunate, and, what is perhaps more strange, that he
was a sagacious and politic sort of person, who never would go into any
quarrel or contention which was not likely to result in some practical
benefit or advantage. It was probably owing to this cool temperament,
that, though he mustered a body of clansmen for the Stuart cause in
1715, he yet stood neutral at the battle of Sheriffmuir, alike afraid to
offend King James, on the one hand, and his patron, the Duke of Argyle,
on the other.


[Sidenote: JUNE.]

A singular and not very decent lawsuit took place at this time between
the Earl of Bute and his stepmother, the Dowager Countess, widow of the
first earl, by whom this family was first raised to any considerable
distinction. When the deceased peer went to Bath in the spring of 1710,
a few months before his death, he granted a liferent of 3300 merks
(£183, 6_s._ 8_d._ sterling) to his lady. The present peer—father, by
the way, of George III.’s celebrated minister—refused to pay this
annuity, and the countess raised an action against him for it, and also
for the annual rents of her own son’s patrimony. The only objection
presented by the earl in his defence was, that the lady had profited
unduly already out of her husband’s property, having at his death
appropriated large sums of ‘lying money.’ The matter being referred to
her oath, she acknowledged having had in hand at her lord’s death forty
pounds, with a purse containing ‘sundry medals and purse-pennies given
by the earl and others to her and her son, in which number there were
some guineas; and the whole might be about £60 sterling.’ She averred
that ‘she had nothing as the product of any trade she drove, except two
or three ells of _alamode_;’[451] [Sidenote: 1712.] she had made nothing
in her husband’s lifetime by lending money; there had been presents from
the tenants in kind and in money, and her husband had given them to her.
The peer seems to have gained nothing by challenging the claims of his
stepmother beyond the forty pounds of ‘lying money.’[452]


[Sidenote: JULY 23.]

The stricter Presbyterians, commonly called Cameronians—the people
chiefly involved in the persecutions of the Stuart reigns—had been left
unsatisfied by the Revolution, and were now as antagonistic to the
presbyterian church as they had ever been to the late episcopacy. For
years they held together, without ministers, or the means of getting any
trained in their peculiar walk of doctrine; but at length one or two
schismatics cast off by the church put themselves at their head, the
chief being Mr John Macmillan, formerly minister of Balmaghie in
Galloway. Oaths to the state, neglect of the Covenant, and general
compliances with the spirit of the times, were the stumbling-blocks
which these people regarded as disqualifying the national establishment
for their allegiance.

The Cameronians chiefly abounded in the counties of Lanark, Dumfries,
and Kirkcudbright, and their Canterbury was the small burgh of Sanquhar
in Nithsdale. Whenever any remarkable political movement was going on in
the country, these peculiar people were pretty sure to come to the cross
of Sanquhar and utter a testimony on the subject. The last occasion when
this was done was at the Union, a measure which it pleased ‘the
Antipopish, Antiprelatic, Antierastian, Antisectarian, _True_
Presbyterian Church of Scotland’ (for so they styled themselves), to
regard as ‘sinful,’ because it involved a sanction to that English
prelatic system which the Solemn League and Covenant had bound the
Scottish nation to extirpate.

While still brooding over the ‘land-ruining, God-provoking,
soul-destroying, and posterity-ensnaring-and-enslaving Union,’ the act
of toleration, so manifestly designed for a relief to the prelatists,
came like a bellows to blow up the fire. Sundry meetings were held, and
at length a general one at the upland village of Crawford-John (26th of
May 1712), where it was finally decided on that the faithful and true
church should renew the Solemn League and Covenant.

It was at a place called Auchensaugh, on the top of a broad [Sidenote:
1712.] mountain behind the village of Douglas, that the meeting was held
for this purpose. The transaction occupied several days. On the first,
there was a prayer for a proper frame of spirit, followed by a sermon,
as this was again by an engagement to duties, amongst which the
uprooting of all opinions different from their own was the most
conspicuous. The people were dismissed with an exhortation from Mr
Macmillan upon their ‘unconcerned carriage and behaviour.’ On the second
day, it was reckoned that about seventeen hundred were present,
including, however, many onlookers brought by curiosity. There was now
read an acknowledgment of sins, and the people were invited to clear
their consciences by declaring any of which they had been guilty. One
confessed having made a rash oath; another that he had attended the
Established Church; several that they had been married by the Erastian
clergy. One, hearing of the sinfulness of tests and oaths, rather
unluckily confessed his having sworn the Covenant at Lesmahago. A number
had to deplore their having owned William and Mary as their lawful
sovereigns. Mr Macmillan seems to have been a little perplexed by the
innocent nature of their sins. After all this was at an end, the Solemn
League was read and sworn to, article by article, with uplifted hands. A
day of interval being allowed, there was a third of devotion. On the
fourth, a Sunday, there was an administration of the communion, which
must have been a striking sight, as eight tables were set out upon the
moor, each capable of accommodating sixty persons. ‘It was a very
extraordinary rain the whole time of the action.’

Even Wodrow, who has taken such pains to commemorate the sufferings of
these people under prelacy, seems to have been unable to look with
patience on their making such demonstrations against the church now
established.[453] Such earnestness in intolerance, such self-confidence
in opinion, cannot be read of in our age without strange feelings. After
all, the Covenanters of Auchensaugh were good enough to invite the rest
of the community to join them, ‘being anxious to get the divisions which
have long wrecked this church removed and remedied;’ nay, they were
‘willing, for peace and unity, to acknowledge and forsake whatever we
can rationally be convinced to be bad in our conduct and
management,’[454] though it would have probably been a serious
[Sidenote: 1712.] task for a General Assembly of angels to produce such
a conviction.

About this time, and for long after, there flourished an enthusiast
named John Halden, who considered himself, and a friend of his named
James Leslie, as above all and peculiarly the proper representatives of
the martyrs Cameron, Cargill, Hackston, Hall, Skeen, Balfour, &c.,
according to the tenor of the Rutherglen, Sanquhar, and Lanark
Declarations. John, like his predecessors, declared not merely spiritual
but temporal war against all the existing powers, seeing they had
declined from the Covenant, exercised an Erastian power in the church,
and were tyrants over the state. Nay, he declared war against ‘the
enemies of Christ’ all over the world, denouncing the curse of Meroz
against all who would not join him. Halden and Leslie, since there was
no government they could submit to, professed their desire and endeavour
to ‘set up a godly magistracy, and form a civil state’ themselves; and
it is to be feared that the community remained grievously insensible to
the offered blessing. The Lord Advocate did not even do them the honour
to consider them dangerous. The only active step we hear of John Halden
taking was to burn the Abjuration Oath at the Cross of Edinburgh, on the
point of a dagger (October 28, 1712), proclaiming with a loud voice, as
he went off up the High Street: ‘Let King Jesus reign, and let his
enemies be scattered!’


[Sidenote: JULY.]

Dr Pitcairn, the prince of wits and physicians in his day, being an
Episcopalian and a Jacobite, moreover a man of gay and convivial habits,
did not stand in good repute among the severer of the Presbyterian
clergy. Regarding many things connected with religion from a peculiar
point of view, which was not theirs, he sometimes appeared to them, by
the freedom of speech he assumed on such points, and by the cast of
comicality which he gave them, to be little better than an unbeliever.
Wodrow in his Renfrewshire parish heard of him and his associates with
serious concern. It was reported, he tells us, that ‘Dr Pitcairn and
others do meet very regularly every Lord’s Day, and read the Scriptures,
in order to lampoon and ridicule it. It’s such wickedness that, though
we had no outward evidences, might make us apprehensive of some heavy
rod.’[455]

The Rev. James Webster, one of the Edinburgh clergy of that [Sidenote:
1712.] day, was distinguished by the highest graces as an evangelical
preacher. He had been a sufferer under the ante-Revolution government,
and hated a Jacobite with a perfect hatred. To the Jacobites, on the
other hand, his high Calvinism and general severity of style were a
subject of continual sarcasm and epigram; and it is not unlikely that
Pitcairn had launched at him a few jokes which he did not feel over
meekly. In a poem of Pitcairn’s, _Ad Adenas_, there is, indeed, a
passage in which Mr Webster, as minister of the Tolbooth kirk, a part of
St Giles’s, is certainly glanced at:

             ‘Protinus Ægidii triplicem te confer in ædem,
                 _Tres ubi Cyclopes fanda nefanda boant_.’

Perhaps this very remark gave rise to all that followed.

One day, in a company where the magistrates of Edinburgh were present,
Mr Webster fell into conversation with Mr Robert Freebairn, the
bookseller. The minister complained that, in his auctions, Freebairn
sold wicked and prohibited books; in particular, he had lately sold a
copy of Philostratus’s _Life of Apollonius Tyanæus_, which deists and
atheists were eager to purchase, because it set forth the doings of that
impostor as on a level with the miracles of Jesus. It being insinuated
that these auctions ministered to an infamous taste, Mr Freebairn asked
Mr Webster to ‘condescend upon persons;’ whereupon the latter
unguardedly said: ‘Such persons, for example, as Dr Pitcairn, who is
known to be a professed deist. As a proof of what I say, at that very
sale where you found so many eager to purchase the _Life of Apollonius_,
when some one remarked that a copy of the Bible hung heavy in comparison
on your hands, Pitcairn remarked: “No wonder, for, you know, _Verbum Dei
manet in æternum_,” which was a direct scoffing at the sacred volume.’

Pitcairn, having this conversation reported to him by Freebairn, took it
with lamentable thin-skinnedness, and immediately raised an action
against Webster before the sheriffs for defamation. Webster advocated
the case to the Lords, on the ground that the sheriffs were not the
proper judges in such a matter; and, after a good deal of debating, the
Lords, considering that the pursuer shewed too much keenness, while the
defender appeared willing to give reasonable satisfaction, recommended
the Lord-justice Clerk ‘to endeavour to settle the parties amicably;’
and so the affair seems to have ended.[456]

[Sidenote: 1712. SEP.]

In the early part of this month, the Rev. Mr Wodrow made an excursion
into Galloway, and noted on the way several characteristic
circumstances. ‘I find,’ he says, ‘they have no great quantity of straw,
and necessity has learned them to make thrift of fern or breckans, which
grow there very throng [close]. They thatch their houses with them ...
stript of the leaves ... and say it lasts six or eight years in their
great storms.’ He adverts to the moat-hills near some of the parish
churches, and great cairns of stones scattered over the moors. Of a loch
near Partan, he says: ‘There seem to be tracks of roads into it upon all
hands;’ a description reminding us of the glacial grooves and scratches
seen on rocks dipping into several of the Scottish lakes. ‘I notice,’ he
says, ‘all through the stewartry [of Kirkcudbright] the houses very
little and low, and but a foot or two of them of stone, and the rest
earth and thatch. I observe all the country moorish. I noticed the
stones through many places of far more regular shapes than in this
country [Renfrewshire]. On the water of Ken they are generally spherical
[boulders]. Through much of the moorish road to Crogo, they are square
and long. The strata that with us lie generally horizontally, there in
many places lie vertical.’

The worthy martyrologist received from a Galloway minister, on this
tour, an account of the witches who were rife in the parish of
Balmaclellan immediately after the Revolution. ‘One of them he got
discovered and very clear probation of persons that saw her in the shape
of a hare; and when taken she started up in her own shape. When before
the judge, he observed her inclinable to confess, when of a sudden, her
eyes being fixed upon a particular part of the room, she sank down in
the place. He lifted her up and challenged her, whether her master had
not appeared in that place. She owned it was so, confessed, and was
execute. All this process is in the records of the presbytery, of which
I am promised ane abstract.’[457]

Wodrow seems to have had a taste for geology, though the word did not
then exist. He thus wrote to Edward Lluyd, August 26, 1709: ‘My house
[is] within a quarter of a mile of the Aldhouse Burn, where you and I
were _lithoscoping_. My pastoral charge does not allow me that time I
once had, to follow out these subterranean studies, but my inclination
is just the same as when I saw you, or rather greater, and I take it to
be one of [Sidenote: 1712.] the best diversions from more serious work,
and in itself a great duty, to view and admire my Maker in his works, as
well as his word. I have got together some stone of our fossils
hereabout, from our marl, our limestone, &c.’[458]


[Sidenote: SEP. 24.]

The _Edinburgh Courant_ newspaper contains several notices of a flood
which happened this day in the west of Scotland, generally admitted to
be the greatest in memory. Wodrow, who calls it ‘the greatest for ane
age,’ says it prevented all travelling for the time between Glasgow and
Edinburgh. The lower parts of the western city were, as usual on such
occasions, deep in water, to the ruin of much merchandise, and the
imprisonment of (it is said) twelve hundred families in the upper parts
of the houses. A boat sailed about in the Briggate. The house of Sir
Donald Macdonald—a gentleman regarded with great jealousy in Glasgow on
account of his unpopular religion—is described in one account as
immersed to the depth of three fathoms; which is probably an
exaggeration. But we may believe Wodrow when he tells us that ‘the water
came up to the well in the Saltmarket.’

Great anxiety was felt at Glasgow for the safety of the fine old bridge,
which had its arches ‘filled to the bree.’ Vast quantities of country
produce and of domestic articles of all descriptions were brought down
on the surface of the Clyde and other rivers of the province involved by
the flood. Several lives were lost. At Irvine and other parts of
Ayrshire, as well as in Renfrewshire, bridges were carried away, and
great general damage inflicted. ‘A man and a woman were lost upon the
water of Kelvin, and if the Laird of Bardowie had not sent his boat from
his loch, to the said water of Kelvin, there had been a great many more
people lost therein.’

If we are to believe the observant minister of Eastwood, the whole air
at this season seemed ‘infected.’ He notes the frequency of madness in
dogs, and that, owing to various epidemics, as ‘the galloping fever,’
sore throat, and measles, scarce a third of the people of Glasgow were
able to appear in church.

‘I am told,’ he adds, ‘the Blantyre Doctor did presage this evil harvest
and the floods; and they talk, but whether true or false I know not,
that there is to be another and greater flood, wherein the Clyde shall
be three steps up the Tolbooth stair in Glasgow.’

[Sidenote: 1712. DEC.]

Mr Robert Monteath was at this time preparing his celebrated _Theater of
Mortality_, a collection of the sepulchral inscriptions existing
throughout Scotland. It had already cost him ‘eight years sore travel,
and vast charges and expenses.’ He now advertised for assistance in his
task, ‘desiring all persons who have any valuable epitaphs, Latin, prose
or verse, English verse only, or any historical, chronological, or moral
inscriptions,’ to send just and authentic copies of them to him ‘at his
house in the College Wynd, Edinburgh.’ He took that opportunity of
stating his hope that ‘all generous persons will cheerfully subscribe
his proposals in a matter so pious, _pleasant_, profitable, and
national.’[459]


[Sidenote: 1713. MAY 1.]

Died, Sir James Steuart, Lord Advocate for Scotland, aged about
seventy-eight, greatly lamented by the Presbyterians, to whom he had
ever been a steadfast friend. The General Assembly, in session at the
time, came in a body to his funeral, which was the most numerously
attended ever known in Edinburgh, the company reaching from the head of
the close in which his lordship lived, in the Luckenbooths, to the
Greyfriars’ Churchyard. For several years, bodily infirmity confined him
to a chair; but his mind continued clear to the last. Sir James had
shewn some unsteadiness to his principles in the reign of James II., but
nevertheless was forced to fly his country, and he only returned along
with King William, whose manifesto for Scotland he is understood to have
written.

Great general learning, legal skill, and worldly policy, marked Sir
James Steuart; but the most remarkable characteristic of the man,
considering his position, was his deep piety. Wodrow, who speaks of him
from personal knowledge, says: ‘His death was truly Christian, and a
great instance of the reality of religion.... He had a great value for
religion and persons of piety. He was mighty in the Scriptures;
perfectly master of [them]; wonderful in prayer. That winter, 1706–7,
when he was so long ill, he was in strange raptures in his prayers
sometimes in his family. He used to speak much of his sense of the
advantage of the prayers of the church, and in a very dangerous sickness
he had about thirteen years ago, he alleged he found a sensible turn of
his body in the time of Mr George Meldrum’s prayer for him. He never
fell into any trouble but he gave up his name to be [Sidenote: 1713.]
prayed for in all the churches of the city of Edinburgh. His temper was
most sweet and easy, and very pleasant. He was a kind and fast friend,
very compassionate and charitable.’[460]


[Sidenote: MAY 11.]

The Lord Drummond, eldest son of the exiled Earl of Perth, and his wife,
Jean Gordon, daughter of the Duke of Gordon, had a son and heir born to
them, the same who afterwards took a conspicuous part in the rebellion
of 1745, which he did not long outlive. Politics, long adverse to the
house of Drummond, smiled on the birth of this infant heir, for never
since the Revolution did the Whig interest seem more depressed. Lord
Drummond was encouraged by these circumstances to take a step which
would have been dangerous a few years before. It is related as follows
by Wodrow: ‘The baptism of my Lord Drummond’s son [was performed in
October] at his own house by a popish bishop with great solemnity. The
whole gentlemen and several noblemen about, were gathered together; and
when the mass was said, there were very few of them went out. Several
justices of peace and others were there. This is a fearful reproach upon
the lenity of our government, to suffer such open insults from
papists.’[461]

Two months later, Wodrow notes: ‘The papists are turning very open at
Edinburgh, and all over Scotland there is a terrible openness in the
popish party.’ It is alleged in a popular contemporary publication, that
there were fully forty Catholic priests living with little effort at
concealment in Scotland; some of them very successful in winning over
ignorant people to their ‘damnable errors;’ while ‘one Mr Bruce, a
popish bishop, had his ordinary residence in Perthshire, where he had
his gardens, cooks, and other domestic servants, and thither the priests
and emissaries of inferior rank resorted for their directions and
orders.... Their peats and other fuel were regularly furnished them ...
[they had] also their mass-houses, to which their blind votaries
resorted almost as publicly as the Protestants did to their parish
churches.’[462]


[Sidenote: OCT. 20.]

Died Dr Archibald Pitcairn, a man in most respects so strongly
contrasted with his recently deceased countryman, Sir James Steuart, as
to impress very strongly the absurdity of trying to ascribe any
particular line of character to a nation or any other [Sidenote: 1713.]
large group of people. To nearly every idea associated with the word
Scotsman, Pitcairn, like Burns and many other notable Caledonians,
stands in direct antagonism: he was gay, impulsive, unworldly, full of
wit and geniality, a dissenter from Calvinism, and a lover of the exiled
house of Stuart. Conviviality shortened his life down to the same
measure which a worn-out brain gave to Sir Walter Scott—sixty-one years.
But he parted with the world in great serenity and good-humour, studying
to make his last year useful for the future by writing out some of his
best professional observations, and penning cheerful verses to his
friends on his death-bed. In these, to the refutation of vulgar
calumnies, he failed not to express his trust in a future and brighter
existence:

                           ‘Animas morte carere cano:
             Has ego, corporibus profugas, ad Sidera mitto,
               Sideraque ingressis otia blanda dico.’

Adding, in the Horatian spirit which marked him all through life:

            ‘Sed fuerint nulli, forsan, quos spondeo, coeli,
              Nullaque sint Ditis numina, nulla Jovis;

                   ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

            Attamen esse hilares, et inanes mittere curas
              Proderit, ac vitæ commoditate frui,
            Et festos agitâsse dies, ævique fugacis
              Tempora perpetuis detinuisse jocis.’[463]

A few months before his death, Pitcairn had completed a volume of his
medical essays, to which he prefixed a page strongly significant of his
political predilections: it contained the following words in large
characters: ‘TO GOD AND HIS PRINCE _this Work is humbly Dedicated by_
ARCHIBALD PITCAIRN,’ with the date, ‘June [Sidenote: 1713.] 10, 1713,’
being the well-known birthday of the said prince—namely, the Chevalier
St George. Where practical matters are concerned, one sees in this
volume the acuteness and good sense which gave the author his
professional eminence. In theoretical matters, we find the absurdities
which may be said to have been inseparable from medical science before
either physiology or organic chemistry was understood. The phenomena of
digestion are described by Pitcairn as wholly physical and mechanical.
It is also rather startling to find him patronising poultices of ovine
and bovine excreta, and powders made of the human skull.

The volume was published posthumously, and in the friendly biography
prefixed to it, we find a charming professional portrait—‘always ready
to serve every one to the utmost of his power, and even at the risk of
his own life—never sacrificing the health of his patients for any humour
or caprice’—‘not concerned about fees’—‘went with greater cheerfulness
to those from whom he could expect nothing but good-will, than to
persons of the highest condition’—often, where needful, left marks of
his charity, as well as his art, with the sick. ‘This virtue of charity
was indeed quite his own in its manner, for he usually conducted it in
such a way that those benefiting by it remained ignorant of his being
their benefactor.’ It is also stated of him that he was of ‘a pleasant
engaging humour; that life sat easy upon him in all circumstances; that
he _despised many, but hated none_.’

In a country journey, Pitcairn discovered the learning and genius of
Thomas Ruddiman, and he succeeded in bringing this remarkable man into a
position which enabled him to exercise his talents. Ruddiman afterwards
repaid the favour by gathering the many clever Latin poems of his
patron, which he gave to the world in 1727. They are chiefly
complimentary to the famous men on the cavalier side, or directly
expressive of his political feelings; but some are general, and include
such happy turns of thought as make us regret their not being in
English. One of the most noted of his pieces was a brief elegy on the
death of Dundee, which was translated into English by Dryden; and it
must be acknowledged as _something_ for a Scottish writer of Latin
verses in that age, to have had men like Dryden and Prior for
translators.

One cannot but reflect with pleasure on such connections amongst men of
genius as that between Pitcairn and Ruddiman; and the association of
ideas leads us to another anecdote connected with Pitcairn and to a
similar purport. When the learned [Sidenote: 1713.] physician acted as
professor at Leyden, he had amongst his pupils two men of great eventual
eminence, Herman Boerhaave and Richard Mead, both of whom entertained a
high sense of the value of his instructions. A son of Pitcairn having
forfeited his life by appearing in the rebellion of 1715, Mead, then in
great favour in high places, went to Sir Robert Walpole to plead for the
young man’s pardon. ‘If I have been able,’ he said, ‘to save your or any
other man’s life, I owe the power to this young man’s father.’ The claim
was too strong, and put in too antithetic terms, to be resisted.

My old friend Alexander Campbell, editor of _Albyn’s Anthology_, was
intimately acquainted with a maiden daughter of Pitcairn, who lived till
the closing decade of the eighteenth century. He spoke of having once
asked her to accompany him to the theatre, to see Mrs Siddons, when the
old lady said gaily: ‘Aih, na, laddie; I have not been at ony playhouse
since I gaed to ane in the Canongate wi’ papa, in the year ten.’


[Sidenote: NOV.]

‘This month there was an incident at Glasgow which made a very great
noise in the country. Mr Gray [one of the clergy] was visiting [his
flock], and in some house meets with one Andrew Watson, a journeyman
shoemaker, lately come into the town from Greenock.’ On inquiry, he
learned that this man did not attend his ministrations, and, asking the
reason, he was told it was because he, the minister, had taken the oath
of abjuration. He seemed a stiff, pragmatical fellow, and in the course
of an altercation which ensued, he called Mr Gray perjured. A lay elder,
accompanying Mr Gray, resented this expression of the shoemaker, and
reported it to Bailie Bowman, who, sending for Watson, demanded if he
called Mr Gray perjured. ‘Yes, and I will so call every one who takes
the oath of abjuration.’ ‘Do you own Mr Gray as your minister?’ ‘I will
own no one who took that oath.’ ‘Do you own the magistrates?’ ‘No, if
they have taken that oath.’ Here was a rebel for the worthy magistrates
and ministers of Glasgow to be cherishing in their community. It was not
to be borne. Bailie Bowman clapped the man up in jail, till it should be
determined what was to be his ultimate fate. After a day or two, the
magistrates sent for him, and questioned him as he had been questioned
before, when he not only gave the same answers, but subscribed a paper
disowning both ministers and magistrates, on the ground of their having
taken the aforesaid oath. ‘They kept him in prison ten or twelve
[Sidenote: 1713.] days, but could make nothing of him. They offered to
let him out if he would confess he had given offence to the magistrates;
but that he would not do.’ There were some who cried out against this
procedure as ‘persecution,’ and they took care that the man did not want
for maintenance. The last we hear of the matter is, that the magistrates
‘resolve to banish him the town.’ Wodrow, who relates this
occurrence,[464] soon after makes the observation, that ‘the
Presbyterians are ill termed bigot and narrow-spirited:’ that character
‘does best agree to papists and prelatists.’


[Sidenote: DEC.]

It was remarked that an unwholesome air prevailed at this time, causing
many hasty deaths, and favouring small-pox, of which eighty children
died within a little time in Eglesham parish. ‘I hear it observed,’ says
Wodrow, ‘that in the summer-time never was known such a quantity of
flees [flies.]’


[Sidenote: 1714. JAN. 10.]

Campbell of Lochnell having died about this day, his son, a Jacobite,
kept the corpse unburied till the 28th, in order that the burial might
be turned to account, or made use of, for political purposes. It was
customary for the obsequies of a Highland chief or gentleman to be
attended by a vast multitude of people, who usually received some
entertainment on the occasion. It seems to have been understood that
those who came to Lochnell’s funeral were making a masked demonstration
in favour of the exiled Stuart. Those of the opposite inclination deemed
it necessary to attend also, in order to be a check upon the Jacobites.
Hence it came to pass, that the inhumation of Lochnell was attended by
two thousand five hundred men, well armed and appointed, five hundred
being of Lochnell’s own lands, commanded by the famous Rob Roy, carrying
with them a pair of colours belonging to the Earl of Breadalbane, and
accompanied by the screams of thirteen bagpipes. Such a subject for a
picture![465]


[Sidenote: FEB.]

Keeping in view the article under September 1690, regarding the marriage
of Walter Scott of Kelso with Mary Campbell of Silvercraigs, we may read
with additional interest a letter by that person, written from Glasgow
to his wife in February 1714, [Sidenote: 1714.] giving an account of the
peculiar arrangements regarding her father’s funeral:

                                               ‘GLASGOW, _Feb. 2, 1714_.

  ‘MY DEAR—I left Edin^r upon fryday the 29th of the last. Dean of
  [Guild] Allane nor your sister either durst venture to travell to
  Glasgow with [me], on account of the season, but said that Mr Bell,
  Lisis younge husband, was there, whom Dean of Guild Allane had trusted
  with any business that could bee done for him. I called at Lithkow and
  saw Lissie, who was very kinde, was at Kilsyth all that night, came to
  Glasgow the next day, beeing Saturday, at twelve of the clock, and at
  two of the clock that day went down to the chesting of your father. He
  was buried yesterday att four a clock afternoon, beeing Monday the
  first instant, very devoutlie and honourablie, for Blythswood had
  ordered all things proper and suitable to a nicety. All the gentlemen
  in the place, the magistrates, and the citiezens of best esteem and
  substance, accompanied the funerall in very good order. I carried his
  head, Blythswood on my right, and Alex. Bell, Lissies husband, on my
  left hand; other nerest relations and Sr James Campbell of Auchinbrook
  carried all the way. After the funerall, there was prepared in the
  large room of the Coffee-house a very handsome and genteele treat, to
  w^h the Magistrates and Gentlemen and friends were invited. The treat
  consisted of confections, sweet breads, and bisket of divers sorts,
  very fine and well done, and wines. There were at it upwards of
  thirtie. Wee are this day to look to his papers in presence of Bailie
  Bowman and town-clark, wherof you shall have account of after this. I
  have sent a letter to Sir Robert Pollock just now, whose answer I will
  wait. I am like to stay five days after this here, and the time I may
  stay in Edi^r depends on my success from Sir Ro^t Pollock. In the mean
  time let Robie[466] be making himself ready, for his master told Dean
  of Guild that he thought he would bee readie to saill about the middle
  of this instant. When I come to Ed^r I shall know whither it will be
  needfull to send for him before I come home myselfe or not. I
  recommend you all to the protection of God, and am,

                                              ‘My dear, your
                                                              ‘W. SCOTT.




                     REIGN OF GEORGE I.: 1714–1727.


The Tory ministry of Anne, which had certainly meditated some attempt at
the restoration of the Stuart line, were paralysed, as we have seen, by
her death, and allowed the accession of George of Hanover to take place
without opposition. The new king had no sooner settled himself in
London, than he displaced the late queen’s advisers, and surrounded
himself with the Whigs, whom he knew to be his only true friends. The
sharpness of this proceeding, added to the general discontent, produced
an almost immediate insurrection. Two of the ex-ministers—the Duke of
Ormond and Lord Bolingbroke—went to France, and attached themselves to
the exiled court. The Earl of Mar, after in vain attempting to obtain
the favour of King George, repaired to his native country, and, on the
6th of September 1715, set up the standard of rebellion in
Aberdeenshire, although he is said to have had no commission to that
effect from the rival prince. This nobleman, who had acted as Secretary
of State under the late government, was speedily surrounded with
hundreds of armed men, chiefly of the Highland clans, who were willing
to be led by him to battle.

The government had at this time only a few regiments in Scotland, not
exceeding in all fifteen hundred men, and these could not be
concentrated in one place, without leaving the rest of the country
exposed. They were, however, put under the command of the Duke of
Argyle, a young soldier who had served under Marlborough, and at one
time commanded the British troops in Spain. The government could not
well spare more men for service in Scotland, as England, being
threatened with a corresponding invasion from France, required a large
number of the disposable troops for its own defence, and also for the
purpose of preventing a rising among the native Jacobites. An attempt
was made to surprise Edinburgh Castle in behalf of the Chevalier, and it
would have in all likelihood succeeded, but for the folly of one or two
of the conspirators. By this enterprise, if successful, the Duke of
Argyle must have been disabled for keeping together his small army, and
the whole of the south of Scotland would at once have fallen into the
hands of the insurgent general, if he had been gifted with common energy
to take it into his possession.

Mar entered Perth on the 28th of September, having with him about five
thousand horse and foot, fully armed. Among his Highland adherents were
the chieftains of Clanranald and Glengarry, the Earl of Breadalbane, and
the Marquis of Tullibardine (eldest son of the Duke of Athole), all of
whom brought their clansmen into the field. Among the Lowland Jacobites
who had already joined him were the Earls of Panmure and Strathmore,
with many of the younger sons of considerable families. On the 2d of
October, a party of his troops performed the dexterous exploit of
surprising a government vessel on the Firth of Forth opposite to
Burntisland, and taking from it several hundred stand of arms, which it
was about to carry to the north, for the purpose of arming the Whig Earl
of Sutherland against his Jacobite neighbours. This gave a little
_éclat_ to the enterprise.

The government, in order to encourage loyalty at this dangerous crisis,
obtained an act, adjudging the estates of the insurgents to such
vassals, holding of them, as should remain at peace. The state-officers
were also very active in apprehending suspected persons, especially in
England. Some gentlemen in the northern counties, fearing that this
would be their fate, met on the 6th of October at Rothbury, and soon
increased to a considerable party. Among them were Mr Forster, member of
parliament for Northumberland, and Lord Widdrington. They made an
advance to Newcastle, but were deterred from attacking it. They then
concentrated themselves at Hexham, and opened a communication with Lord
Mar. About the same time, the Viscount Kenmure, and the Earls of
Nithsdale, Wintoun, and Carnwath appeared in arms in the south of
Scotland, with a considerable band of followers, and a junction was soon
after effected between the two parties.

As the Earl of Mar was loath to leave the Highlands, where immense bands
were mustering to join him, he resolved to make no attempt upon the Duke
of Argyle, who had now posted his small force at Stirling Bridge, which
forms the only free pass between the north and south of Scotland. The
earl, however, thought it expedient to send a detachment of upwards of
two thousand of his infantry across the Firth of Forth, in order to
co-operate with him, when the proper time should arrive, by falling upon
the duke in flank. This party was placed under the command of Brigadier
Mackintosh of Borlum, an old officer, who had been regularly trained
under Marlborough. By making a feint at Burntisland, to which point they
attracted the war-vessels on the firth, about sixteen hundred got safely
over to East Lothian, and immediately marched upon Edinburgh, which was
then defenceless. The provost, however, had time to call the Duke of
Argyle to his aid, who entered the west gate of the city with five
hundred horse, at the same time that Mackintosh was approaching its
eastern limit. The insurgent chief turned aside to Leith, and barricaded
his men in the old dismantled citadel of Cromwell. There he was called
to surrender next day by the duke, but returned a haughty defiance, and
the assailing party had to retire to wait for cannon. The brigadier took
the opportunity that night to march back to East Lothian, where for a
day or two he garrisoned Seton House, the princely seat of the Earl of
Wintoun. The Duke of Argyle was obliged to leave him unmolested, in
order to return to Stirling, upon which he learned that the Earl of Mar
was marching with his whole force. The insurgent general was in reality
only anxious to call him off from the party under Mackintosh. The
capital being now protected by volunteers, that officer, in obedience to
the commands of the Earl of Mar, marched to Kelso, where he formed a
junction with the English and Lowland cavaliers.

There were now two Jacobite armies in Scotland—one at Perth, and another
at Kelso. It was the obvious policy of both to have attempted to break
up the Duke of Argyle’s encampment, which was the sole obstacle to their
gaining possession of Scotland; but this the Earl of Mar either found
inconvenient or imprudent, and the party at Kelso was soon diverted to
another scene of action. After a delay of some days, and much unhappy
wrangling among themselves, it was determined by the leaders of this
body to march into the west of England, where, as the country abounded
with Jacobites, they expected to raise a large reinforcement. They
therefore moved along the Border by Jedburgh, Hawick, and Langholm,
followed by a government force much inferior to themselves in numbers,
under the command of General Carpenter. On the 31st of October they
entered England, all except a few hundred Highlanders, who had
determined to go home, and who were mostly seized by the country people
upon the march.

Hitherto, the insurrection had been a spontaneous movement of the
friends of the Chevalier, under the self-assumed direction of the Earl
of Mar. It was now put into proper form by the earl receiving a
commission as generalissimo from the royal personage in whose behalf he
was acting. Henceforth the insurgent forces were supported by a regular
daily pay of threepence in money, with a certain quantity of provisions,
the necessary funds being raised by virtue of the earl’s commission, in
the shape of a land-tax, which was rendered severer to the enemies than
to the friends of the cause. The army was now increased by two thousand
five hundred men brought by the Marquis of Huntly, eldest son of the
Duke of Gordon, and nearly four thousand who arrived, under the charge
of the Earl of Seaforth, from the North Highlands. Early in November,
there could not be fewer than sixteen thousand men in arms throughout
the country for the Stuarts, a force tripling that with which Prince
Charles penetrated into England at a later and less auspicious period.
Yet even with all, or nearly all this force at his command, the Earl of
Mar permitted the Duke of Argyle to protect the Lowlands and the capital
with about three thousand men.

At length, on the 10th of November, having gathered nearly all the
forces he could expect, he resolved to force the pass so well guarded by
his opponent. When the Duke of Argyle learned that Mar was moving from
Perth, he resolved to cross the Forth and meet his enemy on as
advantageous ground as possible on the other side, being afraid that the
superior numbers of the insurgents might enable them to advance upon
more points of the river than he had troops to defend. He drew up his
forces on the lower part of a swelling waste called the Sheriffmuir,
with the village of Dunblane in his rear. His whole force amounted to
three thousand three hundred men, of whom twelve hundred were cavalry.
Mar, reinforced on the march by the West Highland clans under General
Gordon, advanced to battle with about nine thousand men, including some
squadrons of horse, which were composed, however, of only country
gentlemen and their retainers. Although the insurgents thus greatly
outnumbered their opponents, the balance was in some measure restored by
Mar’s total ignorance of the military art, and the undisciplined
character of his troops; while Argyle, on the other hand, had conducted
armies under the most critical circumstances, and his men were not only
perfectly trained, but possessed that superiority which consists in the
mechanical regularity and firmness with which such troops must act. On
the night of the 12th, the two armies lay within four miles of each
other. Next morning, they were arranged by their respective commanders
in two lines, the extremities of which were protected by horse. On
meeting, however, at the top of the swelling eminence which had been
interposed between them, it was found that the right wing of each
greatly outflanked the left wing of the other army. The commanders, who
were stationed at this part of their various hosts, immediately charged,
and as in neither case there was much force opposed to them, they were
both to some extent successful. The Duke of Argyle beat back the left
wing of the insurgents, consisting of Highland foot and Lowland cavalry,
to the river Allan. The Earl of Mar, in like manner, drove the left wing
of the royal army, which was commanded by General Whitham, to the Forth.
Neither of these triumphant parties knew of what was done elsewhere, but
both congratulated themselves upon their partial success. In the
afternoon, the Earl of Mar returned with the victorious part of his army
to an eminence in the centre of the field, whence he was surprised, soon
after, to observe the Duke of Argyle leading back the victorious part of
his army by the highway to Dunblane. The total want of intelligence on
each side, and the fear which ignorance always engenders, prevented
these troops mutually from attacking each other. The duke retired to the
village; the earl drew off towards Perth, whither a large part of his
army had already fled in the character of defeated troops: and thus the
action was altogether indecisive. Several hundreds were slain on both
sides; the Earl of Strathmore and the chieftain of Clanranald fell on
the side of the insurgents; the Earl of Forfar on that of the royalists.
The Duke of Argyle reappeared next morning on the field, in order to
renew the action; but finding that Mar was in full retreat to Perth, he
was enabled to retire to Stirling with all the spoils of the field, and
the credit of having frustrated the design of the insurgent general to
cross the Forth. Even that part of his army which was discomfited by the
Earl of Mar, had nevertheless become possessed of the principal standard
of the enemy.

This day was fatal to the cause of the Chevalier in another part of the
kingdom. The large party of united Scots and English, under Forster, had
penetrated to Lancashire, without gaining any such accessions of force
as had been expected. On the 12th of November they were assailed in the
town of Preston by a considerable force under General Willis, who had
concentrated the troops of a large district in order to oppose their
march. For this day, they defended themselves effectually by barricading
the streets; but next day the enemy was increased by a large force under
General Carpenter, and the unfortunate Jacobites then found it necessary
to surrender, upon the simple condition that they should not be
immediately put to the sword. Forster, Kenmure, Nithsdale, Wintoun, and
Mackintosh, with upwards of a hundred other persons of distinction,
including a brave and generous young nobleman, the Earl of Derwentwater,
were taken prisoners. The common men, in number about fourteen hundred,
were disposed about the country in prisons, while their superiors were
conducted to London, and, after being exposed in an ignominious
procession on the streets—a mark of the low taste as well as of the
political animosity of the time—imprisoned in Newgate on a charge of
high treason.

The affairs of the Chevalier now began to decline in Scotland. The Earl
of Sutherland, having established a garrison at Inverness, afforded to
the Earl of Seaforth and the Marquis of Huntly an excuse for withdrawing
their forces from Perth. Some of the other clans went home to deposit
their spoil, or because they could not endure to be taunted for their
bad behaviour at Sheriffmuir. The army being thus reduced to about four
thousand men, various officers began to think of capitulating with the
Duke of Argyle. To this there was one serious objection. In compliance
with a pressing invitation which they had despatched in better times,
they were daily expecting their prince to arrive amongst them.
Nevertheless, the Earl of Mar was compelled to open a negotiation with
the royalist general. In answer to their message, the duke informed them
that he had no power to treat with them as a body, but would immediately
send to court to ask for the required instructions. They were in this
posture when the unfortunate son of James VII. landed (December 22) at
Peterhead, and advanced to the camp to put himself at their head. The
Earl of Mar and some other officers went to Fetteresso to meet him, and
to apprise him of the present state of his affairs. Although greatly
dejected by what he heard, and much reduced in health by a severe ague,
he resolved to establish himself in royal state at Perth, in the hope of
reanimating the cause. Advancing through Brechin and Dundee, he entered
Perth in a ceremonious manner on the 9th of January; but he could not
conceal his mortification, on finding how much his forces were reduced
in number. It was, nevertheless, determined that he should be crowned at
Scone on the 23d. If he was disappointed with his adherents, they were
no less so with him. Whether from natural softness of character, or
through the influence of his late malady, or from despair of his present
circumstances, he appeared exceedingly tame and inanimate; quite the
reverse, in every respect, of the bold and stirring chief required for
such an enterprise.

The Duke of Argyle, having now received large reinforcements from
England, besides three thousand Dutch troops, sent in terms of the
treaty of Utrecht, found himself as superior in numbers to the Earl of
Mar as that general had been to him in the early part of the campaign.
On the 23d of January, the day on which the Chevalier was to have been
crowned, the royalist troops commenced their march upon Perth, through
deep snow. To retard their progress, all the villages upon the road were
burned by the insurgents. It was now debated at Perth whether they ought
to remain within the town and defend themselves against the royal
forces, who, in this weather, must suffer severely in the fields, or to
march northward and disperse. A great part of the clans were anxious in
the highest degree for a battle with the duke; but the safety of the
Chevalier’s person was a consideration which precluded all desperate
hazards. It was resolved to vacate Perth. Accordingly, on the 30th of
January, a day ominous to the House of Stuart, from its being the
anniversary of the death of Charles I., the remains of the Highland army
deployed across the river, then covered with thick ice, and marched to
Dundee. The duke entered the town with his vanguard, only twelve hours
after the rear-guard of the insurgents had left it. But the state of the
roads rendered it impossible for him, with all the appurtenances of a
regular army, to overtake the light-footed mountaineers. He followed on
their track towards Aberdeen, at the distance of one or two marches
behind them. At Montrose, the Chevalier and the Earl of Mar provided for
their own safety by going on board a French vessel. The army, which had
been fast declining by the way, was finally disbanded on the 7th of
February at Aberdeen, after which every man shifted for himself. Thus
ended the insurrection of 1715, an enterprise begun without concert or
preparation, and which languished so much throughout all its parts, that
it could hardly be considered in any other light than as an appearance
of certain friends of the House of Stuart in arms.

The Earl of Derwentwater and the Viscount Kenmure were the only
individuals of distinction who suffered death for this rebellion. They
were beheaded on Tower Hill on the 24th of February. All the rest of the
noblemen and gentlemen taken at Preston either made their escape from
Newgate, which on this occasion manifested a peculiar irretentiveness,
or were pardoned. About twenty inferior persons were executed. There
were, however, at least forty families of distinction in Scotland whose
estates were forfeited. It is to be mentioned, to the honour of the
Argyle family, that they counselled lenient measures, and set the
example by not taking advantage of the law against such of their vassals
as had forfeited their estates into their hands as superiors.

The miserable failure of this effort for the House of Stuart, and its
dismal consequences, neither allayed the wishes nor extinguished the
hopes of the Jacobite party. Firm in the principle of hereditary right,
convinced that the prosperity and happiness of the country could only be
secured through their legitimate prince, seeing in every shortcoming and
error of the reigning house and ministry confirmation of their
doctrines, they never once faltered in believing that a restoration was
worthy of a civil war. They only admitted now, that, for success, the
assistance of some foreign state was indispensable.

Unfortunately for the hopes of the party, the favour of France for the
Stuart cause was at this time lost, in consequence of the necessity
which the Regent Orleans felt himself under of cultivating the alliance
of Britain, that he might strengthen himself against the Spanish branch
of the House of Bourbon. Even a home could no longer be afforded by
France for the unfortunate son of James VII.; and it now occurs, as a
curious instance of the vicissitudes of fortune among historical
persons, that the diplomate who negotiated for his expulsion beyond the
Alps (the Earl of Stair) was the grandson of one whom James VII. had
driven to Holland little more than thirty years before.

Rather oddly, while the Stuart party lost France, prospects opened to
them in quarters wholly new. It pleased the half-crazed Charles XII. of
Sweden to take umbrage at George I. for aid given to some of his
enemies; and he formed the resolution to dethrone the British monarch,
and replace his rival. There was only a total want of ships of war and
transports for effecting this object. Even from the great rival of the
Swede, Peter of Russia, some hopes were at one time entertained. At
length, Spain, under the ambitious politics of her celebrated minister
Alberoni, found it for her interest to take up in a decided manner the
cause of the Stuart. In spring 1719, an expedition, comprehending a few
companies of infantry and a considerable quantity of arms, passed from
St Sebastian to the isle of Lewis, under the care of the Earl Marischal
and the Marquis of Tullibardine, designing to raise and arm the Highland
clans. A landing was effected in Loch Alsh amongst the friendly
Mackenzies, whose chief, the Earl of Seaforth, accompanied the
expedition, and very quickly there were a thousand natives in arms, in
addition to the Spanish companies. But a foreign force of such a trivial
character was quite insufficient to induce a general rising. While the
Jacobite chiefs lingered in Glenshiel, with only about fifteen hundred
men in arms, a government force of rather superior numbers was conducted
northward by General Wightman. It would have been easy to prevent this
force from entering the Mackenzie country; but no attempt to that effect
was made. The two parties came into conflict on the 11th of June, and
the royal commander had 142 men killed and wounded, without
accomplishing a decisive victory. It was seen, however, by the Jacobite
chiefs, two of whom were wounded, that nothing more could be effected at
present; and it was therefore arranged that the Spanish troops should
next day surrender themselves, while the Highlanders should disperse.
General Wightman was happy to carry southwards 274 Spanish prisoners,
without attempting to inflict any punishment upon the rebels.

For some years afterwards, the agents of the Stuart prince were actively
engaged in keeping up his interest in Scotland. A large proportion of
the Highland clans and of the Lowland nobility and gentry, along with
the entire body of the Episcopalian clergy, were his friends; but with
the great bulk of the Presbyterian middle classes his pretensions found
little favour, and in the constantly increasing comfort of the people
through the pursuits of peaceful industry his chance was always becoming
less. Having married a Polish princess, he became in 1720 the father of
a prince named Charles Edward, who was destined to make one last and
brilliant, but unsuccessful effort for the restoration of the family.

King George I., dying in June 1727, was quietly succeeded by his son
George II., with little change in the Whig set of statesmen by which the
affairs of the country had long been conducted. During the latter years
of the first Hanover sovereign, the Duke of Argyle and his brother, the
Earl of Ilay, were the men of chief influence in Scotland. It was a
period remarkable in several respects, but particularly for the first
decided development of the industrial energies of the people, and for
considerable changes in their manners and habits. For a number of minor
incidents, verging or trenching on the domain of political history,
reference must be made to the chronicle.

[Sidenote: 1714. OCT.]

The strong sense of religious duty at this time connected with the
observance of Sunday, is strikingly shewn in the conduct of the
deputation sent by the Church of Scotland to present a loyal address to
George I. on his accession. Reaching Barnby Moor on a Saturday night,
and finding there was no place of public worship which they were ‘clear’
to attend within a reachable distance, ‘we resolved,’ says Mr Hart, ‘to
spend the Lord’s Day as well as we could. So each having retired alone
for some time in the morning, we breakfasted about ten of the clock, and
after that Messrs Linning, Ramsay, Adams, Mr Linning’s man, and I, did
shut our chamber-door, and went about worship. I read, sung, and prayed,
and then we retired again to our several chambers, and met about two of
the clock, and Mr Ramsay read, sung, and prayed; and after that we
retired to our several chambers, and met between four and five, supped,
and, after supper, Mr Linning read, sung, and prayed, and after we had
sat a while we retired, and so prepared for bed. Thus we spent the
Lord’s Day at Barnby Moor.’

It may be imagined that no small distress was given to the clergy
generally two years after, when it was reported that Mr William Hamilton
and Mr William Mitchell, in returning recently from London, had
travelled post on a Sabbath-day, with the horn sounding before them. The
presbytery of Edinburgh took up the case in great grief and concern, and
called the two reverend brethren to give an explanation of their
conduct, which fortunately they were able to do very satisfactorily.
Arriving at Stilton on a Saturday night, and finding there was no
accommodation for the next day but in a public-house, while there was no
place where they could rightly join in worship nearer than Stamford—that
is to say, no Presbyterian or dissenting meeting-house—they had been
induced to start on their journey to the latter place next morning,
when, as they were upon post-horses, it was a matter of course, and
needful for safety, that they should have a boy going before to blow a
horn. The presbytery was satisfied; but one strenuous brother, Mr James
Webster, who was not distinguished by a charitable temper, or much
moderation of words, broke out upon them on this score in his pulpit—not
in a sermon, but in the course of his prayer—and was rebuked on this
account by the presbytery.[467]


[Sidenote: 1715. FEB.]

For many years after the Revolution, the sombre religious [Sidenote:
1715.] feelings of the community forbade even an attempt at the revival
of theatrical performances. If there was anywhere an inclination to see
Shakspeare, Otway, Congreve, or Addison, put into living forms on the
stage, it was restricted to the same obscurity in the breast which
entertained it, as devotion to the mass or doubts regarding witchcraft.
The plays and other examples of light literature of the age of Anne did
at length begin to find their way from London to Edinburgh, there to
meet a not wholly ungenial reception from at least that portion of
society which professed Episcopacy, not to speak of a certain minority
of the gay, who have usually contrived to exist even amidst the most
gloomy puritanism. Time, moreover, was continually removing the stern
men of the seventeenth century, to be replaced by others of gentler
convictions. The natural love of amusement began to assert itself
against the pride of asceticism and self-denial. Englishmen were
constantly coming in as government officers, or in pursuit of business,
and bringing with them new ideas. Thus it came to pass that, about the
beginning of the Hanover dynasty, Scotland began to think that it might
indulge now and then in a little merriment, and no great harm come of
it. It must be owned, however, that during much of the eighteenth
century, there was great truth in a simile employed in the preface to a
play published in Edinburgh in 1668, which likened the drama in Scotland
to ‘a swaggerer in a country church.’[468]

The very first presentment of any public theatricals that can be
authenticated, occurred in the early part of 1715, just before the
breaking out of the unfortunate insurrection. We know little about it
besides that a corps was then acting plays at the Tennis Court, near
Holyrood Palace.[469]

‘We have now,’ says a contemporary letter-writer, ‘got a playhouse set
up here in the Tennis Court, to the great grief of all sober good
people; and I am surprised to see such diversions as tend so much to
corrupt men’s manners patronised and countenanced by some of whom I
expected better things.... Mr Webster and several other ministers have
given a testimony against them; and for so doing are mocked by a great
many that [Sidenote: 1715.] you would scarce suspect. Particularly, Mr
Webster is very much cried out against for saying no more but that
whoever in his parish did attend these plays should be refused tokens to
the sacrament of the Supper.’[470]

The presbytery of Edinburgh was alive to the danger of allowing
stage-plays to be acted within their borders, and adverted to the
Canongate theatricals in great concern on the 23d of March 1715. ‘Being
informed,’ they said, ‘that some comedians have lately come to the
bounds of this presbytery, and do act within the precincts of the Abbey,
to the great offence of many, by trespassing upon morality and those
rules of modesty and chastity which our holy religion obligeth all its
professors to a strict observance of, therefore the presbytery
recommends to all their members to use all proper and prudent methods to
discourage the same.’[471] It is at the same time rather startling to
find that three of the ministers who went as a deputation to pay the
respects of the Church of Scotland to George I. on his accession in
1714—namely, Mitchell, Ramsay, and Hart—went at Kendal to see the comedy
of _Love for Love_ acted.


[Sidenote: APR. 22.]

A celebrated total eclipse of the sun, which happened about nine o’clock
in the morning of this day, made a great impression in Scotland, as in
other parts of Europe, over which the entire shadow passed. The darkness
lasted upwards of three minutes, during which the usual phenomena were
observed among the lower animals. The Edinburgh bard, Allan Ramsay,
heralded the event with a set of verses, embracing all the commonplaces
connected with it; adding,

             ‘The unlearned clowns, who don’t our era know,
             From this dark Friday will their ages shew,
             As I have often heard old country men
             Talk of Dark Monday[472] and their ages then.’

Whiston, in his _Memoirs_, relates what will be to philosophical persons
an amusing anecdote of this eclipse. When the accounts of it were
published beforehand in the streets of London, telling when it would
commence, and that it would be total, a Mohammedan envoy, from Tripoli,
thought the English people were distracted [Sidenote: 1715.] in
pretending to know what God Almighty would do; which his own countrymen
could not do. ‘He concluded thus, that God Almighty would never reveal
so great a secret to us unbelievers, when he did not reveal it to those
whom he esteemed true believers. However, when the eclipse came exactly
as we all foretold, he was asked again what he thought of the matter
now; his answer was, that he supposed we knew this by _art magique_;
otherwise he must have turned Christian upon such an extraordinary event
as this was.’


[Sidenote: JULY.]

Mr James Anderson, so honourably known as editor of the _Diplomata
Scotiæ_, was rewarded for his public services by the appointment of
Deputy Postmaster-general, in place of George Mein. A mass of his
correspondence, preserved in the Advocates’ Library, makes us acquainted
with the condition in which he found postal matters, and the
improvements which he effected during two or three subsequent years.

We learn that the horse-posts which existed many years back on some of
the principal roads, had, ere this time, been given up, and foot-runners
substituted, excepting perhaps upon what might be called the _aorta_ of
the system, from Edinburgh to Berwick. In this manner direct bags were
conveyed as far north as Thurso, and westwards to Inverary. There were
three mails a week from Edinburgh to Glasgow, and three in return; the
runners set out from Edinburgh each Tuesday and Thursday, at twelve
o’clock at night, and on Sundays in the morning, and the mails arrived
at Glasgow on the evening of Wednesday and Friday, and on the forenoon
of Monday. For this service the Post-office paid £40 sterling per annum,
but from the fraudulent dealing of the postmaster of Falkirk, who made
the payments, the runners seldom received more than from £20 to £25.

‘After his appointment, Mr Anderson directed his attention to the
establishment of horse-posts on the western road from Edinburgh. The
first regular horse-post in Scotland appears to have been from Edinburgh
to Stirling; it started for the first time on the 29th November 1715. It
left Stirling at two o’clock afternoon, each Tuesday, Thursday, and
Saturday, and reached Edinburgh in time for the night-mail to England.
In March 1717, the first horse-post between Edinburgh and Glasgow was
established, and we have the details of the arrangement in a memorial
addressed to Lord Cornwallis and James Craggs, who jointly filled the
office of Postmaster-general of Great Britain. [Sidenote: 1715.] The
memorial states that the “horse-post will set out for Edinburgh each
Tuesday, and Thursday, at eight o’clock at night, and on Sunday about
eight or nine in the morning, and be in Glasgow (a distance of
thirty-six miles by the post-road of that time) by six in the morning on
Wednesday and Friday in summer, and eight in winter, and both winter and
summer will be on Sunday night.” There appears to have been a good deal
of negotiation connected with the settlement of this post, in which the
provost and bailies of Glasgow took part. After some delay, the matter
appears to have been arranged to the satisfaction of all parties.

‘A proposition was made at this time to establish a horse-post between
Edinburgh and Aberdeen, at a cost of £132, 12_s._ per annum, to
supersede the foot-posts, which were maintained at a cost of £81, 12_s._
The scheme, however, appears not to have been entertained at that time
by the Post-office authorities.

‘In the year 1715, Edinburgh had direct communication with sixty
post-towns in Scotland, and in the month of August the total sum
received for letters passing to and from these offices and Edinburgh,
was £44, 3_s._ 1_d._ The postage on letters to and from London in the
same month amounted to £157, 3_s._ 2_d._, and the postage for letters
per the London road, amounted to £9, 19_s._, making the total sum for
letters to and from Edinburgh, during that month, amount to £211, 5_s._
3_d._—equal to £2535, 3_s._ per annum.

‘In 1716, the Duke of Argyle, who had then supreme control in Scotland,
gave orders to Mr Anderson to place relays of horses from Edinburgh to
Inverness, for the purpose of forwarding dispatches to, and receiving
intelligence from, the army in the Highlands under General Cadogan.
These posts worked upon two lines of roads—the one went through Fife,
and round by the east coast, passing through Aberdeen; the other took
the central road viâ Perth, Dunkeld, and Blair Athole. These horse-posts
were, however, discontinued immediately after the army retired.’[473]

In October 1723, the authorities of the Edinburgh Post-office announced
a thrice-a-week correspondence with Lanark, by means of the horse-post
to Glasgow, and a runner thence to Lanark. The official _annonce_
candidly owns: ‘This at first sight appears far about’ (it was
transforming a direct distance of thirty-one miles into sixty-six). But
‘the Glasgow horse-post running all [Sidenote: 1715.] night makes the
dispatch so quick, that the letters come this way to Lanark in twenty,
or at most twenty-two hours, and from Lanark to Edinburgh in twenty-four
hours at most.’


[Sidenote: JULY 18.]

Two Renfrewshire gentlemen, of whose previous dealings with each other
in friendship or business we get but an obscure account, came to a
hostile collision in Edinburgh. Mr James Houston, son of the deceased
Sir Patrick Houston of that Ilk, was walking on a piece of pavement
called the Plainstones, near the Cross, when Sir John Shaw of Greenock
came up with a friend, and the two gentlemen, designedly or not,
slightly jostled each other. Mr Houston put his hand to his sword, but
had not time to draw it before Sir John fell a-beating him about the
head and shoulders with his cane, which, however, flying out of his
hand, he instantly took to his sword, and before the bystanders could
interfere, passed it twice through Mr Houston’s body.

It was at first thought the man was slain outright; but he was surviving
in a sickly state in the ensuing January, when he raised a criminal
prosecution against the knight of Greenock, and succeeded in obtaining
from him a solatium to the amount of five hundred pounds.[474]


[Sidenote: SEP.]

On the breaking out of the Rebellion this month, there was a run upon
the Bank of Scotland, rather encouraged by the directors than otherwise,
from a desire to escape the responsibility and danger of keeping money
during such a critical time. When the whole coin was drawn out, the Bank
rendered up about thirty thousand pounds of public money which lay in
its hands, that it might be lodged in the Castle, and then very calmly
stopped payment, or rather discontinued business, intimating that their
notes should bear interest till better times should return. In May 1716,
the troubles being over, the Bank began to take in their notes and
resume business as usual.[475]


[Sidenote: SEP. 29.]

At this crisis, when a formidable insurrection was breaking out, the
officers intrusted with the support of the government were not in the
enjoyment of that concord which is said to give strength. The
Justice-clerk (Cockburn of Ormiston) was on bad terms with both the Earl
of Ilay and the Lord Advocate, Sir David [Sidenote: 1715.] Dalrymple.
The animosity between two of these men came to a consummation which
might be said to prefigure the celebrated wig-pulling of Sir Robert
Walpole and Lord Townshend. The Earl of Ilay writes at this date from
Edinburgh: ‘There has happened an accident which will suspend the
Justice-clerk’s fury against me; for he and the King’s Advocate have had
a _corporal dispute_; I mean literally, for I parted them.’[476]


[Sidenote: OCT. 18.]

In a letter of this date, written at Musselburgh by the Rev. J.
Williamson, minister of that place, some recent domestic events are
alluded to—as ‘the lamentable murder of Doctor Rule last week by
Craigmillar’s second son, and the melancholy providence of a jeweller’s
servant, who was under some dejection for some time, and did, on Monday
last, immediately after sermon, at Leith, run into the sea deliberately,
and drown himself.’ There had been a new election of Scots peers at
Holyrood for the first parliament of the new reign, and they were all of
one sound loyal type—‘a plain evidence of our further slavery to the
English court.’ In reference to this, a fruit-woman went about the
Palace-yard, crying: ‘Who would buy good pears, old pears, new pears,
fresh pears—rotten pears, sixteen of them for a plack!’[477]


[Sidenote: DEC. 28.]

Died, William Carstares, Principal of the University of Edinburgh, noted
as having been the intimate friend of King William, and his adviser
about all Scottish affairs; for which reason, and his influence over the
fortunes of the church, he was popularly known by the name of _Cardinal
Carstares_. It must ever be considered a great honour to the Church of
Scotland to have had the affectionate support of such a man. A sufferer
under the severities of the pre-Revolution government, he inclined, when
his day of power came, to use it with moderation. His temperate counsels
and practice are believed to have had a great effect in smoothing the
difficulties which at first surrounded the Presbyterian establishment.
His probity and disinterestedness have been above all question. King
William said ‘he had known him long and well, and he knew him to be an
Honest Man.’ In the midst of the contentious proceedings of this period,
to light upon the gentle prudence, the unostentatious worth, and the
genial unselfishness of Carstares, has the effect of a fine, soothing
[Sidenote: 1715.] melody amidst discord. There are a few anecdotes of
this eminent man, which no one can read without feeling his heart
improved.

A newly widowed sister coming from the country to see him, when he was
engaged in consultations of importance with some of the officers of
state, he instantly left these personages and came to her; insisted,
against her remonstrances, on staying a short while with her, and giving
her a prayer of consolation; then, having appointed a more leisurely
interview, he returned with the tears scarcely effaced from his
countenance, to his noble company.

His charities, which were truly diffusive, were often directed to the
unfortunate Episcopal clergy. One, named Caddell, having called upon
him, he observed that the poor man’s clothes were worn out, and
discreditable to his sacred calling. Instantly ordering a suit to be
prepared for a man of Caddell’s size, he took care to have them first
tried upon his own person when his friend next waited upon him. ‘See,’
said he, ‘how this silly fellow has misfitted me! They are quite useless
to me. They will be lost if they don’t fit some of my friends. And, by
the by, I daresay they might answer you. Please try them on, for it is a
pity they should be thrown away.’ Caddell, after some hesitation,
complied, and found that the clothes fitted him exactly. With his
hard-wrung permission, they were sent home to him, _and he found a
ten-pound note in one of the pockets_.

It is said that many of the ‘outed’ clergy were in the custom of
receiving supplies, the source of which they never knew till Mr
Carstares’s death. At his funeral, two men were observed to turn aside
together, quite overcome by their grief. Upon inquiry, it was found they
were two nonjurant ministers, whose families, for a considerable time,
had been supported by the benefactions of him they were laying in the
grave.[478]

If the partisans of particular doctrines and formulæ were to try
occasionally upon each other the effect of kindly good offices such as
these, might they not sometimes make a little way with their opponents,
instead of merely exasperating and hardening them, as, under existing
circumstances, they almost invariably do?


[Sidenote: 1716. APR. 21.]

John Kellie, corporal in the Earl of Stair’s regiment, was put into the
Edinburgh Tolbooth for killing John Norton, sergeant of [Sidenote:
1716.] the same regiment, in a duel near Stirling. He was liberated at
the bar, on the 23d July ensuing.[479]

The fighting of duels by private soldiers, now never heard of, seems
then to have been not uncommon. The _Edinburgh Courant_ of February 16,
1725, states: ‘This morning, two soldiers of the regiment that lies in
the Canongate were whipped for fighting a duel.’


[Sidenote: MAY 21.]

The Whig government of George I., having now got the lay Jacobites
effectually put down, bethought itself of the clergy of the defeated
party, the Episcopalians, who had made several active demonstrations
during the late insurrection, and constantly stood in a sort of negative
rebellion, in as far as they never prayed for the king _de facto_. Under
a prompting from a high quarter, the Commissioners of Justiciary now
ordered the advocate-depute, Duncan Forbes, to proceed against such of
the Episcopal clergy in Scotland as had not prayed for King George, or
otherwise obeyed the late Toleration Act by registering orders from a
Protestant bishop. The consequent proceedings reveal to us a curious
view of the condition of Episcopacy at that time in Edinburgh—at once
comprehending a large number of clergy, and existing in the greatest
obscurity.

There were Mr William Abercrombie and Mr David Freebairn, Mr Robert
Marshall and Mr William Wylie, each described as ‘preacher in the
Episcopal meeting-house in Bailie Fyfe’s Close;’ Mr George Johnston, Mr
Robert Keith, and Mr Andrew Lumsdain, severally described as ‘preacher
in the Episcopal meeting-house in Barrenger’s Close;’ Mr Jasper Kellie,
‘preacher in the Episcopal meeting-house below the Fountain-well;’ Mr
Thomas Rhind, ‘preacher in the Episcopal meeting-house in Sandilands’
Close;’ Mr George Grahame, ‘preacher and user of the English Liturgy in
his own house, to which many do resort as an Episcopal meeting-house, in
Canongate-head;’ Mr Andrew Cant, Mr David Lambie, Mr David Rankine, and
Mr Patrick Middleton, ‘preachers in the Episcopal meeting-house in
Skinner’s Close;’ Mr Henry Walker and Mr Patrick Home, each described as
‘preacher in the Episcopal meeting-house in Todrig’s Wynd;’ Mr Robert
Calder, ‘preacher, sometimes in Edinburgh, sometimes in Tranent’ [the
reputed author of _Scots Presbyterian Eloquence Displayed_]; Mr William
Milne and Mr William Cockburn, [Sidenote: 1716.] ‘preachers in the
Episcopal meeting-house in Blackfriars’ Wynd’ [the latter probably he
who had lately been chased by the mob out of Glasgow]; Mr James Walker,
‘preacher in the Episcopal meeting-house in Dickson’s Close;’ Mr
Alexander Sutherland, senior, and Mr Robert Chein, ‘preachers in the
Episcopal meeting-house at the back of Bell’s Wynd.’ Thus, we see there
were ten places of worship in Edinburgh—all in retired situations, and,
strange to say, all within two hundred yards or so of each other; having
in all twenty-two ministers; being considerably more than the number of
the Established clergy then in Edinburgh; but in what poverty they lived
may be partly inferred from the fact, that Thomas Ruddiman, the
grammarian, when attending an Episcopal meeting-house in Edinburgh in
1703, paid only ‘forty shillings’ (3_s._ 4_d._) for his seat for two
years.[480]

Besides the twenty-two Edinburgh clergy, there were Mr Arthur Miller,
‘preacher in the Episcopal meeting-house in Leith,’ and Mr Robert Coult
and Mr James Hunter, ‘Episcopal preachers in Mussleburgh,’ all involved
in the same prosecution.

The result of their trial was a sentence, applicable to all except Mr
William Cockburn, forbidding them to exercise their ministerial
functions till they should have fulfilled the requirements of the law,
and amerciating them in twenty pounds each for not praying for King
George. The only visible difference between the old persecutions and
this was, that there was a populace to howl in the one case, and not in
the other. However, the authorities were humane. The magistrates of
Edinburgh were content to see that letters of ordination were
registered. When the Prince of Wales, acting as regent, some time after
sent them a secretary of state’s letter, complaining that the sentence
was not fully carried out—the object being to compel a praying for his
father—the magistrates applied for instructions to the commissioners of
Justiciary, and were told that, having once passed sentence, the court
could do nothing more in the case. So the Episcopal meeting-houses in
Bailie Fyfe’s, Barrenger’s, Sandilands’, and other closes went on as
before.[481]


[Sidenote: AUG.]

William Mure of Caldwell travelling with a party of friends from
Edinburgh to Ross-shire, came the first stage—namely, to the
Queensferry—in a coach, and afterwards proceeded on horseback. Writing
an account of his journey to his wife, from [Sidenote: 1716.] Chanonry,
August 30, he says: ‘We came in coach to the Ferry on Friday; and though
we were once overturned, yet none of us had any misfortune.’ Probably Mr
Mure considered himself as getting off very well with but one overturn
in a coach-journey of eleven English miles. He goes on: ‘We came that
night to Perth, where the Master of Ross and Lady Betty met us. On
Saturday, we came to Dunkeld, and were all night with the Duke of
Athole. On Sunday, after sermon, we left the ladies there, and came to
the Blair.’ The ladies probably had scruples about Sunday travelling;
but Mr Mure, although a man of notedly religious character, appears to
have had none. ‘On Monday,’ he adds, ‘we made a long journey, and went
to Glenmore, where my Lord Huntly’s fir-woods are. On Tuesday, we came
to Kilravock’s house [Kilravock], and yesternight came here, which is
the first town in the shire of Ross.’[482] Thus a journey of about 170
miles occupied in all six days.

In April 1722, the king being about to visit Hanover, certain Scottish
lords, amongst others, were appointed to attend him. It is intimated in
a London paper of April 28,[483] that they set out from Edinburgh for
this purpose on the previous Monday, the 23d; and ‘the roads being laid
with post-horses, they are expected here as to-morrow.’ That is, the
journey would occupy in the way of posting from Monday to Sunday, or
seven days. It was one day more than the time occupied in a journey from
London to Edinburgh by the Duke of Argyle in September 1715, when he
posted down in the utmost haste, with some friends, to take command of
the troops for the resistance to the insurgent Earl of Mar.

It appears that about this time there were occasional packet-ships, by
which people could travel between Edinburgh and London. In 1720, the
_Bon Accord_, Captain Buchanan, was advertised as to sail for London on
the 30th June, having good accommodation for passengers, and ‘_will keep
the day, goods or no goods_.’ Two years later, the ‘_Unity_ packet-boat
of Leith’ was in like manner announced as to proceed to London on the
1st September, ‘goods or no goods, wind and weather serving, having good
accommodation for passengers, and good entertainment.’ The master to be
spoke with in the Laigh Coffee-house.[484] But this mode of transit was
occasionally attended with vicissitudes [Sidenote: 1716.] not much less
vexatious than those of the pious voyager of the _Æneid_. For example,
we learn from a paragraph in an Edinburgh newspaper, on the 15th
November 1743, that the Edinburgh and Glasgow packet from London, ‘after
having great stress of weather for _twenty days_, has lately arrived
safe at Holy Island, and is _soon_ expected in Leith harbour.’

During the decade 1720–30, return chaises for London, generally with six
horses, are occasionally advertised. The small amount of travelling
which then prevailed is marked by the fact, that we find such a
conveyance announced on the 11th of May to set out homeward on the 15th
or 16th, and on the 18th re-advertised as to go on the 2d or 3d of June,
no one having come forward in the interval to take advantage of the
opportunity. We find, however, in 1732, that a periodical conveyance had
at length been attempted. The advertisement states, ‘that the Stage
Coach continues to go from the Canongate for London, or any place on the
road, every Wednesday fortnight. And if any gentleman want a _by-coach_,
they may call at Alexander Forsyth’s, opposite to the Duke of
Queensberry’s Lodging, where the coach stands.’

In May 1734, a comparatively spirited effort in the way of travelling
was announced by John Dale and three other persons—namely, a coach to
set out towards the end of this week [pleasant indefiniteness!] for
London, or any place on the road, to be performed in nine days, or three
days sooner than any other coach that travels the road.’

The short space between the two populous towns of Edinburgh and Leith
must have been felt as a particularly favourable field for this kind of
enterprise; and, accordingly, a ‘Leith stage’ was tried both in 1610 and
1660,[485] but on both occasions failed to receive sufficient
encouragement. In July 1722, we are informed that, on the 9th instant,
‘two stage-coaches are to begin to serve betwixt Edinburgh and Leith,
and are to go _with or without company_ every hour of the day. They are
designed to contain six persons, each paying threepence during the
summer, and fourpence during the winter for their fare.’


[Sidenote: SEP. 1.]

This day met at Edinburgh a set of commissioners appointed under a late
act ‘to inquire of the estates of certain traitors, and of popish
recusants, and of estates given to superstitious uses, in order to raise
money out of them for the use of the public.’ The [Sidenote: 1716.]
first and most prominent object was to appropriate the lands of the
Scottish nobles and gentlemen who had taken part in the late
insurrection for the House of Stuart. Four out of the six commissioners
were Englishmen, members of the House of Commons, and among these was
the celebrated Sir Richard Steele, fresh from the literary glories he
had achieved in the _Tatler_, _Spectator_, and _Guardian_, from his
sufferings in the Whig cause under Anne, and the consolatory honours he
attained under the new monarch.

It was a matter of course that strangers of such distinction should be
honoured in a city which received few such guests; and doubtless the
government officials in particular paid them many flattering attentions.
But the commissioners very soon found that their business was not an
easy or agreeable one. There was in Scotland plenty of hatred to the
Jacobite cause; but battling off its adherents at Sheriffmuir, and
putting down its seminaries, the Episcopal chapels, was a different
thing from seeing an order come from England which was to extinguish the
names and fortunes of many old and honourable families, and turn a
multitude of women and children out of house and home, and throw them
upon the charity of their friends or the public. Most of the
unfortunates, too, had connections among the Whigs themselves, with
claims upon them for commiseration, if not assistance; and we all know
the force of the old Scottish maxim—eternal blessings rest on the
nameless man who first spoke it!—that _bluid is thicker than water_.

It was with no little surprise and no little irritation that these
English Whig gentlemen discovered how hard it was to turn the forfeited
estates into money, or indeed to make any decent progress at all in the
business they came about. The first and most vexatious discovery they
made was, that there was a code of law and frame of legal procedure
north of the Tweed different from what obtained to the south of it. The
act was framed with a regard to the practices of English law, which were
wholly unknown and could not be recognised in Scotland. Then as to
special impediments—first came the Scotch Court of Exchequer, with a
claim under an act of the preceding year, imposing a penalty of five
hundred pounds and loss of liferents and whole movables on every
suspected man who did not deliver himself up before a certain day: all
of the men engaged in the late insurrection had incurred this penalty;
the affair came under the Exchequer department; and it was necessary to
discriminate between what was forfeited by the one act and what was
forfeited by the other. [Sidenote: 1716.] There was something more
obstructive, however, than even the Scottish Exchequer. The
commissioners discovered this in the form of a body called the Court of
Session, or, in common language, ‘the Fifteen,’ who sat periodically in
Edinburgh, exercising a mysterious influence over property throughout
the country, and indulging in certain phrases of marvellous potency,
though utterly undreamed of in Southern Britain. Here is how it was. The
act had, of course, admitted the preferable claims of the creditors of
the traitors, and of those who had claims for marriage and other
provisions on their estates. On petitions from these persons—in whose
reality the commissioners had evidently a very imperfect faith—this
Court of Session had passed what, in their barbarous jargon, they called
_sequestrations_ of the said estates, at the same time appointing
factors to uplift the rents, for the benefit of the aforesaid persons in
the first place, and only the commissioners in the second. What further
seemed to the commissioners very strange was, that these factors were
all of them men notedly disaffected to the Revolution interest, most of
them confidential friends, some even the relatives, of the forfeited
persons, and therefore all disposed to make the first department of the
account as large, and the second as small, as possible. Nor was even
this all, for, as had been pointed out to them by some of the
Established clergy of Forfarshire, these factors were persons dangerous
to the government. For example, Sir John Carnegie of Pitarrow, factor on
the Earl of Southesk’s estate, was the man who, on the synod of Angus
uttering a declaration in 1712 for the House of Hanover, had caused it
to be burned at the head burgh of the shire. John Lumsdain, who was
nominated to the charge of the estates of the Earl of Panmure, had
greatly obstructed the establishment of the church in the district, and
proved altogether ‘very uneasy to presbyteries and synods.’ Suppose the
unruly king of Sweden should land on the east of Scotland, there were
all the tenants of those large estates in the obedience of men who would
hail his arrival and forward his objects!

The general result was, that the commissioners found themselves stranded
in Edinburgh, as powerless as so many porpoises on Cramond sands, only
treated with a little more outward respect. One proposal, indeed, they
did receive (January 1717), that seemed at first to be a Scottish
movement in their favour—namely, an offer from the Lord Advocate (Sir
David Dalrymple), _with their concurrence_, to commence actions in the
Court of Session for [Sidenote: 1716.] determining the claims of
creditors; but, seeing in this only an endless vista of vexatious
lawsuits, they declined it, preferring to leave the whole matter to be
disposed of by further acts of the legislature.[486]


[Sidenote: SEP. 3.]

By virtue of the treason-law for Scotland, passed immediately after the
Union, the government this day suddenly removed eighty-nine rebel
prisoners from Edinburgh to Carlisle, to be there tried by English
juries, it being presumed that there was no chance of impartiality in
Scotland. The departing troop was followed by a wail of indignant lament
from the national heart. Jacobites pointing to it with mingled howls and
jeers as a proof of the enslavement of Scotland—Whigs carried off by
irresistible sympathy, and unable to say a word in its defence—attested
how much the government did by such acts to retard the desirable
amalgamation of the two nations. Under the warm feeling of the moment, a
subscription was opened to provide legal defences for the unfortunate
Scotsmen, and contributions came literally from all sorts and conditions
of men. Even the Goodman of the Tolbooth gave his pound. The very
government officials in some instances were unable to resist an appeal
so thrilling.

The list includes the names of nineteen of the nobility—namely, Errol,
Haddington, Rosebery, Morton, Hopetoun, Dundonald, Moray, Rutherglen,
Cassillis, Traquair, March, Galloway, Kinnoull, Eglintoune, Elibank,
Colville, Blantyre, Coupar, and Deskford, all for considerable sums.
Amongst other entries are the following: Lady Grizel Cochrane, £6,
9_s._; the Commissioners of Excise, £7, 10_s._ 6_d._; Mr George
Drummond, Goodman of the Tolbooth [Edinburgh], £1; John M‘Farlane,
Writer to the Signet, 10_s._ 9_d._; the Merchant Company, £5; the
Incorporation of Goldsmiths, £5; the Incorporation of Tailors, £5; the
Incorporation of Chirurgeons, £5; the four Incorporations of Leith
(aggregate), £53, 16_s._ 7_d._; the Episcopal Clergy of Edinburgh, £8,
8_s._; Magistrates of Haddington (and collected by them), £28; Society
of Periwigmakers in Edinburgh, £24, 4_s._ 3_d._; Inhabitants of
Musselburgh, Inveresk, and Fisherrow, £20; collected by Lady Grizel
Cochrane, at Dumbarton, £30; Colonel Charteris’s lady, £5, 7_s._ 6_d._;
collected by Lady Grizel Cochrane, from sundry persons specified,
£180.[487]

[Sidenote: 1716.]

To do the government justice, the rebel prisoners were treated mildly,
not one of them being done to death, though several were transported. An
attempt was made, two years later, by a commission of Oyer and Terminer
sent into Scotland, to bring a number of other Jacobite delinquents to
punishment. It sat at Perth, Dundee, and Kelso, without being able to
obtain true bills: only at Cupar was it so far effective as to get bills
against Lord George Murray, of the Athole family; Sir James Sharpe,
representative of the too famous archbishop; Sir David Threipland of
Fingask; and a son of Moir of Stonywood; but it was to no purpose, for
the trials of these gentlemen were never proceeded with.[488]


[Sidenote: OCT. 2.]

Captain John Cayley (son of Cornelius Cayley of the city of York), one
of the commissioners of his majesty’s customs, was a conspicuous member
of that little corps of English officials whom the new arrangements
following on the Union had sent down to Scotland. He was a vain gay
young man, pursuing the bent of his irregular passions with little
prudence or discretion. Amongst his acquaintance in Edinburgh was a
pretty young married woman—the daughter of Colonel Charles Straiton,
well known as a highly trusted agent of the Jacobite party—the wife of
John M‘Farlane, Writer to the Signet, who appears to have at one time
been man of business to Lord Lovat. Cayley had made himself notedly
intimate with Mr and Mrs M‘Farlane, often entertained them at his
country-house, and was said to have made some valuable presents to the
lady. To what extent there was truth in the scandals which connected the
names of Commissioner Cayley and Mrs M‘Farlane, we do not know; but it
is understood that Cayley, on one occasion, spoke of the lady in terms
which, whether founded in truth or otherwise, infinitely more condemned
himself. Perhaps drink made him rash; perhaps vanity made him assume a
triumph which was altogether imaginary; perhaps he desired to realise
some wild plan of his inflamed brain, and brought on his punishment in
self-defence. There were all sorts of theories on the subject, and
little positively known to give any of them much superiority over
another in point of plausibility. A gentleman,[489] writing from
Edinburgh the second day after, says: ‘I can hardly offer you anything
but matter of fact, which was—that [Sidenote: 1716.] upon Tuesday last
he came to her lodging after three o’clock, where he had often been at
tea and cards: she did not appear till she had changed all her clothes
to her very smock. Then she came into a sort of drawing-room, and from
that conveyed him into her own bedchamber. After some conversation
there, she left him in it; went out to a closet which lay at some
distance from the chamber; [thence] she brought in a pair of charged
pistols belonging to Mr Cayley himself, which Mr M‘Farland, her husband,
had borrowed from him some days before, when he was about to ride to the
country. What further expressions there were on either side I know not;
but she fired one pistol, which only made a slight wound on the
shackle-bone of his left hand, and slanted down through the floor—which
I saw. The other she fired in aslant on his right breast, so as the
bullet pierced his heart, and stuck about his left shoulder-blade
behind. She went into the closet, [and] laid by the pistols, he having
presently fallen dead on the floor. She locked the door of her room upon
the dead body, [and] sent a servant for her husband, who was in a
change-house with company, being about four afternoon. He came, and gave
her what money he had in the house, and conducted her away; and after he
had absented himself for about a day, he appeared, and afterwards
declared before the Lords of Justiciary he knew nothing about it till
she sent for him.... I saw his corps after he was cereclothed, and saw
his blood where he lay on the floor for twenty-four hours after he died,
just as he fell, so as it was a difficulty to straight him.’[490]

Miss Margaret Swinton, a grand-aunt of Sir Walter Scott, used to relate
to him and other listeners to her fireside-tales,[491] that, when she
was a little girl, being left at home at Swinton House by herself one
Sunday, indisposed, while all the rest of the family were at church, she
was drawn by curiosity into the dining-room, and there saw a beautiful
female, whom she took for ‘an enchanted queen,’ pouring out tea at a
table. The lady seemed equally surprised as herself, but presently
recovering self-possession, addressed the little intruder kindly, in
particular desiring her to speak first to her mother _by herself_ of
what she had seen. Margaret looked for a moment out of the window, and,
when she turned about, the enchanted queen was gone! On the return of
the family, she spoke to her mother of the vision, was praised for her
discretion, and desired to keep the matter from all other [Sidenote:
1716.] persons—an injunction she strictly followed. The stranger was Mrs
M‘Farlane, who, being a relative of the family, had here received a
temporary shelter after the slaughter of Captain Cayley. She had
vanished from Margaret Swinton’s sight through a panel-door into a
closet which had been arranged for her concealment. The family always
admired the sagacity shewn in asking Margaret to speak to her mother of
what she had seen, but to speak to her _alone_ in the first instance, as
thus the child’s feelings found a safe vent. It will be remembered that
Scott has introduced the incident as part of his fiction of _Peveril of
the Peak_.

In the ensuing February, criminal letters were raised against Mrs
M‘Farlane by the Lord Advocate, Sir David Dalrymple, and the father and
brother of the deceased, reciting that ‘John Cayley having, on the 2d of
October last, come to the house of John M‘Farlane in order to make a
civil visit, she did then and there shoot a pistol at John Cayley, and
thereby mortally wounded him.’ Not appearing to stand her trial, she was
declared outlaw.[492] Sir Walter Scott states it as certain, that she
was afterwards enabled to return to Edinburgh, where she lived and
died;[493] but I must own that some good evidence would be required to
substantiate such a statement.

The romantic nature of the incident, and the fact of the sufferer being
an Englishman, caused the story of Mrs M‘Farlane to be famed beyond the
bounds of Scotland. Pope, writing about the time to Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu, breaks out thus: ‘Let them say I am romantic; so is every one
said to be that either admires a fine thing or does one. On my
conscience, as the world goes, ’tis hardly worth anybody’s while to do
one for the honour of it. Glory, the only pay of generous actions, is
now as ill-paid as other just debts; and neither Mrs Macfarland for
immolating her lover, nor you for returning to your lord, must ever hope
to be compared to Lucretia or Portia.’[494]


[Sidenote: OCT. 20.]

A newspaper which enjoyed a temporary existence in Edinburgh[495]—each
number consisting of five small leaves—is vociferous with the
celebrations of the anniversary of King George’s coronation in
Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Perth, and other Scottish towns. Ten days
later, it proclaims with equal vehemence the [Sidenote: 1716.]
rejoicings in the same places in honour of the birthday of the Prince of
Wales. Paradings and firings of musketry by the troops, drinkings of
loyal toasts from covered tables at the Cross, bonfires, ringings of
bells, form the chief demonstrations. And it is notable that in Dundee,
Brechin, and Aberdeen, which we know to have been in those days full of
Jacobites, the symptoms of loyalty to Hanover are by many degrees the
most ostentatious, there being the more need of course for the friends
of the reigning house to exert themselves. In Dundee (where in reality
the Jacobites were probably two to one), ‘everybody looked cheerful, and
vied who should outdo other in rejoicing, except some few of our
Jacobite neighbours, who, being like owls, loved darkness; but care will
be taken that they spared not their money by being singular.’

Loyalty is altogether a paradox, appearances with it being usually in
the inverse ratio of its actual existence, and the actuality in the
inverse ratio of the deserving. No monarch ever enjoyed so much of it as
Charles I. Since the days of his sons, when the bulk of the people of
Scotland felt themselves under a civil and ecclesiastical tyranny, the
demonstrations at market-crosses on royal birthdays had not been so
violent as now, when a new family, about whom nobody cared or could
care, occupied the throne. Nor did these again become equally loud till
the time of George III., when Wilkes prosecutions, losses of American
colonies, and unjustifiable wars with French reformers, made loyalty
again a needful article, and king’s-health-drinkings in the highest
degree desirable. On the other hand, when rulers are truly worthy of a
faithful affection on the part of their people—as in our happy age—one
never hears the word loyalty mentioned.

All through the reign of the first George and a great part of that of
his successor, the newspaper estimate of human character seems to have
had but one element—the attachment of the individual to ‘our present
happy establishment in church and state.’ At the end of every paragraph
announcing a choice of magistrates in Scotland, it is pointedly stated
that they are all friends of the Hanover succession. Such things are, of
course, simply the measure of the extent of hatred and indifferency with
which the happy establishment and dynasty were regarded, as well as of
the danger in which it was the fate of both to exist, from the eagerness
of many to get them destroyed.

The same newspaper, while telling us of such grave things as Scottish
nobles and gentlemen waiting in the Tower and in [Sidenote: 1716.]
Carlisle Castle for death or for life, as an incensed government might
please to dictate, gives us other notices, reminding us of the affecting
truism breathed from every sheet of the kind in our own day, that all
the affairs of human life, the serious, the comic, the important, the
trivial, are constantly going on shoulder to shoulder together. We
glance from a hard-wrung pardon for a dozen rebels, or an account of the
execution of Sergeant Ainslie, hung over the wall of Edinburgh Castle
for an attempt to render the fortress up to the Jacobites—to the let of
the lands of Biggarshiels, which ‘sow above eighty bolls of oats,’ and
have a good ‘sheepgang’ besides—or to David Sibbald’s vessel, the _Anne_
of Kirkcaldy, which now lies in Leith harbour for the benefit of all who
wish to transport themselves or their goods to London, and is to sail
with all expedition—or to the fact that yesterday the Duke of Hamilton
left Edinburgh for his country-seat, attended by a retinue of
gentlemen—or to an announcement of Allan Ramsay’s forthcoming poem of
the _Morning Interview_—for all these things come jostling along
together in one month. Nor may the following quaint advertisement be
overlooked:

‘A young gentlewoman, lately come from London, cuts hair extremely well,
dresses in the newest fashion, has the newest fashioned patterns for
beads, ruffles, &c., and mends lace very fine, and does all sort of
plain work; also teaches young gentlewomen to work, and young women for
their work. She does all manner of quilting and stitching. All the
ladies that come to her on Monday and Thursday, have their hair cut for
sixpence; at any other time, as reasonably as any in town; and dresses
the beads on wires cheaper than any one. She lodges in the Luckenbooths,
over against the Tolbooth, at one Mr Palmer’s, a periwig-maker, up one
pair of stairs.’[496]


Since the Revolution, there had been a constant and eager pressure
towards commerce and manufactures as a means of saving the nation from
the wretched poverty with which it was afflicted. But as yet there had
been scarcely the slightest movement towards the improvement of another
great branch of the national economy—namely, the culture of the ground.
The country was unenclosed; cultivation was only in patches near houses;
farm establishments were clusters of hovels; the rural people, among
whom the distinction of master and servant was [Sidenote: 1716.] little
marked, lived in the most wretched manner. A large part of rent was paid
in produce and by services. Old systems of husbandry reigned without
disturbance. Little had yet been done to facilitate communications in
the country by roads, as indeed little was required, for all goods were
carried on horseback.

The first notable attempt at planting was by Thomas, sixth Earl of
Haddington, about the time of the Union. From a love of common country
sports, this young nobleman was called away by his wife, a sister of the
first Earl of Hopetoun, who desired to see him engaged in planting, for
which she had somehow acquired a taste. The domain they had to work upon
was a tract of low ground surrounding their mansion of Tyninghame,
composing part of the coast of the Firth of Forth between North Berwick
and Dunbar. Their first experiment was upon a tract of about three
hundred acres, where it was believed that no trees could grow on account
of the sea-air. To the marvel of all, Lord Haddington included, the
_Binning Wood_, as it was called, soon became a beautiful sylvan domain,
as it continues to this day. To pursue his lordship’s own recital: ‘I
now took pleasure in planting and improving; but, because I did not like
the husbandry practised in this country, I got some farmers from
Dorsetshire. This made me divide my ground; but, as I knew the coldness
of the climate, and the bad effects the winds had, I made stripes of
planting between every enclosure, some forty, fifty, or sixty feet
broad, as I thought best.... From these Englishmen we came to the
knowledge of sowing and the management of grass-seeds. After making the
enclosures, a piece of ground that carried nothing but furze was
planted; and my wife, seeing the unexpected success of her former
projects, went on to another.... There was a warren of four hundred
acres, vastly sandy [near the mouth of the Tyne]. A gentleman who had
lived some time at Hamburg, one day walking with her, said that he had
seen fine trees growing upon such a soil. She took the hint, and planted
about sixty or seventy acres of warren. All who saw it at the time
thought that labour and trees were thrown away; but to their amazement,
they saw them prosper as well as in the best grounds. The whole field
was dead sand, with scarce any grass on it; nor was it only so poor on
the surface, but continued so some yards down.’[497] Such was the origin
of the famous Tyninghame Woods, which now present eight hundred acres of
the finest timber in [Sidenote: 1716.] the country. By means of his
Dorsetshire farmers, too, Lord Haddington became the introducer of the
practice of sowing clover and other grass-seeds.

Another early improver of the surface was Sir Archibald Grant of
Monymusk (second baronet of the title), whose merits, moreover, are the
more remarkable, as his operations took place in a remote part of the
north. ‘In my early days,’ says he, ‘soon after the Union, husbandry and
manufactures were in low esteem. Turnips [raised] in fields for cattle
by the Earl of Rothes and very few others, were wondered at. Wheat was
almost confined to East Lothian. Enclosures were few, and planting very
little; no repair of roads, all bad, and very few wheel-carriages. In
1720, I could not, in chariot, get my wife from Aberdeen to Monymusk.
Colonel Middleton [was] the first who used carts or wagons there; and he
and I [were] the first benorth Tay who had hay, except very little at
Gordon Castle. Mr Lockhart of Carnwath, author of Memoirs, [was] the
first that attempted raising or feeding cattle to size.’[498]

‘By the indulgence of a very worthy father,’ says Sir Archibald, ‘I was
allowed [in] 1716, though then very young, to begin to enclose and
plant, and provide and prepare nurseries. At that time there was not one
acre upon the whole estate enclosed, nor any timber upon it but a few
elm, sycamore, and ash, about a small kitchen-garden adjoining to the
house [a very common arrangement about old Scotch country
mansion-houses], and some straggling trees at some of the farmyards,
with a small copsewood, not enclosed and dwarfish, and browsed by sheep
and cattle. All the farms [were] ill-disposed and mixed, different
persons having alternate ridges; not one wheel-carriage on the estate,
nor indeed any one road that would allow it; and the rent about £600
sterling per annum, [when] grain and services [were] converted into
money. The house was an old castle, with battlements and six different
roofs of various heights and directions, confusedly and inconveniently
combined, and all rotten, with two wings more modern of two stories
only, the half of the windows of the higher rising above the roofs; with
granaries, stables, and houses for all cattle and the vermin attending
them close adjoining; and with the heath and muir reaching in angles or
gushets to the gate, and much heath near. What land was in culture
[Sidenote: 1716.] belonged to the farms, by which their cattle and dung
were always at the door. The whole land [was] raised and uneven, and
full of stones, many of them very large, of a hard iron quality, and all
the ridges crooked in shape of an S, and very high, and full of noxious
weeds, and poor, being worn out by culture, without proper manure or
tillage. Much of the land and muir near the house [was] poor and boggy;
the rivulet that runs before the house in pits and shallow streams,
often varying channel, with banks always ragged and broken. The people
[were] poor, ignorant, and slothful, and ingrained enemies to planting,
enclosing, or any improvements or cleanness; no keeping of sheep or
cattle, or roads, but four months, when oats and bear (which was the
only sorts of their grain) was on ground. The farmhouses, and even
corn-mills, and manse and school, [were] all poor, dirty huts,
[occasionally] pulled in pieces for manure, or [which] fell of
themselves almost each alternate year.’[499]

By Sir Archibald’s exertions, Monymusk became in due time a beautiful
domain, well cultivated and productive, checkered with fine woods, in
which are now some of the largest trees to be seen in that part of
Scotland.

There is reason to believe that the very first person who was effective
in introducing any agricultural improvements into Scotland was an
_English lady_. It was in 1706—the year before the Union—that Elizabeth
Mordaunt, daughter of the famous Earl of Peterborough, married the
eldest son of the Duke of Gordon, and came to reside in Scotland. A
spark of her father’s enterprising genius made her desire to see her
adopted country put on a better aspect, and she took some trouble to
effect the object, by bringing down to some of her father-in-law’s
estates English ploughs, with men to work them, and who were acquainted
with the business of _fallowing_—heretofore utterly unknown in Scotland.
Her ladyship instructed the people of her neighbourhood in the proper
way of making hay, of which they were previously ignorant; and set an
example in the planting of muirs and the laying out of gardens. Urged by
her counsels, during the first twenty years of her residence in
Scotland, two Morayland proprietors, Sir Robert Gordon of Gordonston,
and a gentleman named Dunbar, and one Ross-shire laird, Sir William
Gordon of Invergordon, set about the draining and planting of their
estates, and the introduction of improved modes of culture, including
the sowing of French [Sidenote: 1716.] grasses.[500] It is rather
remarkable that Scotland should have received her first impulse towards
agricultural improvements from England, which we have in recent times
seen, as it were, sitting at her feet as a pupil in all the various
particulars of a superior rural economy.


[Sidenote: NOV.]

We are informed that, after the close of the Rebellion, owing to the
number of people cast loose thereby from all the ordinary social bonds,
‘thefts, robberies, rapines, and depredations became so common [in the
Highlands and their borders], that they began to be looked upon as
neither shameful nor dishonourable, and people of a station somewhat
above the vulgar, did sometimes countenance, encourage, nay, head gangs
of banditti in those detestable villanies.’ The tenants of great
landlords who had joined the Whig cause were particularly liable to
despoliation, and to this extent the system bore the character of a kind
of guerilla warfare. Such a landlord was the Duke of Montrose, whose
lands lying chiefly in the western parts of Perth, Stirling, and
Dumbarton shires, were peculiarly exposed to this kind of rapine. His
Grace, moreover, had so acted towards Rob Roy, as to create in that
personage a deep sense of injury, which the Highland moral code called
for being wreaked out in every available method. Rob had now constituted
himself the head of the broken men of his district, and having great
sagacity and address, he was by no means a despicable enemy.

At the date noted, the duke’s factor, Mr Graham of Killearn, came in the
usual routine, to collect his Grace’s Martinmas rents at a place called
Chapel-eroch, about half-way between Buchanan House and the village of
Drymen. The farmers were gathered together, and had paid in about two
hundred and sixty pounds, when Rob Roy, with twenty followers, descended
upon the spot from the hills of Buchanan. Having planted his people
about the house, he coolly entered, took Mr Graham prisoner, and
possessed himself of the money that had been collected, as well as the
account-books, telling the factor that he would answer for all to the
duke, as soon as his Grace should pay him three thousand four hundred
merks, being the amount of what he professed himself to have been
wronged of by the havoc committed by the duke upon his house at
Craigrostan, and subsequently by the burning [Sidenote: 1716.] of his
house at Auchinchisallen by the government troops. Mr Graham was
permitted to write to the duke, stating the case, and telling that he
was to remain a prisoner till his Grace should comply with Rob’s
demands, with ‘hard usage if any party are sent after him.’

Mr Graham was marched about by Rob Roy from place to place, ‘under a
very uneasy kind of restraint,’ for a week, when at length the outlaw,
considering that he could not mend matters, but might only provoke more
hostility by keeping his prisoner any longer, liberated him with his
books and papers, but without the money.

Part of the duke’s rents being paid in kind, there were _girnels_ or
grain stores near Chapel-eroch, into which the farmers of the district
used to render their quotas of victual, according to custom. ‘Whenever
Rob and his followers were pressed with want, a party was detached to
execute an order of their commanders, for taking as much victual out of
these girnels as was necessary for them at the time.’ In this district,
‘the value of the thefts and depredations committed upon some lands were
equal to the yearly rent of the lands, and the persons of small heritors
were taken, carried off, and detained prisoners till they redeemed
themselves for a sum of money, especially if they had at elections for
parliament voted for the government man.’[501]

The duke got his farmers armed, and was preparing for an inroad on the
freebooter’s quarters, when, in an unguarded moment, they were beset by
a party of Macgregors under Rob’s nephew, Gregor Macgregor of Glengyle,
and turned adrift without any of their military accoutrements. The duke
renewed the effort with better success, for, marching into Balquhidder
with some of his people, he took Rob Roy prisoner. But here good-fortune
and native craft befriended the outlaw. Being carried along on
horseback, bound by a belt to the man who had him in charge, he
contrived so to work on the man’s feelings as to induce him to slip the
bond, as they were crossing a river, when, diving under the stream, he
easily made his escape. Sir Walter Scott heard this story recited by the
grandson of Rob’s friend, and worked it up with his usual skill in the
novel bearing the outlaw’s name.

While these operations were going on, the commissioners on the Forfeited
Estates were coolly reckoning up the little patrimony [Sidenote: 1716.]
of Rob Roy as part of the public spoil of the late rebellion. It is felt
as a strange and uncouth association that Steele, of _Tatler_ and
_Spectator_ memory—kind-hearted, thoughtless Dicky Steele—should have
been one of the persons who administered in the affairs of the cateran
of Craigrostan. In the final report of the commissioners, we have the
pitiful account of the public gains from the ruin of poor Rob,
Inversnaid being described as of the yearly value of £53, 16_s._ 8½_d._,
and the total realised from it of purchase-money and interest, £958,
10_s._ There is all possible reason to believe, that it would have been
a much more advantageous as well as humane arrangement for the public,
to allow these twelve miles of Highland mountains to remain in the hands
of their former owner.


[Sidenote: 1717. JAN.]

Wonder-seekers were at this time regaled with a brochure stating how Mr
John Gardner, minister near Elgin, fell into a trance, and lay as dead
for two days, in the sight of many; and how, being put into a coffin,
and carried to his parish church in order to be buried, he was heard at
the last moment to make a noise in the coffin; which being opened, he
was found alive, ‘to the astonishment of all present.’ Being then
carried home, and put into a warm bed, he in a little time coming to
himself, ‘related many strange things which he had seen in the other
world.’ In the same publication was a sermon which the worthy man had
preached after his recovery.


[Sidenote: APR. 29.]

Mr Gordon of Ellon, a rich merchant of Edinburgh, lived in a villa to
the north of the city, with a family composed of a wife, two sons, and a
daughter, the children being all of tender age.[502] He had for a tutor
to his two boys a licentiate of the church, named Robert Irvine, who was
considered of respectable attainments, but remarked for a somewhat
melancholic disposition. A gloomy view of predestination, derived from a
work by Flavel, had taken hold of Irvine’s mind, which, perhaps, had
some native infirmity, ready to be acted upon by external circumstances
to dismal results.

The tutor, having cast eyes of affection upon a servant-girl in his
employer’s house, was tempted, one day, to take some liberties
[Sidenote: 1717.] with her, which were observed and reported by his two
pupils. He was reprimanded by Mr Gordon for this breach of decorum,
which, on an apology from him, was forgiven. The incident sunk into the
man’s sensitive nature, and he brooded upon it till it assumed
proportions beyond the reality, and raised in his heart an insane thirst
for revenge. For three days did the wretch revolve the idea of cutting
off Mr Gordon’s three children, and on the day here noted he found an
opportunity of partially accomplishing his morbid desire. It was Sunday,
and Mr and Mrs Gordon went to spend the latter part of the day with a
friend in the city, taking their little daughter along with them.
Irvine, left with the two boys, took them out for a walk along the then
broomy slope where St Andrew Square and York Place are now situated. The
children ran about gathering flowers and pursuing butterflies, while
this fiend-transformed man sat whetting a knife wherewith to cut short
their days. Calling the two boys to him, he upbraided them with their
informing upon him, and told them that they must suffer for it. They ran
off, but he easily overtook and seized them. Then keeping one down upon
the grass with his knee, he cut the other’s throat; after which he
despatched in like manner the remaining one.

The insane nature of the action was shewn by its being committed in
daylight in an open place, exposed to the view of multitudes who might
chance to look that way from the adjacent city. A gentleman, enjoying
his evening walk upon the Castle Hill, did obtain a tolerably perfect
view of the incident, and immediately gave an alarm. Irvine, who had
already attempted to cut his own throat, but unsuccessfully, ran from
his pursuers to the Water of Leith, thinking to drown himself there; but
he was taken, and brought in a cart to prison, and there chained down to
the floor, as if he had been a wild beast.

There was a summary process of law for murderers taken as he was _with
the red hand_. It was only necessary to bring him next day before the
judge of the district, and have sentence passed upon him. In this case,
the judge was the Baron Bailie of Broughton, a hamlet now overwhelmed in
the spreading streets of the New Town of Edinburgh, but whose
court-house existed so lately as 1827.[503] Till the abolition of
heritable jurisdictions in 1747, the bailie of the Baron of Broughton
could arraign a [Sidenote: 1717.] criminal before a jury of his own
people, and do the highest judgment upon him. Irvine was tried by the
bailie upon the 30th of April, and received sentence of death. During
the brief interval before execution, which was but a day, the unhappy
wretch was addressed by several clergymen on the heinousness of his
crime, and the need of repentance, and, after a time, he began to
exhibit signs of contrition. The bloody clothes of the poor children
being then exhibited before him, he broke out in tears and groans, as if
a new light was shed upon his mind, and he had been able to see his
offence in its true character. He then sent a message to the bereaved
parents, beseeching their Christian forgiveness to a dying man; and this
they very kindly gave.

Irvine was next day hanged at Greenside, having first had his hands
hacked off, and stuck upon the gibbet by the knife with which he had
committed the murder. His body was thrown into a neighbouring
quarry-hole.[504]


[Sidenote: JUNE 10.]

Occurred this day at Edinburgh a thunder-storm, attended with such
remarkable effects, that an account of it was published on a broadside.
It was little, perhaps, that it frightened the people off the streets,
caused the garrison at the Castle to look well to the powder-magazine,
and killed a man and a woman at Lasswade. What attracted particular
attention was the fate of a tavern company at Canonmills, where two
barbers from the Lawnmarket had come to celebrate the Pretender’s
birthday over a bottle of ale. They had just drunk to the health of
their assumed monarch—one of the company had remarked with a curse how
the bells were not rung or the Castle guns fired on ‘the king’s’
birthday—when a great thunder-clap broke over the house. ‘The people on
earth,’ cried one of the party, ‘will not adore their king; but you hear
the Almighty is complimenting him with a volley from heaven.’ At that
moment came a second stroke, which instantaneously killed one of the
barbers and a woman, and scorched a gentleman so severely that he died
in a few hours. The rest of the company, being amazed, sent to Edinburgh
for doctors to take blood of the gentleman; but the doctors told them
they could do no good. They tried to let blood of him, but found none.
‘Their bodies were as soft as wool.’

[Sidenote: 1717.]

‘There is none more blind than them that will not see: these men may
see, if they wilfully will not shut their eyes, that Providence many
times hath blasted their enterprises.... These men were contending for
that which did not concern them; they were drinking, cursing, and
passing reflections—which in all probability hath offended the King of
Heaven to throw down his thunder, &c., a warning to all blasphemers,
drunkards, swearers, licentious livers, and others.’[505] It is a little
awkward for this theory, that among the killed was but one of the
Jacobite barbers, the other and equally guilty one escaping.


[Sidenote: JUNE.]

The capture of the _fugitate_ Rob Roy seeming now an object worthy of
the regard of the Duke of Athole, a negotiation took place between them,
which ended in Rob being taken into custody of a strong party at
Logierait, the place where his Grace usually exercised his justiciary
functions, and where his prison accordingly was situated. The outlaw
felt he had been deceived, but it did not appear that he could help
himself. Meanwhile, the duke sent intelligence of the capture of Rob to
Edinburgh, desiring a company of troops to be sent to receive him.
Ultimately, however, the duke countermanded the military, finding he
could send a sufficiently strong party of his own people to hand over
the outlaw to justice.

While preparations were making for his transmission to the Lowlands, Rob
entertained his guards with whisky, and easily gained their confidence.
One day, when they were all very hearty, he made a business to go to the
door to deliver a letter for his wife to a man who was waiting for it,
and to whom he pretended he had some private instructions to give. One
of the guard languidly accompanied him, as it were for form’s sake,
having no fear of his breaking off. Macgregor was thus allowed to lounge
about outside for a few minutes, till at last getting near his horse, he
suddenly mounted, and was off to Stirlingshire like the wind.[506]

To have set two dukes upon thief-catching within a twelvemonth or so,
and escaped out of the clutches of both, was certainly a [Sidenote:
1717.] curious fate for a Highland cateran, partisan warrior, or
whatever name he may be called by.


[Sidenote: NOV.]

Sir Richard Steele appears not to have attended the business of the
Forfeited Estates Commission in Edinburgh during the year 1716, but
given his time, as usual, to literary and political pursuits in London,
and to a project in which he had become concerned for bringing fish
‘alive and in good health’ to the metropolis. It was reported that he
would get no pay for the first year, as having performed no duty; but
those who raised this rumour must have had a very wrong notion of the
way that public affairs were then administered. He tells his wife, May
22, 1717, in one of those most amorous of marital letters of his which
Leigh Hunt has praised so much, that ‘five hundred pounds for the time
the commission was in Scotland is already ordered me.’ It is strange to
reflect that payment of coach-horses, which he, as a man of study,
rarely used, and condemned as vain superfluities, was among the things
on which was spent the property wrung out of the vitals of the poor
Scotch Jacobites.

When the second year’s session of the commissioners was about to
commence in September 1717, Sir Harry Houghton appears to have proposed
that Steele should go at the first, in which case the baronet proposed
to relieve him in November; in case he did not go now, he would have to
go in November, and stay till the end of January. He dallied on in
London, only scheming about his journey, which, it must be admitted, was
not an easy one in 1717. He informs his wife: ‘I alter the manner of
taking my journey every time I think of it. My present disposition is to
borrow what they call a post-chaise of the Duke of Roxburgh [Secretary
of State for Scotland]. It is drawn by one horse, runs on two wheels,
and is led by a servant riding by. This rider and leader is to be Mr
Willmot, formerly a carrier, who answers for managing on a road to
perfection, by keeping tracks, and the like.’ Next it was: ‘I may
possibly join with two or three gentlemen, and hire a coach for
ourselves.’ On the 30th of September, he tells Lady Steele: ‘The
commission in Scotland stands still for want of me at Edinburgh. It is
necessary there should be four there, and there are now but two; three
others halt on the road, and will not go forward till I have passed by
York. I have therefore taken places in the York coach for Monday next.’
On the 20th of October: ‘After many resolutions and irresolutions
concerning my way of going, I go, God willing, to-morrow morning,
[Sidenote: 1717.] by the Wakefield coach, on my way to York and
Edinburgh.’ And now he did go, for his next letter is dated on the 23d
from Stamford, to which place two days’ coaching had brought him.

An odd but very characteristic circumstance connected with Steele’s
first journey to Scotland was, that he took a French master with him, in
order that the long idle days and evenings of travelling might be turned
to some account in his acquisition of that language, which he believed
would be useful to him on his return. ‘He lies in the same room with me;
and the loquacity which is usual at his age, and inseparable from his
nation, at once contributes to my purpose, and makes him very
agreeable.’

Steele was in Edinburgh on the 5th of November, and we know that about
the 9th he set out on his return to London, because on the 11th he
writes to his wife from Ayton on the third day of his journey, one (a
Sunday) having been spent in inaction on the road. ‘I hope,’ says he,
‘God willing, to be at London, Saturday come se’ennight:’ that is to
say, the journey was to take a fortnight. In accordance with this view
of the matter, we find him writing on Friday the 15th from Pearce
Bridge, in the county of Durham, ‘with my limbs much better than usual
after my seven days’ journey from Edinburgh towards London.’ He tells on
this occasion: ‘You cannot imagine the civilities and honours I had done
me there, and [I] never lay better, ate or drank better, or conversed
with men of better sense, than there.’[507]

Brief as his visit had been, he was evidently pleased with the men he
met with in the Scottish capital. All besides officials must have felt
that he came about a business of malign aspect towards their country;
but his name was an illustrious one in British literature, he was
personally good-natured, and they could separate the great essayist from
the Whig partisan and servant of the ministry. Allan Ramsay would be
delighted to see him in his shop ‘opposite to Niddry’s Wynd head.’
Thomson, then a youth at college, would steal a respectful look at him
as he stood amongst his friends at the Cross. From ‘Alexander Pennecuik,
gentleman,’ a bard little known to fame, he received a set of
complimentary verses,[508] ending thus:

                    ‘Scotia....
        Grief more than age hath furrowèd her brow,
        She sobs her sorrows, yet she smiles on you;
        Tears from her crystal _lambics_ do distil,
        With throbbing breast she dreads th’ approaching ill,
        Yet still she loves you, though you come to kill,
        In midst of fears and wounds, which she doth feel,
        Kisses the hurting hand, smiles on the wounding STEELE.’


[Sidenote: 1718.]

Sir Richard spent part of the summer of 1718 in Edinburgh, in attendance
upon the business of the commission. We find him taking a furnished
house for the half-year beginning on the 15th of May (the Whitsunday
term in Scotland), from Mr James Anderson, the editor of the _Diplomata
Scotiæ_. But on the 29th July he had not come to take possession:
neither could he say when he would arrive, till his ‘great affair’ was
finished. He promised immediately thereupon to take his horses for
Scotland, ‘though I do not bring my coach, by reason of my wife’s
inability to go with me.’ ‘I shall,’ he adds, ‘want the four-horse
stable for my saddle-horses.’

He appears to have taken the same house for the same period in 1719, and
to have revisited Scotland in the same manner in 1720, when he occupied
the house of Mr William Scott, professor of Greek in the Edinburgh
University.[509] There is a letter to him from Mr James Anderson in
February 1721, thanking him for the interest he had taken in forwarding
a scheme of the writer, to induce the government to purchase his
collection of historical books. Steele was again residing in Edinburgh
in October 1721, when we find him in friendly intercourse with Mr
Anderson. ‘Just before I received yours,’ he says on one occasion, ‘I
sent a written message to Mr Montgomery, advising that I designed the
coach [Steele’s own carriage?] should go to your house, to take in your
galaxy, and afterwards call for his star:’ pleasant allusions these
probably to some party of pleasure in which the female members of Mr
Anderson’s and Mr Montgomery’s families were to be concerned. In the
ensuing month, he writes to Mr Anderson from the York Buildings Office
in London, regarding an application he had had from a poor woman named
Margaret Gow. He could not help her with her petition; but he sent a
small bill representing money of his own for her relief. ‘This trifle,’
he says, ‘in her housewifely hands, will make cheerful her numerous
family at Collingtown.’[510]

These are meagre particulars regarding Steele’s visits to [Sidenote:
1718.] Scotland, but at least serviceable in illustrating his noted
kind-heartedness.

            ‘Kind Richy Spec, the friend of a’ distressed,’

as he is called by Allan Ramsay, who doubtless made his personal
acquaintance at this time.

There is a traditionary anecdote of Steele’s visits to Scotland, which
has enough of truth-likeness to be entitled to preservation. It is
stated that, in one of his journeys northward, soon after he had crossed
the Border, near Annan, he observed a shepherd resting on a hillside and
reading a book. He and his companions rode up, and one of them asked the
man what he was reading. It proved to be the Bible. ‘And what do you
learn from this book?’ asked Sir Richard. ‘I learn from it the way to
heaven.’ ‘Very well,’ replied the knight, ‘we are desirous of going to
the same place, and wish you would shew us the way.’ Then the shepherd,
turning about, pointed to a tall and conspicuous object on an eminence
at some miles’ distance, and said: ‘Weel, gentlemen, ye maun just gang
by that tower.’ The party, surprised and amused, demanded to know how
the tower was called. The shepherd answered: ‘It is the _Tower of
Repentance_.’

It was so in verity. Some centuries ago, a Border cavalier, in a fit of
remorse, had built a tower, to which he gave the name of _Repentance_.
It lies near Hoddam House, in the parish of Cummertrees, rendered by its
eminent situation a conspicuous object to all the country round.

We are informed by Richard Shiels that Steele, while in Scotland, had
interviews with a considerable number of the Presbyterian clergy, with
the view of inducing them to agree to a union of the Presbyterian and
Episcopal churches—a ‘devout imagination,’ which one would have thought
a very few such interviews would have been required to dispel. He was
particularly struck with the singular and original character of James
Hart, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, who is universally admitted to
have been an excellent man, as he was a most attractive preacher. That
strange enthusiast, Mrs Elizabeth West, speaks of a discourse she once
heard from him on a passage in Canticles: ‘The king hath brought me into
his chambers; we will be glad,’ where he held forth, she says, ‘on the
sweet fellowship Christ and believers have together.’ ‘Oh,’ she adds,
‘but this was a soul-refreshing sermon to me!’ What had most impressed
the English moralist was the contrast between the good-humour and
[Sidenote: 1718.] benevolence of Hart in his private character, and the
severe style in which he launched forth in the pulpit on the subject of
human nature, and on the frightful punishments awaiting the great mass
of mankind in another state of existence. Steele called him on this
account ‘the Hangman of the Gospel.’[511]

The only other recollection of Steele in Edinburgh which has ever come
under the notice of the author, represents him, characteristically, as
assembling all the eccentric-looking mendicants of the Scottish capital
in a tavern in Lady Stair’s Close, and there pleasing the whimsical
taste of himself and one or two friends by witnessing their happiness in
the enjoyment of an abundant feast, and observing all their various
humours and oddities. Shiels also relates this circumstance, and adds
that Steele afterwards confessed he had drunk in enough of native
drollery to compose a comedy.


[Sidenote: 1717. NOV.]

Lord Grange tells us, in his _Diary_, of a woman in humble life,
residing in the Potterrow in Edinburgh, who had religious experiences
reminding us of those of St Theresa and Antonia Bourignon, but consonant
with orthodox Presbyterianism. Being taken, along with Mr Logan, the
minister of Culross, to see her at ‘Lady Aytoun’s, at the back of the
College,’ he found her a woman between thirty and forty. At the
communion in Leith, a month ago, she had striven to dwell upon the
thought of Christ, and came to have ‘clear uptakings of his sufferings.’
She saw him on the cross, and his deserted sepulchre, ‘as plainly as if
she had been actually present when these things happened, though there
was not any visible representation thereof made to her bodily eyes. She
also got liberty to speak to him, and ask several questions at him, to
which she got answers, as if one had spoken to her audibly, though there
was no audible voice.’ Lord Grange admits that all this was apt to look
like enthusiasm or delusion; but ‘far be it from me to say it is
delusion.’ Being once at a communion in Kirkcaldy, ‘it was born in upon
her—“Arise and eat, for thou hast a journey to make, a Jordan to pass
through.”’ In passing across the Firth of Forth that afternoon, she was
upset into the water, but sustained till a boat came to her rescue.

The pious judge seems to have desired much to keep up acquaintance with
Jean Brown—for such was her name—and he went several times to see her at
her little shop; but the place [Sidenote: 1717.] was so much crowded
with ‘children and people coming in to buy such things as she sells,’
that his wish was frustrated. ‘Afterwards,’ he tells us, ‘I employed her
husband [a shoemaker] to make some little things for me, mostly to give
them business, and that I might thereby get opportunity now and then to
talk with such as, I hope, are acquainted with the ways of God.’


[Sidenote: 1718.]

Immediately after the Union, the shrewd-witted people of Glasgow saw the
opportunity which was afforded them of making a profitable trade with
the American colonies. They had as yet no vessels of their own, and
little means of purchasing cargoes; but diligence, frugality, and
patience made up for all deficiencies. There is scarcely anything in our
national history more truly interesting than the early efforts of
Glasgow in commerce. Her first ventures to Maryland and Virginia were in
vessels chartered from Whitehaven. In each vessel, filled with goods,
there went a supercargo, whose simple instructions were to sell as many
as he could for tobacco, and return home as soon as he had sold all, or
had got enough of the plant to fill his vessel, whether the goods were
all sold or not, bringing home with him any that remained unsold. In
this cautious way were the foundations of the wondrous wealth of Glasgow
laid. It was not till now, eleven years after the Union, that the first
vessel belonging to Glasgow crossed the Atlantic.

By that time, much of the tobacco-trade had come into the hands of
Glasgow merchants. Bristol, Liverpool, and Whitehaven, which had
heretofore been the great entrepôts of the trade, opened their eyes with
some little surprise when they began to find Glasgow underselling them
in this article even among their own retailers. It was the mere
frugality of the Scottish traders which gave them this advantage. But
the jealousy of their rivals refused to see the true cause. They entered
in 1721 into a confederacy to destroy the tobacco-trade of Glasgow,
petitioning in succession the House of Lords and the House of Commons,
with utterly unfounded complaints on the subject. The charges of fraud
were declared groundless by the upper house; but, in the lower, the just
defences of Glasgow were disregarded, through the interest made by her
adversaries. ‘New officers were appointed at the ports of Greenock and
Port-Glasgow, whose private instructions seem to have been to ruin the
trade, if possible, by putting all imaginable hardships upon it; bills
of equity were exhibited against the merchants in the Court of Exchequer
for no less than [Sidenote: 1718.] thirty-three ships’ cargoes, by which
they were commanded to declare, on oath, whether or not they had
imported in these ships any, and how much, more tobacco than what had
been exported, or had paid the king’s duty. Vexatious lawsuits of every
kind were stirred up against them. Every species of persecution, which
malice, assisted by wealth and interest, could invent, to destroy the
trade of Glasgow, was put in practice,’ and in part successfully, the
trade being reduced to a languishing condition, in which it remained for
a number of years.[512]

Quiet Mr Wodrow, in his neighbouring Renfrewshire parish, seems to have
rather relished any loss or difficulty sustained by this industrious
community, being apparently under an impression that wealth was apt to
abate the godly habits of the people. He already recognised a party in
the city who mocked at the ministry, and everything that was serious.
Instead of seventy-two meetings for prayer, which he had known some
years before, there were now but four or five; while in their place
flourished club-meetings, at which foolish questions were discussed. He
adverts to the blow struck at the tobacco-trade through the House of
Commons, ‘which they say will be twenty thousand pounds loss to that
place. I wish it may be sanctified to them.’[513]


We have seen a concert taking place in Edinburgh in 1694, and a very
grand one, partly supported by amateurs, presented in celebration of St
Cecilia’s Day, in the ensuing year. We learn that there was now a weekly
meeting of amateurs at the Cross Keys Tavern, kept by one Steil, who is
noted as an excellent singer of Scottish songs, and who appears to have
possessed a collection of instruments for the use of his guests. This
meeting admitted of visitors of both sexes, and was a point of reunion
for the _beau monde_ of Edinburgh in days while as yet there were
neither balls nor theatres. Its being held in a tavern would be no
objection to the ladies. Allan Ramsay, in singing the winter attractions
of the city, does not forget that

                    ‘Others can with music make you gay,
              With sweetest sounds Corelli’s art display;’

[Sidenote: 1718.]

And then adds a picture of the scene:

        ‘To visit and take tea the well-dressed fair
        May pass the crowd unruffled in her chair;
        No dust or mire her shining foot shall stain,
        Or on the horizontal hoop give pain.
        For beaux and belles no city can compare,
        Nor shew a galaxy so made, so fair;
        The ears are charmed, and ravished are the eyes,
        When at the concert my fair stars arise;
        What poets of fictitious beauties sing,
        Shall in bright order fill the dazzling ring;
        From Venus, Pallas, and the spouse of Jove,
        They’d gain the prize, judged by the god of Love.’[514]

A writer of some ability and acuteness, who travelled over Scotland, and
wrote an account of his journey, published in 1723, tells us that he was
at several ‘consorts’ in Edinburgh, and had much reason to be pleased
with the appearance of the ladies. He had never in any country seen ‘an
assembly of greater beauties.’ It is not in point here, but it may be
stated that he also admired their stately firm way of walking ‘with the
joints extended and the toes out,’ and thought their tartan head-mantles
of scarlet and green at church as gay as a parterre of flowers. At the
same time, he knew them to be good housewives, and that many gentlemen
of good estate were not ashamed to wear clothes of their wives’ and
servants’ spinning.[515]

To return to music—it looks like a mark of rising taste for sweet
sounds, that we have a paragraph in the _Edinburgh Courant_ for July 12,
1720, announcing that Mr Gordon, who had lately been travelling in Italy
for his improvement in music, was daily expected in Edinburgh,
‘accompanied with Signor Lorenzo Bocchi, who is considered the second
master of the violoncello in Europe, and the fittest hand to join Mr
Gordon’s voice in the consorts which he designs to entertain his friends
with before the rising of the session.’ On the 28th of May 1722, at the
request of several gentlemen of Glasgow, Mr Gordon was to give a
‘consort’ in that city; and immediately after we hear of him publishing
‘proposals for the improvement of music in Scotland, together with a
most reasonable and easy scheme for establishing a Pastoral Opera in
Edinburgh.’[516] Signor Bocchi seems to have been able [Sidenote: 1718.]
to carve a professional position for himself in Edinburgh, for in 1726
we find him publishing there an opera of his own composition, containing
twelve sonatas for different instruments—violin, flute, violoncello,
&c., with a libretto in broad Scotch by Allan Ramsay, beginning:

           ‘Blate Johnnie faintly tauld fair Jean his mind.’

It was about this time that the native music of Scotland—those beautiful
melodies which seem to have sprung up in the country as naturally and
unperceivedly as the primroses and the gowans—were first much heard of
to the south of the Tweed. William Thomson, who was a boy at the Feast
of St Cecilia in 1695, had since grown up in the possession of a
remarkably sweet voice for the singing of Scots songs, and having
migrated to London, he was there so well received, that Scottish music
became fashionable even amidst the rage there was at the same time for
the opera and the compositions of Handel. A collection of Scottish
songs, with the music, under the title of _Orpheus Caledonius_, was
published by Thomson in London in 1725, with a dedication to the
Princess of Wales, and republished in an extended form in 1733.

Of the other performers at the Feast of St Cecilia, a few were still
flourishing. Adam Craig, a teacher of music, played second violin at the
gentlemen’s concerts with high approbation. Matthew M‘Gibbon was no
more; but he had left a superior representative in his son William, who
had studied under Corbet in London, and was now leader and first-violin
at the concerts, playing the music of Corelli, Geminiani, and Handel
with great skill and judgment. A collection of Scots tunes by William
M‘Gibbon, published in 1742 and subsequent years, was long in high
repute.[517] Of the St Cecilia amateurs we only hear now of Lord
Colville, who seems to have been a great enthusiast, ‘a thorough master
of music,’ and is said to have ‘understood counterpoint well.’ His
instruments were the harpsichord and organ. He had made a large
collection of music, much of it brought home to him from Italy.

   ‘The god of Music joins when Colvil plays,
   And all the Muses dance to Haddington’s essays;
   The charms are mutual, piercing, and compleat—
   This in his art excels, and that in wit.’
                                           _Defoe’s Caledonia_, 1706.

[Sidenote: 1718.]

Robert Lord Colville of Ochiltree (for it is necessary so to distinguish
him from Lord Colville of Culross) died unmarried in March 1728, after
having been in possession of the peerage for fifty-seven years. Wodrow
tells a gossip’s story about his lordship having ‘walked’ for some time
after his apparent departure from the earth.[518]

After a comparatively private form of entertainment had been in vogue
some years, the lovers of harmony in Edinburgh constituted themselves in
1728 into a regular society, with a governor and directors, the entire
number of members being seventy, and, for the sake of room, transferred
their meetings to St Mary’s Chapel, where they continued to assemble for
a long course of years.[519] The progress of their gay science is marked
by the publication, in 1730, of a collection of Scots tunes for the
harpsichord or spinet by Adam Craig, appropriately dedicated to the
Honourable Lords and Gentlemen of the Musical Society of Mary’s Chapel,
as ‘generous encouragers and promoters of music’—this collection being
the first of the kind that was published,[520] although there were
several previous collections containing Scottish tunes, mingled with
others.


[Sidenote: JUNE.]

At this time the house of the Rev. Mr M‘Gill, minister of Kinross, was
represented as troubled with spirits. The first fact that excited
attention, was the disappearance of some silver spoons and knives, which
were soon after found in the barn, stuck up in straw, with a big dish
all nipped in pieces. Next it was found that no meat was brought to
table but what was stuck full of pins. The minister found one in an egg.
His wife, to make sure against trick, cooked some meat herself; but
behold, when presented at table, ‘there were several pins in it,
particularly a big pin the minister used for his gown. Another day,
there was a pair of

[Sidenote: 1728. MAY.]

[Sidenote: 1718.] sheets put to the green, among other people’s, which
were all nipped to pieces, and none of the linens belonging to others
troubled. A certain night several went to watch the house, and as one
was praying, down falls the press, wherein was abundance of
lime-vessels, all broke to pieces; also at one other time the spirits,
as they call them, not only tore the clothes that were locked up in a
coffer, to pieces, but the very laps of a gentlewoman’s hood, as she was
walking along the floor, were clipped away, as also a woman’s gown-tail
and many other things not proper to mention. A certain girl, eating some
meat, turned so very sick, that, being necessitate to vomit, [she] cast
up five pins. A stone thrown down the chimney _wambled_ a space on the
floor, and then took a flight out at the window. There was thrown in the
fire the minister’s Bible, which would not burn; but a plate and two
silver spoons melted immediately. What bread is fired, were the meal
never so fine, it’s all made useless. Is it not very sad that such a
godly family, that employ their time no otherwise but by praying,
reading, and serious meditation, should be so molested, while others who
are wicked livers, and in a manner avowedly serve the Wicked One, are
never troubled?’[522]

Wodrow, who relates these particulars, soon after enters in his
note-book: ‘I hear of a woman in Carstairs parish, that has been for
some time troubled with apparitions, and _needs much sympathy_.’[523]

It seems to have been a season of unusual spiritual activity. During
September, and for some time after, the house of William Montgomery,
mason, at Burnside, Scrabster, near Thurso, in the extreme north of
Scotland, was tormented in an unusual manner by cats, which flocked in
great numbers in and about his dwelling, making a frightful noise.
Montgomery himself was from home; but his wife was so much troubled by
this unaccountable pest, as to be obliged to write to him requiring his
return, as otherwise she would be obliged to remove to Thurso. The
goodman did return, and became witness to the torment that was going on,
as many as eight cats, totally unknown in the neighbourhood, being
sometimes assembled about his fireside in a single evening, ‘making the
night hideous.’ One servant-girl left service on account of the nightly
disturbance. Another, who came in her place, called to her master one
evening that ‘the cats [Sidenote: 1718.] were speaking among
themselves,’ for so it had appeared to her they were doing, so
human-like were their cries.

On a particular night, the 28th of November, Montgomery became unusually
exasperated by these four-footed tormentors, and resolved to attack them
with lethal weapons. One having got into a chest which had a hole in it,
he watched with his drawn sword till he saw the creature put her head
out at the hole, when he struck hard, yet failed to effect decapitation.
Opening the chest, a servant named Geddes struck the animal with his
master’s dirk in her hinder quarter, pinning her to the timber; yet
after all she got out. Ultimately, Montgomery battered this cat pretty
effectually, and threw her out as dead; nevertheless, they found she had
disappeared by the morning. Five nights thereafter, some of the cats
coming in upon Geddes in his bed, Montgomery dirked one, and battered
its head, till it appeared dead, when he flung it out of doors. Before
morning, it too had disappeared. He remarked that the wounds he
inflicted brought no blood.

As it had been threatened that none should thrive in his house, William
Montgomery entertained no doubt that there was witchcraft in the
visitation. When an old woman in the neighbourhood fell ill, he became
confirmed in his surmise, and thought himself justified in seeking the
interference of the sheriff, though without particularising any
delinquent. By this officer, the case was slighted as a piece of popular
credulity and ignorance, till, one day in the ensuing February, a
certain old woman named Margaret Nin-Gilbert, living in Owst, about a
mile and a half from Montgomery’s house, ‘was seen by some of her
neighbours to drop at her own door one of her legs from the middle.’ So
narrates the sheriff. He adds: ‘She being under bad fame for witchcraft,
the leg, black and putrefied, was brought to me; and immediately
thereafter I ordered her to be apprehended and incarcerated.’

When old ladies begin to unhook their legs, and leave them in public
places, it is evident there must be something in it. On the 8th of
February, Margaret was examined in presence of two ministers, a bailie,
and four merchants of Thurso, and confessed that she was in compact with
the devil, who sometimes appeared to her as a great black horse,
sometimes as a black cloud, and sometimes like a black hen. She owned to
having been present as a cat in Montgomery’s house, along with other
women similarly transformed, when two of the latter had [Sidenote:
1718.] died of the wounds inflicted by Montgomery, and she had had her
leg broken by him, so that in time it mortified and broke off. Margaret
Olson, one of the women she accused, was examined for witch-marks; and
several small coloured spots being detected, a needle was thrust in
almost to the eye without exciting the least pain; but neither she nor
any other person besides Nin-Gilbert could be induced to confess the
practice of witchcraft.

Lord Advocate Dundas heard, some weeks after, what was going on in this
remote corner of Scotland, and wrote a letter to the sheriff, finding
fault with him for proceeding without consultation with the central
authority. The local officer apologised on the ground, that he only
acted for the Earl of Breadalbane and Mr Sinclair of Ulbster, and had
deemed it proper to communicate directly with them. In the course of a
short time, Nin-Gilbert died in prison, and this seems to have been an
end to the affair.[524]


Hitherto, no sort of literary or scientific association had been formed
in Scotland. For a long time bypast, almost the only learning that
existed was theological, and there was but little of that. In this year,
Thomas Ruddiman, who had distinguished himself in Edinburgh by editing
the works of Buchanan, and composing the well-known _Rudiments of the
Latin Tongue_, joined with the masters of the High School of the city in
establishing there an association for improving each other in classical
lore, ‘without meddling with the affairs of church or state.’ This body
was afterwards joined by a young advocate, subsequently eminent as a
judge and a philosophical writer under the name of Lord Kames;
afterwards, Mr Archibald Murray and Mr James Cochran, advocates, and Mr
George Wishart, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, with some others,
became members. ‘Whether their conversations were preserved, or their
dissertations published, cannot now be ascertained.’[525]


[Sidenote: DEC. 15.]

This day was commenced a newspaper in Edinburgh, the first that
succeeded in thoroughly planting itself in Scotland, so as to obtain
more than an ephemeral existence. It was the adventure of James M‘Ewen,
bookseller in Edinburgh, and came out under [Sidenote: 1718.] the title
of _The Edinburgh Evening Courant_. The paper appeared in virtue of a
formal authority from the magistrates and town-council, to whom M‘Ewen
was to be answerable for what he should print and publish; and, that
this rule might be enforced, he was, ‘before publication, to give ane
coppie of his print to [the] magistrates.’[526] The _Courant_ was
announced as to contain ample accounts of foreign occurrences, and these
derived, not through London prints, but directly from foreign journals.
It was intended as a decidedly Whig print, in this respect differing
from the _Caledonian Mercury_, which was not long after started in the
Jacobite interest.

The _Courant_ was from the first successful. James M‘Ewen, writing from
Edinburgh, January 17, 1719, to the Rev. Mr Wodrow, says: ‘As to our
newspaper, it thrives so far as to be very well liked by all, excepting
the violent Jacobites, who hate it, for no other reason but because it
is a true and impartial paper. Several gentlemen who were to have had
the London papers sent them, have laid them aside, because this contains
the substance not only of them, but of the foreign post also.’

In looking over, as it has been my fate to do, the early volumes of the
_Courant_, one cannot but groan over the long, dry ‘advices’ from nearly
all parts of Europe, and the wretched meagreness of the department of
home intelligence, whole months often elapsing without so much as an
obituary notice, or a ship’s arrival at Leith. The reason of this
unfortunate peculiarity was no other than the civic censorship under
which the paper, as we see, was from the beginning placed. Even
intelligence in the interest of the government was not in every instance
safe. In the course of February 1723, the magistrates seized all the
copies of a particular number of the paper, in which there had been an
apparently simple paragraph. It regarded Mr Patrick Halden, then under
trials before the judges of the Court of Session as presentee of the
crown for a seat on the bench—he being a mere creature of the ministry
unfit for the position. Fired at the words: ‘We do not hear of any great
discoveries yet made to his prejudice,’ the judges inflicted this
punishment upon the publisher, M‘Ewen, who then announced the
suppression of his paper, ‘that our customers in the country may know
why they cannot be served with that day’s _Courant_, as also _why we
have been so sparing all along of home news_.’

It is at the same time evident that the meagreness of the [Sidenote:
1718.] home news was in part caused by mere difficulty of obtaining
authentic accounts of such matters. A rumour as to the death of a person
of importance at a distance would arrive. Owing to the sluggishness of
posts, its verity could not readily be ascertained. Inserting it on
trust, the journalist too often found, in the course of a few days, that
the announcement was unfounded. Such is a fair specimen of the way in
which false intelligence occasionally got into circulation; and every
such case, of course, operated as a motive to caution in future. The
publishers, moreover, could not afford to keep sub-editors to go about
and ascertain the verity of rumours. As an illustration of the
difficulties hence arising—the _Caledonian Mercury_ of March 3, 1724,
contained the following paragraph: ‘We hear that my Lord Arniston, one
of the ordinary Lords of Session, is dead;’ which was followed in the
next number by: ‘It was by mistake in our last that my Lord Arniston was
dead, occasioned by the rendezvous of coaches, &c., _hard by his
lordship’s lodging_, that were to attend the funeral of a son of the
Right Honourable the Earl of Galloway; wherefore his lordship’s pardon
and family’s is humbly craved.’

It affords a pleasing idea of the possible continuousness of sublunary
things, that the then Whig, but now Conservative _Edinburgh Evening
Courant_, which began its career in 1718, and its then Tory, but since
liberal rival, the _Caledonian Mercury_, which originated about two
years later, are still published in Edinburgh.


The enjoyment during thirty years of ‘position’ as an establishment,
combined with the progressive ideas of the age, was now working some
notable changes in the spirit of the Scottish Church.

There was still, of course, a general maintenance of the old doctrines
and habits; all was to appearance as it had been—places of worship
attended, Sunday observed, discipline kept up; in particular outlying
presbyteries, there would even be found a majority of men of the old
leaven. When, however, any strenuous Dumfriesshire or Galloway pastor
seemed animated by aught of the zeal of a past age, and thereby excited
troubles which came under the attention of the General Assembly, he was
sure to be snubbed, and, if contumacious, deposed. If a presbytery of
the ancient orthodoxy, labouring under fears of backslidings and
defections, ventured to reassert, in a public manner, a doctrine that
was beginning to be unfashionable, the General [Sidenote: 1718.]
Assembly frowned on its forwardness. At the same time, Mr John Simson,
professor of divinity at Glasgow, openly taught doctrines leaning to
Arminianism, and even Arianism, and the same venerable court could not,
for a number of years, be brought to do more than administer a gentle
admonition.

It chanced, one day, that a worthy pastor, Mr Thomas Boston, found in a
house which he was visiting a tattered treatise of the bright days of
the civil war, written by one Edward Fisher, and entitled _The Marrow of
Modern Divinity_. Turning over its leaves, he found it asserting
orthodox Puritan doctrines with a simplicity and pathos all its own,
particularly one which had lately been condemned by the General
Assembly—namely, that, Christ being all in all, a forsaking of sins was
not necessary ‘to reinstate us in covenant with God.’ Here seemed the
proper remedy for the alarming rationalism of the church, and very soon
there appeared a new edition of the _Marrow_, under the care of Mr
Thomas Hogg, minister of Carnock. The book immediately got into wide
circulation, and produced a very decided impression on the public mind,
insomuch that the General Assembly felt called upon to issue a
prohibition against its being recommended or read.

Thus arose a once famous conflict generally recognised as the _Marrow
Controversy_. Dissatisfied with the pronouncement of the church, twelve
ministers, including Boston and Hogg, came forward with a
Representation, in which they remonstrated in very free terms with the
General Assembly, expressing themselves as grieved in an especial manner
to find any disfavour shewn to that freedom from the covenant of works
which true believers felt to be the chief branch of the precious liberty
which Christ had given them, and ‘in which the eternal salvation of
souls is wrapped up.’ For sending this paper, the twelve brethren were
taken in hand by the Assembly’s commission, condemned, and ordered to
stand a rebuke (1723); but, while submitting, for the sake of peace,
they took care to utter a protest, which left no room for doubt that
they remained unshaken in their opinions. The entire proceedings are far
too voluminous for modern patience; but the importance of the affair is
undoubted. The ‘Twelve Marrow Men’ may be said to have formed the
nucleus of the dissent which was a few years after matured under the
name of the Secession.[527]

[Sidenote: 1719. JAN. 29.]

About eight o’clock this morning, at a spot a little west of Aberdeen,
‘there appeared ane army, computed to be the number of 7000 men. This
computation was made by a very judicious man, who had long been a
soldier in Flanders, and is now a farmer at this place, who with about
thirty other persons were spectators. This army was drawn up in a long
line in battle-array, were seen to fall down to the ground, and start up
all at once; their drums were seen to be carried on the drummers’ backs.
After it remained more than two hours, a person on a white horse rode
along the line, and then they all marched towards Aberdeen, where the
hill called the Stocket took them out of sight. It was a clear sunshine
all that morning.’

October 22d, a second vision of the same kind was seen on the same
ground. ‘About two thousand men appeared with blue and white coats,
clear arms glancing or shining, white ensigns were seen to slap down, as
did the former, at which time a smoke appeared, as if they had fired,
but no noise. A person on a white horse also rode along the line, and
then they marched towards the bridge of Dee. This vision continued on
the ground from three hours in the afternoon, till it was scarce light
to see them. It was a clear fine afternoon, and being the same day of
the great yearly fair held at Old Aberdeen, was seen by many hundreds of
people going home, as well as by above thirty that were at their own
houses, about half a mile distant. It’s observable that the people
coming from the fair came through them, but saw nothing till they came
up to the crowd that was standing gazing, who caused them to look
back.’[528]


[Sidenote: NOV. 2.]

On the night of the 2d of November, the river Don was dried up from a
little below Kemnay down to near Old Aberdeen. It was so dry at Inverury
and Kintore, that children of five or six years of age gathered up the
fish, trouts, and eels, and many people going to a fair passed over
dry-shod. The water slowly returned about the middle of the day. The
same phenomenon was said to have happened in the Doveran at Banff two
days later.[529]

[Sidenote: 1719.]

The Commissioners on the Forfeited Estates were left in 1716 in a
position of discomfiture, in consequence of the impediments presented by
Scottish law and Scottish national feeling. Acts of the legislature
enabled them in subsequent years to overcome some of their difficulties,
and accomplish a tolerable portion of their mission. Not indeed without
further impediments from the Court of Session, which, when their former
decrees of sequestration were rendered void, and could no longer protect
the friends of the forfeited persons in possession, gave efficacy to a
new device of these friends, in the form of exceptions which declared
that the forfeited persons had never been the real owners of the
estates! In their report of 1720, they pathetically advert to this new
difficulty, and, as an illustration of its absurdity, state a few cases,
in which there had been decrees in favour of more pretended owners than
one—Seaforth’s estates, for instance, were by one decree found to belong
in full and absolute right to Kenneth Mackenzie of Assint, by another to
William Martin of Harwood, by another to Hugh Wallace of Inglistown. For
Mar’s estates, there were four of these visionary owners, and for
Kenmure’s five! The exceptions were generally founded on conveyances and
_dispositions_ of the lands which were alleged to have been formerly
executed by the attainted persons in favour of children and others.
Notwithstanding these obstructions, the commissioners were enabled, in
October 1719, to sell Panmure’s estates at £60,400 sterling, Winton’s at
£50,482, Kilsyth’s at £16,000, and that of Robert Craw of East Reston at
£2364.

By reversals of the decrees in the House of Lords, and the help of a new
act, the Commissioners were enabled, in October 1720, to sell a further
lot of estates—Southesk’s for £51,549, Marischal’s for £45,333,
Linlithgow’s for £18,769, Stirling of Keir’s for £16,450, Threipland of
Fingask’s for £9606, Paterson of Bannockburn’s for £9671, besides two
others of trifling value. The purchase was in nearly all these cases
made by a speculative London company, entitled _The Governor and Company
of Undertakers for raising the Thames Water in York Buildings_ (commonly
called the ‘York Buildings Company’).[530] The exceptions in the cases
of Keir and Bannockburn were purchases probably made by friends of the
former owners. For any other persons connected [Sidenote: 1719.] with
Scotland to have come forward to buy these properties on their own
account, inferred such an amount of public indignation, if not violence,
as made the act impossible, even if there had been any recreant Scot,
Whig or Tory, capable in his heart of such conduct.

We shall have occasion, under subsequent dates, to notice certain
difficulties of a different and more romantic kind which beset the
Commissioners. But, meanwhile, it may be well to complete the history of
their ordinary transactions.

Out of thirty estates left unsold in October 1720, they had succeeded
within the ensuing three years in selling nineteen, of which the chief
were Lord Burleigh’s at £12,610, Macdonald of Sleat’s at £21,000, and
Mackenzie of Applecross’s at £3550, the rest being of inconsiderable
amount, though raising the entire sum to £66,236. The principal estate
afterwards sold was that of John Earl of Mar at £36,000.

When the Commissioners closed their accounts in March 1725, it appeared
that there was a total of £411,082 sterling paid and to be paid into the
Exchequer, from which, however, was to be deducted no less than £303,995
of debts sanctioned by the Commissioners, and for which they had issued
or were to issue debentures, and £26,120 allowed in the form of grants
from the crown. There thus remained, of money realised for public use
and to pay the expenses of the Commission, the sum of £84,043, 17_s._
5¾_d._, while properties to the yearly value of £2594 remained
undisposed of, including an item so small as ‘Feu-duty of some cellars
at Leith, part of the Abbacy of Aberbrothick, belonging to the late Earl
of Panmure, 11_s._ 3½_d._’

Some curiosity will naturally be felt to know the aggregate expenses of
the Commission,[531] and the balance of results which these left out of
the eighty-four thousand pounds. There is a mixture of the ludicrous and
sad in the problem, which may be expressed thus: money from the
destruction (for public objects) of about fifty of the good old families
of Scotland, £84,043; charges for the expense of the destruction,
£82,936 = £1107! Walpole would find it hardly a decent purchase-money
for a vote in the House of Commons.


[Sidenote: DEC.]

By statute passed in 1718,[532] arrangements had been made [Sidenote:
1719.] regarding the sum of £16,575, 14_s._ 0½_d._, which had been left
over of the Equivalent money at the Union, after paying sundry claims
out of it, and for a further debt of £230,308, 9_s._ 10_d._, due by
England to Scotland since in equalisation of duties, together with a
small sum of interest—the whole amounting to £248,550—also for enabling
the king to constitute the bond-holders of this debt into a corporation,
which, after St John’s Day, 1719, should receive £10,000 annually as
interest, until the debt should be redeemed.

Now, the Bank of Scotland had been going on very quietly for some years,
with its ten thousand pounds of paid-up capital, realising, as we can
infer from some particulars, about a thousand a year of profit from its
business. A prosperity so great could not then exist in Scotland without
exciting some degree of envy, and also raising up thoughts of rivalry in
a certain ardent class of minds. It began to be alleged that _the Bank_,
as it was commonly called, was stinted in its means and frigid in its
dealings; that it lacked enterprise; that it would be the better of an
infusion of fresh blood, and so forth. It had many positive enemies, who
tried to detract from its merits, and were constantly raising evil
reports about it.[533] Most deadly of all, there was now this Equivalent
Company, with about a quarter of a million of debentures wherewith to
engage in further mercantile enterprise, so as to make their ten
thousand a year a little better. The boy, with his first shilling
burning a hole in his pocket, was but a type of it.

In December 1719, a proposal came from a proprietor of Equivalent stock,
to the effect that that stock should be added to the £100,000 stock of
the Bank, but with nine-tenths of it returned by the Bank in notes, so
that only £25,000 of it should in reality remain active in the new
concern. It was proposed that, of the £10,000 of annual interest upon
the Equivalent, the proprietors of Bank stock should thenceforward draw
two-sevenths, being the proportion of £100,000 to £250,000; and of the
£600 a year allowed for management of the Equivalent, the Bank was also
to be allowed a proportion. In such a way might the Bank and Equivalent
be brought into a union presumed to be beneficial to both parties.

[Sidenote: 1719.]

The directors of the Bank received the proposition as an insidious
attempt by a number of outsiders to get into the enjoyment of a portion
of their time-bought advantages. They pointed out, in their answer, that
the Equivalent stock being only in the receipt of 4 per cent. interest,
while the profits of the Bank stock might be reckoned at not lower than
10, the proposal was inequitable towards the Bank. Besides, they did not
want this additional stock, finding their present working capital quite
sufficient. The proposer was thus repelled for the meantime; but he very
quickly returned to the attack.

Under the guidance of this person, there was now formed what was called
‘The Edinburgh Society for insuring of Houses against Loss by Fire’—an
arrangement of social life heretofore unknown in Scotland. But, as often
happens, no sooner was this design broached than another set of people
projected one of the same kind, with only this slight difference, that,
instead of being a company trading for profits, it was a mutual
insurance society reserving all profits for the insured. Such was the
origin, in 1720, of what afterwards, under the name of ‘the Friendly
Society,’[534] became a noted institution of the Scottish capital, and
is still in a certain sense existing amongst us. The Edinburgh Society
consequently got no insurance business.

It nevertheless kept together, under the care of a committee of secrecy,
who gave out that they contemplated a still better project. For some
time, they talked loudly of great, though unripe plans, by which they
expected to ‘make Scotland flourish beyond what it ever did before.’
Then there arose a repetition of the old clamours about the Bank—it was
too narrow, both in its capital and in its ideas; the directors were too
nice about securities; the public required enlarged accommodation. At
last, the Society plainly avowed that they were determined either to run
down the Bank, or force a coalition with it. It was precisely one of the
last century heiress-abductions, adapted to the new circumstances of the
country and the advanced ideas of the age.

The opportunity seemed to be afforded by the share which Scotland took
in the South-Sea scheme, large sums of specie being sent southward to
purchase stock in that notable bubble. In such circumstances, it was
assumed that the stock of coin in the Bank must have sunk to rather a
low ebb. Having then gradually and [Sidenote: 1719.] unperceivedly
gathered up the monstrous sum of £8400 in notes of the Bank, our
Edinburgh Society came in upon it one morning demanding immediate
payment. To their surprise, the money was at once paid, for in reality
the kind of coin sent by speculators to London was different from that
usually kept by the Bank, so that there had been hardly any abatement of
its usual resources in coin. The Society tried to induce the cashiers of
all the public establishments to follow their example, and draw out
their money, but without success in any instance but that of the
trustees of the Equivalent, who came very ostentatiously, and taking out
their money, stored it up in the Castle. The public preserved a
mortifying tranquillity under all these excitements, and the Bank
remained unaffected.

The Edinburgh Society soon after sent the Bank a proposal of union, ‘for
the prevention of mutual injuries, and the laying of a solid foundation
for their being subservient and assisting to one another.’ It mainly
consisted in an offer to purchase six hundred shares of the Bank, not as
a new stock, but by surrender of shares held by the present proprietors,
at £16, 13_s._ 4_d._ per share, or £10,000 in all, being apparently a
premium of £6, 13_s._ 4_d._ on each £10 of the Bank’s paid-in capital.
The Bank, however, as might have been expected, declined the proposal.

The passing of the famous Bubble Act soon after rendered it necessary
for the Edinburgh Society to dissolve; but the Bank, nevertheless, like
a rich heiress, continued to be persecuted by undesired offers of
alliance. One, strange to say, came from the London Exchange Assurance
Company. By this time (1722), it appears that the Bank had _twenty_
thousand pounds of its capital paid up. It was proposed on the part of
the London Assurance, that they should add £20,000, and have a half of
the Bank’s profits, minus only an annual sum of £2500 to the old
proprietors; which the Bank considered as equivalent to a borrowing of a
sum of money at a dear rate from foreigners, when, if necessary, they
could advance it themselves. Suppose, said the directors, that, after
the London company had paid in their £20,000, the Bank’s profits were to
rise to £7000 a year—and the authors of the proposal certainly
contemplated nothing so low—this sum would fall to be divided thus:
_first_, £2500 to the old Bank proprietors; _second_, the remaining
£4500 to be divided between the Bank and the Exchange Assurance
Company—that is, £2250 to the latter, being interest at the rate of 11
per cent. upon the money it had advanced—which money would be lying
[Sidenote: 1719.] the same as dead in the Bank, there being no need for
it. The Bank of Scotland declined the proposal of the London Royal
Exchange Assurance Company, which doubtless would not be without its
denunciations of Scotch caution on the occasion.


Robert Ker, who seems to have been an inhabitant of Lasswade, was a
censor of morals much after the type of the Tinklarian Doctor. He at
this time published _A Short and True Description of the Great
Incumbrances and Damages that City and Country is like to sustain by
Women’s Girded Tails, if it be not speedily prevented, together with a
Dedication to those that wear them_. By girded tails he meant skirts
framed upon hoops of steel, like those now in vogue. According to Robert
Ker, men were ‘put to a difficulty how to walk the streets’ from ‘the
hazard of breaking their shin-bones’ against this metal cooperage, not
to speak of the certainty of being called ill-bred besides. ‘If a man,’
says he, ‘were upon the greatest express that can be, if ye shall meet
them in any strait stair or entry, you cannot pass them by without being
stopped, and called impertinat to boot.’ Many are ‘the other confusions
and cumbrances, both in churches and in coaches.’ He calls for
alterations in staircases, and new lights to be broken out in dark
entries, to save men from unchancy collisions with the fairer part of
creation. Churches, too, would need to be enlarged, as in the old
Catholic times, and seats and desks made wider, to hold these monstrous
protuberances.

‘I wonder,’ says Ker, ‘that those who pretend to be faithful ministers
do not make the pulpits and tents ring about thir sins, amongst many
others. Had we the like of John Knox in our pulpits, he would not spare
to tell them their faults to their very faces. But what need I admonish
about thir things, when some ministers have their wives and daughters
going with these fashions themselves?’

The ladies found a defender on this occasion in Allan Ramsay. He says:

             ‘If Nelly’s hoop be twice as wide
             As her two pretty limbs can stride,
             What then? will any man of sense
             Take umbrage, or the least offence?....
             Do not the handsome of our city,
             The pious, chaste, the kind, the witty,
             Who can afford it, great and small,
             Regard well-shapen fardingale?....
             Who watch their conduct, mien, and guise,
             To shape their weeds as fits their case,
             And place their patches as they please.’[535]

[Sidenote: 1719.]

We learn with grief that our pathetic censor of the fair sex lived on
bad terms with his own wife, and was imprisoned both in Dalkeith and in
Edinburgh for alleged miscarriages towards her. One of his most furious
outpourings was against a minister who had baptised a child born to him
during his Dalkeith imprisonment, the rite being performed without his
order or sanction.


[Sidenote: 1720. JAN. 5.]

‘All persons [in Edinburgh] desirous to learn the French tongue’ were
apprised by an advertisement in the _Edinburgh Courant_, that ‘there is
a Frenchman lately come to this city who will teach at a reasonable
price.’ This would imply that there was no native French teacher in
Edinburgh previously. In 1858, there were eleven, besides three
belonging to our own country.


[Sidenote: JAN.]

Public attention was at this time attracted by a report of devilish
doings at Calder in Mid-Lothian, and of there being one sufferer of no
less distinction than a lord’s son. It was stated that the Hon. Patrick
Sandilands, a boy, the third son of Lord Torphichen, was for certain
bewitched. He fell down in trances, from which no horse-whipping could
rouse him. The renal secretion was as black as ink. Sometimes he was
thrown unaccountably about the room, as if some unseen agent were
buffeting him. Candles went out in his presence. When sitting in a room
with his sisters, he would tell them of things that were going on at a
distance. He had the appearance occasionally of being greatly tormented.
As he lay in bed one night, his tutor, who sat up watching him, became
sleepy, and in this state saw a flash of fire at the window. Roused by
this, he set himself to be more careful watching, and in a little time
he saw another flash at the window. The boy then told him that between
these two flashes, he had been to Torryburn [a place twenty miles
distant]. He was understood to have been thus _taken away_ several
times; he could tell them when it was to happen; and it was then
necessary to watch him, to prevent his being carried off. ‘One day that
he was to be waited on, when he was to be taken away, they kept
[Sidenote: 1720.] the door and window close; but a certain person going
to the door, he made shift and got there, and was lifted in the air, but
was catched by the heels and coat-tails, and brought back.’ Many other
singular and dreadful things happened, which unfortunately were left
unreported at the time, as being so universally known.[536]

Lord Torphichen became at length convinced that his son was suffering
under the diabolic incantations of a witch residing in his village of
Calder, and he had the woman apprehended and put in prison. She is
described as a brutishly ignorant creature, ‘knowing scarce anything but
her witchcraft.’ She readily confessed her wicked practices; told that
she had once given the devil the body of a dead child of her own to make
a roast of; and inculpated two other women and one man, as associates in
her guilt. The baron, the minister, and the people generally accepted it
as a time case of witchcraft; and great excitement prevailed. The
minister of Inveresk, writing to his friend Wodrow (February 19), says:
‘It’s certain my lord’s son has been dreadfully tormented. Mr Brisbane
got one of the women to acknowledge ane image of the child, which, on
search, was found in another woman’s house; but they did not know what
kind of matter it was made of.’[537] The time, however, was past for any
deadly proceedings in such a case in the southern parts of Scotland; and
it does not appear that anything worse than a parish fast was launched
at the devil on the occasion. This solemnity took place on the 14th of
January.

For the crazed white-ironsmith of the West Bow,[538] the case of the
Bewitched Boy of Calder had great attractions. He resolved—unfavourable
as was the season for travelling—to go and examine the matter for
himself. So, on the day of the fast, January 14, he went on foot in ill
weather, without food, to Lord Torphichen’s house at Calder, a walk of
about twelve miles. ‘I took,’ says he, ‘the sword of the spirit at my
breast, and a small wand in my hand, as David did when he went out to
fight against Goliah.’ He found the servants eating and drinking, as if
there had been no fast proclaimed; they offered him entertainment, which
he scrupulously refused. ‘Then I went to my lord and said, I was sent by
God to cast the devil out of his son, by faith in Christ. He seemed to
be like that lord who had the charge of the gate in Samaria. Then I said
to him: “My lord, do you not [Sidenote: 1720.] believe me?” Then he bade
me go and speak to many ministers that was near by him; but I said I was
not sent to them. Then he went to them himself, and spoke to them what I
said; but they would not hear of it; so I went to three witches and a
warlock, to examine them, in sundry places. Two of them denied, and two
of them confessed. I have no time to relate here all that I said to
them, and what they said; but I asked them, “When they took on in that
service?” The wife said: “Many years;” and the man said: “It was ten
years to him.” Then I asked the wife: “What was her reason for taking on
with the devil?” And she said: “He promised her riches, and she believed
him.” Then she called him many a cheat and liar in my hearing. Then I
went to the man, because he was a great professor, and could talk of
religion with any of the parish, as they that was his neighbours said,
and he was at Bothwell Bridge fighting against the king; and because of
that, I desired to ask questions at him; but my lord’s officer said:
“His lord would not allow me.” I said I would not be hindered neither by
my lord nor by the devil, before many there present. Then I asked: “What
iniquity he found in God, that he left his service?” He got up and said:
“Oh, sir, are ye a minister?” So ye see the devil knows me to be a
minister better than the magistrates. He said: “He found no fault in
God; but his wife beguiled him;” and he said: “Wo be to the woman his
wife!” and blamed her only, as Adam did his wife, and the woman blamed
the devil; so ye see it is from the beginning. This is a caution to us
all never to hearken to our wives except they have Scripture on their
side. Then I asked at him: “Did he expect heaven?” “Yes,” said he. Then
I asked at him if he could command the devil to come and speak to me? He
said: “No.” Then I said again: “Call for him, that I may speak with
him.” He said again: “It was not in his power.” Then my lord sent more
servants, that hindered me to ask any more questions, otherwise I might
have seen the devil, and I would have spoken about his son.’[539]

On this fast-day, a sermon was preached in Calder kirk by the Rev. Mr
John Wilkie, minister of Uphall, the alleged sorcerers being all
present. Lord Torphichen subsequently caused the discourse to be
printed. His boy in time recovered, and going to sea, rose by merit to
the command of an East Indiaman, but perished in a storm. It brings us
strangely near to this [Sidenote: 1720.] wild-looking affair, that the
present tenth Lord Torphichen (1860) is only _nephew_ to the witch-boy
of Calder.


[Sidenote: FEB. 5.]

The exportation of some corn from Dundee being connected unfavourably in
the minds of the populace with a rise of the markets, a tumult took
place, with a view to keeping the grain within the country. The mob not
only took possession of two vessels loaded with _bear_ lying in the
harbour, the property of Mr George Dempster, merchant, but attacked and
gutted the house, shops, cellars, and lofts of that gentleman, carrying
off everything of value they contained, including twelve silver spoons,
a silver salver, and two silver boxes, one of them containing a gold
chain and twelve gold rings, some hair ones, and others set with
diamonds. Dempster advertised that whoever shall discover to him ‘the
havers of his goods,’ should have ‘a sufficient reward and the owner’s
kindness, and no questions asked.’[540]

A similar affair took place at Dundee nine years later. The
country-people in and about the town then ‘carried their resentment so
high against the merchants for transporting of victual, that they
furiously mobbed them, carried it out of lofts, and cut the sacks of
those that were bringing it to the barks.’[541]


[Sidenote: MAR. 20.]

Died, Alexander Rose, who had been appointed Bishop of Edinburgh just
before the Revolution. He was the last survivor of the unfortunate
episcopate of Scotland, and also outlived all the English bishops who
forfeited their sees at the Revolution. Though strenuous during all
these thirty-one years as a nonjuror—for which in 1716 he was deprived
of a pension assigned him by Queen Anne—he is testified to by his
presbyter Robert Keith as ‘a sweet-natured man.’[542] His aspect,
latterly, was venerable, and the gentleness of his life secured him the
respect of laymen of all parties. Descended of the old House of
Kilravock, he had married a daughter of Sir Patrick Threipland of
Fingask, a family which maintained fidelity to the House of Stuart with
a persistency beyond all parallel, never once swerving in affection from
the days of the Commonwealth down to recent times. ‘Mr John Rose, son of
the Bishop of Edinburgh,’ is in the list of rebels who pled guilty at
Carlisle in December 1716. The good bishop, having come to his sister’s
house in the Canongate, to see a brother who was there lying sick, had a
sudden fainting-fit, [Sidenote: 1720.] and calmly breathed his last. He
was buried in the romantic churchyard of Restalrig, which has ever since
been a favourite resting-place of the members of the Scottish Episcopal
communion.


[Sidenote: APR. 28.]

There was a jubilation in Edinburgh on what appears to us an
extraordinary occasion. The standing dryness between the king and Prince
of Wales had come to a temporary end. The latter had gone formally to
the palace, and been received by his father ‘with great marks of
tenderness’ [the king was sixty, and the prince thirty-seven]. At a
court held on the occasion, ‘the officers and servants on both sides,
from the highest to the lowest, caressed one another with mutual
civilities,’ and there were great acclamations from the crowd outside.
The agreeable news having been received in the northern metropolis, the
magistrates set the bells a-ringing, and held an entertainment for all
persons of note then in town, at which loyal toasts were drunk, with
_feux de joie_ from the City Guard. Demonstrations of a like nature took
place at Glasgow—the music-bells rung—the stairs of the town-house
covered with carpets—toast-drinking—and discharges of firearms from the
Earl of Stair’s regiment. Nor was there a similar expression of joy
wanting even in the Cavalier city of Aberdeen—where, however, such
expressions were certainly more desirable.[543]


[Sidenote: MAY 2.]

One is startled at finding in the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_ of this
date the following advertisement: ‘Taken up a stolen negro: whoever owns
him, and gives sufficient marks of his being theirs, before the end of
two weeks from the date hereof, may have him again upon payment of
expenses laid out upon him; otherwise the present possessor must dispose
of him at his pleasure.’

Yet true it is that colonial negro slaves who had accompanied their
masters to the British shores, were, till fifty-five years after this
period, regarded as chattels. One named Joseph Knight came with his
master, John Wedderburn, Esq., to Glasgow in 1771, and remained with him
as his bound slave for two years. A love-affair then set the man upon
the idea of attempting to recover his liberty, which a recent decision
by Lord Mansfield in England seemed to make by no means hopeless. With
the help of friends, he carried his claim through a succession of
courts, till a [Sidenote: 1720.] decision of the Court of Session in
1775 finally established that, however he might be a slave while in the
West Indies, he, being now in Scotland, was a free man.


Horse-racing had for many years been considerably in vogue in Scotland.
There were advertised in the course of this year—a race at Cupar in
Fife; one at Gala-rig, near Selkirk, for a piece of plate given by the
burgh, of £12 value; a race at Hamilton Moor for £10; a race on Lanark
Moor for a plate of £12, given by the burgh; a race on the sands of
Leith for a gold cup of about a hundred guineas value, and another, for
a plate of £50 value, given by the city of Edinburgh; finally, another
race at Leith for a silver punch-bowl and ladle, of £25 value, given by
the captains of the Trained Bands of Edinburgh—the bowl bearing an
inscription which smacks wonderfully like the produce of the brain of
Allan Ramsay:

                ‘Charge me with Nantz and limpid spring,
                  Let sour and sweet be mixt;
                Bend round a health syne to the king,
                  To Edinburgh captains next,
                Wha formed me in sae blithe a shape,
                  And gave me lasting honours;
                Take up my ladle, fill and lap,
                  And say: “Fair fa’ the donors.”’


[Sidenote: OCT. 17.]

The genius of Scott has lent an extraordinary interest to a murder
perpetrated at this date. Nicol Mushet appears to have been a young man
of some fortune, being described as ‘of Boghall,’ and he had studied for
the profession of a surgeon; but for some time he had led an irregular
and dissipated life in Edinburgh, where he had for one of his chief
friends a noted profligate named Campbell of Burnbank, ordnance
store-keeper in the Castle. The unhappy young man was drawn into a
marriage with a woman named Hall, for whom he soon discovered that he
had neither affection nor respect; and he then became so eager to be
free from the connection, as to listen to a project by Burnbank for
obtaining a divorce by dishonourable means. An obligation passed between
the parties in November 1719, whereby a claim of Burnbank for an old
debt of nine hundred merks (about £50) was to be discharged by Mushet,
as soon as Burnbank should be able to furnish evidence calculated to
criminate the woman. Burnbank then deliberately hired a wretch like
himself, one Macgregor, a teacher of languages, to enter into a plot for
placing Mrs Mushet [Sidenote: 1720.] in criminative circumstances; and
some progress was made in this plan, which, however, ultimately misgave.
It was then suggested by Burnbank that they should go a step further,
and remove the woman by poison. One James Mushet and his wife—a couple
in poor circumstances—readily undertook to administer it. Several doses
were actually given, but the stomach of the victim always rejected them.
Then the project for debauching her was revived, and Mushet undertook to
effect it; but it was not carried out. Dosing with poison was resumed,
without effect; other plans of murder were considered. James Mushet
undertook to knock his sister-in-law on the head for twenty guineas, and
got one or two in hand by anticipation, part of which he employed in
burying a child of his own. These diabolically wicked projects occupied
Mushet, his brother, his brother’s wife, and Burnbank, in the Christian
city of Edinburgh, during a course of many months, without any one, to
appearance, ever feeling the slightest compunction towards the poor
woman, though it is admitted she loved her husband, and no real fault on
her side has ever been insinuated.

At length, the infatuated Nicol himself borrowed a knife one day, hardly
knowing what he wanted it for, and, taking his wife with him that night,
as on a walk to Duddingston, he embraced the opportunity of killing her
at a solitary place in the King’s Park. He went immediately after to his
brother’s, to tell him what he had done, but in a state of mind which
made all afterwards seem a blank to him. Next morning, the poor victim
was found lying on the ground, with her throat cut to the bone, and many
other wounds, which she had probably received in struggling with her
brutal murderer.

Mushet was seized and examined, when he readily related the whole
circumstances of the murder and those which had led to it. He was
adjudged to be hanged in the Grassmarket on the ensuing 6th of January.
His associate Burnbank was declared infamous, and sentenced to
banishment. The common people, thrilled with horror by the details of
the murder, marked their feelings in the old national mode by raising a
cairn on the spot where it took place; and Mushet’s Cairn has ever since
been a recognised locality.[544]


There was published this year in Edinburgh a small treatise at
[Sidenote: 1720.] the price of a shilling, under the title of _Rules of
Good Deportment and Good Breeding_. The author was Adam Petrie, who is
understood as having commenced life as domestic tutor in the family of
Sinclair of Stevenston, and to have ended it in the situation of a
parish schoolmaster in East Lothian. He dedicated his treatise to the
magistrates of Edinburgh, acknowledging them to be ‘so thoroughly
acquainted with all the steps of civility and good breeding, that it is
impossible for the least misrepresentation of them to escape your
notice.’

Adam sets out with the thesis, that ‘a courteous way gilds a denial,
sweetens the sharpness of truth ... sets off the defects of reason,
varnishes slights, paints deformities ... in a word, disguises
everything that is unsavoury.’ Everything, however, required to have
some reference to religion in that age, and Adam takes care to remind us
that civility has a divine basis, in the injunctions, ‘Be courteous to
all men,’ and ‘Give honour to whom honour is due.’

As to ordinary demeanour, Mr Petrie was of opinion that ‘a gentleman
ought not to run or walk too fast in the streets, lest he be suspected
to be going a message.’ ‘When you walk with a superior, give him the
right hand; but if it be near a wall, let him be next to it.’ The latter
rule, he tells us, was not yet followed in Scotland, though established
in England and Ireland. ‘When you give or receive anything from a
superior, be sure to pull off your glove, and make a show of kissing
your hand, with a low bow after you have done.’ In this and some other
instances, it strikes us that a too ceremonious manner is counselled;
but such was the tendency of the time. There was, however, no want of
rude persons. ‘I have,’ says Adam, ‘seen some noblemen treat gentlemen
that have not been their dependents, and men of ancienter families than
they could pretend to, like their dependents, and carry to the
ambassadors of Jesus Christ as if they had been their footmen.’

Mr Petrie deemed it proper not to come amongst women abruptly, ‘without
giving them time to appear to advantage: they do not love to be
surprised.’ He also thought it was well ‘to carry somewhat reserved from
the fair sex.’ One should not enter the house or chamber of a great
person with a great-coat and boots, or without gloves—though ‘it is
usual in many courts that they deliver up their gloves with their sword
before they enter the court, because some have carried in poison on
their gloves, and have conveyed the same to the sovereign that way.’
[Sidenote: 1720.] Women, on their part, are equally advised against
approaching superiors of their own sex with their gown tucked up. ‘Nor,’
says he, ‘is it civil to wear a mask anywhere in company of superiors,
unless they be travelling together on a journey.’ In that case, ‘when a
superior makes his honours to her, she is to pull off her mask, and
return him his salute, if it be not tied on.’

There is a good deal about the management of the handkerchief, with one
general recommendation to ‘beware of offering it to any, except they
desire it.’ We also are presented with a rule which one could wish to
see more universally observed than it is, against making any kind of
gesticulations or noises in company.

There were customs of salutation then, which it is now difficult to
imagine as having ever been practised. ‘In France,’ says Adam, ‘they
salute ladies on the cheek; but in Britain and Ireland they salute them
on the lips.’ Our Scottish Chesterfield seems to have felt that the
custom should be abated somewhat; or perhaps it was going out. ‘If,’
says he, ‘a lady of quality advance to you, and tender her cheek, you
are only to pretend to salute her by putting your head to her hoods:
when she advances, give her a low bow, and when you retreat, give her
another.’ He adds: ‘It is undecent to salute ladies but in civility.’

Formulæ of address and for the superscription of letters are fully
explained; but Adam could not allow ‘the Right Reverend Father in God
the Lord Bishop of London’ to pass as an example of Episcopal style,
without remarking that many have not ‘clearness’ to use such titles.
Adam is everywhere inclined to an infusion of piety. He denounces ‘an
irreligious tippling’ of coffee, tea, and chocolate, which he observed
to be continually going on in coffee-houses, ‘because not one in a
hundred asks a blessing to it.’ He is very much disposed, too, to launch
out into commonplace morals. Rather unexpectedly in a lover of the
politenesses, he sets his face wholly against cards and dice,
stage-plays, and promiscuous dancing, adducing a great number of learned
references in support of his views.

The editor of a very scarce reprint of this curious volume,[545] remarks
that, from the manifest sincerity of the author’s delineations of good
breeding, and the graphic character of many of his scenes, it may fairly
be presumed that they were painted from nature. We are told by the same
writer, that ‘Helen Countess of Haddington, who died in 1768, at the
advanced age of ninety-one, [Sidenote: 1720.] and to whom Petrie was
well known, used to describe his own deportment and breeding as in
strict accordance with his rules.’


[Sidenote: 1721. JAN. 4.]

James Dougal, writing the news of Edinburgh to his friend Wodrow at
Eastwood, has a sad catalogue to detail. ‘There was four pirates hanged
at Leith this day ... very hardened. They were a melancholy sight, and
there is three to be hanged next Wednesday. Nicol Mushet is to be hanged
on Friday ... for murdering his wife: he appears to be more concerned
than he was before. Ane woman brought from Leith is to die the first
Wednesday of February for putting down [destroying] a child. Another man
is laid up in prison, that is thought to have murdered his wife. The
things falling out now are very humbling.’

He goes on to tell that several persons ‘in trouble of mind’ are
frequently prayed for in Edinburgh churches. ‘But they do not name them
but after such a manner—A man there is in such trouble (or a woman), and
desires the congregation to praise God with them for signal deliverance
that the Lord hath given them from great troubles that they have been
in.’

The end of the letter is terrible: ‘There is some of the Lord’s people
that lives here, that are feared for melancholy days, iniquity doth so
abound, and profanity; and if there were not a goodly remnant in this
town, it would sink.’[546]


[Sidenote: JAN. 30.]

A sperm whale, ‘the richest that has ever been seen in this country,’
was advertised in the _Courant_ as having come ashore in the Firth of
Forth near Culross, and to be sold by public roup.

At the end of June 1730, three wounded whales ran ashore at Kilrenny in
Fife, on the property of Mr Bethune of Balfour. The produce, consisting
of a hundred and forty-six barrels of _speck_, or blubber, and
twenty-three barrels of spermaceti _speck_, was afterwards advertised
for sale.


[Sidenote: OCT.]

With regard to several of the forfeited estates which lay in
inaccessible situations in the Highlands, the Commissioners had been up
to this time entirely baffled, having never been able even to get
surveys of them effected. In this predicament in a special manner lay
the immense territory of the Earl of Seaforth, extending from Brahan
Castle in Easter Ross across the island to [Sidenote: 1721.] Kintail,
and including the large though unfertile island of Lewis. The districts
of Lochalsh and Kintail, on the west coast, the scene of the Spanish
invasion of 1719, were peculiarly difficult of access, there being no
approach from the south, east, or north, except by narrow and difficult
paths, while the western access was only assailable to a naval force. To
appearance, this tract of ground, the seat of many comparatively opulent
‘tacksmen’ and cattle-farmers, was as much beyond the control of the six
Commissioners assembled at their office in Edinburgh, as if it had been
amongst the mountains of Tibet or upon the shores of Madagascar.

During several years after the insurrection, the rents of this district
were collected, without the slightest difficulty, for the benefit of the
exiled earl, and regularly transmitted to him. At one time, a
considerable sum was sent to him in Spain, and the descendants of the
man who carried it continued for generations to bear ‘the Spanyard’ as
an addition to their name.[547] The chief agent in the business was
Donald Murchison, descendant of a line of faithful adherents of the
‘high chief of Kintail’—the first of whom, named Murcho, had come from
Ireland with Colin the son of Kenneth, the founder of the clan Mackenzie
in the thirteenth century. The later generations of the family had been
intrusted in succession with the keeping of Ellan Donan Castle, a
stronghold dear to the modern artist as a picturesque ruin, but formerly
of serious importance as commanding a central point from which radiate
Loch Alsh and Loch Duich, in the midst of the best part of the Mackenzie
country. Donald was a man worthy of a more prominent place in his
country’s annals than he has yet attained; he acted under a sense of
right which, though unfortunately defiant of acts of parliament, was
still a very pure sense of right; and in the remarkable actions which he
performed, he looked solely to the good of those towards whom he had a
feeling of duty. A more disinterested hero—and he was one—never lived.

When Lord Seaforth brought his clan to fight for King James in 1715,
Donald Murchison and a senior brother, John, went as field-officers of
the regiment—Donald as lieutenant-colonel, and John as major. Sir
Roderick I. Murchison, the distinguished geologist, great-grandson of
John, possesses a large ivory and silver ‘mill,’ which once contained
the commission sent from France to Donald, as colonel, bearing the
inscription: ‘JAMES [Sidenote: 1721.] REX: FORWARD AND SPARE NOT.’ John
fell at Sheriffmuir, in the prime of life; Donald, returning with the
remains of the clan, was intrusted by the banished earl with the
management of estates no longer legally his, but still virtually so,
through the effect of Highland feelings in connection with very peculiar
local circumstances. And for this task Donald was in various respects
well qualified, for, strange to say, the son of the castellan of Ellan
Donan—the Sheriffmuir colonel—had been ‘bred a writer’ in Edinburgh, and
was as expert at the business of a factor or estate-agent as in wielding
the claymore.[548]

In bold and avowed insubordination to the government of George the
First, the Mackenzie tenants continued for ten years to pay their rents
to Donald Murchison, on account of their forfeited and exiled lord,
setting at nought all fear of ever being compelled to repeat the payment
to the commissioners.

In 1720, these gentlemen made a movement for asserting their claims upon
the property. In William Ross of Easterfearn, and Robert Ross, a bailie
of Tain, they found two men bold enough to undertake the duty of
stewardship in their behalf over the Seaforth property, and also the
estates of Grant of Glenmorriston and Chisholm of Strathglass. Little,
however, was done that year beyond sending out notices to the tenants,
and preparing for strenuous measures to be entered upon next year. The
stir they made only produced excitement, not dismay. Some of the
duine-wassels from about Loch Carron, coming down with their cattle to
the south-country fairs, were heard to declare that the two factors
would never get anything but leaden coin from the Seaforth tenantry.
Donald was going over the whole country, shewing a letter he had got
from the earl, encouraging his people to stand out; at the same time
telling them that the old countess was about to come north with a
factory for the estate, when she would allow as paid any rents which
they might now hand to him. The very first use to be made of this money
was, indeed, to bring both the old and the young countesses home
immediately to Brahan Castle, where they would live as they used to do.
Part of the funds thus acquired, he used in keeping on foot a party of
about sixty armed Highlanders, whom, in virtue of his commission as
colonel, he proposed to employ in resisting any troops of George the
First which might be sent to Kintail. [Sidenote: 1721.] Nor did he wait
to be attacked, but, in June 1720, hearing of a party of excisemen
passing near Dingwall with a large quantity of _aqua-vitæ_, he fell upon
them, and rescued their prize. The collector of the district reported
this transaction to the Board of Excise; but no notice was taken of it.

In February 1721, the two factors sent officers of their own into the
western districts, to assure the tenants of good usage, if they would
make a peaceable submission; but the men were seized, robbed of their
papers, money, and arms, and quietly remanded over the Firth of
Attadale, though only after giving solemn assurance that they would
never attempt to renew their mission. Resenting this procedure, the two
factors caused a constable to take a military party from Bernera
barracks into Lochalsh, and, if possible, capture those who had been
guilty. They made a stealthy night-march, and took two men; but the
alarm was given, the two men escaped, and began to fire down upon their
captors from a hillside; then they set fire to the bothy as a signal,
and such a _coronach_ went over all Kintail and Lochalsh, as made the
soldiers glad to beat a quick retreat.

After some further proceedings, all of them ineffectual, the two factors
were enabled, on the 13th of September, to set forth from Inverness with
a party of thirty soldiers and some armed servants of their own, with
the design of enforcing submission to their legal claims. Let it be
remembered there were then no roads in the Highlands, nothing but a few
horse-tracks along the principal lines in the country, where not the
slightest effort had ever been made to smooth away the natural
difficulties of the ground. In two days, the factors had got to
Invermorriston; but here they were stopped for three days, waiting for
their heavy baggage, which was storm-stayed in Castle Urquhart, and
there nearly taken in a night-attack by a partisan warrior bearing the
name of Evan Roy Macgillivray. The tenantry of Glenmorriston at first
fled with their bestial; but afterwards a number of them came in and
made at least the appearance of submission. The party then moved on
towards Strathglass, while Evan Roy respectfully followed, to pick up
any man or piece of baggage that might be left behind. At Erchless
Castle, and at Invercannich, seats of the Chisholm, they held courts,
and received the submission of a number of the tenants, whom, however,
they subsequently found to be ‘very deceitful.’

There were now forty or fifty miles of the wildest Highland country
before them, where they had reason to believe they should [Sidenote:
1721.] meet groups of murderous Camerons and Glengarry Macdonalds, and
also encounter the redoubted Donald Murchison, with his guard of
Mackenzies, unless their military force should be of an amount to render
all such opposition hopeless. An appointment having been made that they
should receive an addition of fifty soldiers from Bernera, with whom to
pass through the most difficult part of their journey, it seemed likely
that they would appear too strong for resistance; and, indeed,
intelligence was already coming to them, that ‘the people of Kintail,
being a judicious opulent people, would not expose themselves to the
punishments of law,’ and that the Camerons were absolutely determined to
give no further provocation to the government. Thus assured, they set
out in cheerful mood along the valley of Strathglass, and, soon after
passing a place called Knockfin, were reinforced by Lieutenant Brymer,
with the expected fifty men from Bernera. There must have now been about
a hundred well armed men in the invasive body. They spent the next day
(Sunday) together in rest, to gather strength for the ensuing day’s
march of about thirty arduous miles, by which they hoped to reach
Kintail.

At four in the morning of Monday the 2d October, the party set forward,
the Bernera men first, and the factors in the rear. They were as yet far
from the height of the country, and from its more difficult passes; but
they soon found that all the flattering tales of non-resistance were
groundless, and that the Kintail men had come a good way out from their
country in order to defend it. The truth was, that Donald Murchison had
assembled not only his stated band of Mackenzies, but a levy of the
Lewis men under Seaforth’s cousin, Mackenzie of Kildun; also an
auxiliary corps of Camerons, Glengarry and Glenmorriston men, and some
of those very Strathglass men who had been making appearances of
submission. Altogether, he had, if the factors were rightly informed,
three hundred and fifty men with long Spanish firelocks, under his
command, and all posted in the way most likely to give them an advantage
over the invading force.

The rear-guard, with the factors, had scarcely gone a mile, when they
received a platoon of seven shots from a rising ground near them to the
right, with, however, only the effect of piercing a soldier’s hat. The
Bernera company, as we are informed, left the party at eight o’clock, as
they were passing Lochanachlee, and from this time is heard of no more:
how it made its way out of the country does not appear. The remainder
still advancing, Easterfearn, as he rode a little before his men, had
eight shots [Sidenote: 1721.] levelled at him from a rude breastwork
near by, and was wounded in two places, but was able to appear as if he
had not been touched. Then calling out some Highlanders in his service,
he desired them to go before the soldiers, and do their best, according
to their own mode of warfare, to clear the ground of such lurking
parties, so that the troops might advance in safety. They performed this
service pretty effectually, skirmishing as they went on, and the main
body advanced safely about six miles. They were here arrived at a place
called Aa-na-Mullich (_Ford of the Mull People_), where the waters,
descending from the Cralich and the lofty mountains of Kintail, issue
eastwards through a narrow gorge into Loch Affaric. It was a place
remarkably well adapted for the purposes of a resisting party. A rocky
boss, called Tor-an-Beatich, then densely covered with birch, closes up
the glen as with a gate. The black mountain stream, ‘spear-deep,’ sweeps
round it. A narrow path wound up the rock, admitting only of passengers
in single file. Here lay Donald with the best of his people, while
inferior adherents were ready to make demonstrations at a little
distance. As the invasive party approached, they received a platoon from
a wood on the left, but nevertheless went on. When, however, they were
all engaged in toiling up the pass, forty men concealed in the heather
close by fired with deadly effect, inflicting a mortal wound on Walter
Ross, Easterfearn’s son, while Bailie Ross’s son was also hurt by a
bullet which swept across his breast. The bailie called to his son to
retire, and the order was obeyed; but the two wounded youths and Bailie
Ross’s servant were taken prisoners, and carried up the hill, where they
were quickly divested of clothes, arms, money, and papers. Young
Easterfearn died next morning. The troops faced the ambuscade manfully,
and are said to have given their fire thrice, and to have beat the
Highlanders from the bushes near by; but, observing at this juncture
several parties of the enemy on the neighbouring heights, and being
informed of a party of sixty in their rear, Easterfearn deemed it best
to temporise.

He sent forward a messenger to ask who they were that opposed the king’s
troops, and what they wanted. The answer was that, in the first place,
they required to have Ross of Easterfearn delivered up to them. This was
pointedly refused; but it was at length arranged that Easterfearn should
go forward, and converse with the leader of the opposing party. The
meeting took place at Bal-aa-na-Mullich (_the Town of the Mull Men’s
Ford_), and Easterfearn found himself confronted with Donald Murchison.
[Sidenote: 1721.] It ended with Easterfearn giving up his papers, and
covenanting, under a penalty of five hundred pounds, not to officiate in
his factory any more; after which he gladly departed homewards with his
associates, under favour of a guard of Donald’s men, to conduct them
safely past the sixty men lurking in the rear. It was alleged afterwards
that the commander was much blamed by his own people for letting the
factors off with their lives and baggage, particularly by the Camerons,
who had been five days at their post with hardly anything to eat; and
Murchison only pacified them by sending them a good supply of meat and
drink. He had in reality given a very effectual check to the two
gentlemen-factors, to one of whom he imparted in conversation that any
scheme of a government stewardship in Kintail was hopeless, for he and
sixteen others had sworn that, if any person calling himself a factor
came there, they would take his life, whether at kirk or at market, and
deem it a meritorious action, though they should be cut to pieces for it
next minute.[549]

A bloody grave for young Easterfearn in Beauly Cathedral concluded this
abortive attempt to take the Seaforth estates within the scope of a law
sanctioned by statesmen, but against which the natural feelings of
nearly a whole people revolted.[550]

[Sidenote: 1721. DEC.]

A newspaper advertisement informed the world that ‘There is a certain
gentleman living at Glasgow, who has put forth a problem to the
learned—proposing, if no man answer it, to do it himself in a few
weeks—viz., Whether or not it is possible so to dispose a ship, either
great or small, that, although she, or it, be rent in the bottom, and
filled full of water, or however tossed with tempest, she, or it, shall
never sink below the water; and also that the same may be reduced to
practice.’[551]


[Sidenote: 1722. APR. 27.]

An election of a member of parliament for a Highland county was apt to
bring forth somewhat strenuous sentiments, and the scene sometimes
partook a good deal of the nature of a local civil war.

A representative of Ross-shire being to be chosen, there came, the night
before, to Fortrose, the greatest man of the north, the Earl of
Sutherland, heading a large body of armed and mounted retainers, who
made a procession round the streets, while an English sloop-of-war, in
friendly alliance with him, came up to the town and fired its guns.
Hundreds of Highlanders, his lordship’s retainers, at the same time
lounged about. The reason of all this was, that the opposition interest
was in a decided majority, and a defeat to the Whig candidate seemed
impending. When the election came on, there were thirty-one barons
present, of whom eighteen gave their votes for General Charles Ross of
Balnagowan, the remainder being for Captain Alexander Urquhart of
Newhall. Hereupon, Lord Sutherland’s relative and friend, Sir William
Gordon of Invergordon, sheriff of the county, retired with the minority,
and went through the form of electing their own man, notwithstanding a
protest from the other candidate. ‘Immediately after this separation,
Colin Graham of Drynie, one of the deputy-lieutenants of the county,
came into the court-house, with his sword in his hand, accompanied by
Robert Gordon of Haughs and Major John Mackintosh, with some of the
armed Highlanders whom they had posted at the door, with drawn swords
and cocked firelocks, and did require the majority (who remained to
finish the election), in the name of the Earl of Sutherland, to remove
out of the house, otherwise they must expect worse treatment. Major
Mackintosh said they would be dragged out by the heels. Upon which the
barons protested against those violent proceedings, declaring their
resolution to [Sidenote: 1722.] remain in the court-house till the
election was finished, though at the hazard of their lives; which they
accordingly did.’[552]


[Sidenote: APR. 29.]

The Catholics had of late been getting up their heads in the north,
especially in districts over which the Gordon family held sway; and the
open practice of the Romish rites before large congregations in the
Banffshire valleys, was become a standing subject of complaint and alarm
in the church-courts. When at length the government obtained scent of
the Jacobite plot in which Bishop Atterbury was concerned, it
sympathised with these groans of the laden spirits in Scotland, and
permitted some decided measures of repression to be taken.

Accordingly, this day, being Sunday, as the Duchess-Dowager of
Gordon—Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the Duke of Norfolk—was having mass
performed at her house in the Canongate, Edinburgh, in the presence of
about fifty professors like herself of the Catholic religion, Bailie
Hawthorn, a magistrate of the Canongate, broke open the doors, and
seized the whole party. The ladies were bailed, and allowed to depart;
but the priest, Mr John Wallace, was marched to prison. We are informed
by Wodrow that Wallace had been ordained a Protestant minister
thirty-five years before.[553] The Lord Advocate would not at first
listen to any proposal for his liberation, though several persons of
distinction came to plead for it; but at length bail was taken for him
to the extent of a thousand merks Scots. Being indicted under the
statute of 1700, he failed to stand his trial, and was outlawed.[554]

Before the upbreak of this plot, considerable numbers of gentlemen under
attainder daily presented themselves on the streets of Edinburgh,
emboldened of course by the mildness of the government; but, one or two
of them having been seized and put up in the Castle, it came to pass,
15th May, that not one was any longer to be seen. Mr Wodrow, who records
these circumstances, expresses the feeling of the hour. ‘It’s certain we
are in a most divided and defenceless state; divisions on the one hand,
rancour and malice on the other, and a wretched indolence among too
many. But the Lord liveth!’[555]


[Sidenote: AUG. 3.]

The Canongate, which had so often, in the sixteenth century, [Sidenote:
1722.] been reddened with the best blood in Scotland, was still
occasionally the scene of wild transactions, though arising amongst a
different class of persons and from different causes. A local journalist
chronicles a dreadful tragedy as occurring on its pavé at this date.

‘In the afternoon, Captain Chiesley and Lieutenant Moodie, both of
Cholmly’s Regiment, which lies encamped at Bruntsfield Links, having
quarrelled some time before in the camp, meeting on the street of the
Canongate, the captain, as we are told, asked Mr Moodie whether he had
in a certain company called him a coward? And he owning he had, the
captain beat him first with his fist, and then with a cane; whereupon Mr
Moodie drew his sword, and, shortening it, run the captain into the
great artery. The captain, having his sword drawn at the same time,
pushed at Mr Moodie, who was rushing on him with his sword shortened,
and thus run him into the lower belly, of which in a few minutes he
died, without speaking one word, having had no more strength or life
left him than to cross the street, and reach the foot of the stair of
his lodgings, where he dropped down dead. The captain lived only to step
into a house near by, and to pray shortly that God might have mercy on
his soul, without speaking a word more. ’Tis said Mr Moodie’s lady was
looking over the window all the while this bloody tragedy was
acting.’[556]

A duel which happened about the same time between Captains Marriot and
Scroggs proved fatal to both.


[Sidenote: AUG. 7.]

‘Four of those poor deluded people called Quakers, two men and two
women, came about noon to the Cross [of Edinburgh], when one of the
women, who by her accent seemed to be of Yorkshire, after several
violent agitations, said, that she was appointed by God to preach
repentance to this sinful city; that a voice of mortality, as she called
it, had sounded in her ears, and that desolation and all kinds of
miseries would befall the inhabitants if they did not repent. After she
had spoke about a quarter of an hour, a party of the city-guard carried
her and the other three prisoners to the main guard.’

Some years after, one Thomas Erskine, a brewer, made himself conspicuous
as a Quaker preacher in Edinburgh. One Saturday, January 17, 1736, he
‘made a religious peregrination through this city. He made his first
station at the Bow-head [reputed as [Sidenote: 1722.] the head-quarters
of the saints in Edinburgh], where he pronounced woes and judgments on
the inhabitants of the Good Town, if they did not speedily repent.
Thence he walked to the Cross, where he recapitulated what he had
evangelised by the way, and concluded with desiring his auditory to
remember well what he had told them. However, he gave them forty days to
think on’t.’

One day, in the ensuing July, Erskine sent a notice to the quiet little
country town of Musselburgh, to the effect that the Spirit had appointed
him to hold forth to them in the marketplace at five in the afternoon;
and, accordingly, at the appointed hour, he mounted the Cross, and
discoursed to a large audience.[557]


[Sidenote: AUG. 29.]

A second attempt was now made to obtain possession of the forfeited
Seaforth estates for the government. It was calculated that what the two
factors and their attendants, with a small military force, had failed to
accomplish in the preceding October, when they were beat back with a
fatal loss at _Aa-na-Mullich_, might now be effected by means of a good
military party alone, if they should make their approach through a less
critical passage. A hundred and sixty of Colonel Kirk’s regiment left
Inverness under Captain M‘Neil, who had at one time been commander of
the Highland Watch. They proceeded by Dingwall, Strath Garve, and Loch
Carron, a route to the north of that adopted by the factors, and an
easier, though a longer way. Donald Murchison, nothing daunted, got
together his followers, and advanced to the top of Maam Attadale, a high
pass from Loch Carron to the head of Loch Long, separating Lochalsh from
Kintail. Here a gallant relative named Kenneth Murchison, and a few
others, volunteered to go forward and plant themselves in ambush in the
defiles of the Choille Van [White Wood], while the bulk of the party
should remain where they were. It would appear that this ambush party
consisted of thirteen men, all peculiarly well armed.

On approaching this dangerous place, the captain went forward with a
sergeant and eighteen men to clear the wood, while the main body came on
slowly in the rear. At a place called Altanbadn, in the Choille Van, he
encountered Kenneth and his associates, whose fire wounded himself
severely, killed one of his grenadiers, and wounded several others of
the party. He persisted in advancing, and attacked the handful of
natives with [Sidenote: 1722.] sufficient resolution. They slowly
withdrew, as unable to resist; but the captain now obtained intelligence
that a large body of Mackenzies was posted in the mountain-pass of
Attadale. It seemed as if there was a design to draw him into a fatal
ambuscade. His own wounded condition probably warned him that a better
opportunity might occur afterwards. He turned his forces about, and made
the best of his way back to Inverness. Kenneth Murchison quickly
rejoined Colonel Donald on Maam Attadale, with the cheering intelligence
that one salvo of thirteen guns had repelled the hundred and sixty
_sidier roy_.[558] After this, we hear of no renewed attempt to comprise
the Seaforth property.

Strange as it may seem, Donald Murchison, two years after thus a second
time resisting the government troops, came down to Edinburgh with eight
hundred pounds of the earl’s rents, that he might get the money sent
abroad for his lordship’s use. He remained a fortnight in the city
unmolested. He would on this occasion appear in the garb of a Lowland
gentleman; he would mingle with old acquaintances, ‘doers’ and writers;
and appear at the Cross amongst the crowd of gentlemen who assembled
there every day at noon. Scores would know all about his doings at
Aa-na-Mullich and the Choille Van; but thousands might have known,
without the chance of one of them betraying him to government.

General Wade, writing a report to the king in 1725, states that the
Seaforth tenants, formerly reputed the richest of any in the Highlands,
are now become poor, by neglecting their business, and applying
themselves to the use of arms. ‘The rents,’ he says, ‘continue to be
collected by one Donald Murchison, a servant of the late earl’s, who
annually remits or carries the same to his master into France. The
tenants, when in a condition, are said to have sent him free gifts in
proportion to their several circumstances, but are now a year and a half
in arrear of rent. The receipts he gives to the tenants are as
deputy-factor to the Commissioners of the Forfeited Estates, which
pretended power he extorted from the factor (appointed by the said
commissioners to collect those rents for the use of the public), whom he
attacked with above four hundred armed men, as he was going to enter
upon the said estate, having with him a party of thirty of your
majesty’s troops. The last year this Murchison marched in a public
manner to Edinburgh, to remit eight hundred pounds to France for his
master’s use, and remained fourteen days there [Sidenote: 1722.]
unmolested. I cannot omit observing to your majesty, that this national
tenderness the subjects of North Britain have one for the other, is a
great encouragement for rebels and attainted persons to return home from
their banishment.’[559]

Donald was again in Edinburgh about the end of August 1725. On the 2d of
September, George Lockhart of Carnwath, writing from Edinburgh to the
Chevalier St George, states, amongst other matters of information
regarding his party in Scotland, that Daniel Murchison (as he calls him)
‘is come to Edinburgh, on his way to France’—doubtless charged with a
sum of rents for Seaforth. ‘He’s been in quest of me, and I of him,’
says Lockhart, ‘these two days, and missed each other; but in a day or
two he’s to be at my country-house, where I’ll get time to talk fully
with him. In the meantime, I know from one that saw him, that he has
taken up and secured all the arms of value in Seaforth’s estate, which
he thought better than to trust them to the care and prudence of the
several owners; and the other chieftains, I hear, have done the
same.’[560]

The Commissioners on the Forfeited Estates conclude their final report
in 1725 by stating that they had not sold the estate of William Earl of
Seaforth, ‘not having been able to obtain possession, and consequently
to give the same to a purchaser.’

In a Whig poem on the Highland Roads, written in 1737, Donald is
characteristically spoken of as a sort of cateran, while, in reality, as
every generous person can now well understand, he was a high-minded
gentleman. The verses, nevertheless, as well as the appended note, are
curious:

           ‘Keppoch, Rob Roy, and Daniel Murchisan,
           Cadets or servants to some chief of clan,
           From theft and robberies scarce did ever cease,
           Yet ‘scaped the halter each, and died in peace.
           This last his exiled master’s rents collected,
           Nor unto king or law would be subjected.
           Though veteran troops upon the confines lay,
           Sufficient to make lord and tribe a prey,
           Yet passes strong through which no roads were cut,
           Safe-guarded Seaforth’s clan, each in his hut.
           Thus in strongholds the rogue securely lay,
           Neither could they by force be driven away,
           Till his attainted lord and chief of late
           By ways and means repurchased his estate.’[561]

[Sidenote: 1722.]

  ‘Donald Murchison, a kinsman and servant to the Earl of Seaforth, bred
  a writer, a man of small stature, but full of spirit and resolution,
  fought at Dunblane against the government _anno_ 1715, but continued
  thereafter to collect Seaforth’s rents for his lord’s use, and had
  some pickerings with the king’s forces on that account, till, about
  five years ago, the government was so tender as to allow Seaforth to
  re-purchase his estate, when the said Murchison had a principal hand
  in striking the bargain for his master. How he fell under Seaforth’s
  displeasure, and died thereafter, is not to the purpose here to
  mention.’

The end of Donald’s career can scarcely now be passed over in this
slighting manner. The story is most painful. The Seaforth of that
day—very unlike some of his successors—was unworthy of the devotion
which this heroic man had shewn to him. When his lordship took
possession of the estates which Donald had in a manner preserved for
him, he discountenanced and neglected him. Murchison’s noble spirit
pined away under this treatment, and he died in the very prime of his
days of a broken heart.[562] He lies in a remote little churchyard on
Cononside, in the parish of Urray, where, I am happy to say, his worthy
relative, Sir Roderick I. Murchison, is at this time preparing to raise
a suitable monument over his grave.

When Dr Johnson and James Boswell, in their journey to the Hebrides,
1773, came to the inn at Glenelg, they found the most wretched
accommodation, and would have been without any comfort whatever, had not
Mr Murchison, factor to Macleod in Glenelg, sent them a bottle of rum
and some sugar, ‘with a polite message,’ says Boswell, ‘to acquaint us,
that he was very sorry he did not hear of us till we had passed his
house, otherwise he should have insisted on our sleeping there that
night.’ ‘Such extraordinary attention,’ he adds, ‘from this gentleman to
entire strangers, deserves the most honourable commemoration.’ This
gentleman, to whom Johnson also alludes with grateful admiration of his
courtesy in the _Journey to the Western Islands_, was a near relative of
Donald Murchison.


[Sidenote: SEP. 1.]

A high wind shook the crops of Lothian, particularly damaging the pease.
It was considered ‘a heavy stroke,’ as the people thereabouts [Sidenote:
1722.] lived much on pease-meal. _Apropos_ to this fact, Wodrow speaks
of an individual who had much ploughing to execute, and who found it
advantageous to feed his horses on pease-bannocks: ‘he finds it a third
cheaper [than corn], and his horses fatter and better.’[563] It is
curious that this farmer, ‘_abnormis sapiens_,’ came to the same point
which Baron Liebig has attained in our age, by scientific investigation,
as to the nutritive qualities of pease.


The extensive coal-field of East Lothian gave occasion for several
efforts in the mechanical arts, which might be regarded as early and
before their time, when the general condition of the country is
considered. Some years before the Revolution, the Earl of Winton had
drained his coal-pits in Tranent parish, by tunnels cut for a long way
through solid rock, on such a scale as to attract the attention of
George Sinclair, professor of natural philosophy in Glasgow, who, in the
preface to his extraordinary work, _Satan’s Invisible World Discovered_,
speaks of them as something paralleling the cutting of the Alps by
Hannibal. Such a mode of taking off the water from a coal-mine, where
the form of the ground admitted it, was certainly of great use in days
when as yet there were no steam-engines to make the driving of pumps
easy.[564]

The forfeited estate of the Earl of Winton having been bought in 1719 by
the York Buildings Company, a new and equally surprising addition was at
this time made to the economy of the coal-works, in the form of a wooden
railway, between one and two miles long, connecting the pits with the
salt-works at Prestonpans and the harbour at Port-Seton. A work so
ingenious, so useful, and foreshewing the iron ways by which, in our
age, the industrial prospects of the world have been so much advanced,
comes into strong relief when beheld in connection with the many
barbarisms amidst which it took its rise. But the oddity of its
associations does not end here, for, when a Highland army came down to
the Lowlands twenty-three years afterwards, seeking with primitive arms
to restore the House of Stuart, the first of its battles was fought on
the ground crossed by this railway, and General Cope’s cannon were
actually fired against the clouded Camerons[565] from a position on the
railway itself!

[Sidenote: 1723. JAN.]

There was published in Edinburgh a poem, entitled the _Mock
Senator_—‘pretended to be translated from an Arabian manuscript,
wherein, under feigned and disguised names, the author seems to lash
some persons in the present administration.’ The magistrates—whom we
have seen exercising a pretty sharp censorship over the newspaper
press—‘committed to prison Mr Alexander Pennecuik, the supposed author
of this poem, and discharged the hawkers to sell or disperse the
same.’[566]


[Sidenote: MAR.]

At this time, two criminalities of the highest class occurred amongst
persons of rank in Scotland.

On the 30th of March, Mrs Elizabeth Murray, ‘lady to Thomas Kincaid,
younger, of Gogar-Mains,’ was found dead on the road from Edinburgh to
that place, with all the appearance of having been barbarously murdered.
It was at once, with good reason, concluded that the horrible act had
been perpetrated by her own husband. He succeeded in escaping to
Holland.[567]

Pennecuik, the burgess-poet, has a poem on the murder of Mrs Kincaid by
her husband, from which it would appear that she had been an amiable and
long-suffering woman, and he a coarse and dissolute man. He adds a note
at the end, ‘Ensign Hugh Skene engaged in the plot.’[568]

Only three weeks later (April 22), Sir James Campbell of Lawers was
foully murdered at Greenock by his apparent friend, Duncan Campbell of
Edramurkle. The facts are thus related in a contemporary letter. ‘Lawers
had been in a treaty of marriage with [Campbell of] Finab’s daughter,
which Edramurkle was very active to get accomplished, out of a seeming
friendship for Lawers. After the marriage articles were agreed upon,
they went together to make a visit to the young lady, and, in return,
came to Greenock on Friday the 19th last [April], where they remained
Saturday and Sunday—Edramurkle all the while shewing the greatest
friendship for Lawers, and Lawers confiding in him as his own brother.
Upon the Saturday, pretending to Lawers that he had use for a pistol, he
got money from him to buy one, which accordingly he did, with ball and
powder. The use he made of this artillery was to discharge two balls
into Lawers’s head, while he was fast asleep, betwixt three and four on
Monday’s morning; and which balls were levelled under his left eye, and
went through [Sidenote: 1723.] his head, sloping to the back-bone of his
neck ... he was found in a sleeping posture, and had not moved either
eye or hand.

‘The fellow went immediately off in a boat for Glasgow, and from thence
came here [Edinburgh], the people in the house having no suspicion but
that Lawers was asleep, till about eleven o’clock, when they found him
as above, swimming in his blood. Upon recollection on several passages
which happened with respect to Duncan Campbell, they presently found him
to have been the murderer, and caused the magistrates of Greenock write
to the magistrates of Glasgow to apprehend him; but he being gone for
Edinburgh, the provost wrote in to our provost here, whereupon there was
a search here ... but the villain is not as yet found.

‘The occasion of this execrable murder is said by the murderer’s friends
to be to prevent Lawers going back in the marriage, whereof he was then
apprehensive; and being a relation of the bride’s, and very active in
bringing on that courtship, the devil tempted him to that unparalleled
cruelty. But we rather believe that it was to rifle his pockets, for his
breeches were from under his head, and nothing but a Carolus and four
shillings in them; whereas it is most certain that Lawers always carried
a purse of gold with him, and more especially could not but have it when
he intended to celebrate his marriage.’[569]

Campbell was extensively advertised for as ‘a tall thin man,
loot-shouldered, pock-pitted, with a pearl or blindness in the right
eye,’ dressed in ‘a suit of gray Duroy clothes, plain-mounted, a big red
coat, and a thin light wig, rolled up with a ribbon;’ ‘betwixt 30 and 40
years of age;’[570] and a hundred guineas were offered for his
apprehension; but we do not hear of his having ever been brought to
justice.


Sir Alexander Murray of Stanhope, Peeblesshire, was one of those men
who, possessed of some talent and insight, are so little under the
government of common prudence and good temper, that they prove rather a
trouble than a benefit to their fellow-creatures. In youth, during the
life of his father, he married a beautiful and accomplished woman,
Grizel Baillie, grand-daughter by her father of the patriot Robert
Baillie of Jerviswood, unjustly put to death in 1684, and by her mother
[Sidenote: 1723.] of the eminent statesman Patrick Hume, Earl of
Marchmont; but after four years of unhappy life, the lady had been
separated from him in 1714, after which time she lived for a long series
of years in her father’s family, in the enjoyment of universal esteem
and respect. Sir Alexander was led by his ardent speculative mind into a
series of projects which left him in the middle of life a broken man,
and an object of pity to the public. His case is the more deplorable,
that many of his ideas were founded upon a just conception of the wants
and the capabilities of his country, and only required means and
favourable circumstances to have been carried out to his own and the
general advantage.

At this date, he bought a great peninsula of Argyleshire territory,
named Ardnamurchan, which he desired, by mining and improved methods of
agriculture and social economy, to make a model for the redemption of
the entire kingdom from barbarism, sloth, and poverty. He believed the
mountains throughout much of the West Highlands and Hebrides to be
crossed by mineral veins of great value, and that it was possible from
these to realise a great amount of wealth. As to improvement of the
surface, it was his belief—contrary to the general impression—that the
best plan was to commence a course of improvement upon the tops of the
hills. He had observed traces of ancient tillage on the high grounds of
Peeblesshire, and, pondering on the matter, had come to see that, the
high grounds being naturally most liable to humidity, from the clouds
settling upon them, it was of importance to the low grounds that the
higher should be drained first. This being effected, and the surplus
water led along the hillsides in trenches or canals, he would have the
administration of moisture over the surface in a great measure in his
own hands. What the Argyleshire and Inverness chiefs thought of such a
plan amidst their semi-diluvial existence, we do not learn, but we may
imagine something of it.

Sir Alexander tells us that he found his barony of twenty-four Scots
miles long occupied by 1352 persons, among whom there was not one
devoted to any mechanic art or trade. He tells us that, in one year, he
drained a large tract of hilly and boggy ground, one-fourth part of
which next year yielded him a hundred and fifty pounds’ worth of hay at
fourpence per stone. He also commenced mining works, in connection with
which there rose a village named New York, containing about 500 persons,
many of whom were skilled English workmen. These mines, however, he
afterwards leased to the York Buildings Company. He was the [Sidenote:
1723.] first person who introduced any kind of trade into the district,
and he assures us that, in his efforts at general improvement he spent
large sums of his own patrimony. Yet, while benefiting the inhabitants
in this way, he was the subject of jealousy amongst the better class of
people, who regarded him as an alien, a Lowlander, and a spy upon their
actions. His cattle were ham-strung or stolen, and his sheep forced over
precipices. The buildings on his property were set on fire. There were
even plans formed to murder him, from which it was a wonder that he
escaped. Strange to say, ten years of such difficulties did not suffice
to disgust him with Ardnamurchan, and he is found, first in 1732, and
again in 1740, appealing to Walpole and to parliament for assistance to
carry out his plans, all that he required being an abolition of the
heritable jurisdictions which enslaved the lower classes to their
landlords, and a flotilla of gun-boats to maintain law and order in the
country.[571]

An Edinburgh newspaper notices the death, on the 18th of May 1743, of
Sir Alexander Murray of Stanhope, baronet, ‘to whom may be justly
applied that beautiful passage from Seneca: “Ecce spectaculum dignum, ad
quod respiciat Deus! ecce par Deo dignum, vir fortis cum malâ fortunâ
compositus!”’ The writer of the article on Ardnamurchan in the _New
Statistical Account of Scotland_, states that the plough has long passed
over the site of New York, and that no trace of it remains in the
district, excepting in a few English names scattered among the native
population.

It may be remarked as to Sir Alexander’s mining schemes in Ardnamurchan,
that in a portion of the district—namely, the valley of
Strontian—lead-mines have been successfully worked at intervals since
his time, the proprietor occasionally realising from £1000 to £1500 a
year. The mineral strontites, from which was deduced the earth strontia,
was discovered here, and named from Strontian. There was a prevalent
belief in the reign of George II. that many valuable minerals might be
obtained amongst the Highland mountains, if there were a possibility of
working them. The actual discovery of marble in a few places served to
support the notion. A very prosaic poet thus alludes to the matter about
1737:

            ‘No more with stucco need we vessels lade,
            Enough thereof has been at Kelso made.[572]
            Nor need our _jamms_ with foreign marble shine,
            There’s beauteous marble at the Craig of Boin.
            Yea, Ross and Sutherland rocks of marble shew,
            Which vie in whiteness with the driven snow,
            And black-veined marble is in Perthshire found,
            Wherewith Banffhouse is ribatted around.’

[Sidenote: 1723.]

The poet adds by way of explanation: ‘Craig of Boin is a rock of marble,
veined and diversified with various colours, now a part of the Earl of
Findlater’s estate, but formerly belonging to Mr Ogilvie of Boin, from
whom Louis XIV. of France got so much of the said marble as finished one
of the finest closets in Versailles.’ ‘Sir James Ramsay of Banff, in
Perthshire, after he had built his mansion-house, found out a quarry of
jet-black marble, whereupon he pulled the freestone ribats out of the
windows, and put marble ones in their place.’[573]

Soon after this time, we find a society in activity at Edinburgh, ‘for
promoting Natural Knowledge,’ which in 1743 invited ‘noblemen,
gentlemen, and others, who have discovered or may discover any unusual
kinds of earths, stones, bitumens, saline or vitriolic substances,
marcasites, ores of metals, and other native fossils, whose uses and
properties they may not have an opportunity of inquiring into by
themselves, to send sufficient samples of them, with a short account of
the places where and the manner in which they are found, directed to Dr
Andrew Plummer, one of the secretaries to the Philosophical Society, and
the Society undertake, by some of their number, to make the proper
trials at their own charge, for discovering the nature and uses of the
Minerals, and to return an answer to the person by whom they were sent,
if they are judged to be of any use or can be wrought to
advantage.’[574]

To return to personal matters connected with the speculative baronet of
Stanhope—the beauty, accomplishments, and moral graces of Lady Murray
made it the more unfortunate that she should have been united to one
who, with whatever merits, was of too unsteady nature to have ever made
any woman happy. It is alleged that, on the second day of their wedded
life, a ferocious and unsatisfiable jealousy took possession of his
mind, in consequence of seeing his young wife dancing with a friend of
his own named Hamilton. He could not dispossess himself of the idea that
she loved another better than him. His behaviour to her [Sidenote:
1723.] would have proved him to have a slight touch of insanity in his
composition, even if his ill-calculated projects had not been sufficient
to do so. Lady Murray was an admired and popular person in both Scottish
and English society. Amongst her friends, the chief authors of the day
stood high. Gay introduces her into the group of goodly dames who
welcomed Pope back from Greece—that is, congratulated him on his
completion of the translation of Homer. After speaking of Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu, he says:

           ‘The sweet-tongued Murray near her side attends.’

He here alluded to her fascinating powers as a songstress, which she is
said to have exercised with marvellous effect in singing the songs of
her native land. Lady Murray wrote in her latter days a memoir of her
parents, which was published in 1822, and is one of the most charming
pieces of biography in the language.[575]

On the 14th of October 1721, when Lady (then Mrs) Murray was living in
her father’s house in Westminster, a footman of her brother-in-law, Lord
Binning, named Arthur Gray, a Scotsman, was led by an insane passion to
invade her chamber in the middle of the night, armed with a drawn sword
in one hand and a pistol in the other. All the rest of the family being
asleep, she felt how far removed she was from help and protection, and
therefore parleyed with the man in the gentlest terms she could use, to
induce him to leave her room; but half an hour was thus spent in vain.
At length, watching an opportunity, she pushed him against the wall,
seized his pistol with one hand, and with another rang the bell. Gray
then ran off. He was tried for the offence, and condemned to death, but
reprieved. The affair made of course a great deal of noise, and was
variously regarded, according to the feelings of individuals. All
persons, good and amiable, like Mrs Murray herself, sympathised with her
in the distress and agitation which it gave her, and admired the courage
and presence of mind she had displayed. The poor outcast poet Boyse
represented this generous view of the case in the verses _To Serena_,
which he wrote in Mrs Murray’s honour:

        ‘’Twas night, when mortals to repose incline,
        And none but demons could intrude on thine,
        When wild desire durst thy soft peace invade,
        And stood insulting at thy spotless bed.
        Urged all that rage or passion could inspire,
        Death armed the wretch’s hand, his breast was fire.
        You more than Briton saw the dreadful scene,
        Nor lost the guard that always watched within,’ &c.[576]

[Sidenote: 1723.]

A different class of feelings was represented by Mrs Murray’s friend,
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who wrote a ballad on the occasion, full of
levity and something worse, which may be found in the work quoted
below.[577] This _jeu d’esprit_ Mrs Murray resented in a manner which
was felt to be unpleasant by Lady Mary, who with difficulty obtained a
reconciliation through the intercession of her sister, the Countess of
Mar.[578]


[Sidenote: MAY 9.]

An Edinburgh newspaper of this date makes an announcement of a very
homely and simple kind, but from which one may nevertheless draw a few
inferences illustrative of the age. It is ‘to give notice, that there is
a fine bullock to the value of £20 sterling to be killed at Dalkeith the
14th of May, and to be exposed to sale the 16th instant; and whoever has
a mind for any of the said bullock, let them repair to the fleshmarket
of Dalkeith against the hours of nine and ten o’clock in the morning, on
the said 16th day of May, where they shall be kindly entertained by the
owners of the said ox: likewise you shall have him more reasonable in
proportion than any beef was sold in Scotland this year of God. For your
encouragement, you shall have his principal pieces, such as his
back-sayes, his fore-sayes, breasts, runners, flanks, hook-bones,
marrow-bones, collop-pieces, and rump-pieces, all at 4_s._ Scots per
pound, and his other pieces at 3_s._ per pound; or, if you please to buy
it by the lump without weighing, they shall be welcome. The said ox is
two ells and one inch high; in length from the root of the ear to his
hip-bone, two yards three quarters; it is calculated by all tradesmen
that ever did see him, that he will have ten stone-weight of tallow in
his belly. He is one of the same country breed, bought by George Lamb,
drover in Greenlaw, from the Right Honourable Lord Hopetoun in the year
1721. There is none in this age ever did see any in this place of
Britain like him; I doubt if any such as him be, or to be equalised in
England at this day. He has been fed this two years, and he is only six
years old just now.’[579]

[Sidenote: 1723. AUG.]

Mr Wodrow was never long without some perilous affair to grieve over.
‘We have,’ says he at this date, ‘lamentable accounts of the growth of
Episcopal Jacobite meeting-houses in the north, especially in Angus. The
Commission [of the General Assembly] has sent up an address about
them.’[580]

In the summer of the previous year, a chapel for the use of those in
communion with the Church of England according to law, was opened at the
foot of Blackfriars’ Wynd, in Edinburgh, with ‘an altar and pulpit
handsomely adorned.’ The newspapers of the day inform us—‘Some impious
persons, in contempt of all laws human and divine, have demolished
several of the glass-windows; but it’s hoped that care will be taken to
prevent such scandalous abuses in time coming.’[581]


The summer of this year was remarked to be unusually dry and sultry,
with little wind. The air seemed stagnant, and the water unwholesome.
Vast abundance of flies resulted, and a bloody flux became prevalent.
‘In one quarter of the parish [of Eastwood, in Renfrewshire],’ says
Wodrow, ‘I saw nineteen sick persons in one day [August 23], and all of
them save one of the flux.’ ‘I have never seen so much sickness in
Eastwood for twenty years.’[582]


[Sidenote: NOV. 7.]

A symptom of the gradual softening away of the sombre habits of the
people was exhibited in the earlier part of this year, in the
commencement of what was called _the Assembly_ in Edinburgh, by which
was meant an arrangement for a weekly meeting of the younger people of
both sexes, for the purpose of dancing. The adventure was at first on a
very modest scale, and the place of meeting—‘in the great hall in
Patrick Steil’s Close’—might be considered as obscure.[583] The people
who patronised it were chiefly of those at once Tories in politics and
Episcopalians in religion, [Sidenote: 1723.] who, all through the last
century, stood in opposition to the general feelings and habits of their
countrymen. They were doubtless well satisfied of the legitimate and
even laudable character of their design; yet it appears they felt
themselves put on the defensive before the public, and were not a little
solicitous to give their project a fair appearance. It was loudly
proclaimed that the improvement of manners, the imparting of a ‘genteel
behaviour,’ was in view; the utility of healthful exercise was
insinuated; and a great point was made of the balances to be handed to
the poor, for whose benefit no regulated charitable institution as yet
existed. Great care was also professedly taken to insure perfect
propriety on the part of the company. The ball opened at four in the
afternoon, and was rigorously closed at eleven. Without tickets, at
_half-a-crown each_, there could be no admission. Discreet matrons held
indisputable sovereignty over the scene, before whom no vice could dare
to shew its face.

The Assembly, of course, met with opposition from the square-toed part
of society. ‘Some of the ministers published their warnings and
admonitions against promiscuous dancing, and in one of their printed
papers, which was cried about the streets, it was said that the devils
were particularly busy upon such occasions.’[584] A paper pellet was
launched, under the title of _A Letter from a Gentleman in the Country
to his Friend in the City, with an Answer thereto, concerning the New
Assembly_; from which we learn that there were serious apprehensions,
not only that these weekly meetings would introduce effeminate habits
amongst the nobility and gentry, preventing them from serving their
country in ‘the useful arts and sciences,’ but that they would encourage
vice and prodigality, and thus prove ‘scandalous to religion, and of
dangerous consequence to human society.’ The gentleman of the city was
particularly distressed in remarking, that ‘the ordinary time spent in
public worship each Lord’s Day comes short of the seven hours spent in
the Assembly.’ He remarked, moreover, that Edinburgh was a place to
which young men were sent for their education, and also to learn
‘merchandising’ and mechanical employments. These young persons would
now be liable to be diverted from their proper pursuits in order to
study how best to dress themselves for the Assembly, and how in that
scene of levity they might best make favour with the fair. After
attending there, they would most likely go to taverns. In [Sidenote:
1723.] short, they would be thoroughly depraved, and the objects of
their parents in sending them to town entirely frustrated.

The institution was viewed with especial horror by the more stern
professors of Presbyterianism, as folly appears from a book of Patrick
Walker, written soon after, in which he reviews the vanities of the age
generally. ‘Some years ago,’ he says, ‘we had a profane, obscene
meeting, called the _Horn Order_;[585] and now we have got a new
assembly and public meeting called _Love for Love_ ... all nurseries of
profanity and vanity, and excitements to base lusts; so that it is a
shame to speak of these things that are said and done amongst them. Some
years ago, our women deformed their heads with _cock-ups_’ [‘some of
them half a yard high, set with wires’]; ‘and now they deform their
bodies with farthingales nine yards about; some of them in three
stories, very unbecoming women professing godliness.... If we would
allow ourselves to think or consider, we need not be so vain or look so
high, being born heirs of wrath, and our bodies to go to a consuming
stinking grave ... and considering the end of our clothing and how we
came by them, to cover our nakedness and for warmness to our bodies, and
that the sheep’s old clothes are our new.’

Patrick fairly wondered how any one that ever knew what it was to bow a
knee in prayer, ‘durst crook a hough to fyke and fling at a piper’s and
fiddler’s springs. I bless the Lord,’ says he, ‘that so ordered my lot
in my dancing-days, that made the fear of the bloody rope and bullets to
my neck and head, the pain of boots, thumbikens, and irons, cold and
hunger, wetness and weariness, to stop the lightness of my head and the
wantonness of my feet.’ He felt bound to denounce dancing as a ‘common
evil,’ especially among young professors, and he was peculiarly
indignant at there being a dancing tune called the _Cameronian March_,
which he conceived to be a mockery of the worthy name of Richard
Cameron. In Patrick’s view, however, dancing was [Sidenote: 1723.] but a
symptom of a general departure from the grave, correct habits of former
times. ‘In our speech,’ says he, ‘our Scripture and old Scots names are
gone out of request; instead of Father and Mother, Mamma and Papa,
training children to speak nonsense, and what they do not understand.’
He likewise complains of ‘a scandalous omission of the worship of God in
families ... abounding amongst us in Edinburgh, the most part singing
only a verse of a psalm and reading a chapter; on the Sabbath evening
some pray and many not, and no more till the next Sabbath evening.’ The
open profanation of the Lord’s Day he saw to be more and more abounding
in Scotland. ‘The throng streets, particularly fields, milk-houses,
ale-houses in and about sinful Edinburgh, is a sad evidence of this;
many going to the fields before sermons, and after sermons multitudes go
to their walks.’ He states that ‘three in one parish in 1716, and nine
together in a neighbour parish in 1717, all of them professors, went to
the cornfields in these Sabbath mornings, and did shear so many sheaves
of corn.’

The poet Allan Ramsay, who maintained a Horatian code of gaiety and
enjoyment in the midst of puritanic soberness, strongly took part with
the Assembly, and addressed its fair adherents in a poem which, with its
prose dedication, has supplied us with some of the above facts. Allan
may have had his heart in his theme, but little is to be said for the
eloquence of his verses; nor were some of his views as to the pleasures
of the Assembly at all calculated to do away with the prejudices of its
opponents. We are told, however, that both in the case of the Assembly
and that of the Playhouse, hereafter to be noticed, ‘the ministers lost
ground, to their great mortification, for the most part of the ladies
turned rebels to their remonstrances.’[586]

Two young men destined to be remembered by their country were in the
habit of attending the Assembly: one of them a hard-headed, yet
speculative genius, rising at the bar; the other a philandering,
sentimental being, absorbed in poetry and Jacobitism; their names Henry
Home of Kames and William Hamilton of Bangour; at this time, living in
bonds of strongest friendship. Hamilton one day addressed Home ‘in the
Assembly,’ thus:

              ‘While, crowned with radiant charms divine,
              Unnumbered beauties round thee shine;
              When Erskine leads her happy man,
              And Johnston shakes the fluttering fan;
              When beauteous Pringle shines confest,
              And gently heaves her swelling breast,
              Her raptured partner still at gaze,
              Pursuing through each winding maze;
              Say, youth, and canst thou keep secure
              Thy heart from conquering beauty’s power?

                     ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

              For me, my happier lot decrees
              The joys of love that constant please....
              My Hume, my beauteous Hume, constrains
              My heart in voluntary chains....
              Has she not all the charms that lie
              In Gordon’s blush and Lockhart’s eye;
              The down of lovely Haya’s hair,
              Killochia’s shape or Cockburn’s air?’...

[Sidenote: 1723.]

This affords us some idea of the beauties who gave its first attractions
to the Assembly.


[Sidenote: NOV. 9.]

As a symptom of a good tendency, it is pleasant to notice at this date
the establishment of a _Society for Improving in the Knowledge of
Agriculture_, which proposed to hold quarterly general meetings in
Edinburgh. The Marquis of Lothian, the Earl of Kinnoull, Lord Elibank,
John Campbell, Esq., Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir George Dunbar of
Mochrum, Sir Alexander Hope of Kerse, Mr Lumsden of Innergellie, Mr John
Murray, one of the Clerks of Session, and Ronald Campbell of Balerno,
W.S., are enumerated as amongst the constituent members.[587] The
Society in a short time comprehended three hundred of the principal
landholders of Scotland. The centre and animating spirit of the
fraternity is understood to have been a young Galloway gentleman, Robert
Maxwell of Arkland, who about this time took a lease of the farm of
Clifton-hall, near Edinburgh, and was there disposed to make experiments
in improved husbandry.

The _Improvers_, as they were called, from the very first shewed a
spirit of activity. In September 1724, we hear of them as being about to
publish a book upon the fallowing of ground, the method of ordering
ground for grass-seeds, the winning and cleaning of flax, and rules for
bleaching linen cloth. At the same time, they patriotically entered into
a resolution to discourage the use of smuggled foreign spirits by their
personal example, and to use means for promoting the manufacture of
spirits from native products.[588]

[Sidenote: 1723.]

A few of their doings appear to us in a somewhat ludicrous light. For
example—in July 1732, they figure in a tradesman’s advertisement of
_Punch Brandy_, as certifying it to be ‘a very nice and exact
composition,’ after ‘trials of it both in drams and punch.’

Two years later, it goes equally out of its way, but with better excuse,
in recommending the woollen cloths made by Andrew Gardner, merchant in
Edinburgh, and Andrew Ross, clothier in Musselburgh, as ‘sufficient
cloths’ from five to fifteen shillings a yard; the encouraging of which
will tend to advance a branch of native industry, and prevent the
pernicious exportation of wool.

Nevertheless, there is all fair reason to believe that the Improvers
were really worthy of their name. A volume of their Transactions, which
Maxwell edited in 1743, enables us to judge of the general scope of
their efforts. Meeting once a fortnight at a house near Hope Park, they
received queries from individuals throughout the country on agricultural
subjects, took these into consideration, and prepared answers.
Fallowing, manuring, enclosing, how to treat different kinds of soils,
the merits of the Lucerne and St Foin grasses, were the chief subjects
discussed; and it must be acknowledged that their transactions bear a
general air of judgment and good sense, in addition to a most earnest
desire to make two blades grow where one grew before, and so increase
the general wealth of the country.

The president for a number of years was Thomas Hope of Rankeillor, a man
who deserves to be better remembered than he is. He took, in 1722, a
long lease of a marshy meadow to the south of Edinburgh, drained it, and
made it into a fine park with shady walks for the recreation of the
citizens. He had travelled in England, France, and Holland, to pick up
hints for the improvement of agriculture, and he was indefatigable in
his efforts to get these introduced at home. It was somewhere in
prospect of his park that the Society held its meetings. His relative,
the contemporaneous Earl of Hopetoun, the Earl of Stair, the Earl of
Ilay, Lord Cathcart, Lord Drummore, Sir John Dalrymple of Cousland, and
Mr Cockburn of Ormiston, were other special zealots in the business of
the Society, and whose names figure honourably in its transactions. It
is particularly remembered, to the honour of the Earl of Stair, that he
was the first to raise turnips in the open fields, and so laid the
foundation of the most important branch of the store-husbandry of modern
times.

[Sidenote: 1723. DEC.]

When cattle were stolen in the Highlands, one of the means commonly
taken for their recovery was to send an emissary into the supposed
country of the thief, and offer a reward for his discovery. This was
known among the Highlanders as _tascal-money_, and held in general
abhorrence; yet it was sometimes effectual for its purpose.

The Camerons, living at issue with the government, had many disorderly
men among them, and tascal-money became accordingly with them a peculiar
abomination. To so great a height did this run, that a large portion of
the clan voluntarily took oath to each other, over a drawn dirk,
according to their custom, that they would never receive any such
reward; otherwise might the weapon be employed in depriving them of
their lives.

A _creagh_ had taken place, and one of the Camerons was strongly
suspected of having given information and taken the unclean thing. A few
of his companions consequently called at his house one evening, and,
pretending to have some business with him, took him out from his wife
and family to a place at such distance as to be out of hearing, where
they coolly deprived him of his life. The story is only related in the
pages of Burt;[589] but there is too good reason to believe in its
verity. The reporter adds, that for the same offence, another was made
away with, and never more heard of.


[Sidenote: 1724. JAN.]

A more gay and easy style of ideas was everywhere creeping in, to
replace the stern and sombre manners of former less happy times. The
ever-watchful Mr Wodrow observed the process going on even in the
comparatively serious city of Glasgow. He remarks at this time how the
young men of that city are less religiously educated than formerly, and
how, going abroad in mercantile capacities, they come back with the
loose habits of other countries. At the university, the students were
beginning to evince a tendency to freedom of thought, and the statement
of Trinitarian doctrines by the professors sometimes excited amongst
them appearances of dissent and of derision. In the city where there had
been a few years back seventy-two regular meetings for prayer, there
were now four, while clubs for debating on miscellaneous, and often
irreverent questions, were coming into vogue. The discipline of the
church was beginning to be less regarded; delinquents receive
countenance from society; women of improper [Sidenote: 1724.] character
were occasionally seen on the open street! It seemed to Mr Wodrow that
some desolating stroke was impending over the western city. Indeed, they
had already lost twenty thousand pounds through the Custom-house
difficulties regarding tobacco. ‘I wish it may be sanctified to them.’

The worthy minister of Eastwood received soon after a small piece of
comforting information from Orkney. A minister in that archipelago,
being one Saturday detained from crossing a ferry to preach next day,
was induced to break the Sabbath in order to fulfil his engagement, for
which, as ‘scandalous,’ the presbytery processed him. It ‘shews they are
stricter there in discipline than we are.’ On the other hand, the
College lads at Glasgow, excited by the process of the presbytery and
synod against the liberal Professor Simson, went the length of writing a
play taking off the city clergy. ‘Matters are come to a sad pass when
people begin openly to mock and ridicule gospel ministers; that strikes
at the root of all religion!’

Mr Wodrow’s report about the state of religion in the army is
contradictory. On one page, we hear a lamentation for some serious
Christian officers who had left no successors; on another, there is
rejoicing over several still living, of the highest religious practice,
as Colonel Blackader, Colonel Erskine, Lieut.-colonel Cunninghame, and
Major Gardiner of ‘Stair’s Gray Horse.’ These were all of them men of
the strictest morals, and who gave much of their time to religious
exercises, Gardiner spending four hours every morning in ‘secret
religion.’ Regarding the conversion of this last gentleman, whose fate
it was to die on the field of Prestonpans, and to have his life written
by Doddridge, Wodrow rather unexpectedly fails to give any trace of the
strange tale told by his biographer regarding his conversion, remarking,
on the contrary, that the change wrought on him a few years ago was
‘gradual and insensible.’


[Sidenote: JAN. 29.]

The treatment of a bad class of insolvents at this period seems to have
been considerably different from anything of the kind now in fashion. On
this day, according to an Edinburgh newspaper, ‘one George Cowan, a
Glasgow merchant, stood in the pillory here, with this inscription on
his breast: GEORGE COWAN, A NOTORIOUS FRAUDULENT BANKRUPT.’


[Sidenote: FEB.]

A Society for cultivating historical literature was established in
Edinburgh, though not destined to make any great or permanent [Sidenote:
1724.] mark on the age. It took its rise among men of Whig professions,
and, perhaps, its having party objects in view was mainly what forbade
it to acquire stability or perfect any considerable work. At its head is
found a man of no small merit as an editor of historical muniments,
James Anderson. It included the names of the Rev. George Logan,
afterwards noted for his controversies with Ruddiman; Charles M‘Ky,
professor of history in the Edinburgh University; and two or three other
persons of less note.[590] Mr Wodrow, whose laborious _History of the
Sufferings of the Church of Scotland_ had now been a couple of years
before the world, was invited to join. The first business before this
Society was to consider what could be done towards a new edition of the
works of George Buchanan. These had been published in goodly form by
Robert Freebairn in 1715—a credit to the Scottish press in externals,
and in the learning of the editor, Thomas Ruddiman; but the Whigs had to
regret that the annotations were in a strain sadly out of harmony with
that of a democratic author; and hence their desire to see another
edition. The Society was now holding meetings once a fortnight for the
preparation of such a work, and were even disposed to ask that an
edition contemplated in Holland should be delayed till theirs came out,
in order that their views should obtain additional circulation;[591] yet
it never came to perfection, and the curtain of oblivion soon after
falls upon the Historical Society.


[Sidenote: MAR.]

Gordon of Glenbucket had been invested by the Duke of Gordon in some
lands in Badenoch by virtue of a wadset.[592] The tenants, Macphersons,
felt aggrieved at having a new landlord put over them, and refused to
pay any rent. Glenbucket consequently raised a process at law for their
ejection, a measure which was then as much calculated to engender
murderous feelings in Scotland, as it has since been in Ireland.

Five or six of them, young fellows, the sons of gentlemen, including
Alexander Macpherson, son of Breakachie; Andrew Macpherson, son of
Benchar; and John Macpherson, nephew of Killihuntly, came one evening to
Glenbucket’s house, which they entered as seeming friends. He was sickly
and under the influence of medicine, and was sitting on his low-framed
bedstead, preparing to go to rest. They told him they had come to
express their regret for the dispute which had happened—they were now
resolved [Sidenote: 1724.] to acknowledge him as their landlord, and pay
him rent—and they had only to entreat that he would withdraw from the
legal proceedings he had entered upon. While addressing him in this
manner, they gradually drew close to him, in order to prevent him from
defending himself against their contemplated onslaught, for they knew
his courage and vigour, and that he was not far from his arms. They then
suddenly fell upon him with their dirks, and, having him for the moment
at advantage, they gave him many wounds, though none that were deadly.
He contrived, amidst the bustle, to lay hold of his broadsword, which
lay on the tester of his bed; and thus armed, he soon drove his
assassins from the house. Burt, who relates this incident,[593] remarks,
with just surprise, that it took place within sight of the barrack at
Ruthven.[594]

The young men above named, being believed to be the perpetrators of this
crime, were soon after outlawed for failing to attend the summons of the
Court of Justiciary. They were so far under terror of the law, that they
found it necessary to ‘take to the bent;’ but they nevertheless
continued with arms in their hands, and, in company with others who had
joined them, lived tolerably well by spulyie committed on the Duke of
Gordon’s tenants in Badenoch.

In November 1725, General Wade is found sending a circular to the
officers commanding the six Highland companies, ordering them, in
compliance with a request from the duke, to use diligence in discovering
and taking these outlaws, and any who might harbour them, in order to
their being brought to justice. This effort, however, seems to have been
attended with no good effect; and in the ensuing July, the duke wrote to
the general, expressing his ‘free consent that application be made for
taking off the sentence of fugitation’ against six associates of the
assassins—namely, [Sidenote: 1724.] John Macpherson in Bellachroan;
Elias Macpherson in Coraldie; Alexander Macpherson, nephew to
Killihuntly; William Macpherson, son to Essick; Donald Macpherson, son
to John Oig Macpherson in Muccoul; and Lachlan Macpherson of Laggan,
provided they delivered up their arms, and promised to live as obedient
subjects to King George in future. His Grace at the same time expressed
his opinion, that it was ‘absolutely necessary for the peace of
Badenoch’ that the three principals in the attack on Glenbucket should
be brought to justice. The general accordingly ordered fresh and
vigorous efforts to be made for the apprehension of these persons.[595]
We learn from Burt that they were ultimately forced to take refuge in
foreign countries.


[Sidenote: APR. 8.]

The people of Edinburgh were regaled with the amusing spectacle of a
_bank_ beat through the city, by permission of King George, for recruits
to the king of Prussia’s regiment of ultra-tall grenadiers. Two guineas
of earnest-money were administered. A local chronicler assures his
readers, that ‘those listed are men of such proper size and good
countenances, as we need not be ashamed of them in foreign
services.’[596] A recruiting for the same regiment is noticed in
Edinburgh four years later.


[Sidenote: APR. 10.]

The Rev. Mr J. Anderson, in a letter of this date, gives Mr Wodrow an
account of a dumb gentleman, a Mr Gordon, who attracted great attention
on account of the knowledge he appeared to have of things not patent to
ordinary observation, and with which he had no visible means of becoming
acquainted. The powers of _clairvoyance_ occasionally attributed in old
times to dumb persons have already been adverted to. Gordon, who was a
man of respectable connections, and seventy years of age, a widower with
three grown children, and supported chiefly by going about among his
friends, had thoroughly excited the wonder of Mr Anderson.

A lady, missing some brandy, asked Mr Gordon who had taken it; ‘upon
which he went to the kitchen, and brought up one of the maid-servants,
to whom, before her lady, he signed that she had stolen the keys of the
cellar and taken it away ... the servant was forced to own all.’

On another occasion, ‘a gauger coming in, whom he had never [Sidenote:
1724.] seen before, he signed before the company present what was his
business; that he had been a soldier, and how long he had been a gauger
in this country, and how long in Fife, and that he had once been
suspended, and again reponed, with several other particulars, which
astonished the man, who owned all to be truth.’

‘A child of seven years of age engaging one of the company to play with
pins at _Heads and Points_, the person soon got all his pins, the child
having no skill to hide them. The lady, the mother of the child, told
the person in jest she would win back the child’s pins; and, Gordon
drawing near, he still directed her how to lay when the other person was
hiding, and she never failed to win till all were got back.... When he
gets money from ministers, he very oft signs whether they give it out of
their own pocket or out of the poor’s box.... To a minister’s family
here he signed, when he came to the house, where he was, and sometimes
what he was doing—particularly at a certain hour, if he was shaving;
which, upon the minister’s return, he owned to be true.’

Some, adds Mr Anderson, ‘think he has converse with a familiar spirit;
and it’s certain that dumb people have frequently been their
tools.’[597]


[Sidenote: MAY.]

There was profound peace, and the seasons for twelve years past had been
favourable; yet we hear at this time of a general poverty in the land,
and that, too, from a reporter in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, where,
if anywhere, there had been some fruitful industry in consequence of the
Union. Mr Wodrow’s statements are, indeed, to be taken with some
caution, as his views of national wellbeing are apt to be distorted by
his fears regarding changes of religious feeling and practice. Still,
the picture he draws must have involved some, though not the whole
truth.

He tells that under this peace ‘we are growing much worse. The gentry
and nobility are either discontent or Jacobite, or profane; and the
people are turning loose, worldly, and very disaffected. The poverty and
debts of many are increasing, and I cannot see how it can be otherwise.
There are no ways to bring specie into this country. Trade is much
failed [the tobacco-trade of the Clyde had temporarily declined under
the malignant efforts of the English ports]. Any trade we have is of
that kind that takes money from among us, and brings in French brandy,
Irish meal [oatmeal was but fourpence a peck], tea, &c. Unless it be
[Sidenote: 1724.] a few coals from the west [the coal-field of Ayr and
Renfrewshires], and some black-cattle from the south [Galloway], and
many of these are not our breed, but Irish, I see no branch of our
business that brings in any money. The prodigious run of our nobility
and gentry to England, their wintering there, and educating their
children there ... takes away a vast deal of money every year. It’s
plain we are overstocked with people, considering their idleness, and
that makes the consumpt very great;’ which ‘will infallibly at length
impoverish us. To say nothing of the vast losses many have sustained by
the South Sea, York Buildings, our Fishing Company, and other bubbles.
The Lord, for our sins, is angry, and frowns upon us, in outwards [_i.
e._, outward circumstances].’[598]

In the district of Galloway (Kirkcudbright and Wigtonshires), where the
basis of the population is Celtic, the idleness and consequent poverty
of the people was peculiarly great. There was a prodigious number of
small tenantry, of very indolent character, and who were accustomed to
‘run out’ or exhaust their land to the last extremity, cropping it two
years for one of lea, of course without manure, and being at the same
time generally several years behind in their rents. It was a state of
things very like what our own advanced age has been fated strangely to
see prevalent over large tracts of Ireland and of the Highlands of
Scotland—a fearful misapplication and misplacement of human nature, with
frightful natural consequences in chronic misery and disorganisation.
The landlords, anxious to introduce a better system, began to subdivide
and enclose their lands, in order to stock them with black-cattle, and
to eject tenants hopelessly sunk in idleness and poverty.

Among those ejected on the estates of Gordon of Earlstoun and the
Viscountess Kenmure, were two farmers of better means, whose only fault
was that they would not engage for the solvency of their sub-tenantry;
and these two now banded together to support each other in keeping
possession of their holdings. Others readily came into this covenant. A
common sense of suffering, if not wrong, pervading the country, raised
up large bands of the miserable people, who, deeming the enclosures a
symbol of the antagonist system, began to pull these down wherever they
came. ‘Their manner was to appoint a meeting on Tuesday, and continue
together till Thursday, and then separate. They prepared [Sidenote:
1724.] gavelochs [levers] and other instruments, and did their work most
dexterously. Herds and young boys first turned over the head and loose
stones; then the women, with the hand and shoulders, turned down the
dike; the men came last, and turned up the foundation.’ A band of thirty
of the _Levellers_, as they were ominously called, went to
Kirkcudbright, and there published a manifesto, declaring the government
of the country to be now in the hands of the tenantry, and ordering all
who had any debates to come to them and get them determined.

The gentlemen of the district, irritated, and to some extent alarmed,
called in a military force under Lord Crichton and a French Protestant
refugee officer, Major Du Carry, to preserve the peace. The lairds of
Heron and Murdoch, and Gordon of Earlstoun, were for strong measures;
Murray of Broughton and Colonel Maxwell inclined to leniency and
persuasion. Seven or eight of the ringleaders being taken up, a sort of
fiery cross went through the country on the ensuing day, though a
Sunday, ordering the people to assemble at three points for their
defence; and a stand was actually made by about thirty against the
attack of the troops. One of the gentlemen of the district had a horse
wounded under him by a rioter. It seems to have been a fierce and
determined encounter on the part of the Levellers; but it ended, as such
encounters always end, in the defeat of the insurgent party, of whom
sixteen were taken prisoners. As these were being carried away, a mob of
women, strong in their weakness and their misery, assailed the soldiers,
and one sprang like a wildcat upon a trooper, but only to be trampled
under his horse. The soldiers succeeded in lodging their prisoners in
Kirkcudbright tolbooth. At the trials which ensued, ‘those who had any
funds were fined; some were banished to the plantations; others were
imprisoned. A respectable man, of the name of M‘Laherty, who lived in
Balmaghie parish ... on his being brought to trial, one of the justices
admired a handsome Galloway which he rode, and the justice told him, if
he would give him the Galloway, he would effect his acquittal, which he
accordingly did.’[599]

These severities brought the levelling system to a close in the
stewartry of Kirkcudbright; it was kept up for some time later in
Wigtonshire, but gradually died away there also. The country was left in
the hands of the gentry and soldiery, without any [Sidenote: 1724.]
effectual remedy being applied to the evils out of which the
dike-breaking had sprung. Herds of miserable people continued going
about Galloway, a subject of painful but fruitless compassion to the
rest of their countrymen.[600]

A venerable gentleman, just quoted, was able, in 1811, to give the
following striking picture of the general manner of living of the
Galloway rural population of 1724. ‘The tenants, in general,’ he says,
‘lived very meanly on kail, groats, milk, gradden grinded in querns
turned by the hand, and the grain dried in a pot, together with a crock
ewe[601] now and then about Martinmas. They were clothed very plainly,
and their habitations were most uncomfortable. Their general wear was of
cloth, made of waulked plaiding, black and white wool mixed, very
coarse, and the cloth rarely dyed. Their hose were made of white
plaiding cloth, sewed together, with single-soled shoes, and a black or
blue bonnet, none having hats but the lairds, who thought themselves
very well dressed for going to church on Sunday with a black kelt-coat
of their wife’s making.... The distresses and poverty felt in the
country during these times ... continued till about the year 1735. In
1725, potatoes were first introduced into the stewartry [of
Kirkcudbright] by William Hyland, from Ireland,[602] who carried them on
horses’ backs to Edinburgh, where he sold them by pounds and ounces.
During these times, when potatoes were not generally raised in the
country, there was for the most part a great scarcity of food, bordering
on famine; for in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright and county of Dumfries,
there was not as much victual produced as was necessary for supplying
the inhabitants; and the chief part of what was required for that
purpose was brought from the sand-beds of Esk in tumbling cars, on the
Wednesdays, to Dumfries; and when the waters were high by reason of
_spates_—there being no bridges—so that these cars could not come with
the meal, I have seen the tradesmen’s wives, in the streets of Dumfries,
crying because there was none to be got. At that period there was only
one baker in Dumfries, and he made bawbee baps of coarse flour, chiefly
bran, which he occasionally carried in creels to the fairs of Urr and
Kirkpatrick. The produce of the country in general was gray corn, and
you might have travelled from Dumfries to Kirkcudbright, which is
twenty-seven miles, without seeing any other grain, except in a
gentleman’s [Sidenote: 1724.] croft, which, in general, produced bear or
_bigg_ for one-third part, another third in white oats, and the
remaining third in gray oats. At that period there was no wheat raised
in the country: what was used was brought from Teviot; and it was
believed that the soil would not produce wheat.... Cattle were very low.
I remember being present at the Bridge-end of Dumfries in 1736, when
Anthony M‘Kie, of Netherlaw, sold five score of five-year-old Galloway
cattle in good condition to an Englishman at £2, 12_s._ 6_d._ each; and
old Robert Halliday, who was tenant of a great part of the Preston
estate, told me that he reckoned he could graze his cattle on his farms
for 2_s._ 6_d._ a head—that is to say, his rent corresponded to that
sum.’[603]


[Sidenote: JULY 6.]

Allan Ramsay, in some jocular verses, compliments Mr David Drummond,
advocate, for the victory he this day gained as an archer, in
‘shooting for the bowl’ at Musselburgh. The old gentleman had gained
the prize of the silver arrow exactly fifty years before. These
trivial facts suggest the existence of what was called a Royal Company
of Archers all through the reigns of Anne and the first George, a
sodality composed almost exclusively of the Jacobite aristocracy, and,
in fact, a sort of masked muster for the cause of the exiled Stuart.
Besides private convivial meetings, where doubtless much enigmatical
affection for the old line of princes found vent, there was an annual
meeting for a shooting-match, attended by a showy procession through
the streets of Edinburgh, in order to impress the public with an idea
of their numbers, and the rank and influence of the members. They had
their captain-general, usually a nobleman of the highest rank; their
first and second lieutenant-generals, their adjutant, and other
officers; their colours, music, and uniforms; in short, a pretty
effective military organisation and appearance. The dress, which they
innocently believed to be after the ancient Roman model, was of tartan
trimmed with green silk fringe, with a blue bonnet trimmed with green
and white ribbons, and the badge of St Andrew in the front; their bows
and swords hung with green and white ribbons; the officers being
further distinguished by having the dress laid over with silver lace.
The cavalier spirit of Allan Ramsay glowed at seeing these elegant
specimens of the _Aristoi_ of Scotland engaged at butts and rovers,
and often poured itself forth in verses to their praise. Pitcairn,
[Sidenote: 1724.] Sir William Bennet of Grubbet, and Sir William Scott
of Thirlstain, were equally ready to celebrate in Latin sapphics their
contentions for the bowl and silver arrow at Musselburgh—drolly
translated _Conchipolis_ in their verses. There was a constant and
obvious wish on the part of the society to look as ‘braid’[604] as
possible, and so let the world slily understand how many men of mark
were in their hearts favourable to the still hoped for restoration.

The Royal Company had a particularly ostentatious parade in Edinburgh on
the 10th of July 1732. Having assembled in the Parliament Square, a
party of thirty-six was despatched under the Earl of Wemyss to the Duke
of Hamilton’s lodging in Holyrood, to bring up the standard, on which,
besides other insignia, was depicted the national lion ramping in gold,
with the significant motto, ‘PRO PATRIA DULCE PERICULUM.’ They then
marched through the city to the Links in the following order, as
described by a sympathising contemporary record:

‘The Duke of Hamilton, captain-general, preceded by the Lord Bruce on
horseback, with fine Turkish furniture, who acted as major-general in
absence of the Earl of Crawford; next, the music, consisting of
trumpets, hautboys, _cors-de-chasse_, alternately playing the proper
march of the company, and answered by nine drums (all in the company’s
livery), and they again by the music-bells. Mr David Drummond, advocate,
president of the council; Sir Archibald Primrose of Dunipace, and
William Sinclair of Roslin, brigadiers, at the head of the first
brigade. My Lord Viscount Oxford, brigadier, marched up the second
brigade; my Lord Kinnaird, brigadier, the third; George Lockhart of
Carnwath, brigadier, the fourth. The Earl of Wigton, second
lieutenant-general, before the colours, which were carried by the Earl
of Cassillis; and the Lord Rollo, supported by the Earl of Kilmarnock,
and Master Thomas Lyon, brigadiers, led up the centre brigade; David
Smith of Methven, brigadier, the sixth brigade; Sir Robert Stewart of
Tillicultry, brigade the seventh; the eighth and last brigade by the
Lord Cranston, brigadier, followed up by James Hepburn of Keith, and the
Lord Gairlies, brigadiers, and closed in the rear by the Earl of Wemyss,
first lieutenant-general; Colonel John Stewart, brother to Grantully,
and Arthur Forbes of Pittencrief, acting as adjutants-general, on
horseback, on the wings of the several brigades.

[Sidenote: 1724.]

‘In front of all marched the several decked horses, and other equipage,
&c., of the several officers, which, being very rich and magnificent,
made a very fine show; and after them, the silver arrow, carried by the
company’s officer.

‘There was on this occasion an infinite crowd of spectators, who came
from all quarters to see this splendid appearance, and who expressed
their satisfaction by loud acclamations.

‘The lord provost and magistrates saw the procession from a window, and
were saluted by the several officers, as did General Wade from a balcony
in the Earl of Murray’s lodgings. The governor of Damascus came likewise
to see the ceremony. Betwixt one and two o’clock, the company arrived in
the Links, whence, after shooting for the arrow (which was won by Mr
Balfour of Forret), they marched into Leith in the same order; and after
dinner, returned to the city, and saw acted the tragedy called
_Macbeath_.’[605]

It is very sad to reflect how the Earl of Kilmarnock and some others of
this noble company came to ruin a few years after by carrying the play a
little too far.


[Sidenote: JULY 15.]

The magistrates of Edinburgh issued an edict proceeding upon a recital
that disturbances have arisen, and may further arise, from gentlemen
carrying firearms, and their servants wearing dirks and broadswords, in
the streets, a practice ‘contrary to the rules of decency and good
order;’ wherefore it was now strictly forbidden.[606] It is to be
remarked that in this prohibition there is no notice taken of the swords
worn by gentlemen.


[Sidenote: JULY.]

The danger arising to the government from having a rude people of
disaffected sentiments and hardy warlike character seated in the
north-west parts of Scotland, was now brought before it with sufficient
urgency to cause the adoption of remedial measures. An effectual
disarming act, the raising of armed companies in the pay of the
government, the completion of a line of forts, and the formation of
roads by which these should be accessible and the benefits of
civilisation imparted to the country, were the chief means looked to for
doing away with the Highland difficulty. A sensible English officer,
General George Wade, was sent down to act as commander-in-chief of the
troops in Scotland, and carry these measures into effect.

[Sidenote: 1724.]

If we may believe a statement which there is all reason to believe
except one—the character of its author, who was no other than Simon Lord
Lovat—it was high time that something was done to enforce the laws in
the Highlands. In William’s reign, there had been an armed watch and a
severe justiciary commission; but they had long been given up; so, after
a temporary lull, things had returned to their usual course. The
garrisons at Fort William, Killicummin, and Inverness proved ineffectual
to restrain the system of spoliation, or to put down a robbers’ tax
called _black-mail_ [nefarious rent], which many paid in the hope of
protection.

The method by which the country was brought under this tax is thus
stated: ‘When the people are almost ruined by continual robberies and
plunders, the leader of the band of thieves, or some friend of his,
proposes that for a sum of money to be annually paid, he will press a
number of men in arms to protect such a tract of ground, or as many
parishes as submit to pay the contribution. When the contributions are
paid, he ceases to steal, and thereby the contributors are safe. If he
refuse to pay, he is immediately plundered. To colour all this villainy,
those concerned in the robberies pay the tax with the rest, and all the
neighbourhood must comply, or be undone.’[607] Black-mail naturally
prevailed in a marked manner in fertile lowland districts adjacent to
the Highlands, as Easter Ross, Moray, and the Lennox.

Directly with a view to the prevention of robberies, and the suppression
of this frightful impost, the government established six companies of
native soldiery, selected from clans presumedly loyal, and respectively
commanded by Lord Lovat, Sir Duncan Campbell of Lochnell, Colonel Grant
of Ballandalloch, Colonel Alexander Campbell of Finab, John Campbell of
Carrick, and George Monro of Culcairn. The whole, consisting of four
hundred and eighty men, were dressed in plain dark-coloured tartan, and
hence were called the _Reicudan Dhu_, or Black Watch. Burt reports an
allegation, that one of the commanders [Lord Lovat?] used to strip his
tenants of their best plaids, wherewith to invest his men at a review.
On the other hand, there were men of such birth and breeding in the
corps, that they had _gillies_ to do drudgery for them. They were posted
in small parties throughout the more lawless parts of the country, and
are represented as having been reasonably effective for their purpose.

[Sidenote: 1724.]

For the disarming of the disaffected clans, Wade had his six native
companies and four hundred troops of the line ready at Inverness to
proceed with the work in June 1725; but the riot about the malt-tax at
Glasgow delayed his measures, and it was not till the 10th of August
that he marched in force towards the rendezvous of the Mackenzies at
Brahan Castle. The heads of the clan saw it to be necessary to obey, or
to appear to obey, and also to promise that in future the rents of their
chief, the forfeited Earl of Seaforth, should be paid to the state,
instead of to Donald Murchison. The general on his part allowed them to
understand that, very probably, if they made this submission, their
chief would be pardoned and restored. One little concession they had to
ask from the English general—let him spare them the humiliation of
delivering their arms in the presence of the _Reicudan Dhu_. To this the
general consented. He sent the native loyalists to guard the passes to
the westward.

It must have been a solemn and interesting sight to an English officer
of impressionable feelings, if such a being then existed, when the
troops took up their position in front of that grand old Highland
fortress, amidst scenery of the most magnificent kind, to receive the
submission of a high-spirited people, who had resisted as long as
resistance was possible. First came the gentlemen or _duine-wassels_,
about fifty in number, to pay their respects to the general. Then
followed in slow procession along the great avenue, the body of the
clansmen, in parishes, forty or fifty in each, marching _four and four_,
and bringing their arms on horses. On arriving in front of the house,
they unloaded and deposited the weapons, drank the king’s health, and
slowly turned away.[608] ‘The chiefs of the several tribes, and other
principal gentlemen of the country, dined the same day with the general,
and great civilities and mutual assurances of good offices passed on
both sides. They promised the general that the rents of the estate
should be punctually paid to the crown, for the use of the public, and a
dutiful submission [rendered] to his majesty’s government.’[609] Weapons
to the number of 784 were given in; but in reality they were only the
oldest and most worn of the arms possessed by this great clan. Donald
Murchison had taken [Sidenote: 1724.] care previously to gather up all
their best arms into some central store unknown to the government.[610]

Following this example, and partly, it is alleged, induced by little
favours extended or promised by the general, the rest of the Jacobite
clans, the Macdonalds, Camerons, Macleods, &c., made an appearance of
surrendering their arms at various appointed stations during the autumn.
The entire number of articles given in was 2685. The total expense of
the collection was about £2000, and the general gives us an idea of the
true state of the case, beyond what he possessed himself, when he tells
us that the articles for the most part were worth little more than the
price of old iron.

General Wade received submissive letters from many of the chiefs and
others who had been in the insurrection of 1715, all professing anxiety
for pardon, and promising a quiet life in future. There was none more
submissive than one from Rob Roy, who contrived to make it appear that
his treason was against his will. ‘It was my misfortune,’ says he, ‘at
the time the Rebellion broke out, to be liable to legal diligence and
caption, at the Duke of Montrose’s instance, for debt alleged due to
him. To avoid being flung into prison, as I must certainly have been,
had I followed my real inclinations in joining the king’s troops at
Stirling, I was forced to take party with the adherents of the
Pretender; for the country being all in arms, it was neither safe nor
possible for me to stand neuter.’ Of course, this was meant by Rob as
merely a civil apology for deliberate rebellion. To give it
confirmation, he told the general: ‘I not only avoided acting
offensively against his majesty’s forces upon all occasions, but, on the
contrary, sent his Grace the Duke of Argyle all the intelligence I could
from time to time, of the situation and strength of the rebels; which I
hope his Grace will do me the justice to acknowledge.’ It is to be hoped
that Rob was not here so dishonest as to speak the truth. There is ample
reason to believe that the frank English general was imposed upon by the
professions made by the Jacobite chiefs, for he reported to government
that disaffection was much abated, and interested himself zealously for
the pardon of several of the attainted gentlemen.


A poor woman named Margaret Dickson, an inhabitant of the parish of
Inveresk, was tried under the act of 1690 for concealment [Sidenote:
1724.] of pregnancy in the case of a dead child. A defence was made for
her that she was a married woman, though living separate from her
husband; but it was of no avail. [Sidenote: SEP. 2.] A broadside—which
proceeds upon a strong approval of the text, that ‘the works of God are
works of wonder, and his ways past finding out’—gives a minute recital
of the circumstances of her execution in the Grassmarket; how the
hangman did his usual office of pulling down her legs; and how the body,
having hung the usual time, was taken down and put into a coffin, the
_cooms_ of which were nailed fast at the gibbet-foot. It then proceeds.
‘Being put into a cart, to transport her corpse to be interred in the
churchyard of Inveresk, whither the magistrates had allowed her friends
to carry her, there happened a scuffle betwixt her friends and some
surgeon-apprentices and others, their accomplices, on this side of the
Society Port. One, with a hammer, broke down one of the sides of the
cooms of the chest; which, having given some air, and, together with the
jolting of the cart, set the blood and vitals agoing. The people
intrusted with transporting her body having stopped at Peffermill to
take a refreshment, and left her upon a cart in the highway, two
joiners, from curiosity, came from a house to view the coffin, and, to
their surprise, heard a noise within. Acquainting the persons concerned,
they proposed to open the other side of the cooms of the chest, which,
after some opposition, was agreed to. The coom being taken off, they
perceived her to draw up her limbs. One Peter Purdie, a practitioner of
phlebotomy, providentially breathed a vein, from which streamed blood,
which recovered her so far, that twice she said: “O dear!” Being brought
to her feet, she was supported by two to a brae-side, where the blood
returned to her lips and cheeks, which promised a sudden recovery. Being
laid upon blankets in a corn-cart, her head and body upheld by a woman,
she was driven to Musselburgh, where she remained, at the magistrates’
command, all night; had restoratives and means of sustenance given her;
was visited by Mr Robert Bonally, one of the ministers of that place,
who prayed over her; and next morning was laid in a bed in her brother
James Dickson, weaver, his house, whither a great many flock every day
to see her, and not a few gave her money. She had little appearance of
recovering her health or senses next day, and cried out to let her be
gone, for she was to be executed on Wednesday, but is now pretty
well—only complains of a pain in her neck. She went to church on Sunday
last, and heard sermon, where the people were so anxious to see her,
[Sidenote: 1724.] that the minister was obliged to conduct her out of
the churchyard to keep her from being trodden down by the multitude. She
still remains in a hopeful way of recovering strength and judgment. May
this amazing dispensation of Providence be sanctioned to her, and teach
all who shall hear it to act a needy dependence upon, and live to the
glory of God, to whom belong the issues of life and death!’[611]

Another brief chronicler of the time informs us, that Maggie devoted the
Wednesday ensuing upon that on which she was executed to solemn fasting
and prayer, in gratitude for her deliverance, and had formed the
resolution so to employ each recurring Wednesday during the remainder of
her life.[612] It is also stated that her husband, struck with a
forgiving interest in her, took her ultimately back to his house. She
lived to have several children creditably born, and cried salt for many
a day through the streets of Edinburgh, universally recognised and
constantly pointed out to strangers as ‘Half-hangit Maggie Dickson.’


At the village of Gilmerton, four miles to the south of Edinburgh, the
soft, workable character of the sandstone of the carboniferous
formation, there cropping to the surface, tempted a blacksmith named
George Paterson to an enterprise of so extraordinary a character, as to
invest his name with distinction in both prose and rhyme. In the little
garden at the end of his house, he excavated for himself a dwelling in
the rock, composed of several apartments. Besides a smithy, with a
fireplace or forge, there were—a dining-room, fourteen and a half feet
long, seven broad, and six feet high, furnished with a bench all round,
a table, and a bed-recess; a drinking-parlour, rather larger; a kitchen
and bed-place for the maid; a liquor-cellar upwards of seven feet long;
and a washing-house. In each apartment there was a skylight-window, and
the whole were properly drained. The work cost the poor man five years
of hard labour, being finished in the present year. Alexander Pennecuik,
the burgess-bard of Edinburgh, furnished an inscription, which was
carved on a stone at the entrance:

  ‘Here is a House and Shop Hewn in this Rock with my own Hands.

                                                        GEORGE PATERSON.

              ‘Upon the earth thrives villainy and wo,
              But happiness and I do dwell below;
              My hands hewed out this rock into a cell,
              Wherein from din of life I safely dwell:
              On Jacob’s pillow nightly lies my head,
              My house when living, and my grave when dead:
              Inscribe upon it when I’m dead and gone:
              “I lived and died within my mother’s womb.”’

[Sidenote: 1724.]

It is kept in remembrance that Paterson actually lived and practised his
calling in this subterranean mansion for eleven years. Holiday-parties
used to come from the neighbouring capital to see him and his singular
dwelling; even judges, it is alleged, did not disdain to sit in George’s
stone-parlour, and enjoy the contents of his liquor-cellar. The ground
was held _in feu_, and the yearly duty and public burdens were forgiven
him, on account of the extraordinary labour he had incurred in making
himself a home.[613]


The idea of improving agricultural implements was hitherto unheard of in
Scotland; but now a thrashing-machine was invented by Mr Michael
Menzies, a member of the Scottish bar. On his request, the Society of
Improvers sent a deputation to see it working at Roseburn, near
Edinburgh; and these gentlemen reported upon it favourably.[614] I am
unable to say whether it was identical with a thrashing-machine
advertised in July 1735, as to be had of Andrew Good, wright in College
Wynd, Edinburgh; one to thrash as much as four men, £30; one to do as
much as six, £45; and so on in proportion, ‘being about £7, 10_s._ for
each man’s labour that the machine does, which is but _about the expense
of a servant for one year_.’ It was held forth, regarding this machine,
that for the driving of one equal to four men, most water-mills would
suffice, and one so working was to be seen at Dalkeith.[615]

It would appear, however, that the idea of a machine for thrashing had,
after this time, completely fallen out of notice, as the one which has
long been in use was, in its original form, the invention of Michael
Stirling, farmer at Craighead, in the parish of Dunblane, who died in
1796, in the eighty-ninth year of his age.

‘This venerable man, when in the prime of life, had a strong propensity
to every curious invention; and, after much thought [Sidenote: 1724.]
and study, he prepared and finished, in 1748, a machine for thrashing
his corn. The axis of the thrashing-board was placed perpendicular, and
was moved by an inner wheel on the same axis with an outer one that went
by water. The men stood round about these boards like lint-cleaners,
each man with his sheaf, and performed the work with great rapidity [at
the rate of sixteen bolls of oats _per diem_]. Mr Stirling’s neighbours
were by no means struck with the invention, but laughed at it, and
called him a maggoty fellow. The wonderful powers of the machine,
however, drew the attention of strangers, who came and picked up models,
and so were enabled to erect others both in Scotland and England.’[616]
Subsequently, Mr Meikle, at Alloa, obviated the inconvenience of the
perpendicular arrangement of the axis, by laying it down in a horizontal
form.

A machine for the winnowing of corn was, as far as can be ascertained,
for the first time made in this island by Andrew Rodger, a farmer on the
estate of Cavers in Roxburghshire, in the year 1737. It was after
retiring from his farm to indulge a bent for mechanics, that he entered
on this remarkable invention, and began circulating what were called
_Fanners_ throughout the country, which his descendants continued to do
for many years.[617] This machine is well known to have been the subject
of a religious prejudice among our more rigid sectaries, as indicated
anachronously by Scott in the conversation between Mause Headrig and her
mistress—‘a new-fangled machine for dighting the corn frae the chaff,
thus impiously thwarting the will o’ Divine Providence by raising wind
for your leddyship’s use by human art, instead of soliciting it by
prayer, or patiently waiting for whatever dispensation of wind
Providence was pleased to send upon the shielinghill.’[618] The
‘seceders’ are understood to have taken very strong ground in resistance
to the introduction of fanners, deeming the wind as specially a thing
made by God (‘he that createth the wind,’ _Amos_ iv. 13), and therefore
regarding an artificial wind as a daring and impious attempt to usurp
what belonged to him alone. The author has been informed that an uncle
of the late national poet, Robert Gilfillan, was extruded from a Fife
congregation of this kind because of his persisting to use fanners.

[Sidenote: 1725. JAN.]

About the end of this month, the people of Orkney were thrown into some
excitement by the arrival of a suspicious-looking vessel among their
usually quiet islands. She professed to be a merchantman bound for
Stockholm; but her twenty-two guns and crew of thirty-eight men belied
the tale. In reality, she was a pirate-ship, recently taken under the
care of a reckless man named Gow, or Smith, who had already made her the
means of perpetrating some atrocious villainies in more southern seas.
His alleged connection with Caithness by nativity, and Orkney by
education, was perhaps the principal reason for his selecting this part
of the world as a temporary refuge till some of his recent acts should
be forgotten. His conduct, however, was marked by little prudence. He
used to come ashore with armed men, and hold boisterous festivities with
the islanders. He also made some attempts to enter into social relations
with the gentlemen of the country. It was even said that, during his
brief stay, he made some way in the affections of a young gentlewoman,
who little imagined his real character. It was the more unaccountable
that he lingered thus in the islands, after ten of his people, who had
recently been pressed into his service, left his vessel, and made their
escape in a boat—a circumstance that ought to have warned him that he
could not long evade the notice of the law. In point of fact, the
character of his ship and crew were known at Leith while he was still
dallying with time in the taverns of Stromness.

At length, about the 20th of February, Gow left the southern and more
frequented part of the Orkney group, and sailed to Calf Sound, at the
north part of the island of Eday, designing to apply for fresh
provisions and assistance to a gentleman residing there, who had been
his school-fellow, Mr Fea, younger of Clestran. Chancing to cast anchor
too near the island, the pirate found that his first duty must be to
obtain the assistance of a boat to assist his men in bringing off the
vessel. He sent an armed party of five under the boatswain to solicit
this help from Mr Fea, who received them civilly, but immediately sent
private orders to have his own boat sunk and the sails hidden. He took
the party to a public-house, where he entertained them, and so adroitly
did he manage matters, that ere long they were all disarmed and taken
into custody. The people of the country and some custom-house officers
had by this time been warned to his assistance.

Next day, a violent wind drove the vessel ashore on Calf Island, and
Gow, without a boat, began to feel himself in a serious difficulty. He
hung out a flag for a conference with Mr Fea, who [Sidenote: 1725.]
consequently sent him a letter, telling him that his only chance now was
to yield himself, and give evidence against his company. The wretch
offered goods to the value of a thousand pounds for merely a boat in
which he could leave the coast; but Mr Fea only replied by renewing his
former advice. Some conferences, attended with considerable danger to Mr
Fea, took place; and Gow ultimately came ashore on Calf Island, and was
secured. It is narrated that when he found himself a prisoner, he
entreated to be shot before he should have to surrender his sword. His
men were afterwards made prisoners without much difficulty.

Gow and his company were transported to London, and tried by the Court
of Admiralty on the 27th of May. Himself and eleven others were found
guilty, and condemned. There was at first some difficulty in consequence
of his refusing to plead. The court, finding him refractory on this
point of form, at first tried to bring him to reason by gentle means;
but when these proved ineffectual, he was ordered to the press-yard,
there to be pressed to death, after the old custom with those refusing
to plead. His obstinacy then gave way, and his trial proceeded in due
form, and he was condemned upon the same evidence as his companions.
Nine were executed, of whom two—namely, Gow and his lieutenant, named
Williams—were afterwards hung in chains.[619]

The Scottish newspaper which first narrated the singular story of the
capture of these men, remarked: ‘The gentleman who did this piece of
good service to his country, will no doubt be taken notice of, and
rewarded by the government.’ Sir Walter Scott relates from the tradition
of the country what actually happened to Mr Fea in consequence of his
gallantry. ‘So far from receiving any reward from government, he could
not obtain even countenance enough to protect him against a variety of
sham suits, raised against him by Newgate solicitors, who acted in the
name of Gow and others of the pirate crew; and the various expenses,
vexatious prosecutions, and other legal consequences in which his
gallantry involved him, utterly ruined his fortune and his family.’[620]


[Sidenote: MAY.]

The Duke of Douglas, last direct descendant of the ancient and once
powerful House of Douglas, was a person of such weak character as to
form a dismal antithesis to the historical honours of the
family—entitled to the first vote in parliament, to lead the [Sidenote:
1725.] van of the Scottish army, and to carry the king’s crown in all
processions. Just turned thirty years of age, his Grace lived at his
ancestral castle in Lanarkshire, taking no such part as befitted his
rank and fortune in public affairs, but content to pass his time in the
commonest pleasures, not always in choice society.[621] Amongst his
visitors was a young man named Ker, a natural son of Lord John Ker, the
younger brother of the late Marquis of Lothian, and also brother to the
Dowager-countess of Angus, the duke’s mother. This youth, as cousin to
the duke, though under the taint of illegitimacy, presumed to aspire to
the affections of his Grace’s only sister, the celebrated Lady Jane; and
it is also alleged that he presumed to give the duke some advice about
the impropriety of his keeping company with a low man belonging to his
village. Under a revengeful prompting, it is said, from this fellow, the
poor duke stole by night into the chamber of Mr Ker, and shot him dead
as he lay asleep. Some servants, hearing the noise, came to his Grace’s
room, and found him in great distress at the frightful act which he had
committed, and which he made no attempt to deny. He was as speedily as
possible conducted to Leith, and sent off in a vessel to Holland, there
to remain until he could safely return.[622]

The peerages being politely silent about this affair, we do not learn
how or when the duke was restored to Scottish society. More than thirty
years after, when turned of sixty, he married the daughter of a
Dumbartonshire gentleman, a lady well advanced in life, by whom he had
no children. Dr Johnson, who met the duchess as a widow at Boswell’s
house in 1773, speaks of her as an old lady who talked broad Scotch with
a paralytic voice, and was scarcely intelligible even to her countrymen.
Had the doctor seen her ten years earlier, when she was in possession of
all her faculties, he would have found how much comicality and rough wit
could be expressed in broad Scotch under the coif of a duchess. I have
had the advantage of hearing it described by the late Sir James Steuart
of Coltness, who was in Paris with her Grace in 1762, when she was also
accompanied by a certain Laird of Boysack, and one or two other Scotch
gentlemen, all bent on making the utmost of every droll or whimsical
circumstance that came in their way. Certainly the language and style
[Sidenote: 1725.] of ideas in which the party indulged was enough to
make the hair of the _fastest_ of our day stand on end. There was great
humour one day about a proposal that the duchess should go to court, and
take advantage of the privilege of the _tabouret_, or right of sitting
on a low stool in the queen’s private chamber, which it was alleged she
possessed, by virtue of her late husband’s ancestors having enjoyed a
French dukedom (Touraine) in the fifteenth century. The old lady made
all sorts of excuses in her homely way; but when Boysack started the
theory, that the real objection lay in her Grace’s fears as to the
disproportioned size of the tabouret for the co-relative part of her
figure, he was declared, amidst shouts of laughter, to have divined the
true difficulty—her Grace enjoying the joke fully as much as any of
them. Let this be a specimen of the mate of the last of the House of
Douglas.


[Sidenote: JUNE 24.]

We have already seen that the favourite and ordinary beverage of the
people before this date was a light ale, not devoid of an exhilarating
power, which, being usually sold in pints (equal to two English quarts)
at 2_d._, passed in prose and verse, as well as common parlance, under
the name of Twopenny. The government, conceiving they might raise twenty
thousand pounds per annum out of this modest luxury of the Scotch,
imposed a duty of sixpence a bushel upon malt; and now this was to be
enforced by a band of Excise officers.

The Scotch, besides the ignorant impatience of taxation natural to a
people to whom fiscal deductions were a novelty, beheld in this measure
a mark of the oppressive imperiousness of the British senate, and
bitterly thought of what the Union had brought upon them. At Glasgow,
this was a peculiarly strong feeling, its member of parliament, Mr
Campbell of Shawfield, having taken a leading part in getting the
malt-tax imposed. On the 23d June, when the act came into force, the
populace gave many tokens of the wrath they entertained towards the
excisemen who were putting it in practice; but no violence was used.
Next day, there was shewn a continual disposition to gather in the
streets, which the magistrates as constantly endeavoured to check; and a
military party was introduced to the town. At length, evening having
drawn on, the indignation of the populace could no longer be restrained.
An elegant house which Shawfield had built for himself, and furnished
handsomely, was attacked, and reduced to desolation, notwithstanding
every effort of the magistrates to induce the mob to disperse. Next day,
the mob rose again, and [Sidenote: 1725.] came to the town-house in the
centre of the town, but in no formidable numbers. The military party was
then drawn out by their commander, Captain Bushell, in a hollow square,
in the centre of the crossing at the town-house, each side facing along
one of the four streets which meet there; when, some stones being thrown
at the soldiers, the officer gave way to anger, and without any order
from the provost, fired upon the multitude, of whom eight were killed
and many wounded. The multitude then flew to a guard-house where arms
were kept, armed themselves, and, ringing the town-bell to give an
alarm, were prepared to attack and destroy the comparatively small
military party, when, at the urgency of the provost, the latter withdrew
from the town, and sought refuge at Dumbarton.

The news of this formidable riot, or rather insurrection, created great
excitement among a set of government authorities which had lately come
into office, amongst whom was Mr Duncan Forbes as Lord Advocate. They
took up the matter with a high hand. Attended by a large body of troops,
Forbes marched to Glasgow, and seized the magistrates, under accusation
of having favoured the mob, and bringing them to Edinburgh, clapped them
up in the Tolbooth. Such, however, was the view generally taken of the
malt-tax, that the Glasgow provost and bailies were everywhere treated
as martyrs for their country, and as they passed through the streets of
Edinburgh to prison, some of the lately displaced government officials
walked bareheaded before them. By an appeal to the Court of Justiciary,
as to the legality of their mittimus, they were quickly liberated. The
only effectual vengeance the government could inflict, was an act
ordaining the community of Glasgow to pay Shawfield five thousand pounds
as compensation for the destruction of his house. The feelings of the
people of the west were grievously outraged by the conduct of the
government in this affair, and the more so that they considered it as an
injustice inflicted by friends. Was it for this, they asked, that they
had stood so stoutly for the Whig cause on every trying occasion since
the Revolution?

In August, the officials had a new trouble on their hands. The Edinburgh
brewers intimated an intention to discontinue brewing ale. Duncan Forbes
stood aghast at the idea of what might happen if the people were wholly
deprived of their accustomed beverage. After all, the difficulty
involved in a proposal to force men to go on in a trade against their
will was not too great to be encountered in those days. The _Edinburgh
Evening Courant_ [Sidenote: 1725.] of the 26th of August, quietly
informs us that ‘Mr Carr, engraver to the Mint, who kept a brewery in
this city, and several others of the brewers, are incarcerate in the
Canongate Tolbooth, for not enacting themselves to continue their trade
of brewing, in terms of the Act of Sederunt of the Lords of Council and
Session.’ ‘The Twopenny ale,’ adds this respectable chronicle, ‘begins
to grow scarce here; notwithstanding which the city remains in perfect
tranquillity.’ Long before the unimaginable crisis of an entire
exhaustion of beer had arrived, forty of the brewers of Edinburgh, and
ten of Leith, thought proper to resume work, and the dissolution of
society was averted.[623]

Such were the troubles which Scotland experienced a hundred and
thirty-five years ago, at the prospect of a tax of twenty thousand
pounds per annum!


[Sidenote: JULY.]

Christian Shaw, daughter of the Laird of Bargarran, has been presented
in her girlhood as the cause of a number of prosecutions for witchcraft,
ending in the burning of no fewer than five women on Paisley Green.[624]
As this young lady grew up to woman’s estate, she attained distinction
of a better kind, as the originator of one of the great branches of
industry for which her native province has since been remarkable. She
was actually the first person who introduced the spinning of fine linen
thread into Scotland. ‘Having acquired a remarkable dexterity in
spinning fine yarn, she conceived the idea of manufacturing it into
thread. Her first attempts in this way were necessarily on a small
scale. She executed almost every part of the process with her own hands,
and bleached her materials on a large slate in one of the windows of the
house. She succeeded so well, however, in these essays, as to have
sufficient encouragement to go on, and to take the assistance of her
younger sister and neighbours. The then Lady Blantyre carried a parcel
of her thread to Bath, and disposed of it advantageously to some
manufacturers of lace.... About this time, a person who was connected
with the family, happening to be in Holland, found means to learn the
secrets of the thread-manufacture, which was carried on to a great
extent in that country, particularly the art of sorting and numbering
the threads of different sizes, and packing them up for sale, and the
construction and management of the twisting and twining machines.
[Sidenote: 1725.] This knowledge he communicated, on his return, to his
friends in Bargarran, and by means of it they were enabled to conduct
their manufacture with more regularity, and to a greater extent. The
young women of the neighbourhood were taught to spin fine yarn,
twining-mills were erected, correspondences were established, and a
profitable business was carried on. _Bargarran thread_ became
extensively known, and being ascertained by a stamp, bore a good
price.’[625] By and by, the work was undertaken by others, and in time
it became a leading manufacture of the district. About 1718, Christian
Shaw married Mr Miller, the minister of Kilmaurs parish, and it is
presumed she passed through the remainder of her life much in the same
manner as other persons in that respectable grade.

[Illustration: Bargarran Coat of Arms.]

The newspapers of the time at which we are now arrived, present the
following advertisement: ‘The Lady Bargarran and her daughters having
attained to a great perfection in making, whitening, and twisting of
SEWING THREED, which is as cheap and white, and known by experience to
be much stronger than the Dutch, to prevent people’s being imposed upon
by other Threed, which may be sold under the name of Bargarran Threed,
the Papers in which the Lady Bargarran, and her daughters at Bargarran,
or Mrs Miller, her eldest daughter, at Johnston, do put up their Threed,
shall, for direction, have thereupon the above coat of arms. Those who
want the said Threed, which is to be sold from fivepence to six
shillings per ounce, may write to the Lady Bargarran at Bargarran, or
Mrs Miller at Johnston, near Paisley, to the care of the Postmaster of
Glasgow; and may call for the samen in Edinburgh, at John Seton,
merchant, his shop in the Parliament Close, where they will be served
either in wholesale or retail: and will be served in the same manner at
Glasgow, by William Selkirk, merchant in Trongate.’

Crawford, in his _History of Renfrewshire_, tells us that the
coat-armorial worn by the Shaws of Bargarran bore—‘_azure_, three
covered cups _or_.’ There is something amusingly characteristic in the
wife and daughter of a far-descended Scottish gentleman beginning a
business in ‘threed,’ and putting the family arms on their wares.

[Sidenote: 1725. OCT.]

After the long period during which religious and political contentions
absorbed or repressed the intellectual energies of the people, the first
native who exhibited in his own country a purely scientific genius was
Colin Maclaurin—a man of Highland extraction (born in 1698), whose
biography relates that he was fitted to enter a university at eleven,
mastered at twelve the first six books of Euclid in a few days without
assistance, and gained the chair of mathematics in Marischal College,
Aberdeen, at nineteen, after a competitive examination of ten days.
Having gone to London, and there been introduced to Sir Isaac Newton, Dr
Clark, Sir Martin Folks, and other cultivators of science, Maclaurin was
encouraged to publish several mathematical treatises which gave him an
established reputation while still a young man.

At this time, the advanced years of Mr James Gregory, professor of
mathematics in the university of Edinburgh, making it necessary that he
should have an assistant, who should also be his successor, Mr Maclaurin
became a candidate for the situation, with the recommendation of the
illustrious Newton. The appointment lay with the magistrates and town
council of Edinburgh, who were the patrons of the university—an
arrangement which has been abolished in our age, with little regard to
the rights of property, and still less to the practical good working of
the connection. On this occasion there were some circumstances alike
honourable to Maclaurin, to Newton, and to the Edinburgh municipality.
Sir Isaac, hearing there was a difficulty about salary for the new
professor, the emoluments being reserved for the old one, wrote to the
lord provost of the city as follows: ‘I am glad to understand that Mr
Maclaurin is in good repute amongst you for his skill in mathematics,
for I think he deserves it very well, and, to satisfy you that I do not
flatter him, and also to encourage him to accept the place of assisting
Mr Gregory, in order to succeed him, I am ready (if you please to give
me leave) to contribute twenty pounds per annum towards a provision for
him till Mr Gregory’s place becomes void, if I live so long.’ The town
council respectfully declined this generous offer, and made suitable
arrangements otherwise for the young professor.

Colin Maclaurin amply justified the recommendation of Sir Isaac by the
distinction he attained as a teacher, and his various original
contributions to geometry and physics. A general impulse was given by
him to the cultivation of science. When any remarkable experiment was
reported from other countries, [Sidenote: 1725.] there was a general
wish in Edinburgh to see it repeated by Maclaurin; and when any comet or
eclipse was pending, his telescopes were sure to be in requisition.
Unfortunately, the career of this brilliant geometer was cut short in
consequence of a cold he caught while assisting to improve the defences
of Edinburgh against the army of Prince Charles Edward. He lies under
the south-west corner of the Greyfriars’ Church, where a plain mural
tablet arrests the attention of the student by telling that he was
elected to his chair, NEWTONO SUADENTE, and calls on all to take as a
consolation, in that field of grief and terror, the thought that the
mind which was capable of producing such works must survive the frail
body.


[Sidenote: NOV. 20.]

The post from Edinburgh to London continued to be carried on horseback,
and was of course liable to casualties of what now appear to us of a
strange character. That which left Edinburgh on Saturday the 20th
November 1725, was never heard of after it passed Berwick. ‘A most
diligent search has been made, but neither the boy, the horse, nor the
packet, has yet been heard of. The boy, after passing Goswick, having a
part of the sands to ride which divide the Holy Island from the
mainland, it is supposed he has missed his way, and rode towards the
sea, where he and his horse have both perished.’[626]

A mail due at Edinburgh one day at the close of January 1734, was
apologised for by the postmaster as late. ‘It seems the post-boy who
rides the stage from Haddington to Edinburgh is perished in the river
Tyne, the mail this morning being taken out of that river.’ That due on
the 10th of October in the preceding year did not reach its destination
till the evening of the 11th. ‘It seems the post-boy [so called,
although most likely a middle-aged man], who made the stage between
Dunbar and Haddington, being in liquor, fell off. The horse was
afterwards found at Linplum, but without the mail, saddle, or
bridle.’[627]

On the 9th December 1735, we have the following announcement: ‘The
London post did not come on till this day at noon, on occasion of the
badness of the roads.’—_Cal. Merc._

As a variety upon these kinds of accident, and equally indicating the
simplicity of the institution in those days, may be noticed a mistake of
February 1720, when, ‘instead of the [Sidenote: 1725.] mail should have
come in yesterday (Sunday), _we had our own mail of Thursday last
returned_‘—the presumption being that the mail for Edinburgh had been in
like manner sent back from some unknown point in the road, to London.
And this mistake happened once more in December 1728, the bag despatched
on a Saturday night being returned the _second Sunday morning after_;
‘’tis reckoned this mistake happened about half-way on the road.’[628]

The immediate practical business of the Post-office of Edinburgh appears
to have been conducted, down to the reign of George I., in a shop in the
High Street, by a succession of persons named Mean or Mein, the
descendants of the lady who threw her stool at the bishop’s head in St
Giles’s in 1637; thence it was promoted to a _flat_ in the east side of
the Parliament Close; thence, again, in the reign of George III., to a
detached house behind the north side of the Cowgate. We find that, in
1718, it had a ‘manager’ at two hundred a year, a clerk at fifty, a
comptroller, an assistant at an annual salary of twenty-five pounds, and
three letter-carriers at five shillings a week. In 1748, this
establishment was little changed, excepting that there were added an
‘apprehender of private letter-carriers,’ and a ‘clerk to the Irish
correspondents.’[629] There is a faithful tradition in the office, which
I see no reason to doubt, that one day, not long after the rebellion of
1745, the London bag came to Edinburgh with but one letter in it, being
one addressed to the British Linen Company.

In 1758, a memorial of traders to the Convention of Burghs expressed
impatience with the existing arrangements of the post between Edinburgh
and London, which, owing to a delay of about a day at Newcastle, and a
pause at York, with other impediments, occupied 131 hours. It was urged
that the three posts which passed weekly between the two capitals should
depart from Edinburgh at such a time as, reaching Newcastle in 21 hours,
they might be in time for immediate dispatch by the post thence to
London, and so give a return to correspondence with the metropolis in
seven or eight days, instead of about eleven, as at present.[630]

It may be curious to trace the progress of business in this important
office, as far as the central Scottish establishment is concerned. The
number of persons employed in 1788 was 31; [Sidenote: 1725.] in 1828, it
was 82; in 1840, when the universal penny post was set on foot, it
reached 136; in 1860, it was 244. The number of letters delivered in
Edinburgh in a week in 1824 was 27,381; in 1860, it amounted to 156,000.
The number of letters passing through Edinburgh per week in 1824 was
53,000; in 1860, it was 420,000. At the same time, the number of bags
despatched from Edinburgh daily was 369, weighing forty-nine
hundredweight. At the time when these notes were drawn up, the
establishment had become too large for a spacious and handsome building
erected in 1819, and another office of ampler proportions was about to
be erected.


[Sidenote: DEC.]

Wodrow notes that at this time the merchants of Glasgow, in despair of
the colonial tobacco-trade, were beginning to think of ventures in other
directions, as the East Indies, and the Greenland whale-fishing.
Meanwhile, a Fishery Company, some time since set up at Edinburgh, was
languishing, the officials eating up more than the profit. ‘As far as I
can see,’ says the worthy minister of Eastwood, ‘till the Lord send more
righteousness and equity, and of a public spirit, no company or
copartnery among us will do any good.’

In the ensuing August, the same chronicler notes some important points
in the progress of Glasgow, without giving us any hint of improvement in
respect of righteousness. ‘This summer,’ says he, ‘there seems to be a
very great inclination through the country to improve our manufactory,
and especially linen and hemp. They speak of a considerable society in
Glasgow of the most topping merchants, who are about to set up a
manufactory of linen, which will keep six hundred poor people at work.
The gentlemen, by their influence, seem much to stir up country-people,
and to encourage good tradesmen, and some care is taken to keep linen
and webs exactly to standard, and to see that the stuff be good and
marketable.... What will come of it, I know not. I have seen frequent
attempts of this nature come to very little.’[631]

It is gratifying to think that the year 1725, which is so sadly
memorable in the history of Glasgow on account of the ‘Shawfield Mob,’
really did become the epoch of that vast system of textile manufacture
for which the city has since been so celebrated. The first efforts of
her looms were confined to linen [Sidenote: 1725.] cloth, lawns, and
cambrics. Seven years later, one of her enterprising citizens, a Mr
Alexander Harvie, ‘at the risk of his life, brought away from Haerlem
two inkle-looms and a workman,’[632] and was thus enabled to introduce
the manufacture of inkles into his native town, where it long
flourished. The establishment of the cotton-manufacture in and around
Glasgow was the work of a subsequent age, and need not be dwelt upon
here.

Considering the engrossing nature of the pursuits of commerce, it is
remarkably creditable to Glasgow that her university has always been
maintained in a high state of efficiency, and that she has never allowed
the honours of literature to be wholly diverted to her more serene
sister of the east. So far had printing and publishing advanced in
Glasgow in the reign of the second George, that, in 1740, a
type-founding establishment was commenced there, being the first to the
north of the Tweed. The immediate credit of this good work is due to Mr
Alexander Wilson, a native of St Andrews. He subsequently became
professor of practical astronomy in the Glasgow University, and there,
in 1769, worked out the long-received theory of the solar spots, which
suggests their being breaches in a luminous envelope of the sun’s body.

Favoured by the presence of a type-foundry, two citizens of Glasgow
named Faulls, but who subsequently printed their name as Foulis,
commenced the business of typography in 1741, and soon became
distinguished for their accurate and elegant work, particularly in the
printing of the classics. Eager to produce what might be esteemed an
immaculate edition of Horace, they caused the successive proof-sheets,
after revision, to be hung up at the gate of the university, with the
offer of a reward for the discovery of an error. Before 1747, the Messrs
Foulis had produced editions of eighteen classics, all of them beautiful
specimens of typography.

After all, the merchants of infant Glasgow were able to overcome the
difficulties which an iniquitous rivalry threw in the way of their
tobacco-trade. It went on gradually increasing till a sudden stop was
put to it by the revolt of the American colonies, when it had reached an
annual importation of about fifty thousand hogsheads, being the great
bulk of what was consumed in the three kingdoms. In the early days of
the trade, when capital was not abundant, the custom was for a very
small group of the more considerable merchants to advance two or three
hundred pounds [Sidenote: 1725.] each, and ask the lesser men around
them to add such shares as they pleased; by these means to make purchase
of goods suited for use in Virginia, which were sent out under the care
of a supercargo, to be exchanged for a lading of tobacco. ‘The first
adventure ... was sent under the sole charge of the captain of the
vessel. This person, though a shrewd man, knew nothing of accounts; and
when he was asked by his employers, on his return, for a statement of
how the adventure had turned out, told them he could give them none, but
there were its proceeds, and threw down upon the table a large _hoggar_
(stocking) stuffed to the top with coin [being of course the
money-surplus of the goods sent out, after the cargo of tobacco was paid
for]. The company conceived that if an uneducated person had been so
successful, their gains would have been still greater if a person versed
in accounts had been sent out. Under this impression, they immediately
despatched a second adventure with a supercargo highly recommended for a
knowledge of accounts, who produced to them a beautifully made-out
statement of his transactions, but no _hoggar_.’[633]

Afterwards, the groups of adventurers associated little more than their
credit in the getting up of cargoes of goods for the colonial market,
and these were not in general paid till the return of the tobacco, at
the distance perhaps of a twelvemonth. When the manager of the
copartnery was ready to discharge its obligations, he summoned the
various furnishers of the goods to a tavern, where, over a measure of
wine to each, paid for by themselves, he handed them the amount of their
various claims, receiving a discharged account in return. In such
retreats all important matters of business were then transacted. They
were in many instances kept by the female relations of merchants who had
not been successful in business; and in selecting one whereto to summon
the furnishers of goods for payment, the manager would generally have an
eye to a benevolent design in favour of the family of an associate of
former days.

As the century rolled on, and transactions increased in magnitude,
luxury and pride crept in, men learned to garnish their discourse with
strange oaths, and the Wodrow pre-requisite of ‘righteousness’ was
always less and less heard of. The wealth of the _Tobacco Lords_, as the
men pre-eminent in the trade were called, reached an amount which made
them the wonder of their [Sidenote: 1725.] country. One named Glassford,
during the Seven Years’ War, had twenty-five vessels engaged in the
business, and was said to trade for half a million.[634] They formed a
kind of aristocracy in their native city, throwing all tolerably
successful industry in other walks into the shade. Old people, not long
deceased, used to describe them as seen every day on the Exchange, or a
piece of pavement in Argyle Street so called, walking about in long
scarlet cloaks and bushy wigs, objects of awful respect to their
fellow-citizens, who, if desirous of speaking to one of them on
business, found it necessary to walk on the other side of the street,
till they should be fortunate enough to catch his eye, and be signalled
across. All this came to an end with the breaking out of the American
war; when, however, the irrepressible energies and wealth of that
wonderful people of the west speedily found new fields of
operation—cotton, timber, iron, chemicals, ship-building, and (in sober
sincerity) _what not?_


[Sidenote: 1726.]

The Tennis Court theatricals of spring 1715 probably did not long hold
their ground. Thereafter, we hear of no further amusement of the kind
being in any fashion attempted in Edinburgh till 1719, when ‘some young
gentlemen’ performed _The Orphan_ and the _Cheats of Scapin_, but most
probably in a very private manner, though Allan Ramsay consented to
introduce the performance with a prologue.[635] Among the Wodrow
pamphlets preserved in the Advocates’ Library, is a broadside containing
‘Verses spoken after the performance of Otway’s tragedy, called _The
Orphan_, at a private meeting in Edinburgh, December 9, 1719, by a boy
in the University [added in manuscript, “Mr Mitchell”].’ He ends with a
threat to meet adverse critics in the King’s Park. Edinburgh was about
the same time occasionally regaled with the visits of a certain Signora
Violante, who trooped about the three kingdoms for the exhibition of
feats in tumbling and posture-making.[636]

It would appear that the first Scottish theatricals not quite
insignificant were presented in the winter 1725–26, when Anthony Aston,
a performer not without his fame, came to Edinburgh with a company of
comedians, and was so far favourably received that he ventured to return
in the ensuing year. On that occasion, Allan Ramsay composed for him the
following prologue, [Sidenote: 1726.] conveying to us some notion of the
feelings with which the venture was regarded:

          ‘“Tis I, dear Caledonians, blythesome Tony,
          That oft, last winter, pleased the brave and bonny,
          With medley, merry song, and comic scene:
          Your kindness then has brought me here again,
          After a circuit round the Queen of Isles,
          To gain your friendship and approving smiles.
          Experience bids me hope—though, south the Tweed,
          The dastards said: “He never will succeed:
          What! such a country look for any good in,
          That does not relish plays, nor pork, nor pudding!”
          Thus great Columbus, by an idiot crew,
          Was ridiculed at first for his just view;
          Yet his undaunted spirit ne’er gave ground,
          Till he a new and better world had found.
          So I—laugh on—the simile is bold;
          But, faith! ’tis just: for till this body’s cold,
          Columbus-like, I’ll push for fame and gold.’[637]

The prevalent feeling on the subject in authoritative circles may be
inferred from the conduct of the magistracy and clergy. An act of
council being passed, prohibiting Mr Aston from acting within the limits
of their jurisdiction, the presbytery met, and appointed a deputation to
wait upon the magistrates, and thank them ‘for the just zeal they had
shewn in the matter.’ A committee was at the same time appointed to draw
up an _act and exhortation_ against the frequenting of stage-plays,
which, by their order, was read from all the pulpits in the
district.[638]

Wodrow talks of Aston’s proceedings as ‘filling up our cup of sin.’
‘Three or four noblemen—some of them ruling elders—combined to favour
the comedians, giving them such a warrant as they thought their peerage
entitled them to give. Three or four of the Lords of Session were
favourable to them, and yet no direct interlocutor was given them,
empowering them to set up. The matter took several different shapes, and
many different decisions were given by the Lords, which concerned
circumstances rather than the direct lawfulness of their plays.’ Wodrow
speaks of a large attendance, especially at their tragedies, the
_Mourning Bride_ having had a run of three nights. ‘A vast deal of
money, [Sidenote: 1726.] in this time of scarcity, is spent this way
most sinfully.’ They even ‘talk of building a public playhouse at
Edinburgh.’

To the great vexation of the ecclesiastical authorities, the decree of
the magistrates was appealed against in the Court of Session, with what
were believed to be good hopes of success. Just at that crisis, we find
Mr Wodrow writing in great concern on the subject, from his Renfrewshire
manse, to Mr George Drummond, commissioner of customs in Edinburgh
(November 27, 1727). He states that his parishioner, Lord Pollock, one
of the judges, was unfortunately detained at home, being ‘considerably
failed, and very crazy;’ so he could not attend the court to give his
vote. ‘I pray God may order matters so as to prevent my fears in this
matter.... I desire to have it on my heart, and shall stir up some who,
I hope, are praying persons, to be concerned in it. However it go, I
think the magistrates of Edinburgh may have peace in the honest
appearance they have made against those seminaries of idleness,
looseness, and sin.’[639]

There was, however, no legal means of putting down Mr Aston. The
magistrates’ interdict was suspended, and from that time the players had
only to contend with public opinion.[640]

[Sidenote: FEB. 12.]

Serious onlookers are eager to note other symptoms of the alarming
progress of levity. A private letter-writer remarks, under our marginal
date, that, ‘notwithstanding the general complaint of scarcity of money,
there were never so many diversions in one winter.... There is scarce
one night passes without either medley, concert, or assembly, and these
entertainments generally conclude with some private marriage, of which
we have a vast number ... such as Sir Edward Gibson and Mrs Maitland, a
cousin of the Earl of Lauderdale; M‘Dowal and a daughter of Dr Stirling;
a son of Bailie Hay with Regent Scott’s daughter; and my Lord Bruce is
to be married regularly to Mrs Robertson, who has above £3000, this very
night.’

A few days after, the same writer reports a private marriage as
discovered between the son of Sir John Dalrymple and ‘Matthew Crawford’s
daughter.’ ‘Sir John seems pretty much disobliged that his son should
not have asked his consent, though it’s [Sidenote: 1726.] thought he
will soon get over all difficulties.’ The eccentric Earl of Rosebery
‘has been for a considerable time in prison, where it’s believed he will
spend the remainder of his days with his good friend Burnbank.’

A few weeks later, an abduction in the old style was perpetrated by a
Highlander upon ‘a niece of Mr Moubray the wright,’ not above twelve
years of age, whose gouvernante had betrayed her upon a promise of a
thousand merks, the young lady having £3000 of fortune. Mr Moubray
‘luckily catched them near to Queensferry, as they were coming to town
to be married.’ ‘The gouvernante is committed to prison, as is also the
gentleman.’[641]

In May, Mr Wodrow adverts to a rumour that there were some clubs in
Edinburgh, very secretly conducted, composed of gentlemen of atheistical
opinions. They were understood to be offshoots of a similar fraternity
in London, rejoicing in the name of the Hell-fire Club, as signifying
the disregard of the members for the thing referred to. Wodrow whispers
with horror, that the secretary of the Hell-fire Club, a Scotsman, was
reported to have come to Edinburgh to plant these affiliated societies.
‘He fell into melancholy, as it was called, but probably horror of
conscience and despair, and at length turned mad. Nobody was allowed to
see him, and physicians prescribed bathing for him, and he died mad at
the first bathing. The Lord pity us,’ concludes Mr Wodrow; ‘wickedness
is come to a terrible height!’[642]

There is among the Wodrow pamphlets a broadside giving an account of the
Hell-fire Clubs, Sulphur Societies, and Demirep Dragons then in vogue.
It includes a list of persons of quality engaged in these fraternities,
and the various names they bore—as Elisha the Prophet, the King of Hell,
Old Pluto, the Old Dragon, Lady Envy, the Lady Gomorrah, &c. An edict
had been issued against them by the government, reciting that there was
reason to suspect that, in the cities of London and Westminster, there
were scandalous clubs or societies of young persons, who meet together,
and in blasphemous language insult God and his holy religion, and
corrupt the morals of one another. The justices of the peace were
enjoined to be diligent in rooting out such schools of profanity.

The Hell-fire Club seems to have projected itself strongly on the
popular imagination in Scotland, for the peasantry still occasionally
speak of it with bated breath and whispering horror. [Sidenote: 1726.]
Many wicked lairds are talked of, who belonged to the Hell-fire Club,
and who came to bad ends, as might have been expected on grounds
involving no reference to miracle.

Public combats with sword and rapier were among the amusements of the
age. They took place regularly in London, at a place called the Bear
Garden, and at an amphitheatre in the Oxford Road; likewise at Hockley.
It seems scarcely credible that not only was this practice permitted,
but it was customary for the men who were to cut and slash at each other
in the evening, to parade through the streets in the forenoon, in fancy
dresses, with drums beating and colours flying, as an advertisement of
the performance.

Sometimes, when one of these modern gladiators attained to fame, he
would go to a provincial city, and announce himself as willing to fight
all-comers on a public stage for any sum that might be agreed upon. Such
persons seem most frequently to have been natives of the sister-island.
One Andrew Bryan, an Irishman, described as ‘a clean young man’—that is,
a well-made, nimble person—came to Edinburgh, in June 1726, as a
gladiatorial star, and challenged any who might choose to take him up.
For days he paraded the streets with his drum, without meeting a
combatant, and several gentlemen of the city began to feel annoyed at
his vapourings, when at length the challenger was answered. There had at
this time retired to Edinburgh an old Killiecrankie soldier, named
Donald Bane—a man who had attained the distinction of a sergeantcy, who
had taught the broadsword exercise, who had fought creditably in all the
wars of William and Anne in succession, but was withal much of a
scapegrace, though a good-humoured one, as fully appears from a little
autobiography which he published, along with the rules of the art of
defence. Though now sixty-two, and inclined to repent of much of his
earlier career, Donald retained enough of his original spirit to be
disposed to try a turn at sharps with Bryan; so, meeting him in the
street one day, he sent his foot through the drum, as an indication that
he accepted the challenge. Gentlefolks were interested when they heard
of it, and one learned person thought proper to compose for Bane a
regular answer to the challenge in Latin verse—

            ‘Ipse ego, Donaldus Banus, formâ albus et altus,
            Nunc huic Andreæ thrasoni occurrere deero,’ &c.

The combat took place at the date noted, on a stage erected for
[Sidenote: 1726. JUNE 23.] the purpose behind Holyrood Palace, in the
presence of a great number of noblemen, gentlemen, military officers,
and others. It was conducted with much formality, and lasted several
hours, with a variety of weapons; and not till Bryan had received seven
wounds from his unscathed antagonist, did he feel the necessity of
giving in. The victory of the Highland veteran seems to have given rise
to great exultation, and he was crowned with praises in both prose and
rhyme. He was compared to Ajax overcoming Thersites; and one Latin wit
remarked in a quatrain, that the stains of the two former Donald Banes
of Scottish history were wiped off by the third. A more fortunate result
for us was the publication of Bane’s autobiography,[643] containing a
number of characteristic anecdotes.

Little more than two years after the combat of Bane and Bryan, a similar
encounter is noted in the _Edinburgh Courant_ as taking place in the
Tennis Court at Holyrood, between ‘Campbell the Scots, and Clerk the
Irish gladiator,’ when the former received a wound in the face, and the
second sustained seven in the body.


[Sidenote: AUG. 8.]

At an election for the county of Roxburgh at Jedburgh, a quarrel arose
between Sir Gilbert Elliot of Stobbs, a candidate, and Colonel Stewart
of Stewartfield, who opposed him. Colonel Stewart, who was ‘a huffing,
hectoring person,’ is said to have given great provocation, and
gentlemen afterwards admitted that Stobbs was called upon by the laws of
honour to take notice of the offence. According to a petition to the
Court of Session from the son of Stewart, Elliot stabbed him as he sat
in his chair on the opposite side of a table, with his sword by his
side.

The homicide took refuge in Holland, but was soon enabled by a pardon to
return to his own country.[644]


[Sidenote: AUG. 9.]

The correspondence of General Wade with the Secretary of State
Townsend,[645] makes us aware that at this time several of the attainted
gentlemen of 1715 had returned to Scotland, in the hope of obtaining a
pardon, or at least of being permitted to remain undisturbed. The
general humanely pleads for their being pardoned on a formal submission.
Amongst them was Alexander Robertson of Struan, chief of the clan
Robertson, a gentleman [Sidenote: 1726.] who had fought for the Stuarts
both at Killiecrankie and Sheriffmuir, and who is further memorable for
his convivial habits and his gifts in the writing of pure, but somewhat
dull English poetry.

In the year of the Revolution, being a youth of twenty at the university
of St Andrews, Struan accepted a commission in some forces then hastily
proposed to be raised for James VII.; and, keeping up this military
connection, he joined the Highland army of Lord Dundee, but was taken
prisoner by the enemy, September 1689, and thrown into the Edinburgh
Tolbooth. Here a piece of Highland gratitude served him a good turn.
Four years before, when the Perthshire loyalists were hounded out to
ravage the lands of the unfortunate Argyle, the late Laird of Struan
had, for humane reasons, pleaded for leave to stay at home and take care
of the country. The now restored Earl of Argyle, remembering this
kindness to his family, interceded for young Robertson, and procured his
liberation in exchange for Sir Robert Maxwell of Pollock, who was in the
hands of the Highlanders. Struan then passed into France, and joined the
exiled king, hoping ere long to return and see the old _régime_
restored; and in his absence, the Scottish parliament declared him
forfaulted. He spent many years of melancholy exile in France, enduring
the greatest hardships that a gentleman could be subjected to, having no
dependence but upon occasional remittances from his mother. Being at
length enabled to return to Perthshire, he once more forfeited all but
life by joining in the insurrection of 1715. For nine years more he
underwent a new exile in the greatest poverty and hardship, while, to
add to his mortifications, a disloyal sister, hight ‘Mrs Margaret,’
contrived to worm herself into the possession of his forfeited estates.

In France, Struan had for a fellow in misfortune a certain Professor
John Menzies, under whom he had studied at St Andrews, and who seems to
have been an old gentleman of some humour. There is extant a letter of
Menzies to Struan, giving him advice about his health, and which seems
worthy of preservation for the hints it gives as to the habits of these
expatriated Scotch Jacobites. It bears to have been written in answer to
one in which Struan had spoken of being ill:

                                                     ‘PARIS, _March 20_.

  ‘D. S.—I have been out of town a little for my own health, which has
  kept me some days from receiving or answering your last, in which you
  speak of some indisposition of yours. I [Sidenote: 1726.] hope that
  before now it is over of itself by a little quiet and temperance, and
  that thereby nature has done its own business, which it rarely fails
  to do when one gives it elbow-room, and when it is not quite spent.
  “When that comes, the house soon comes down altogether. This I have
  always found in my own case. Whenever I was jaded by ill hours and
  company, and the consequences of that, I have still retired a little
  to some convenient hermitage in the country, with two or three doses
  of rhubarb, and as many of salts. That washes the Augean stable, and
  for the rest I drink milk and whey, and sometimes a very little wine
  and water. No company but Horace and Homer, and such old gentlemen
  that drink no more now. I walk much, eat little, and sleep a great
  deal. And by this cool and sober and innocent diet, nature gets up its
  head again, and the horse that was jaded and worn out grows strong
  again, so that he can jog on some stages of the farce of life without
  stumbling or breaking his neck. This is a consultation I give you
  gratis from my own practice and never-failing experience, which is
  always the best physician. And I am satisfied it would do in your
  case, where I reckon nature is haill at the heart still, after all
  your cruel usage of it.

  ‘As to all those pricklings and startings of the nerves, they come
  from the ill habit of the blood and body, brought on by ill diet and
  sharp or earthy wine, as your Orleans wine is reckoned to be—for there
  are crab-grapes as there are crab-apples, and sloes as well as
  muscadines.

  ‘There are great differences of constitutions. Those of a sanguine can
  drink your champagne or cyder all their life, and old Davy Flood has
  drunk punch these fifty years daily. Whereas a short time of the
  lemons that’s in punch would eat out the bottom of my stomach, or make
  me a cripple. Much champagne, too, would destroy my nerves, though I
  like its spirit and taste dearly. But it will not do, that is, it
  never did well with me when I was young and strong; now much less. My
  meaning in this dissertation about wine and constitutions is plainly
  this, first, to recommend to you frequent retraites, in order to be
  absolutely cool, quiet, and sober, with a little gentle physic now and
  then, in order to give time and help to nature to recover. And when
  you will needs drink wine—that it be of the haill and old
  south-country wines, Hermitage, Coté Rotis, Cahors, &c., with a little
  water still, since there is a heat in them.

  ‘As to any external tremblings or ailings of the nerves, pray make
  constant usage of Hungary-water to your head and [Sidenote: 1726.]
  nosethrills, and behind your ears—of which I have found an infinite
  effect and advantage of a long time, for I have been very often in the
  very same case you describe, and these have always been my certain
  cures. _Repetatur quantum sufficit_, and I will warrant you.

  ‘Write again, and God bless you.’[646]

Struan was now successful in obtaining a pardon, and for the remainder
of his days he lived in the cultivation of the bottle and the muse at
his estate in Rannoch. Only prevented by old age from risking all once
again in the adventure of Prince Charlie, he died quietly in 1749,
having reached his eighty-first year. So venerable a chief, who had used
both the sword of Mars and the lyre of Apollo in the cause of the
Stuarts, could not pass from the world notelessly. His funeral was of a
character to be described as a great provincial _fête_. It was computed
that two thousand persons, including the noblemen and gentlemen of the
district, assembled at his house to carry him to his last resting-place,
which was distant eighteen English miles; and for all of these there was
entertainment provided according to their different ranks.[647]


Having taken personal surveys of the Highlands in the two preceding
years, General Wade was prepared, in this, to commence the making of
those roads which he reported to be so necessary for the reduction of
the country to obedience, peace, and civilisation. He contemplated that,
after the example set by the Romans sixteen hundred years before, the
work might be done by the soldiers, on an allowance of extra pay; and
five hundred were selected as sufficient for the purpose. Engineers and
surveyors he brought down from England, one being the Edmund Burt to
whom we have been indebted for so much information regarding the
Highlands at this period, through the medium of the letters he wrote
during his long residence in this country.[648]

[Sidenote: 1726.]

‘In the summer seasons [during eleven years], five hundred of the
soldiers from the barracks and other quarters about the Highlands were
employed in those works in different stations. The private men were
allowed sixpence a day, over and above their pay as soldiers. A corporal
had eightpence, and a sergeant a shilling. But this extra pay was only
for working-days, which were often interrupted by violent storms of wind
and rain. These parties of men were under the command of proper
officers, who were all subalterns, and received two shillings and
sixpence _per diem_, to defray their extraordinary expense in building
huts, making necessary provision for their tables from distant parts
(unavoidable, though unwelcome visits), and other incidents arising from
their wild situation.’[649]

A Scottish gentleman, who visited the Highlands in 1737, discovered the
roads completed, and was surprised by the improvements which he found to
have arisen from them, amongst which he gratefully notes the existence
of civilised places for the entertainment of travellers. It pleased him
to put his observations into verse—rather dull and prosaic verse it is,
one must admit—yet on that very account the more useful now-a-days, by
reason of the clearness of the information it gives.[650] After speaking
of Wade’s success in carrying out the Disarming Act, and his suppression
of disorders by the garrisons and Highland companies, he proceeds to
treat of the roads, which had impressed him as a work of great merit. It
seemed to him as an undertaking in no slight degree arduous, considering
the limited means and art which then existed, to extend firm roads
across Highland morasses, to cut out paths along rough hillsides, and to
protect the way when it was formed from the subsequent violent action of
Highland torrents and inundations. One of the most difficult parts of
the first road was that traversing the broad, lofty mountain called
Corryarrack, near to Fort Augustus. It is ascended on the south side by
a series of zigzags, no less than thirteen in number. The general
expended great care and diligence in the work, even to the invention of
a balsam for healing the wounds and hurts inflicted on the men by
accident.

In the forming of the numerous bridges required upon the roads, there
was one natural difficulty, in addition to all others, in the want of
easily hewn stone. The bridge of five arches across the Tay at Weem was
considered as a marvellous work at the [Sidenote: 1726.] time. In
another part of the country, an unusually rugged river gave Wade and his
people a great deal of trouble. The men, oppressed with heat during the
day, and chilled with frosts as they bivouacked on the ground at night,
were getting dispirited, when the general bethought him of a happy
expedient.

         ‘A fatted ox he ordered to be bought,
         The best through all the country could be sought.
         His horns well polished and with ribbons graced,
         A piper likewise played before the beast.
         Such, were in days of yore for victims led,
         And on the sacrifice a feast was made.
         The ox for slaughter he devotes, and then
         Gives for a gratis feast unto his men.
         Quick and with joy a bonfire they prepare,
         Of turf and heath, and brushwood fagots, where
         The fatted ox is roasted all together;
         Next of the hide they make a pot of leather,
         In which the lungs and tripe cut down they boil,
         With flour and tallow mixed in lieu of oil.
         Then beef and pudding plentifully eat,
         With store of cheering _Husque_[651] to their meat.
         Their spir’ts thus raised, their work becomes a play,
         New vigour drives all former stops away.
         The place from that received another name,
         And OXBRIDGE rises to all future fame.’

We derive some interesting facts about Wade’s proceedings at this time
from his correspondence, still in manuscript.[652]

Writing to the Secretary of State, Lord Townsend, Edinburgh, 9th August
1726, he says: ‘I can with satisfaction assure your lordship that the
Disarming Act has fully answered all that was proposed by it, there
being no arms carried in the Highlands but by those who are legally
qualified; depredations are effectually prevented by the Highland
companies; and the Pretender’s interest is so low, that I think it can
hope for no effectual assistance from that quarter.’

Dating from Killiwhimmen [Fort Augustus] on the 16th of the ensuing
month, he tells his lordship:

‘I have inspected the new roads between this place and Fort William, and
ordered it to be enlarged and carried on for wheel-carriage over the
mountains on the south side of Loch Ness, as far as the town of
Inverness, so that before midsummer next there will be a good coach-road
from that place, which before was not [Sidenote: 1726.] passable on
Horseback in many places. This work is carried on by the military with
less expense and difficulty than I at first imagined it could be
performed, and the Highlanders, from the ease and convenience of
transporting their merchandise, begin to approve and applaud what they
at first repined at and submitted to with reluctancy.’

Writing, in September 1727, to Lord Townsend, he states that he had
lately found the Highlands in perfect tranquillity, ‘and the great road
of communication so far advanced, that I travelled to Fort William in my
coach-and-six, to the great wonder of the country people, who had never
seen such a machine in those parts. I have likewise given directions for
carrying on another great road southward through the Highlands from
Inverness to Perth, which will open a communication with the low
country, and facilitate the march of a body of troops when his majesty’s
service may require it.’

The general’s coach-and-six had been brought to Inverness by the
coast-road from the south, and Burt assures us that ‘an elephant exposed
in one of the streets of London could not have excited greater
admiration. One asked what the chariot was. Another, who had seen the
gentleman alight, told the first, with a sneer at his ignorance, it was
a great cart to carry people in, and such like. But since the making of
some of the roads, I have passed through them with a friend, and was
greatly delighted to see the Highlanders run from their huts close to
the chariot, and, looking up, bow with their bonnets to the coachman,
little regarding us that were within. It is not unlikely that they
looked upon him as a kind of prime minister, that guided so important a
machine.’[653]

Wade, writing to Mr Pelham from Blair, 20th July 1728, says: ‘I am now
with all possible diligence carrying on the new road for wheel-carriage
between Dunkeld and Inverness, of about eighty measured English miles in
length; and that no time may be lost in a work so necessary for his
majesty’s service, I have employed 300 men on different parts of this
road, that the work may be done during this favourable season of the
year, and hope, by the progress they have already made, to have forty
miles of it completed before the end of October,[654] at which time the
heavy rains make it impracticable to proceed in the work till the summer
following.

[Sidenote: 1726.]

‘There is so great a scarcity of provisions in this barren country, that
I am obliged to bring my biscuit, cheese, &c., for the support of the
workmen, from Edinburgh by land-carriage, which, though expensive, is of
absolute necessity. There is about fifteen miles of this road completely
finished, and, I may venture to assure you, it is as good and as
practicable for wheel-carriage as any in England. There are two
stone-bridges building on the road that was finished last year between
Inverness and Fort William, and two more are begun on this road, all
which will, I hope, be completed by the middle of October. The rest that
will be wanting will be eight or ten in number to complete the
communication, which must be deferred to the next year.’


[Sidenote: JULY.]

The Society of Improvers at this date made a suggestion to the governors
of George Heriot’s Hospital (magistrates and clergy of Edinburgh) which
marks a degree of liberality and judgment far beyond what was to be
expected of the age. They recommended that the boys of that institution,
all being children of persons in reduced circumstances, should have
instruction in useful arts imparted to them along with the ordinary
elements of learning. Such a practice had already been introduced in
Holland and France, and even in England (in workhouses), with the best
effects. They at the same time recommended that the girls in the
Merchant Maiden Hospital should be taught the spinning of flax and
worsted, and be put in twos and threes weekly into the kitchen to learn
house affairs. A committee was appointed to confer with the magistrates
upon this plan; but the matter was afterwards put into the hands of the
Trustees for the Encouragement of Manufactures.[655]

It would appear as if some practical result had followed, at least for a
time, as in December 1730, the Edinburgh newspapers advert in terms of
admiration to two girls of the Merchant Maiden Hospital, who, ‘upon
being only three weeks taught the French method of spinning, have spun
exceeding fine yarn at the rate of twelve and a half spindle to the
pound avoirdupois, which is thought to be the best and finest that ever
was done in this country.’


[Sidenote: SEP. 10.]

Inoculation, or, as it was at first called, _engrafting_ for the
small-pox, was reported from the East to British physicians as early as
[Sidenote: 1726.] 1714, but neglected. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu,
visiting Turkey with her husband, the British ambassador, found it in
full vogue there, and reported it at once so safe and so effectual, that
people came together as to a party of pleasure to have it performed upon
them by old women. It was in March 1718 that her ladyship, viewing the
matter in entire independence of all silly fears, submitted her infant
son to the process. Finding it successful, she exerted herself, on her
return to England, to have the practice introduced there, and, by favour
of Caroline, Princess of Wales, gained her point against the usual host
of objectors. Her own daughter was the first person inoculated in Great
Britain. It was then tried on four criminals, reprieved for the purpose,
and found successful. Two of the princess’s children followed, in April
1722. The process was simultaneously introduced into Boston, in
Massachusetts.

Lady Mary tells us next year, that inoculation was beginning to be a
good deal practised. ‘I am,’ says she, ‘so much pulled about and
solicited to visit people, that I am forced to run into the country to
hide myself.’[656] Yet the fact is, that it made its way very slowly,
having to encounter both the prejudices of medical men, who
misapprehended its scientific nature, and the objections of certain
serious people, who denounced it as ‘taking the Almighty’s work out of
his hands.’[657] Just as the two young princesses were recovering,
appeared a pamphlet, in which the author argued that this new invention
is ‘utterly unlawful, an audacious presumption, and a thing forbid in
Scripture, in that express command: “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy
God.”’ It would appear as if there never yet was any valuable discovery
made for the alleviation of misery, or the conferring of positive
benefits on mankind, but there are some persons who find it irreligious,
and would be rejoiced in seeing it fail. It must have been under such a
spirit that some one inserted in the prints of the day a notice desiring
‘all persons who know anything of the ill success of inoculation, to
send a particular account thereof to Mr Roberts, printer in
Warwickshire.’ Only 897 persons (of whom seventeen died) were inoculated
during the first eight years.[658]

The operation appears not to have been introduced in Scotland till
upwards of five years after its introduction in London. A letter of the
date noted, from Mr R. Boyd in Edinburgh to the [Sidenote: 1726.] Rev.
Mr Wodrow at Eastwood, gives the following among other matters of
familiar intelligence: ‘The story of Abercromby of Glassaugh’s child
being inoculated in this country, and recovered of the small-pox, is in
the written letter and some of the prints.’[659] From the reference to a
written letter—namely, a periodical holograph sheet of news from
London—we may infer that the infant in question was inoculated there,
and that the practice was as yet unknown in our country.


[Sidenote: OCT. 19.]

An interesting and singular scene was this day presented in the streets
of Edinburgh. Five men, named Garnock, Foreman, Stewart, Ferrie, and
Russell, were executed at the Gallowlee on the 10th of October 1681, and
their heads put up at the Cowgate Port, while their bodies were interred
under the gallows. Some of their friends lifted and re-interred the
bodies in the West Churchyard, and also took down the heads for a
similar purpose; but, being scared, were obliged to inhume these relics,
enclosed in a box, in a garden at Lauriston, on the south side of the
city. On the 7th October of this year, the heads were discovered as they
had been laid there forty-five years before, the box only being
consumed. Mr Shaw, the owner of the garden, had them lifted and laid out
in a summer-house, where the friends of the old cause had access to see
them. Patrick Walker relates what followed. ‘I rejoiced,’ he says, ‘to
see so many concerned grave men and women favouring the dust of our
martyrs. There were six of us concluded to bury them upon the nineteenth
day of October 1726, and every one of us to acquaint friends of the day
and hour, being Wednesday, the day of the week upon which most of them
were executed, and at 4 of the clock at night, being the hour that most
of them went to their resting graves. We caused make a compleat coffin
for them in black, with four yards of fine linen, the way that our
martyrs’ corps were managed; and, having the happiness of friendly
magistrates at the time, we went to the present Provost Drummond, and
Baillie Nimmo, and acquainted them with our conclusions anent them; with
which they were pleased, and said, if we were sure that they were our
martyrs’ heads, we might bury them decently and orderly.... Accordingly,
we kept the foresaid day and hour, and doubled the linen, and laid the
half of it below them, their nether jaws being parted from their heads;
but being young men, their teeth [Sidenote: 1726.] remained. All were
witness to the holes in each of their heads, which the hangman broke
with his hammer; and, according to the bigness of their skulls, we laid
their jaws to them, and drew the other half of the linen above them, and
stufft the coffin with shavings. Some pressed hard to go thorow the
chief parts of the city, as was done at the Revolution; but this we
refused, considering that it looked airy and frothy, to make such show
of them, and inconsistent with the solid serious observing of such an
affecting, surprising, unheard-of dispensation: but took the ordinary
way of other burials from that place—to wit, we went east the back of
the wall, and in at Bristo Port, and down the way to the head of the
Cowgate, and turned up to the churchyard, where they were interred closs
to the Martyrs’ Tomb, with the greatest multitude of people, old and
young, men and women, ministers and others, that ever I saw together.’

A citizen of Edinburgh heard from a lady born in 1736 an account, at
second-hand, of this remarkable solemnity—with one fact additional to
what is stated by Walker. ‘In the procession was a number of genteel
females, all arrayed in white satin, as emblematical of innocence.’

A proceeding in which the same spirit was evinced is noted in the
_Edinburgh Courant_ of November 4, 1728. ‘We hear that the separatists
about Dumfries, who retain the title of Cameronians, have despatched
three of their number to Magus Muir, in Fife, to find out the
burial-place of Thomas Brown, Andrew ..., James Wood, John Clyde, and
John Weddell, who were there execute during the Caroline persecution for
being in arms at Bothwell Bridge, and have marked the ground, in order
to erect a monument with an inscription like that of the Martyrs’ Tomb
in Greyfriars’ Churchyard, to perpetuate the zeal and sufferings of
these men.’

A few months later, we learn from the same sententious chronicler: ‘The
Martyrs’ Tomb in the Greyfriars’ Churchyard is repaired, and there is
added to it a compartment, on which is cut a head and a hand on pikes,
as emblems of their sufferings, betwixt which is to be engraved a motto
alluding to both.’


[Sidenote: 1727. MAR. 30.]

Died Sir Alexander Ogilvy of Forglen, Baronet, a judge of the Court of
Session under the designation of Lord Forglen. There is no particular
reason for chronicling the demise of a respectable but noteless senator
of the College of Justice, beyond the eccentric and characteristic
circumstances attending it. According to a note in the unpublished diary
of James Boswell, the biographer [Sidenote: 1727.] of Dr Johnson—when
Lord Forglen was approaching the end of his life, he received a visit
from his friend Mr James Boswell, advocate, the grandfather of the
narrator of the anecdote. The old judge was quite cheerful, and said to
his visitor: ‘Come awa, Mr Boswell, and learn to dee: I’m gaun awa to
see your auld freend Cullen and mine. [This was Lord Cullen, another
judge, who had died exactly a year before.] He was a guid honest man;
but his walk and yours was nae very steady when you used to come in frae
Maggy Johnston’s upon the Saturday afternoons.’ That the reader may
understand the force of this address, it is necessary to explain that
Mrs Johnston kept a little inn near Bruntsfield Links, which she
contrived to make attractive to men of every grade in life by her
home-brewed ale. It here appears that among her customers were Mr
Boswell, a well-employed advocate, and Lord Cullen, a judge—one, it may
be observed, of good reputation, a writer on moral themes, and with
whose religious practice even Mr Wodrow was not dissatisfied.

Dr Clerk, who attended Lord Forglen at the last, told James Boswell’s
father, Lord Auchinleck, that, calling on his patient the day his
lordship died, he was let in by his clerk, David Reid. ‘How does my lord
do?’ inquired Dr Clerk. ‘I houp he’s _weel_,’ answered David with a
solemnity that told what he meant. He then conducted the doctor into a
room, and shewed him two dozen of wine under a table. Other doctors
presently came in, and David, making them all sit down, proceeded to
tell them his deceased master’s last words, at the same time pushing the
bottle about briskly. After the company had taken a glass or two, they
rose to depart; but David detained them. ‘No, no, gentlemen; not so. It
was the express will o’ the dead that I should fill ye a’ fou, and I
maun fulfil the will o’ the dead.’ All the time, the tears were
streaming down his cheeks. ‘And, indeed,’ said the doctor afterwards in
telling the story, ‘he did fulfil the will o’ the dead, for before the
end o’‘t there was na ane o’ us able to bite his ain thoomb.’[660]




                    REIGN OF GEORGE II.: 1727–1748.


The accession of George II., while not disturbing in England that
predominance of the great Whig nobles which had existed since the
Revolution, and leaving the practical administration, as before, in the
hands of Sir Robert Walpole, produced no change in the system of
improvement which the Union had inaugurated. Under the rule of the
Argyles, the Dalrymples, and one or two other eminent Whig families,
with the mild and virtuous Duncan Forbes as Lord Advocate, the country
enjoyed peace, and was enabled to develop its long dormant energies, in
the pursuits of agriculture, of manufactures, and of commerce. All but a
few of the Highland clans had apparently given their final submission to
the Guelph dynasty; and though the Stuart cause was known to be upheld
by some, it was generally thought that there was very little chance of
further civil war on that subject.

The general tranquillity was broken in 1737 by a riot in Edinburgh,
arising out of the harsh measures required for the enforcement of the
Excise laws, and ending in the violent death of a public officer who had
rendered himself obnoxious to the populace. For an account of this
affair, reference is made to the chronicle.

About the same period, there was considerable agitation in the church,
in consequence of the insubordination of a small group of clergymen, of
ultra-evangelical views, who were at length, in 1740, expelled, and
became the founders of a separate church under the name of the Associate
Synod.

In 1744, Great Britain was engaged in a war which involved most of the
great powers of Europe. The French minister, Cardinal de Tencin,
conceived that an invasion of England on behalf of the House of Stuart
would be an excellent diversion in favour of the arms of his country.
The time was in reality long past for any effective movement of this
kind. New men and new things had extinguished all rational hopes in the
Jacobite party. Still there were some chiefs in the Highlands who had
never abandoned the Stuart cause. In the Lowlands, there were
discontents which seemed capable of being turned to some account in
effecting the desired revolution. Prince Charles Edward, the eldest son
of the so-called Pretender, was an ardent-minded youth, eager to try a
last chance for the restoration of his family. The Cardinal really made
some preparations for an expedition to be conducted by the Prince; but
it was prevented by a storm and an opposing English armament, from
leaving the French coast. Disappointed of the promised aid, Charles
secretly voyaged with seven friends to the western coast of
Inverness-shire, and, landing there towards the close of July 1745, was
soon surrounded by a few hundreds of friendly Camerons and Macdonalds.
He raised his standard at Glenfinnan on the 19th of August, and
expressed himself as determined with such as would follow him, to win
back a crown, or perish in the attempt.

The best of the national troops being engaged in service abroad, the
government could only oppose to this enterprise a few raw regiments
under the commander-in-chief for Scotland, Sir John Cope. But Sir John,
making an unlucky lateral movement to Inverness, permitted Prince
Charles, with about eighteen hundred clansmen, to descend upon Perth
unopposed, and even to take possession of Edinburgh. On the 21st of
September, having returned by sea to the low country, Cope was
encountered at Prestonpans by the Highlanders, and driven in a few
minutes from the field. For several weeks, Prince Charles Edward held
court at Holyrood, in undisputed possession of Scotland. Marching in
November into England by the western border, he captured Carlisle, was
well received at Manchester, and pushed on to Derby, where he was only a
hundred and twenty-seven miles from London. But here the courage of his
little council of chiefs gave way before the terrors of the three armies
by which they seemed surrounded. Accomplishing a hurried, yet
well-managed retreat to Scotland, they laid Glasgow under contribution,
and came to a halt at Stirling, where many fresh clans joined them,
making up an army of nine thousand men.

A well-appointed English army under General Hawley met Prince Charles
Edward at Falkirk (January 17, 1746), and was driven back to Edinburgh
with the loss of camp, cannon, and baggage. The king’s second son, the
Duke of Cumberland, soon after took command of the forces in Scotland,
and on his advancing to Stirling, the Highland army made a hasty retreat
to Inverness, where they spent the remainder of the winter. As soon as
the return of spring permitted the English army to march, it was
conducted against the rebels by its royal commander. In a regular
engagement which took place on Culloden Moor, near Inverness (April 16),
the Highland army was broken and dispersed with great slaughter. Prince
Charles fled to the west coast, and after several months of fugitive
life, during which he endured incredible hardships, escaped back to
France. The Duke advanced to Fort Augustus, and there superintended a
system of burning, slaughtering, and despoliation, throughout the
disaffected territory, by which he hoped to make further efforts for the
House of Stuart impossible. These acts, and his having ordered a general
slaughter of the wounded Highlanders on the field of battle, have fixed
on him indelibly the appellation of ‘the Butcher.’

Further to strike terror into the Jacobite party, two leaders of the
rebel army, the Earl of Kilmarnock and Lord Balmerino, with about
seventy prisoners of inferior rank, were put to death as traitors. Lord
Lovat, who, while preserving an appearance of loyalty, had sent out his
clan under his son, was afterwards tried and executed for treason.
Scotland generally suffered for some time under a military oppression,
for the government, in their ignorance of the country, did not see by
how small a part of the community the late insurrection had been
supported. It now effected, however, some measures which enlightened men
had long felt to be wanting for the cause of civilisation. One of these
was for a more effectual disarmament of the Highlanders; another for
abolishing the use of their tartan habiliments, which it was supposed
had a certain effect in keeping up their warlike spirit. There remained
two acts of much more importance, passed in 1748. One took away the
hereditary sheriffships and other jurisdictions of the nobility and
gentry, so as to render the sovereign in Scotland, as heretofore in
England, the fountain of all law and justice. In terms of this statute,
the privileges taken away were compensated for by sums of money,
amounting in all to £152,000. The other act abolished what was called
the tenure of ward-holdings—that is, the holding of lands on the
condition of going out to war whenever the superior desired. Tenants and
the common people were thus for the first time in Scotland rendered
independent of their landlords, or of the great men on whose property
they lived. In fact, they now became for the first time a free people.


[Sidenote: 1727. JUNE.]

From the eagerness of the proprietors of the Equivalent Stock to be
engaged in some profitable business, as detailed under December 1719, it
might have been expected that they would sooner or later fall upon some
mode of effecting their wishes. All attempts to come into connection
with the Bank of Scotland having failed, they at length formed the bold
design of setting up a new bank—bold, in as far as it was entirely a
novelty, there being no thought of a second bank even in England, where
business was conducted upon so much greater a scale than in Scotland. It
seems to have been by engaging the good-will or interest of the Earl of
Islay, that the object was attained. The Bank of Scotland in vain
published a statement shewing how it was quite competent, with its
thirty thousand pounds of paid-up capital, to conduct the business of
the country, and really was conducting it satisfactorily. In vain did
Scottish jealousy try to raise a cry about the large proportion of
English shareholders in the new concern. It received a royal charter,
which was the last document [Sidenote: 1727.] of the kind prepared
before the king set out on his fatal visit to Hanover, and required a
warrant from the new sovereign before the seal could be appended to it.
The Earl of Islay was made governor, and the Lord President Dundas
became deputy-governor. In December they opened their office, with a
capital of £111,000; and in the first week of the new year, they began
to issue notes ‘having his present majesty King George II.’s picture in
front.’[661] At first, these notes were expressed in Scots money; but
the time had now come when the people of Scotland began pretty generally
to adopt the English denominations, both in their accounts and in common
parlance; so this fashion was not kept up by the Royal Bank above two
years. It is unnecessary to remark that the new bank prospered, and now
ranks second to none in respectability. But this only makes the more
remarkable the dreary anticipations which were formed at the time by
those whom it rivalled.

‘Whatever was said while the Equivalent Society’s charter with banking
powers was a-seeking, or what has been said since the passing thereof,
that there was no design of prejudicing the Old Bank—_nobody that knows
the nature of banking does believe that two banks can be carried on in
the same country_; for it is impossible to manage and keep them up,
without interfering and rubbing upon one another, unless rules and
regulations could be made to prevent it; and it is impossible to digest
regulations for executing such a design, but what must make the
interests of the two companies reciprocal, and the product of their
trade mutually to be communicated; and so two different offices, under
distinct management and direction, would be a needless charge and
trouble. Therefore the gentlemen of the [Old] Bank did from the
beginning lay their account with an attack from an enemy, and a foreign
one too, with home alliances.’[662]

Following up this terrible view of the case, the Bank of Scotland, for
some time before the new establishment was opened, discontinued lending
money, as a matter of precaution, thus creating considerable distress
among the mercantile classes, and of course justifying, so far, the
establishment of a new source of accommodation. When the Royal Bank was
fairly afloat, the Bank of Scotland proceeded to the yet greater
extremity of calling up former loans, thus deepening the distress. ‘The
country,’ says Mr Wodrow in a kind of despair, ‘is not able to bear both
banks. The new bank would fain have the old coalescing with them; but
[Sidenote: 1727.] they bear off. It’s a wonder to me how there’s any
money at all in the country.’[663]

A pamphlet having been published in the interest of the Bank of Scotland
on this occasion—being the _Historical Account_ already more than once
quoted—another soon after appeared in justification of the Royal Bank,
though professedly by a person unconnected with it.[664] ‘It can be no
secret,’ says this writer, ‘that a great number of people of all ranks
were creditors to the public in Scotland by reason of offices civil and
military, and that the Equivalent stipulated by the act of Union fell
short of their payment; that in 1714 they obtained an act of parliament
constituting the debts due to them, but that no parliament provision was
made for a fund for their payment till the year 1719, when a second act
was made, appropriating to that purpose a yearly fund of £10,000
sterling, payable out of the revenues of customs, Excise, &c.,
preferable to all payments except the civil list. Between the first and
the second act, many of the proprietors, being doubtful that any
provision would be made for them by parliament, and others being pressed
by necessity, chose to dispose of their debentures (these were the legal
vouchers ascertaining the debts due to the persons named in them) as
they best could, and to the best bidder. Many of them were carried to
London, but a very considerable part of them still remains in the hands
of Scots proprietors, partly out of choice, partly by reason of some
legal bars that lay in the way of issuing debentures, and partly by
purchasing them back from England.’

In consequence of powers in the act of 1719, ‘his late majesty did, by
letters-patent in 1724, incorporate all persons who then were, or
thereafter should be, proprietors of the debentures whereby that public
debt was constituted, to the end that they might receive and distribute
their annuity.’ His majesty having at the same time promised powers and
privileges to the corporation as they might request, it petitioned him
for those of a bank in Scotland, which he and his successor complied
with, limiting the power to ‘such of the company as should, on or before
Michaelmas 1727, subject their stock, or any share of it, to the trade
of banking.’

There is, further, a great deal of angry controversial remark on the Old
Bank; but the most material point is the allegation, that [Sidenote:
1727.] that institution ‘divided 35, 40, 50 per cent.’ by the use of
‘other people’s money.’ The author adverts with bitterness to the harsh
measures adopted by the Old Bank in prospect of rivalry. ‘It is a hard
thing,’ says he, ‘to defend the conduct of the Old Bank upon the
prospect of a rivalship. Lending is superseded; a tenth is called from
the proprietors, and all their debtors threatened with diligence for a
certain part or for the whole of their debts, which diligence has since
been executed.... Why did they carry their revenge (as it is universally
known they did) to every one who had the least relation, alliance,
friendship, or connection with the proprietors of that bank [the
Royal]?... Why were the first examples of their wrath made out of the
most known friends of the present establishment, and why were the
disaffected remarkably and visibly spared?’

Considering that the Bank of Scotland had never yet had more than thirty
thousand pounds sterling of capital paid up, the fact of the larger
stock of the Royal, and their having £30,000 of specie to trade with
distinct from their stock,[665] become features of importance, as
shewing the increasing business of the country.

From a folio broadside[666] containing the ‘Rules to be observed by such
Persons as keep a Cash-accompt with the Royal Bank of Scotland,’ it
appears that ‘no sum paid into the bank or drawn out of it, be less than
10_l._ sterling, nor have in it any fraction or part of a pound; and in
case of fractions arising by the addition of interest at settling an
accompt, such fractions are to be taken off by the first draught or
payment thereafter made.’ Sums of five pounds and upwards are now taken
in and given out at all the Scottish banks (1860).


[Sidenote: JUNE.]

Witchcraft, now generally slighted by persons in authority in the south,
was still a subject of judicial investigation in the far north. Wodrow,
in his Renfrewshire manse, continued to receive accounts of any
transactions in that way which might be going on in any quarter, and,
under 1726, he is careful to note ‘some pretty odd accounts of witches’
which he had received from a couple of Ross-shire brethren. One of them,
‘at death,’ he says, and it is to be feared that her death was at the
stake, ‘confessed that they had by sorcery taken away the sight of one
of the eyes of an [Sidenote: 1727.] Episcopal minister, who lost the
sight of his eye upon a sudden, and could give no reason of it.’[667]

Early in the ensuing year—if we may depend upon the authority quoted
below[668]—two poor Highland women, mother and daughter, natives of the
parish of Loth, in Sutherlandshire, were accused of witchcraft before
the sheriff-depute, Captain David Ross of Littledean, and condemned to
death. The mother was charged with having ridden on the daughter, who
had been transformed on the occasion into a pony, and shod by the devil.
The girl made her escape, and was noted ever after, in confirmation of
the charge, to be lame in both hands and feet. The mother suffered at
Dornoch in June, being burned in a pitch-barrel. It has been handed down
by tradition, that, ‘after being brought out to execution, the weather
proving very severe, she sat composedly warming herself by the fire
prepared to consume her, while the other instruments of death were
making ready.’[669] ‘It does not appear,’ says Sir Walter Scott in 1830,
‘that any punishment was inflicted for this cruel abuse of the law on
the person of a creature so helpless; but the son of the lame
daughter—himself distinguished by the same misfortune—was living so
lately as to receive the charity of the present Marchioness of Stafford,
Countess of Sutherland in her own right.’[670]

For a generation, the linen manufacture had been passing through what
might be called a prosperous infancy. A public paper in 1720 states that
there was annually imported from Scotland into England the value of
£100,000 in white linen, and as much in brown, the flax being of ‘a
_spunsie_ quality,’ which gave it a preference over the similar products
of both Ireland and Germany.[671] [The same document estimated the
English woollen cloths exported to Scotland at £400,000 per annum.]

By an act of parliament passed this year, a Board of Trustees was
established in Scotland for the administration of an annual sum set
aside for the encouragement of manufactories and fisheries. The sum at
first given was four thousand pounds, which might be considered as
calculated to go a great way in so poor a country. The activity and
serviceableness of the Board was, in its earlier years, chiefly shewn in
the promotion of the linen manufacture, [Sidenote: 1727.] which, under
the stimulus afforded by premiums, rose from an export sale of 2,183,978
yards in 1727, to 4,666,011 in 1738, 7,358,098 in 1748, and 12,823,048
in 1764. It is curious, regarding an institution which has since
occupied, as it still does, so conspicuous a place in the public eye, to
trace the difficulties it had to contend with at starting, in
consequence of the monetary vacuum produced by the conflict of the two
banks. The Lord Advocate, Duncan Forbes, wrote on the 26th June 1728 to
the Duke of Newcastle: ‘The trustees appointed by his majesty for taking
care of the manufactures, proceed with great zeal and industry; but at
present credit is run so low, by a struggle between the bank lately
erected by his majesty and the old bank, that money can scarcely be
found to go to market with.’[672]


[Sidenote: OCT.]

Wodrow, who never failed to hear of and note any misfortune that
happened to Glasgow—hopeful, always, that it would be ‘laid to
heart’—makes us aware of an obscure sorrow which was now beginning to
beset the thriving burghers. ‘The vermin called bugs,’ he says, ‘are at
present extremely troublesome at Glasgow. They say they are come over
with timber and other goods from Holland. They are in many houses there,
and so extremely prolific, there is no getting rid of them, though many
ways have been tried. It’s not twenty year since they were known, and
such as had them kept them secret. These six or seven years, they are
more openly compleened of, and now the half of the town are plagued with
them. This is chiefly attributed to the frequent alterations of
servants, who bring them from house to house.’[673]

Soon after, having occasion to deplore the death of Provost Peady, a
person of great firmness and piety, he speaks of the many ‘strokes’
which the industrious city had met with of late. Their losses during
1727 had been reckoned at not less than twenty-eight thousand pounds
sterling! ‘It’s a wonder to me how they stand throo.’ The worthy pastor
of Eastwood would evidently have not been greatly distressed had his
Glasgow neighbours been subjected to a repetition of a few of the
plagues of Egypt, so needful were they of something to check their
growing fatness and pride. He might have been expected to hail the frogs
with a fraternal feeling; and we can imagine him marking with
hopefulness, not unmingled with sympathy, the spread of the [Sidenote:
1727.] murrain among the burghers’ kine at the Cowcaddens. The present
entomological corrective was evidently regarded by him with a
satisfaction too deep to admit of many words.


[Sidenote: 1728. FEB. 8.]

Mr John Boyd gives his friend Wodrow an account of a duelling affair
which had befallen in Edinburgh. ‘Ane officer in the Dutch Guards, son
to Mr Walter Stewart, late Solicitor, was ill wounded by are officer in
the Canongate [Lieutenant Pilkington, of Grove’s Regiment]. The officer,
when in custody of the constables, was rescued by the guard there, who
carried him off; but at Musselburgh, the people there apprehended him,
and made him and twenty-two guards prisoners, who were all brought to
prison here.’ There were hopes of the wounded man’s recovery.[674]


[Sidenote: MAR. 1.]

At four o’clock in the morning, a smart shock of an earthquake was
experienced in Edinburgh and throughout the south of Scotland, if not in
other quarters. At Selkirk, every house was shaken, and some people were
tumbled out of bed, but no damage was done.[675]


[Sidenote: MAR.]

Mr Wodrow was at this time informed ‘by very good hands,’ that there had
been for some years in Edinburgh a little gambling fraternity, who made
it their business to trace out and decoy young men of rank and fortune,
and make plunder of them. ‘One of them will lose fifty pounds in a night
till the young spark be engaged; and then another comes and soon gains
the whole; and, it may be, a third comes, and stands at the back of the
person they design to rifle, and by signs and words unknown to others,
discovers his game to the other; so by one method or other they are sure
to win all at last.’ It was alleged that the society would divide 25,000
merks [about £1400] a year by these vile practices—much calculated ‘to
fill our cup of judgments.’

As a trait of the time—On the news reaching Glasgow that an attempt to
unseat Campbell of Shawfield had failed, his friends went down to Govan,
to celebrate the affair, and write a letter of congratulation to him. Mr
William Wishart, a clergyman, deserted the synod then sitting, to go
with them, and help in drawing up the letter. By and by, the minister
left them; but they sat still till they became so befuddled, that it
became necessary to bundle them into a boat, and so carry them back to
the [Sidenote: 1728.] city. That evening, some other gentlemen of the
same way of thinking, went through the streets of Glasgow, with a
fiddler playing before them, and singing: ‘Up with the Campbells, and
down with the Grahams!’ and it was a wonder that a riot was avoided.

About the same date, Mr Wodrow adverts to the fact, that Anthony Aston’s
playhouse in Edinburgh was ‘much frequented;’ and amongst ‘persons of
substance and leisure,’ there was consequently a great tendency to
laxity of morals. There was even a talk of building a playhouse in
Edinburgh. The manager, however, was not without his troubles. One Ross,
‘master of the Beau’s Coffee-house’—a son of Bishop Ross, and a great
encourager of the playhouse—had sold a quantity of tickets, on which he
was to be allowed a penny each; but he ultimately refused to take this
commission, though amounting to about ten pounds—‘a vast sum,’ says
Wodrow, ‘for tickets at a penny apiece in one coffee-house.’ Aston
having reserved this money to himself, instead of accounting for it to
his company, according to agreement, a terrible squabble arose among
them, and a process was threatened before the magistrates, or some other
court. How the matter ended, we do not hear.

To complete his general picture of the profaneness of the age, Mr Wodrow
tells us that Allan Ramsay, the poet, got down books of plays from
London, and lent them out at an easy rate—the beginning of Circulating
Libraries in Scotland. Boys, servantwomen, and gentlemen, all alike took
advantage of this arrangement, whereby ‘vice and obscenity were
dreadfully propagated.’ Lord Grange complained of the practice to the
magistrates, and induced them to make inspection of Ramsay’s book
containing the names of the borrowers of the plays. ‘They were alarmed
at it, and sent some of their number to his shop to look through some of
his books; but he had notice an hour before, and had withdrawn some of
the worst, and nothing was done to purpose.’[676]


[Sidenote: MAR. 27.]

The conflict between the Bank of Scotland and its young and pretentious
Whig rival, the Royal Bank, led to a temporary stoppage of payments at
the former establishment, the last that ever took place. The Royal Bank
‘having all the public money given in to them, has at present worsted
[the Bank of Scotland], [Sidenote: 1728.] and run them out of
cash.’[677] In their own advertisement on the occasion, they attribute
the calamity to ‘the great embarrassment that has been upon credit and
circulation of money in payments for some months bygone, arising from
causes and by means well known both in city and country.’ In this very
crisis, the Bank announced its dividend of four per cent, on its capital
stock, but appropriating it as part of ten per cent, now called up from
the shareholders, ‘the other sixty pounds Scots on each share to be paid
in before the 15th of June.’ The directors at the same time ordered
their notes to bear interest during the time that payment should be
suspended.

It must have been a draught of very bitter gall to the Old Bank, when
their young rival came ostentatiously forward with an announcement that,
for the ‘relief of such people as wanted to go to market,’ they would
give specie for the twenty-shilling notes of the Bank of Scotland till
further notice.

The Bank of Scotland resumed paying its twenty-shilling notes on the
27th of June.


[Sidenote: MAY 9.]

The convivialities indulged in at funerals were productive to-day of a
tragedy long remembered in Scotland. Mr Carnegie of Lour, residing in
the burgh of Forfar, had a daughter to be buried, and before the
funeral, he entertained the Earl of Strathmore, his own brother James
Carnegie of Finhaven, Mr Lyon of Bridgeton, and some others of the
company, at dinner in his house. After the ceremony, these gentlemen
adjourned to a tavern, and drank a good deal. Carnegie of Finhaven got
extremely drunk. Lyon of Bridgeton was not so much intoxicated; but the
drink made him rude and unmannerly towards Finhaven. Afterwards, the
Earl of Strathmore went to call at the house of Mr Carnegie’s sister,
Lady Auchterhouse, and the other gentlemen followed. Here it may be
remarked that the whole of this group of persons were, like a large
proportion of the Forfarshire gentry, of Jacobite prepossessions. The
earl’s late brother and predecessor in the title had fallen at
Sheriffmuir, on the Chevalier’s side; so had Patrick Lyon of
Auchterhouse, husband of the lady now introduced to notice, and brother
of Bridgeton. The presence of a lady, and that lady a widowed
sister-in-law, failed to make Bridgeton conduct himself discreetly. He
continued his boisterous rudeness towards Finhaven; rallied him coarsely
about his not [Sidenote: 1728.] being willing to marry one of his
daughters to Lord Rosehill, about his having no sons, about his debts;
took him offensively by the breast; and even used some rudeness towards
the lady herself. In the dusk of the evening, the party sallied out to
the street, and here Bridgeton went so far in his violence towards
Finhaven as to push him into a deep and dirty kennel, which nearly
covered him from head to foot with mire. Finhaven, now fully incensed,
rose, and drawing his sword, ran up to Bridgeton, with deadly design;
but the earl, seeing him advance, pushed Bridgeton aside, and unhappily
received the lunge full in the middle of his own body. He died
forty-nine hours after the incident.

Carnegie of Finhaven was tried on the ensuing 2d of August for
premeditated murder; an absurd charge absurdly supported by long
arguments and quotations of authority, in the style of that day. In his
‘information,’ the accused man called God to witness that he had borne
no malice to the earl; on the contrary, he had the greatest kindness and
respect for him. ‘If it shall appear,’ said he, ‘that I was the unlucky
person who wounded the earl, I protest before God I would much rather
that a sword had been sheathed in my own bowels.’ All that he admitted
was: ‘I had the misfortune that day to be mortally drunk, for which I
beg God’s pardon.’ He declared that, being in this state at the time, he
did not so much as remember that he had seen the earl when he came out
of the kennel. The defence proposed for him by his counsel was, that,
the circumstances of the case considered, he was not guilty of murder,
but of manslaughter. Strange to say, the court, sacrificing rationality
to form and statute, overruled the defence: they found the fact that the
prisoner having really given the wound whereof the Earl of Strathmore
died, to be relevant to infer the pains of law against him. The killing
being indisputable, Carnegie would have been condemned if the jury
should merely give a verdict on the point of fact. In these
circumstances, his counsel, Robert Dundas of Arniston, stood forth to
tell the jury that they were entitled to judge on the point of law as
well as the point of fact. He asserted that the only object for their
deliberation, was whether they could conscientiously say that Carnegie
had committed _murder_, or whether his guilt was not diminished or
annihilated by the circumstances of the case. The jury, almost beyond
expectation, gave a verdict of ‘Not Guilty,’ thus establishing a great
constitutional principle.[678]

[Sidenote: 1728. AUG. 15.]

The noted _fierté_ of the Scottish nobility and gentry was beginning at
this time to give way somewhat, under the general desire to promote the
arts of industry, and partly because of the hopelessness of public
employments for young scions of aristocracy in all but favoured Whig
circles. We must not, therefore, be surprised when a tragical tale of
this date brings before us the fact that Patrick Lindsay, described as
heir-male of the grand old House of Lindsay of the Byres, and who, a few
years afterwards, married a daughter of the sixteenth Earl of Crawford,
was now an upholsterer in the Parliament Close of Edinburgh, and dean of
guild for the city. Neither ought it to appear as incredible that one of
his apprentices was a youth named Cairns, younger son of a gentleman of
good estate residing at Cupar-Fife.

The tale was simply this—that, on the evening noted, between eight and
nine o’clock, Cairns was found in the shop expiring from the effects of
a violent blow on the head, apparently inflicted by a hammer, while the
box containing the guildry treasure was missing. It was believed that
some vile people who then haunted the city, knowing of the box being
kept in Lindsay’s shop, had formed a design to possess themselves of it,
and had effected their end at the expense of murder, at the moment when
the place was about to be closed for the night. A number of vagrants
were taken up on suspicion, and the box was soon after found,
empty.[679]


[Sidenote: AUG. 18.]

Aaron Hill, a well-born English gentleman, who had been manager of Drury
Lane Theatre, and wrote many well-received plays and poems—who,
moreover, had travelled over Europe and some parts of Asia and Africa—is
at this date found writing to his wife from what he calls ‘the Golden
Groves of Abernethy,’ meaning the great natural forest of that name on
Speyside, in the county of Elgin. It is a strange association of persons
and things for a period when even of civilised Scotsmen scarcely ever
one made his way north of the Grampians. It had come about, however, in
a very natural way.

The York-Buildings Company, which had already formed connections with
Scotland by the purchase of several of the forfeited estates, was
induced to take a lease from Sir James Grant of Grant, of the
magnificent but hitherto useless pine-forest [Sidenote: 1728.] of
Abernethy, thinking they should be able to apply the timber for the use
of the navy. Had the wood been only removable by land-carriage, it would
have been useless, as before; but they had been led to understand that
there was no difficulty in floating it down the Spey to the sea, where
it might be shipped off for the south. Aaron Hill, who was a very
speculative genius, having before this time headed a scheme for making
olive-oil out of beech-nuts, and concocted a plan for settling a part of
Carolina, made a journey to the Spey in 1726, and easily convinced
himself of the practicability of the project. The Company, accordingly,
commenced operations in 1728, with Mr Hill as their clerk. They sent a
hundred and twenty-five work-horses, with a competent number of wagons,
and apparatus of all the kinds required; they erected substantial
wooden-houses, saw-mills, and an iron-foundry, all of them novelties
regarded with wonder by the simple natives.[680] They had also a
salaried commissary to furnish provisions and forage. Tracks being
formed through the forest, and men trained to the work, trees were
felled to the number of forty or fifty in a day, and brought down to the
bank of the river. There, under the direction of Mr Hill, they were
bound in rafts of sixty or eighty, with deals laid upon the surface to
form a platform; and for each such raft two men were held as sufficient
to navigate it to the sea, one sitting with a guiding-oar at one end,
and another at the other. Before this time, the natives had been
accustomed to float down rafts of three or four trees tied together with
a rope, the attendant sitting in a _curragh_, or boat of hide, from
which he was ready to plunge into the stream when any impediment called
for his interference.[681] What a Drury Lane manager would think on
witnessing a mode of navigation coeval with the first state of savagery,
we cannot tell; but he had no little difficulty in inducing the people
to adopt a more civilised mode of conducting his grand timber-rafts.
Till he first went in one himself, to shew that there was no danger, not
one of the Abernethy foresters would venture in so prodigious a craft.
There was, in reality, something problematical in the undertaking, for
the river was in some places partially blocked by sunken rocks; but the
genius of Hill was [Sidenote: 1728.] equal to all emergencies. Taking
advantage of a dry season, when these shoals were exposed, he kindled
immense wood-fires upon them, and when the rock was thus heated, he
caused water to be thrown upon it, thus making it splinter, and so
enable his men to break it up and clear the passage.

It was in high spirits that our poet wrote to his wife from the Golden
Groves of Abernethy, for they were really productive of gold, no less
than £7000 worth of timber being realised by his Company. ‘The shore of
the Spey,’ says he, ‘is all covered with masts from 50 to 70 feet long,
which they are daily bringing out of the wood, with ten carriages, and
above a hundred horses.... In the middle of the river lies a little
fleet of our rafts, which are just putting off for Findhorn harbour; and
it is one of the pleasantest sights possible to observe the little
armies of men, women, and children who pour down from the Highlands to
stare at what we have been doing.’ What seems chiefly to have impressed
the natives, was the liberality with which the business of wood-cutting
was conducted. It seemed to them a wasteful extravagance, and if it be
true that barrels of tar would be burned in bonfires, and barrels of
brandy broached on joyful occasions among the people, five of whom died
in one night in consequence, the imputation was not unjust.
Nevertheless, the work was highly successful, and might have been
carried on longer than it was, if the Company had not called away their
people to work at their lead-mines.[682]

During the time which Mr Hill spent in Scotland, he was received with
great civilities by the Duke of Gordon and other eminent persons, and
was complimented with the freedom of Aberdeen, Inverness, and other
burghs. In his collected poems are found a number of short epigrammatic
pieces which he wrote during his residence in Scotland; among the rest,
his oft-printed epigram, beginning: ‘Tender-handed stroke a nettle.’ But
Burt adds another, which he found scribbled on a window ‘at the first
stage on this side Berwick:’

              ‘Scotland, thy weather’s like a modish wife,
              Thy winds and rains for ever are at strife;
              So Termagant awhile her bluster tries,
              And when she can no longer scold—she cries!’

The engineer could not but wonder at Hill taking leave of the country in
this strain, ‘after he had been so exceedingly [Sidenote: 1728.]
complaisant to it, when here, as to compare its subterranean riches with
those of Mexico and Peru.’


[Sidenote: AUG.]

We must again return to Mr Wodrow for an account of the continued
progress of gaiety in Scotland. It appears that part of Anthony Aston’s
company of comedians migrated from Edinburgh to Glasgow, and were there
favoured by Bailie Murdoch, ‘who is too easy,’ with permission to
perform the _Beggars’ Opera_ in the Weigh-house. They had a good
audience the first night, but on the few other nights of performance
‘got not so much as to pay their music.’ On the magistrates being blamed
for the permission they had given, they recriminated on the ministers,
who should have interfered in time. Mr Wodrow considered the ministers
as here in fault; yet he could not exonerate the magistrates.
‘Considering the noise made at Edinburgh by these strollers, and the
brisk opposition made by the magistrates of Edinburgh, they [the
magistrates of Glasgow] should have considered better before they
allowed them.’

‘Sabbath after, the ministers preached against going to these interludes
and plays.... Mr Rob, of Kilsyth, went through all that was agoing about
meeting-houses, plays, errors, and profaneness; and spared none, as I
hear.’

This classing of the Episcopal meeting-houses with the ungodly theatre,
reminds us of the ranging of popery and adultery together by the
reformers. It would appear that in the summer of 1728 there was another
histrionic company in Scotland, under a Mr Phipps, who announced that on
the 29th October he would, ‘at the desire of severals of the nobility
and gentry of East Lothian,’ act the _Beggars’ Opera_ at Haddington.

In March 1729, the _Edinburgh Courant_ informs us that ‘the Scots
Company of Comedians, as they call themselves, have all of a sudden
eloped, without counting with their creditors.’

Wodrow reports with much bitterness, in 1731, the rumours going about as
to the success of the English comedians in Edinburgh. He says: ‘It is
incredible what numbers of _chairs, with men_, are carried to these
places;’ ‘men’ not choosing to walk to such amusements. ‘For some weeks,
they made fifty pound sterling every night, and that for six nights a
week.’ ‘It’s a dreadful corruption of our youth, and an eyelet to
prodigality and vanity.’[683]

[Sidenote: 1728. OCT. 1.]

A valuable Dutch East Indiaman having been lost in March, near the
island of Lewis, an effort, involving some ingenuity, was made to
recover the treasure on board, which was understood to amount to about
£16,000 sterling. The Edinburgh newspapers remark to-day, the arrival of
a Dutchman with ‘a curious machine’ designed for this purpose. Mr
Mackenzie, younger of Delvin, a principal clerk of Session, and
depute-admiral of those shores, was joined with Mr Alexander Tait, a
merchant, in furnishing the expenses of this undertaking, in the hope of
profit for themselves. The business was proceeded with during October,
and with success. On the 19th, the populace of Edinburgh were regaled
with the sight of several cart-loads of the recovered money, passing
through their streets. The Dutch East India Company presently gave in a
petition to the Court of Admiralty for an account of the treasure; which
was accordingly furnished by Mr Mackenzie, and shewed that he had fished
up £14,620, at an expense of £9000.

Mr Mackenzie was allowed to retain twenty thousand crowns and some
doubloons, and ordered to deposit the rest in a box, subject to the
future orders of the court.

‘The divers fishing for the spoils of the Dutch ship, found in and about
her the dead bodies of two hundred and forty men, which they brought to
land and buried.’[684]

A few years ago, a coronation gold medal of Augustus II. of Poland was
exhumed in the garden of the minister of Barra. At first, there was a
difficulty of comprehending how such an object could have come there; at
length the shipwreck of the Dutch vessel was called to recollection, as
an explanation of the mystery.

About the close of 1728, the Edinburgh newspapers speak of a gentleman
named Captain Row, who had come to Scotland invested with a privilege
for raising treasure and other articles out of shipwrecked vessels, to
last for ten years. For the next twelvemonth, we hear of him as
exercising his ingenuity upon the remains of one of the Spanish Armada,
which was sunk off Barra. Two brass cannon are first spoken of as
recovered, and afterwards we hear of ‘several things of value.’


[Sidenote: NOV.]

That extraordinary person, Simon Lord Lovat, who had resisted the troops
of King William, and been outlawed by the Edinburgh Justiciary Lords,
was now in the enjoyment of his title and [Sidenote: 1728.] estate, an
active friend and partisan of the Whig-Hanoverian government, and
captain of one of the six companies of its Highland militia In the early
part of this month, he led sixty of these local soldiers on an
expedition against the thieves of the north-west districts, and captured
no fewer than twenty-six in the course of a week. He searched for arms
at the same time, but reported that these had been now pretty well
gathered in; so he found none.

Although few Scotsmen have been the subjects of so much biography as
Lord Lovat, there is one aspect in which he remains to be now for the
first time viewed; and that is, as a newspaper paragraphist. During the
dozen prosperous years which followed this date, the _Courant_ and
_Mercury_ are every now and then presenting extracts of private letters
from Inverness regarding the grand doings of ‘Simon Lord Lovat, chief of
the clan Fraser,’ all of them in such a puffing style as would leave
little doubt of their having been his own composition, even if we were
not possessed of facts which betray it but too clearly.

On one occasion (May 1728) he is described as riding out from Inverness,
with eighty well-mounted gentlemen of his clan, to meet and escort the
Lords of the Circuit Court of Justiciary, as they were approaching the
town. At another (September 1729), we find him parading his company of
‘a hundred men, besides officers, sergeants, and drums,’ before General
Wade, when ‘they made a very fine appearance, both as to the body of men
and their new clothings, and they performed their exercises and firings
so well, that the general seemed very well satisfied. And he told my
Lord Lovat that he was much pleased at the performance and good
appearance of his company.’ We of course hear nothing of what the
general’s engineer, Mr Burt, has been so ill-natured as record, that
Lovat had stripped private clansmen of any good plaids they had, in
order to enable his company to make the better show.

In June 1733, we are informed through the _Mercury_, that a commission
appointing Lord Lovat to be sheriff of the county, having come to
Inverness, it was read in court, where Alexander Fraser of Fairfield sat
to administer justice as his lordship’s deputy. ‘The gentlemen of the
name of Fraser, who are very numerous in this town, together with the
several relations and friends of the family of Lovat, expressed _an
uncommon satisfaction_ on seeing this commission renewed in his
lordship’s person, whose ancestors, above three hundred years ago, were
[Sidenote: 1728.] sheriffs-principal of the shires of Inverness and
Moray. And we learn that the rejoicings made all over the country, by
the Frasers and their friends, were in nothing short of those we had in
town.’ So says a letter from Inverness, marked in the office-copy of the
paper as ‘paid (2_s._ 6_d._).’

Ten days afterwards appeared another paragraph: ‘Last week, the Right
Honourable Simon Fraser of Lovat was married at Roseneath, in
Dumbartonshire, to the Honourable Miss Primrose Campbell, daughter to
the late John Campbell of Mamore, Esq.; sister to John Campbell, Esq.,
one of the Grooms of the Bedchamber to his Majesty, and first-cousin to
his Grace the Duke of Argyle and Greenwich. A young lady of great beauty
and merit.’ This was also ‘paid (2_s._ 6_d._).’

The reader will perhaps relish another specimen: ‘INVERNESS, _July 18,
1735_.—Last post brought us the agreeable news of the Hon. John Campbell
of Mamore his being appointed Lieutenant-colonel of the Inniskillen
Regiment of Foot, a part whereof is now quartered here. This news gave
great joy to all the Frasers, and well-wishers of the family of Lovat in
this town, the Lord Lovat being married to a sister of the said Colonel
Campbell; and there being for many ages a great friendship between the
Campbells and the Frasers, last night all the gentlemen of the Frasers
in this place, and the Grants, Monroes, and Cuthberts, relations and
allies of the family of Lovat, met, and invited all the officers of the
corps, garrison, and custom-house, with many other gentlemen of the
first rank, to the Lord Lovat’s lodgings, where Baillie William Fraser,
his lordship’s landlord and merchant, had prepared an elegant
entertainment. There was great plenty of wine, when the healths of his
Majesty, the Queen, Prince, Duke, and all the royal family were drunk,
with those of the ministry, his Majesty’s forces by sea and land, Duke
of Argyle, Earl of Ilay, General Wade, Colonel John Campbell, Lord
Lovat, Colonel Hamilton and the corps; the healths of the Frasers,
Grants, Monroes, &c., and all the fast friends of the family of Argyle,
with many other loyal toasts. There were large bonfires, not only at my
Lord Lovat’s lodgings, but on every hill in his lordship’s extensive
country round this town. During the solemnity, the music-bells played,
drums beat, and the private men of the company here were handsomely
entertained, agreeable to their own taste, with barrels of beer, which
they drank to the health of their new commander. After the gentlemen had
stayed several hours at his lordship’s lodgings, they, with the music
playing [Sidenote: 1728.] before them, proceeded to the market-cross,
where was a table covered, with the foresaid toasts repeated, with
huzzas and acclamations of joy.’ Marginally marked in the office-copy,
‘Paid 4_s._’


[Sidenote: NOV.]

The influenza, in a very virulent form, after passing over the
continent, came to England, and a fortnight after had made its way into
Scotland. A cold and cough, with fever, laid hold of nearly every
person, sometimes in a moment as they stood on their feet, and in some
instances attended with raving. Wodrow of course entertained hopes that
Glasgow would receive a good share of the calamity; but it proved less
severe there than in some other places. He adverts, however, to the
fact, that, owing to the ailment, ‘there was no hearing sermon for some
time.’[685]


[Sidenote: NOV. 28.]

The death of Alexander, second duke of Gordon, proved, through connected
circumstances, a domestic event of great importance. We have seen the
adherence of this powerful family to the Catholic faith a source of
frequent trouble ever since the Reformation. Latterly, under the
protection of the second duke, the ancient religion had been receiving
fresh encouragement in the north. For this family to be at variance in
so important a respect with the country at large, was unfortunate both
for themselves and the country. It was an evil now at length to be
brought to an end.

The Duchess—Henrietta Mordaunt, daughter of the Earl of
Peterborough[686]—finding herself left with the charge of a large family
in tender years—the young duke only eight years old—took it upon her to
have them educated in her own Protestant principles, and with a respect
for the reigning family. It was such an opportunity as might not have
occurred again for a century. We can see from her history as an
introducer of improvements in agriculture, that she must have been a
woman of considerable intellectual vigour; and hence it is the less
surprising that she fully accomplished her object. She of course got
great credit in all loyal quarters for what she did with her children.
The General Assembly, in 1730, sent her a cordial letter of thanks. The
government, in 1735, settled upon her a pension of £1000 a year. She
survived her husband upwards of thirty years, living [Sidenote: 1729.]
for the most part at Prestonhall, in the county of Edinburgh—a forfeited
estate which she had bought at a moderate price.

After all, there were some drawbacks to her Grace’s soundness in
Protestant loyalty. While one of her sons, Lord Lewis—the ‘Lewie Gordon’
of Jacobite minstrelsy—‘went out’ for the House of Stuart in 1745, she
herself shewed a certain tendency that way, by laying out a breakfast
for the Young Chevalier on the roadside at her park-gate, as he marched
past, target on shoulder, on his way to England, for which single act of
misapplied hospitality her Grace was deprived of her pension.


[Sidenote: 1729. FEB.]

The _Edinburgh Courant_ of February 24th gravely records that, ‘some
days ago, died a young man in the parish of Glencorse, who since
Hallarday last hath been grievously tormented by wicked spirits, who
haunted his bed almost every night. There was no formed disease upon
him; yet he had extraordinary paroxysms, which could not proceed from
natural causes. He vomited vast quantities of blood, which was like
roasted livers, and at last, with violent cries, his lungs.’


[Sidenote: MAR. 20.]

Alexander, ninth Earl of Eglintoun, having died on the 18th of February,
was this day buried in the family tomb in the west country, with the
parade proper to his rank, according to the ideas of the age. One
feature of the ceremonial was considered as so peculiar, that the
_Caledonian Mercury_ makes a paragraph of it alone. ‘There were between
nine hundred and a thousand beggars assembled, many of whom came over
from Ireland, who had £50 of that nobleman’s charity distribute among
them.’


[Sidenote: JULY.]

William Ged, ‘of the family of Balfarg,’ a goldsmith in Edinburgh, and
noted for the improvements he effected in his own business, chanced to
be brought into connection with the art of typography by having to pay
the workpeople of a printer to whom he was related. Possessing an
ingenious and inventive mind, he conceived a plan for economising means
in printing, by subjecting to the press, not ‘forms of types,’ as usual,
but plates made by casting from those forms, thus at once saving the
types from wear, and obtaining a means of printing successive editions
of any amount without the necessity of setting up the types anew. He
talked of this invention to a friend so early as 1725; but it was not
till now that any active steps were taken towards realising it. With one
Fenner, a bookseller of London, who happened to [Sidenote: 1729.] visit
Edinburgh, he entered at this date into a contract, by virtue of which
the project was to be prosecuted by Ged in England, with pecuniary means
furnished by Fenner, the profits to be divided betwixt the parties. It
was in a manner necessary to go to England for this purpose, as peculiar
types were required, and there was not now any letter-founder in
Scotland.

Ged was a simple, pure-hearted man, perhaps a good deal carried away
from prudential considerations by the interest he felt in his invention.
Fenner, and others with whom Ged came in contact in the south, were
sharp and selfish people, not over-disposed to use their associate
justly. The unfortunate projector had also to encounter positive
treacheries, arising from the fear that his plan would injure interests
already invested in the trade of printing. He spent several years
between London and the university of Cambridge, and never got beyond
some abortive experiments, which, however, might have been sufficient to
convince any skilful printer of the entire practicability, as well as
advantageousness of the scheme. With a deep sense of injury from Fenner
and others, Ged returned to Edinburgh in 1733, a poorer, if not a wiser
man than he had been eight years before.

It was impossible, however, that so magnificent an addition to the
invention of Scheffer and Guttenberg as _stereotyping_ should be
suppressed. A few kind neighbours entered into a subscription to enable
Ged to make a new effort in Scotland. Having a son named James, about
twelve years old, he put him apprentice to a printer, that the boy might
supply that technical skill which was wanting in himself. Before this
child had been a year at his business, being allowed by his master to
return to the office by himself at night for his father’s work, he had
begun to set up the types for an edition of Sallust in an 18mo size; and
plates from the forms were finished by Ged in 1736. The impression from
these constituted the _first stereotyped book_.

Several persons beyond the limits of the book-producing trades had a
sense of Ged’s merits. In 1740, when he sent a plate of nine pages of
Sallust, and a copy of the book, to the Faculty of Advocates, as an
explanation of his invention, they passed a resolution to appoint him
some suitable gratification ‘when their stock should be in good
condition.’[687] Mr Robert Smith, chancellor of the university of
Cambridge, and the bishop of St Asaph’s, were [Sidenote: 1729.] so
favourably disposed to him, that in 1742 they made a movement for
getting him established as printer to the university, that he might
there introduce his plan; but it came to nothing. William Ged, the
author of an invention which has unspeakably extended the utility of the
printing-press, died a poor man in 1749. The boy James, who had set the
types of the Sallust, joined Prince Charles—for the family was of
Jacobite inclinations—and, being apprehended in Carlisle in December
1745, he was condemned to death along with Colonel Townley. The only
benefit ever derived by the Geds from their father’s invention, was that
the aforesaid Mr Robert Smith, by his interest with the Duke of
Newcastle, saved the young stereotypist from the gallows.[688]

The subsequent history of James Ged was unfortunate. ‘After he had
obtained his pardon, he followed his business for some time as a
journeyman with Mr Bettenham: afterwards, he commenced master for
himself in Denmark Court, in the Strand. Unsuccessful there, he
privately shipped off himself and his materials for the other side of
the Atlantic.’ ‘He went to Jamaica, where his younger brother was
settled as a reputable printer, and died soon after his arrival in that
island.’[689]


[Sidenote: AUG. 6.]

The ancient church was honourably distinguished by its charity towards
the poor, and more especially towards the diseased poor; and it was a
dreary interval of nearly two centuries which intervened between the
extinction of its lazar-houses and leper-houses, and the time when
merely a civilised humanity dictated the establishment of a regulated
means of succour for the sickness-stricken of the humbler classes. The
date here affixed is an interesting one, as that when a hospital of the
modern type was first opened in Scotland for the reception of poor
patients.

The idea of establishing such an institution in Edinburgh was first
agitated in a pamphlet in 1721, and there is reason to believe that the
requirements of the rising medical school were largely concerned in
dictating it. The matter fell asleep, but was revived in 1725, with a
proposal to raise a fund of at least two thousand pounds sterling to
carry it out. Chiefly by the activity of the [Sidenote: 1729.] medical
profession, this fund was realised; and now the first step of practical
beneficence was taken by the opening of a house, and the taking in of a
small number of patients, for whom six physicians and surgeons undertook
to give attendance and medicine. The total number here received during
the first year was the modest one of thirty-five, of whom nineteen were
dismissed as cured.

Such was the origin of the Edinburgh Infirmary, which, small as it was
at first, was designed from its very origin as a benefit to the whole
kingdom, no one then dreaming that a time would come when every
considerable county town would have a similar hospital. In 1735, the
contributors were incorporated, and three years later, they began to
rear a building for their purpose, calculated to accommodate seventeen
hundred patients per annum, allowing six weeks’ residence for each at an
average. It is remarkable how cordially the upper classes and the heads
of the medical profession concurred in raising and managing this noble
institution, and how readily the industrious orders all over the country
responded to the appeals made to their charity for its support. While
many contributed money, ‘others gave stones, lime, wood, slate, and
glass, which were carried by the neighbouring farmers _gratis_. Not only
many master masons, wrights, slaters, and glaziers gave their
attendance, but many journeymen and labourers frequently gave their
labour _gratis_; and many joiners gave sashes for the windows.’ A
Newcastle glass-making company generously glazed the whole house. By
correspondence and personal intervention, money was drawn for the work,
not only throughout England and Ireland, but in other parts of Europe,
and even in America.[690]

It has always been admitted that the prime moving spirit in the whole
undertaking was George Drummond, one of the Commissioners of Customs,
and on three several occasions Lord Provost of Edinburgh; a man of
princely aspect and character, further memorable as the projector of the
New Town. His merits in regard to the Infirmary have, indeed, been
substantially acknowledged by the setting up of a portrait of him in the
council-room, and a bust by Nollekins in the hall, the latter having
this inscription, dictated by Principal Robertson: ‘George Drummond, to
whom this country is indebted for all the benefit which it derives from
the Royal Infirmary.’[691]

[Sidenote: 1729.]

It is not unworthy of being kept in mind that, in the business of
levying means from a distance, Drummond was largely assisted by an
eccentric sister, named May, who had adopted the tenets of Quakerism,
and occasionally made tours through various parts of Great Britain for
the purpose of preaching to the people, of whom vast multitudes used to
flock to hear her. She was a gentle enthusiast, of interesting
appearance, and so noted did her addresses become, that Queen Caroline
at length condescended to listen to one. We get some idea of her
movements in the summer of 1735, from a paragraph regarding her then
inserted in a London newspaper: ‘We hear that the famous preaching
maiden Quaker (Mrs Drummond, who preached before the queen), lately
arrived from Scotland, intends to challenge the champion of England,
Orator Henley, to dispute with him at the Bull and Mouth, upon the
doctrines and tenets of Quakerism, at such time as he shall appoint.’

In the pages, moreover, of Sylvanus Urban, ‘a Lady’ soon after poured
forth strains of the highest admiration regarding this

             ‘——happy virgin of celestial race,
             Adorned with wisdom, and replete with grace;’

proclaiming that she outshone Theresa of Spain, and was sufficient in
herself to extinguish the malignant ridicule with which men sometimes
assail the capacities of women.[692]

Human nature, however, is a ravelled hasp of rather mixed yarn, and it
will be heard with pity that this amiable missionary of piety and
charity was one of those anomalous beings who, without necessity or
temptation, are unable to restrain themselves from picking up and
carrying away articles belonging to their neighbours. The propensity,
though as veritable a disease as any ever treated within the walls of
her brother’s infirmary, threw a shade, deepening that of poverty, over
the latter years of May Drummond. Only the enlightened and generous few
could rightly apprehend such a case. Amongst some memoranda on old-world
local matters, kindly communicated to me many years ago by Sir Walter
Scott, I find one touching gently on the memory of this unfortunate
lady, and directing my attention to ‘a copy of tolerably good elegiac
verses,’ written on a picture in which she was represented in the
character of Winter. Of these he quoted [Sidenote: 1729.] from memory,
with some slight inaccuracies, the first and third of the following
three:

                ‘Full justly hath the artist planned
                  In Winter’s guise thy furrowed brow,
                And rightly raised thy feeble hand
                  Above the elemental glow.

                I gaze upon that well-known face;
                  But ah, beneath _December’s_ frost,
                Lies buried all its vernal grace,
                  And every trait of _May_ is lost.

                Nor merely on thy trembling frame,
                  Thy wrinkled cheek, and deafened ear,
                But on thy _fortunes_ and thy _fame_,
                  Relentless Winter frowns severe.’[693]

[Sidenote: SEP.]

Sir Robert Monro of Foulis, in Ross-shire, ‘a very ancient gentleman,’
and chief of a considerable clan, died in the enjoyment of general
esteem. Four counties turned out to shew their respect at his funeral.
There were above six hundred horsemen, tolerably mounted and apparelled.
‘The corpse was carried on a bier betwixt two horses, fully harnessed in
deepest mourning. A gentleman rode in deep mourning before the corpse,
uncovered, attended by two grooms and four running-footmen, all in deep
mourning. The [Sidenote: 1729.] friends followed immediately behind the
corpse, and the gentlemen [strangers] in the rear. The scutcheons,’ says
the reporter, ‘were the handsomest I ever saw; the entertainment
magnificent and full.’[694]


[Sidenote: SEP.]

General Wade was now dating from ‘my hutt at Dalnacardoch,’ having been
obliged for some time to station himself in the wilderness of
Drumnachter, in order to get the road from Dunkeld to Inverness
finished, and a shorter one planned as a branch to Crieff. The Lord
Advocate Forbes wrote to him sympathisingly, acknowledging that ‘never
was penitent banished into a more barren desert for his sins.’ Both
gentlemen had their eyes open regarding a plotting among the Jacobites,
of which the government had got some inkling, but of which nothing came.

In the latter part of the month, the general advanced to Ruthven, in
Badenoch, and there the people for the first time beheld that modern
luxury—a coach. Everybody turned out to see it, for it was next to a
prodigy among that simple people. Here Forbes met General Wade, and some
sort of court of judicature was held by them; after which they parted,
the advocate to return to Inverness, and Wade to Dalnacardoch.

The good-natured general had arranged for a fête to be held by those
whom he jocularly called his _highwaymen_; and it must have been a
somewhat picturesque affair. On a spot near Dalnaspidal, and opposite to
the opening of Loch Garry, the working-parties met under their officers,
and formed a square surrounding a tent. Four oxen were roasted whole,
‘in great order and solemnity,’ and four ankers of brandy were broached.
The men dined _al fresco_; the general and his friend Sir Robert
Clifton, with Sir Duncan Campbell, Colonel Guest, Major Duroure, and a
number of other gentlemen, were regaled in the tent. The beef, according
to the general’s own acknowledgment, was ‘excellent,’ and after it was
partaken of, a series of loyal toasts was drunk amidst demonstrations of
general satisfaction, the names of the Lord Advocate and his brother,
John Forbes of Culloden, being not forgotten. There is something
interesting in these simple jocosities, considering the grand engine of
civilisation they were connected with.[695]

[Sidenote: 1729.]

The road from Ruthven to Fort Augustus, involving the steep and
difficult mountain of Corryarrick, and the most difficult part of the
whole undertaking, was in the course of being completed in October 1731,
when a gentleman signing himself ‘N. M‘Leod,’ being probably no other
than the Laird of Dunvegan, chanced to pass that way on his road to
Skye, and gave in the newspapers an account of what he saw. ‘Upon
entering,’ he says, ‘into a little glen among the hills, lately called
Laggan a Vannah, but now by the soldiers Snugburgh, I heard the noise of
many people, and saw six great fires, about each of which a number of
soldiers were very busy. During my wonder at the cause of this, an
officer invited me to drink their majesties’ healths. I attended him to
each fire, and found that these were the six working-parties of
Tatton’s, Montague’s, Mark Ker’s, Harrison’s, and Handyside’s regiments,
and the party from the Highland Companies, making in all about five
hundred men, who had this summer, with indefatigable pains, completed
the great road for wheel-carriages between Fort Augustus and Ruthven. It
being the 30th of October, his majesty’s birthday, General Wade had
given to each detachment an _ox-feast_, and liquor; six oxen were
roasted whole, one at the head of each party. The joy was great, both
upon the occasion of the day, and the work’s being completed, which is
really a wonderful undertaking.’

Before dismissing General Wade, it may be mentioned that a permanent
record of his engineering skill and courage in building Tay Bridge, in
the form of a Latin inscription, was put upon that structure itself,
being the composition of Dr Friend, master of Westminster School. But
this, if the most classic, was not destined to be the most memorable
memorial of the worthy general’s labours. ‘To perpetuate the memory of
the marshal’s chief exploit, in making the road from Inverness to
Inverary, an obelisk is erected near Fort William, on which the
traveller is reminded of his merits by the following naïf couplet:

      “Had you seen these roads before they were made,
      You would lift up your hands and bless General Wade.”’[696]

‘Long before the improvements of the Highlands were seriously [Sidenote:
1729.] thought of, Lord Kames, being, in 1773, at Inverness on the
circuit, gave, as a toast after dinner, “Roads and Bridges.” Captain
Savage, of the 37th regiment, then at Fort George, sat near his
lordship, and, being next asked for a toast, gave “Chaises and Horses,”
to the annoyance of the entertainers, who thought it done in ridicule,
though doubtless the captain only meant to follow out the spirit of Lord
Kames’s sentiment.’—_Letter of the late H. R. Duff of Muirton to the
author, 31st March 1827._


[Sidenote: OCT. 18.]

In Scotland, oil-painting had had a morning-star in the person of George
Jameson. Two ages of darkness had followed. About the beginning of the
eighteenth century, a foreign artist, John Medina, found for a few years
a fair encouragement for his pencil in the painting of portraits; and
the Duke of Queensberry, as royal commissioner, conferred upon him the
honour of knighthood.[697] Then arose two native portrait-painters of
some merit—John Alexander, who, moreover, was able to decorate a
staircase in Gordon Castle with a tolerable picture of the Rape of
Proserpine; and John Scougal, who has handed down to us not a few of the
lords and gentlemen of the reign of Queen Anne.[698] William Aikman, a
disciple of Medina, followed, and was in vogue as a painter of portraits
in Edinburgh about 1721. Such was the meagre history of oil-painting in
Scotland till the end of the reign of the first George.

At that time, when wealth was following industry, and religious gloom
beginning to give way to a taste for elegant amusements, the decorative
arts were becoming comparatively prominent. Roderick Chalmers and James
Norie, while ostensibly house-painters, aspired to a graceful use of the
pencil, seldom failing, when they painted a set of panelled rooms, to
leave a tolerable landscape from their own hands over the fireplaces;
and in some of the houses in the Old Town of Edinburgh, these pieces are
still seen to be far from contemptible. William Adam, father of the
celebrated brothers, William and Robert, was the principal architect of
the day. There was even a [Sidenote: 1729.] respectable line-engraver in
Richard Cooper, the person from whom Strange, some years after, derived
his first lessons. While these men had a professional interest in art,
there were others who viewed it with favour on general grounds, and,
from motives of public spirit, were willing to see it encouraged in the
Scottish capital.

There was, accordingly, a design formed at this date for the erection of
a sort of academy in Edinburgh, under the name of the School of St Luke,
‘for the encouragement of painting, sculpture, architecture, &c.’ A
scheme of it, drawn up on parchment, described the principal practical
object to be, to have a properly lighted and furnished room, where the
members could meet periodically to practise drawing, &c., from the
figure, or from draughts; lots to be drawn for the choice of seats.
Private gentlemen who chose to contribute were invited to join in the
design, though they might not be disposed to use the pencil. We find a
surprisingly liberal list of subscribers to this document, including
Lord Linton, Lord Garlies, and Gilbert Elliot; James M‘Ewen, James
Balfour, and Allan Ramsay, booksellers; the artists above mentioned, and
about fifteen other persons. Amongst the rest was the name of Allan
Ramsay, junior, now a mere stripling, but who came to be
portrait-painter to George III.[699]

The above is all that we know about this proposed School of St Luke.
Very pleasant it is to know so much, to be assured that, in 1729, there
was even a handful of men in the Scottish capital so far advanced in
taste for one of the elegant arts, as to make a movement for its
cultivation. As to the preparedness of the general mind of the country
for the appreciation of high art, the following little narrative will
enable the modern reader to form some judgment.

In December 1734, there was shewn in Edinburgh, ‘at Mr Yaxley
Davidson’s, without the Cowgate Port,’ a collection of curiosities,
amongst which was included a said-to-be-valuable picture of Raphael,
probably representing the Saviour on the Cross; also a view of the
interior of St Peter’s at Rome, as illuminated for the jubilee of 1700,
‘the like never seen in Great Britain.’ The exhibition lingered for a
few weeks in the city with tolerable success, and was then removed to
the tavern of one Murray at the Bridge-end, opposite to Perth.

[Sidenote: 1729.]

Here, in consequence of ‘a pathetic sermon’ preached by one of the
ministers, and certain printed letters industriously circulated on the
subject of these works of art, a crowd of the meaner sort of people rose
tumultuously on the 10th of July, and, crossing the Tay by the
ferry-boat, proceeded to Murray’s house, crying out: ‘Idolatry! molten
and graven images! popery!’ and so forth. Then, surrounding the door,
they attempted to enter for the purpose of dragging forth the pictures,
and were only with difficulty withstood by the landlord, who, backed by
his hostler, planted himself with a drawn cutlass in the doorway. Time
was thus given for some gentlemen of Perth to come to the rescue, and
also to allow of the Earl of Kinnoull’s bailie of regality to come
forward in behalf of the peace; ‘whereupon the men concerned in the mob
withdrew, the women still standing at the doors of the house, crying
out: “Idolatry, idolatry, and popery!” and threatening still to burn the
house, or have the pictures and graven images destroyed, till some
dozens of the female ringleaders were carried over the river to Perth,
the rest dispersing gradually of their own accord. Immediately after,
the poor stranger was glad to make the best of his way, and went
straight in a boat to Dundee, which the mobbers no sooner perceived, but
they sent an express by land to that place to prompt some of the zealous
there to mob him at landing.’

Apparently this message had taken effect, for we learn, a few days
after, that the collection of curiosities, ‘having made a fine retreat
from the late attack at the Bridge-end of Perth,’ are again on view in
Edinburgh.[700]

Amongst the ‘signs and causes of the Lord’s departure,’ adduced by the
Seceders in a testimony published by them soon after this time, is the
fact that ‘an idolatrous picture of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ
was well received in some remarkable places of the land.’


[Sidenote: NOV.]

Mr Wodrow was regaled at this time with a few additional chastisements
for the city of Glasgow. Mrs Glen, who dealt largely in silks and
Hollands, had broken down under a bill for three hundred pounds, with
debt to tradesmen in the city for weaving cloth to the amount of five
hundred! In the ensuing June, the town sustained ‘a very great loss’ by
the breaking of a Scottish factor in Holland; no less than two
[Sidenote: 1729.] thousand pounds sterling: only—and here was the great
pity in the case—it was diffused over too many parties to be very
sensibly felt.[701]

About fifteen months after this date, the worthy pastor of Eastwood
adverted to the ‘great losses, hardships, and impositions’ which the
trade of Glasgow had recently undergone, and to the ‘several hundreds of
working poor’ which hung as a burden upon the city. Notwithstanding all
that—and we can imagine his perplexity in recording the fact—the
citizens were getting up a house of refuge for distressed people. ‘In a
week or two, twelve hundred pounds was signed for, besides two hundred
Mr Orr gives,’ and certain sums to be contributed by public bodies. What
would he have thought if he could have been assured that, in little more
than a century, Glasgow would, in a few weeks, and without difficulty,
raise forty-five thousand pounds as its quota towards a national fund
for the succour of the sufferers in the British army by a single
campaign!


[Sidenote: DEC. 24.]

Lord Balmerino, son of the lord who had been the subject of a notable
prosecution under the tyrannical government of Charles I.,[702] was now
residing in advanced age at his house in Coatfield Lane, in Leith. One
of his younger sons, named Alexander (the immediate younger brother of
Arthur, who made so gallant a death on Tower Hill in 1746), was leading
a life of idleness and pleasure at the same place. As this young
gentleman was now to be involved in a bloody affair which took place in
Leith Links, it may be worth while to recall that, five years back, he
was engaged on the same ground in an affair of gaiety and sport, which
yet had some ominous associations about it. It was what a newspaper of
the day calls ‘a solemn match at golf’ played by him for twenty guineas
with Captain Porteous of the Edinburgh Town-guard; an affair so
remarkable on account of the stake, that it was attended by the Duke of
Hamilton, the Earl of Morton, and a vast mob of the great and little
besides, Alexander Elphinstone ending as the winner.[703] No one could
well have imagined, as that cheerful game was going on, that both the
players were, not many years after, to have blood upon their hands, one
of them to take on the murderer’s mark upon this very field.

On the 23d of December 1729, the Honourable Alexander [Sidenote: 1729.]
Elphinstone met a Lieutenant Swift of Cadogan’s regiment at the house of
Mr Michael Watson, merchant in Leith. Some hot words having risen
between them, Elphinstone rose to depart, but before he went, he touched
Swift on the shoulder with his sword, and dropped a hint that he would
expect to receive satisfaction next morning on the Links. Next day,
accordingly, the two gentlemen met at eleven in the forenoon in that
comparatively public place (as it now appears), and fought a single
combat with swords, which ended in Swift receiving a mortal wound in the
breast.

Elphinstone was indicted for this act before the High Court of
Justiciary; but the case was never brought forward, and the young man
died without molestation at Leith three years after.


[Sidenote: 1730.]

The merit of the invention of that noble instrument, the Reflecting
Telescope, is allowed to rest with David Gregory, a native of Scotland,
although that of first completing one (in 1671) is due to the
illustrious Newton. It was thought very desirable by Sir Isaac to
substitute glass for metallic reflectors; but fifty years elapsed
without the idea being realised, when at length, about this date, a very
young Edinburgh artist, named James Short, ‘executed no fewer than six
reflecting telescopes with glass specula, three of which were fifteen
inches, and three nine inches in focal length,’ to which Professor
Maclaurin gave his approbation, though ultimately their light was found
fainter than was deemed necessary.

Two years afterwards, when Short had only attained the age of
twenty-two, he began to enter into competition with the English makers
of reflecting telescopes, but without attempting to make specula of
glass. ‘To such perfection did he carry the art of grinding and
polishing metallic specula, and of giving them the true parabolic
figure, that, with a telescope of fifteen inches in focal length, he and
Mr Bayne, Professor of Law in the University of Edinburgh, read the
_Philosophical Transactions_ at the distance of five hundred feet, and
several times, particularly on the 24th of November and the 7th of
December 1734, they saw the five satellites of Saturn together, an
achievement beyond the reach of Hadley’s six-feet telescope.’

This ingenious man, attaining some celebrity for the making of
reflecting telescopes, was induced, in 1742, to settle in London, where
for a number of years he continued to use his remarkable [Sidenote:
1730.] talents in this way, occasionally furnishing instruments at high
prices to royal personages throughout Europe.[704]


[Sidenote: OCT. 26.]

One William Muir, brother of two men who had recently been hanged at Ayr
for theft, was this day tried before a jury, for housebreaking, by the
Lord Provost of Edinburgh, acting as ‘High Sheriff within burgh.’ The
man was condemned to death, and the sentence was duly executed on the
ensuing 2d of December, he dying penitent.[705]

It seems strange to us, but about this time the condemnation of
criminals to capital punishment by sheriffs of counties, and by the
chief-magistrate of Edinburgh, was by no means infrequent, being
entirely in accordance with the statutory arrangements of the country.
Nay more, great territorial lords, especially in the Highlands, still
acted upon their ancient privileges of pit and gallows. It is related
that the Duke of Athole one day received at Blair an application from
his baron-bailie for pardon to a man whom he had condemned to be hanged
for theft, but who was a person of such merits otherwise that it seemed
a pity to put justice in force against him. The Lord President Forbes,
who had stopped to dine with his Grace in the course of a journey to
Edinburgh, expressed his surprise that the power of pardoning a
condemned criminal should be attributed to any person but the king.
‘Since I have the power of punishing,’ said the duke, ‘it is but right
that I should have the power of pardoning.’ Then, calling a servant, he
quietly added: ‘Send an express to Logierait, and order Donald Stewart,
presently under sentence, to be set at liberty.’[706]


We are now arrived at a time which seems to mark very decidedly a
transition in Scotland from poverty to growing wealth, from the
puritanic manners of the seventeenth century to the semi-licence and
ease of the eighteenth, from narrow to liberal education, and
consequently from restricted to expanded views. It may, therefore, be
proper here to introduce a few general observations.

Although, only a few years back, we find Wodrow speaking of the general
poverty, it is remarkable that, after this time, complaints on that
point are not heard in almost any quarter. The [Sidenote: 1730.] influx
of commercial prosperity at Glasgow had now fairly set in, and the linen
manufacture and other branches of industry begin to be a good deal
spoken of. Agricultural improvements and the decoration of the country
by wood had now been commenced. There was great chafing under the
taxation introduced after the Union, and smuggling was popular, and the
revenue-officers were detested; yet the people had become able to endure
the deductions made from their income. Thus did matters go on during the
time between 1725 and 1745, making a slow but sensible advance—nothing
like what took place after the question of the dynasty had been settled
at Culloden, but yet such as to very considerably affect the condition
of the people. Much of this was owing to the pacific policy of Sir
Robert Walpole, to whom, with all his faults, the British people
certainly owe more than to any minister before Sir Robert Peel.

If we wish to realise the manners before this period, we must think of
the Scotch as a people living in a part of Britain remote from the
centre—peninsulated and off at a side—enjoying little intercourse with
strangers; but, above all, as a people on whom the theology of the
Puritans, with all their peculiar views regarding the forms of religion
and the arrangements of a church, had taken a powerful hold. Down to
1730, all respectable persons in Scotland, with but the slightest
exceptions, maintained a strictly evangelical creed, went regularly to
church, and kept up daily family-worship. Nay, it had become a custom
that every house should contain a small closet built on purpose, to
which the head of the family could retire at stated times for his
personal or private devotions, which were usually of a protracted kind,
and often accompanied by great motions and groanings, expressive of an
intense sense of human worthlessness without the divine favour. On
Sunday, the whole family, having first gathered for prayers in the
parlour, proceeded at ten to church. At half-past twelve, they came home
for a light dinner of cold viands (none being cooked on this sacred
day), to return at two for an afternoon service of about two hours. The
remainder of the day was devoted to private devotions, catechising of
children, and the reading of pious books, excepting a space of time set
aside for supper, which in many families was a comfortable meal, and an
occasion, the only one during the day, when a little cheerful
conversation was indulged in. Invariably, the day was closed with a
repetition of family prayers.

It was customary for serious people to draw up a written paper,
[Sidenote: 1730.] in which they formally devoted themselves to the
service of God—a sort of personal covenant with their Maker—and to renew
this each year at the time of the celebration of the communion by a
fresh signature with the date. The subscriber expressed his entire
satisfaction with the scheme of Christian salvation, avowed his
willingness to take the Lord to be his all-sufficient portion, and to be
resigned to his will and providence in all things. He also expressed his
resolution to be mortified to the world, and to engage heartily and
steadfastly persevere in the performance of all religious duties. An
earnest prayer for the divine help usually closed this document.

As all were trained to look up to the Deity with awe and terror, so,
with the same feelings, were children accustomed to look up to their
parents, and servants to their masters. Amongst the upper classes, the
head of the family was for the most part an awful personage, who sat in
a special chair by the fireside, and at the head of the table, with his
hat on, often served at meals with special dishes, which no one else,
not even guests, partook of. In all the arrangements of the house, his
convenience and tastes were primarily studied. His children approached
him with fear, and never spoke with any freedom before him. At meals,
the lady of the house helped every one as she herself might choose. The
dishes were at once ill-cooked and ill-served. It was thought unmeet for
man that he should be nice about food. Nicety and love of rich feeding
were understood to be hateful peculiarities of the English, and unworthy
of the people who had been so much more favoured by God in a knowledge
of matters of higher concern.

There was, nevertheless, a great amount of hospitality. And here it is
to be observed, that the poverty of those old times had less effect on
the entertainments of the higher classes than might have been expected.
What helped the gentlefolks in this respect, was the custom of receiving
considerable payments from their tenants in _kind_. This enabled them to
indulge in a rude abundance at home, while their means of living in a
town-house, or in an inn while travelling, was probably very limited. We
must further remember the abundance of game in Scotland, how every moor
teemed with grouse and black-cock, and every lake and river with fish.
These furnished large supplies for the table of the laird, both in
Lowlands and Highlands; and I feel convinced that the miserable picture
drawn by a modern historian of the way of living among the northern
chiefs is untrue to a [Sidenote: 1730.] large extent, mainly by his
failure to take such resources into account.

A lady, born in 1714, who has left a valuable set of reminiscences of
her early days, lays great stress on the home-staying life of the
Scottish gentry. She says that this result of their narrow circumstances
kept their minds in a contracted state, and caused them to regard all
manners and habits different from their own with prejudice. The adult
had few intelligent books to read; neither did journals then exist to
give them a knowledge of public affairs. The children, kept at a
distance by their parents, lived much amongst themselves or with
underlings, and grew up with little of either knowledge or refinement.
Restrained within a narrow social circle, they often contracted improper
marriages. It was not thought necessary in those days that young ladies
should acquire a sound knowledge of even their own language, much less
of French, German, or Italian; nor were many of them taught music or any
other refined accomplishment. ‘The chief thing required was to hear them
psalms and long catechisms, in which they were employed an hour or more
every day, and almost the whole day on Sunday. They were allowed to run
about and amuse themselves in the way they choosed, even to the age of
woman, at which time they were generally sent to Edinburgh for a winter
or two, to learn to dress themselves, and to dance, and see a little of
the world. The world was only to be seen at church, at marriages,
burials, and baptisms.... When in the country, their employment was in
coloured work, beds, tapestry, and other pieces of furniture; imitations
of fruits and flowers, with very little taste. If they read any, it was
either books of devotion or long romances, and sometimes both.’

Previous to this time, the universal dress of the middle classes was of
plain country cloth, much of it what was called _hodden gray_—that is,
cloth spun at home from the undyed wool. Gentlemen of figure wore
English or foreign cloth, and their clothes were costly in comparison
with other articles. We find, for instance, a gentleman at his marriage,
in 1711, paying £340 Scots for two suits, a night-gown, and a suit to
his servant. Linen being everywhere made at home—the spinning executed
by the servants during the long winter evenings, and the weaving by the
village webster—there was a general abundance of napery and of
under-clothing. Holland, being about six shillings an ell, was worn only
by men of refinement. ‘I remember,’ says the lady aforesaid, ‘in the ‘30
or ‘31, of a ball where it was agreed [Sidenote: 1730.] that the company
should be dressed in nothing but what was manufactured in the country.
My sisters were as well dressed as any, and their gowns were striped
linen at 2_s._ 6_d._ per yard. Their heads and ruffles were of Paisley
muslins, at 4_s._ 6_d._, with fourpenny edging from Hamilton; all of
them the finest that could be had.... At the time I mention, hoops were
constantly worn four and a half yards wide, which required much silk to
cover them; and gold and silver were much used for trimming, never less
than three rows round the petticoat; so that, though the silk was
slight, the price was increased by the trimming. Then the heads were all
dressed in laces from Flanders; no blondes or course-edging used: the
price of these was high, but two suits would serve for life; they were
not renewed but at marriage, or some great event. Who could not afford
these wore fringes of thread.’ In those days, the ladies went to church,
and appeared on other public occasions, in full dress. A row of them so
rigged out, taking a place in the procession at the opening of the
General Assembly, used to be spoken of by old people as a fine show.
When a lady appeared in undress on the streets of Edinburgh, she
generally wore a mask, which, however, seems to have been regarded as
simply an equivalent for the veil of modern times.

One marked peculiarity of old times, was the union of fine parade and
elegant dressing with vulgarity of thought, speech, and act. The
seemliness and delicacy observed now-a-days regarding both marriages and
births were unknown long ago. We have seen how a bridal in high life was
conducted in the reign of Queen Anne.[707] Let us now observe the
ceremonials connected with a birth at the same period. ‘On the fourth
week after the lady’s delivery, she is set on her bed on a low
footstool; the bed covered with some neat piece of sewed work or white
sattin, with three pillows at her back covered with the same; she in
full dress with a lappet head-dress and a fan in her hand. Having
informed her acquaintance what day she is to see company, they all come
and pay their respects to her, standing, or walking a little through the
room (for there’s no chairs). They drink a glass of wine and eat a bit
of cake, and then give place to others. Towards the end of the week, all
the friends are asked to what was called the _Cummers’ Feast_.[708] This
was a supper where every gentleman brought a pint of wine to be drunk by
[Sidenote: 1730.] him and his wife. The supper was a ham at the head,
and a pyramid of fowl at the bottom. This dish consisted of four or five
ducks at bottom, hens above, and partridges at top. There was an eating
posset in the middle of the table, with dried fruits and sweetmeats at
the sides. When they had finished their supper, the meat was removed,
and in a moment everybody flies to the sweetmeats to pocket them. Upon
which a scramble ensued; chairs overturned, and everything on the table;
wrestling and pulling at one another with the utmost noise. When all was
quiet, they went to the stoups (for there were no bottles), of which the
women had a good share; for though it was a disgrace to be seen drunk,
yet it was none to be a little intoxicat in good company.’

Any one who has observed the conduct of stiff people, when on special
occasions they break out from their reserve, will have no difficulty in
reconciling such childish frolics with the general sombreness of old
Scottish life.

It is to be observed that, while puritanic rigour was characteristic of
the great bulk of society, there had been from the Restoration a
minority of a more indulgent complexion. These were generally persons of
rank, and adherents of Episcopacy and the House of Stuart. Such tendency
as there was in the country to music, to theatricals, to elegant
literature, resided with this party almost exclusively. After the long
dark interval which ensued upon the death of Drummond, Sir George
Mackenzie, the ‘persecutor,’ was the first to attempt the cultivation of
the belles-lettres in Scotland. Dr Pitcairn was the centre of a small
circle of wits who, a little later, devoted themselves to the Muses, but
who composed exclusively in Latin. When Addison, Steele, Pope, and Swift
were conferring Augustine glories on the reign of Anne in England, there
was scarcely a single writer of polite English in Scotland; but under
George I., we find Ramsay tuning his rustic reed, and making himself
known even in the south, notwithstanding the peculiarity of his
language. These men were all of them unsympathetic with the old church
Calvinism of their native country—as, indeed, have been nearly all the
eminent cultivators of letters in Scotland down to the present time. We
learn that copies of the _Tatler_ and _Spectator_ found their way into
Scotland; and we hear not only of gentlemen, but of clergymen reading
them. Allan Ramsay lent out the plays of Congreve and Farquhar at his
shop in Edinburgh. Periodical amateur concerts were commenced, as we
have seen, as early as 1717. The Easy Club—to [Sidenote: 1730.] which
Ramsay belonged—and other social fraternities of the same kind, were at
the same time enjoying their occasional convivialities in Edinburgh. A
small miscellany of verse, published in Edinburgh in 1720, makes us
aware that there were then residing there several young aspirants to the
laurel, including two who have since obtained places in the roll of the
British poets—namely, Thomson and Mallet—and also Mr Henry Home of
Kames, and Mr Joseph Mitchell: moreover, we gather from this little
volume, that there was in Edinburgh a ‘Fair Intellectual Club,’ an
association, we must presume, of young ladies who were disposed to
cultivate a taste for the belles-lettres. About this time, the tea-table
began to be a point of reunion for the upper classes. At four in the
afternoon, the gentlemen and ladies would assemble round a multitude of
small china cups, each recognisable by the number of the little silver
spoon connected with it, and from these the lady of the house would
dispense an almost endless series of libations, while lively chat and
gossip went briskly on, but it is to be feared, in most circles, little
conversation of what would now be called an intellectual cast. On these
occasions, the singing of a Scottish song to an accompaniment on the
spinet was considered a graceful accomplishment; and certainly no
superior treat was to be had.

[Illustration: Lady playing on Spinet, with Violoncello
Accompaniment.—From a volume entitled _Music for Tea-table Miscellany_,
published by Allan Ramsay.]

Two things at this period told powerfully in introducing new ideas and
politer manners: first, the constant going and coming [Sidenote: 1730.]
of sixty-one men of importance between their own country and London in
attendance on parliament; and second, the introduction of a number of
English people as residents or visitors into the country, in connection
with the army, the excise and customs, and the management of the
forfeited estates. This intercourse irresistibly led to greater
cleanliness, to a demand for better house accommodation, and to at once
greater ease and greater propriety of manners. The minority of the
tasteful and the gay being so far reinforced, assemblies for dancing,
and even in a modest way theatricals, were no longer to be repressed.
The change thus effected was by and by confirmed, in consequence of
young men of family getting into the custom of travelling for a year or
two on the continent before settling at their professions or in the
management of their affairs at home. This led, too, to a somewhat
incongruous ingrafting of French politeness on the homely manners and
speech of the general flock of ladies and gentlemen. Reverting to the
matter of house accommodation, it may be remarked that a floor of three
or four rooms and a kitchen was then considered a mansion for a
gentleman or superior merchant in Edinburgh. We ought not to be too much
startled at the idea of a lady receiving gentlemen along with ladies in
her bedroom, when we reflect that there were then few rooms which had
not beds in them, either openly or behind a screen. It is a significant
fact that, in 1745, there was in Inverness only one house which
contained a room without a bed—namely, that in which Prince Charles took
up his lodgings.

As a consequence of the narrowness of house accommodation in those days,
taverns were much more used than they are now. A physician or advocate
in high practice was to be consulted at his tavern, and the habits of
each important practitioner in this regard were studied, and became
widely known. Gentlemen met in tavern clubs each evening for
conversation, without much expense, a shilling’s reckoning being thought
high—more generally, it was the half of that sum. ‘In some of these
clubs they played at backgammon or catch-honours for a penny the game.’
At the consultations of lawyers, the liquor was sherry, brought in
mutchkin stoups, and paid for by the employer. ‘It was incredible the
quantity that was drunk sometimes on those occasions.’ Politicians met
in taverns to discuss the affairs of state. One situated in the High
Street, kept by Patrick Steil, was the resort of a number of the
patriots who urged on the Act of Security and resisted the Union; and
the phrase, _Pate Steil’s Parliament_, [Sidenote: 1730.] occasionally
appears in the correspondence of the time. It was in the same place, as
we have seen, that the weekly concert was commenced. In the freer days
which ensued upon this time, it was not thought derogatory to ladies of
good rank that they should occasionally join oyster-parties in these
places of resort.

Miss Mure, in her invaluable memoir, remarks on the change which took
place in her youth in the religious sentiments of the people. A dread of
the Deity, and a fear of hell and of the power of the devil, she cites
as the predominant feelings of religious people in the age succeeding
the Revolution. It was thought a mark of atheistic tendencies to doubt
witchcraft, or the reality of apparitions, or the occasional
vaticinative character of dreams. When the generation of the Revolution
was beginning to pass away, the deep convictions as well as the
polemical spirit, of the seventeenth century gave place to an easier and
a gentler faith. There was no such thing as scepticism, except in the
greatest obscurity; but a number of favourite preachers began to place
Christianity in an amiable light before their congregations. ‘We were
bid,’ says Miss Mure, ‘to draw our knowledge of God from his works, the
chief of which is the soul of a good man; then judge if we have cause to
fear.... Whoever would please God must resemble him in goodness and
benevolence.... The Christian religion was taught as the purest rule of
morals; the belief of a particular providence and of a future state as a
support in every situation. The distresses of individuals were necessary
for exercising the good affections of others, and the state of suffering
the post of honour.’ At the same time, dread of parents also melted
away. ‘The fathers would use their sons with such freedom, that they
should be their first friend; and the mothers would allow of no
intimacies but with themselves. For their girls the utmost care was
taken that fear of no kind should enslave the mind; nurses were turned
off who would tell the young of ghosts and witches. The old ministers
were ridiculed who preached up hell and damnation; the mind was to be
influenced by gentle and generous motives alone.’

A country gentleman, writing in 1729, remarks the increase in the
expense of housekeeping which he had seen going on during the past
twenty years. While deeming it indisputable that Edinburgh was now less
populous than before the Union, ‘yet I am informed,’ says he, ‘there is
a greater consumption since, than before the Union, of all provisions,
especially fleshes and wheatbread. The butcher owns he now kills three
of every species of [Sidenote: 1730.] cattle for every one he killed
before the Union.’ Where formerly he had been accustomed to see ‘two or
three substantial dishes of beef, mutton, and fowl, garnished with their
own wholesome gravy,’ he now saw ‘several services of little expensive
ashets, with English pickles, yea Indian mangoes, and catch-up or
anchovy sauces.’ Where there used to be the quart stoup of ale from the
barrel, there was now bottled ale for a first service, and claret to
help out the second, or else ‘a snaker of rack or brandy punch.’ Tea in
the morning and tea in the evening had now become established. There
were more livery-servants, and better dressed, and more horses, than
formerly. French and Italian silks for the ladies, and English
broadcloth for the gentlemen, were more and more supplanting the plain
home-stuffs of former days.[709] This writer was full of fears as to the
warrantableness of this superior style of living, but his report of the
fact is not the less valuable.


[Sidenote: 1731. JULY.]

It will be remembered that the Bank of Scotland, soon after its
institution in 1696, settled branches at Glasgow, Aberdeen, Montrose,
and Dundee, all of which proving unsuccessful, were speedily withdrawn.
Since then, no new similar movement had been made; neither had a native
bank arisen in any of those towns. But now, when the country seemed to
be making some decided advances in industry and wealth, the Bank
resolved upon a new attempt, and set up branches in Glasgow, Aberdeen,
Dundee, and Berwick. It was found, however, that the effort was yet
premature, and, after two years’ trial, these branches were all
recalled.[710]

It is to be observed that Glasgow, though yet unable to support a branch
of a public bank, was not inexperienced in banking accommodation. The
business was carried on here, as it had long ago been in Edinburgh, by
private traders, and in intimate connection with other business. An
advertisement published in the newspapers in July 1730 by James Blair,
merchant, at the head of the Saltmarket in Glasgow, makes us aware that
at his _shop_ there, ‘all persons who have occasion to buy or sell bills
of exchange, or want money to borrow, or have money to lend on interest,
or have any sort of goods to sell, or want to buy any kind of goods, or
who want to buy sugar-house notes or other good bills, or desire to have
such notes or bills discounted, or who want to have [Sidenote: 1731.]
policies signed, or incline to underwrite policies in ships or goods,
may deliver their commands.’[711]


[Sidenote: OCT.]

The latter part of the year 1730 and earlier part of 1731 were made
memorable in England by the ‘Malicious Society of Undertakers.’ An
inoffensive farmer or a merchant would receive a letter threatening the
conflagration of his house unless he should deposit six or eight guineas
under his door before some assigned time. The system is said to have
begun at Bristol, where the house of a Mr Packer was actually set fire
to and consumed. When a panic had spread, many ruined gamblers and
others adopted the practice, in recklessness, or with a view to gain;
but the chief practitioners appear to have been ruffians of the lower
classes, as the letters were generally very ill-spelt and ill-written.

In the autumn of 1731, the system spread to Scotland, beginning in
Lanarkshire. According to Mr Wodrow, the parishes of Lesmahago and
Strathaven were thrown into great alarm by a number of anonymous letters
being dropped at night, or thrown into houses, threatening fire-raising
unless contributions were made in money. Mr Aiton of Walseley, a justice
of peace, was ordered to bring fifty guineas to the Cross-boat at
Lanark; otherwise his house would be burnt. He went to the place, but
found no one waiting. At the same time, there were rumours of strangers
being seen on the moors. So great was the consternation, that parties of
soldiers were brought to the district, but without discovering any
person that seemed liable to suspicion.[712]


[Sidenote: 1732. JAN. 22.]

James Erskine of Grange, brother of the attainted Earl of Mar, and who
had been a judge of the Court of Session since 1707, was fitted with a
wife of irregular habits and violent temper, the daughter of the
murderer Chiesley of Dalry.[713] After agreeing, in 1730, to live upon a
separate maintenance, she continued to persecute her husband in a
personal and indecent manner, and further vented some threats as to her
power of exposing him to the ministry for dangerous sentiments. The
woman was scarcely mad enough to justify restraint, and, though it had
been otherwise, there were in those days no asylums to which she could
have been consigned. In these circumstances, the husband felt himself at
liberty in conscience—pious man as he notedly was—to have his wife
spirited away by night from her lodgings in Edinburgh, [Sidenote: 1732.]
hurried by night-journeys to Loch Hourn on the West Highland coast, and
thence transported to the lonely island of Heskir, and put under the
care of a peasant-farmer, subject to Sir Alexander Macdonald of Sleat.
After two years, she was taken to the still more remote island of St
Kilda, and there kept amongst a poor and illiterate people, though not
without the comforts of life, for seven years more. It was not till 1740
that any friends of hers knew where she was. A prosecution of the
husband being then threatened, the lady was taken to a place more
agreeable to her, where she soon after died.

Lord Grange was one of those singular men who contrive to cherish and
act out the most intense religious convictions, to appear as zealous
leaders in church judicatories, and stand as shining lights before the
world, while yet tainted with the most atrocious secret vices. Being
animated with an extreme hatred of Sir Robert Walpole, he was tempted,
in 1734, to give up his seat on the bench, in order that he might be
able to go into parliament and assist in hunting down the minister.
Returned for Clackmannanshire, he did make his appearance in the House
of Commons, fully believing that he should ere long be secretary of
state for Scotland under a new ministry. It unluckily happened that one
of the first opportunities he obtained for making a display of oratory
was on the bill that was introduced for doing away with the statutes
against witchcraft.[714] Erskine was too faithful a Presbyterian of the
old type to abandon a code of beliefs that seemed fully supported by
Scripture. He rose, and delivered himself of a pious speech on the
reality of necromantic arts, and the necessity of maintaining the
defences against them. Sir Robert is said to have felt convinced from
that moment, that he had not much to fear from the new member for
Clackmannanshire.

Disappointed, impoverished, out of reverence with old friends, perhaps
somewhat galled in conscience, Erskine ere long retired in a great
measure from the world. For some years before his death in 1754, he is
said to have lived principally in a coffee-house in the Haymarket, as
all but the husband of its mistress; certainly a most lame and impotent
conclusion for one who had made such a figure in political life, and
passed as such a ‘professor,’ in his native country.


[Sidenote: FEB.]

On a stormy night in this month, Colonel Francis Charteris [Sidenote:
1732.] died at his seat of Stonyhill, near Musselburgh. The pencil of
Hogarth, which represents him as the old profligate gentleman in the
first print of the Harlot’s Progress, has given historical importance to
this extraordinary man. Descended from an old family of very moderate
fortune in Dumfriesshire—Charteris of Amisfield—he acquired an enormous
fortune by gambling and usury, and thus was enabled to indulge in his
favourite vices on a scale which might be called magnificent. A single
worthy trait has never yet been adduced to redeem the character of
Charteris, though it is highly probable that, in some particulars, that
character has been exaggerated by popular rumour.[715]

A contemporary assures us, that the fortune of Charteris amounted to the
then enormous sum of fourteen thousand a year; of which ten thousand was
left to his grandson, Francis, second son of the Earl of Wemyss.

‘Upon his death-bed,’ says the same writer, ‘he was exceedingly anxious
to know if there were any such thing as hell; and said, were he assured
there was no such place (being easy as to heaven), he would give thirty
thousand.... Mr Cumming the minister attended him on his death-bed. He
asked his daughter, who is exceedingly narrow, what he should give him.
She replied that it was unusual to give anything on such occasions.
“Well, then,” says Charteris, “let us have another flourish from him!”
so calling his prayers. There accidentally happened, the night he died,
a prodigious hurricane, which the vulgar ascribed to his death.’[716]


[Sidenote: MAR. 12.]

A transaction, well understood in Scotland, but unknown and probably
incomprehensible in England—‘an inharmonious settlement’—took place in
the parish of St Cuthbert’s, close to Edinburgh. A Mr Wotherspoon having
been presented by the crown to this charge, to the utter disgust of the
parishioners, the Commission of the General Assembly sent one of their
number, a Mr Dawson, to effect the ‘edictal service.’ The magistrates,
knowing the temper of the parishioners, brought the City Guard to
protect the ceremony as it proceeded in the church; so the people could
do nothing there. Their rage, however, being irrepressible, they came
out, tore down the edict from the kirk-door, [Sidenote: 1732.] and
seemed as if they would tear down the kirk itself. The City Guard fired
upon them, and wounded one woman.[717]


[Sidenote: JUNE 24.]

Owing to the difficulty of travelling, few of the remarkable foreigners
who came to England found their way to Scotland; but now and then an
extraordinary person appeared. At this date, there came to Edinburgh,
and put up ‘at the house of Yaxley Davidson, at the Cowgate Port,’
Joseph Jamati, Baculator or Governor of Damascus. He appeared to be
sixty, was of reddish-black complexion, grave and well-looking, wearing
a red cloth mantle trimmed with silver lace, and a red turban set round
with white muslin; had a gray beard about half a foot long; and was
described as ‘generally a Christian.’ Assistance under some severe
taxation of the Turkish pacha was what he held forth as the object of
his visit to Europe. He came to Edinburgh, with recommendations from the
Duke of Newcastle and other persons of distinction, and proposed to make
a round of the principal towns, and visit the Duke of Athole and other
great people. He was accompanied by an interpreter and another servant.
It appears that this personage had a public reception from the
magistrates, who bestowed on him a purse of gold. In consequence of
receiving a similar contribution from the Convention of Burghs, he
ultimately resolved to return without making his proposed tour.

Four years later, Edinburgh received visits, in succession, from two
other Eastern hierarchs, one of them designated as archbishop of Nicosia
in Cyprus, of the Armenian Church, the other being Scheik Schedit, from
Berytus, near Mount Lebanon, of the Greek Church, both bringing
recommendatory letters from high personages, and both aiming at a
gathering of money for the relief of their countrymen suffering under
the Turks. Scheik Schedit had an interpreter named Michel Laws, and two
servants, and the whole party went formally in a coach ‘to hear sermon
in the High Church.’[718]


[Sidenote: JULY 11.]

The Scottish newspapers intimate that on this day, between two and three
afternoon, there was felt at Glasgow ‘a shock of an earthquake, which
lasted about a second.’


[Sidenote: JULY 28.]

The six Highland companies were reviewed at Ruthven, in [Sidenote:
1732.] Badenoch, by General Wade, and were praised for their good state
of discipline. ‘We of this country,’ says the reporter of the affair,
‘and, indeed, all the Highland and northern parts of the kingdom, have
substantial reason to be well satisfied with them, since for a long time
there has not been the least ground to complain of disorders of any
kind; which we attribute to the vigilance of their officers, and a right
distribution and position of the several companies.’[719]


Robert Trotter, schoolmaster of Dumfries, published a Compendium of
Latin Grammar, ‘the conceitedness, envy, and errors’ of which were next
year exposed in a brochure of _Animadversions_ by John Love, the
schoolmaster of Dumbarton. Not long after Love had thus disposed of Mr
Trotter, he was himself put on the defensive before the kirk-session of
his parish, on a charge of _brewing on a Sunday_. Probably the verb was
only applicable in a neuter form—that is, nature, by continuing her
fermenting process on the Sabbath, was the only delinquent—for the
minister, ‘after a juridical trial, was obliged to make a public apology
for having maliciously accused calumniated innocence.’[720] Love, who
was the preceptor of Tobias Smollett, afterwards distinguished himself
by a controversy with the notorious Lauder, who, by forgery, tried to
derogate from the fame of Milton.


[Sidenote: 1733. MAY 14.]

Since 1598 we have not heard of any foreigners coming into Scotland to
play dangerous tricks upon long tight ropes; but now, unexpectedly, a
pair of these diverting vagabonds, one described as an Italian who had
performed his wonders in all the cities of Europe, the other as his son,
presented themselves. A rope being fixed between the Half-moon Battery
in the Castle, and a place on the south side of the Grassmarket, two
hundred feet below, the father slid down in half a minute. The son
performed the same feat, blowing a trumpet all the way, to the
astonishment of ‘an infinite crowd of spectators.’ Three days
afterwards, there was a repetition of the performance, at the desire of
several persons of quality, when, after sliding down, the father made
his way up again, firing a pistol, beating a drum, and playing a variety
of antics by the way, proclaiming, moreover, that here he could defy all
messengers, sheriffs’ officers, and macers of the Court of Session.
Being sore fatigued at the end of the performance, he [Sidenote: 1733.]
offered a guinea to the sutler of the Castle for a draught of ale, which
the fellow was churlish enough to refuse.

The two funambuli failed on a subsequent trial, ‘their equipage not at
all answering.’ Not many weeks after, we learn that William Hamilton,
mason in the Dean, trying the like tricks on a rope connected with
Queensferry steeple, fell off the rope, and was killed.[721]


In the course of this year, a body called the _Edinburgh Company of
Players_ performed plays in the Tailors’ Hall, in the Cowgate. On the
6th June, they had the _Beggars’ Opera_ for the benefit of the Edinburgh
Infirmary. They afterwards acted _Othello_, _Hamlet_, _Henry IV._,
_Macbeth_, and _King Lear_, ‘with great applause.’ In December, they
presented before a large audience the _Tempest_, ‘every part, and even
what required machinery, being performed in great order.’ In February
1734, the _Conscious Lovers_ was performed ‘for the benefit of Mrs
Woodward,’ ‘the doors not to be opened till four of the clock,
performance to begin at six.’ In March, the _Wonder_ is advertised, ‘the
part of the Scots colonel by Mr Weir, and that of his servant Gibby, in
Highland dress, by Mr Wescomb; and all the other parts to the best
advantage.’ Allan Ramsay must have been deeply concerned in the
speculation, because he appears in the office-copy of the newspaper
(_Caledonian Mercury_) as the paymaster for the advertisements.

Nor was this nascent taste for the amusements of the stage confined to
Edinburgh. In August, the company is reported as setting out early one
morning for Dundee, Montrose, Aberdeen, &c., ‘in order to entertain the
ladies and gentlemen in the different stations of their circuit.’ We
soon after hear of their being honoured at Dundee with the patronage of
the ancient and honourable society of freemasons, who marched in a body,
with the grand-master at their head, to the playhouse, ‘in their proper
apparel, with hautboys and other music playing before them;’ all this to
hear the _Jubilee_ and _The Devil to Pay_.

In December, the Edinburgh company was again in the Tailors’ Hall, and
now it ventured on ‘a pantomime in grotesque characters,’ costing
something in the getting up; wherefore ‘nothing less than full prices
will be taken during the whole performance.’ In consideration of the
need for space, it was ‘hoped that no gentleman whatever will take it
amiss if they are refused admittance [Sidenote: 1733.] behind the
scenes.’ Soon after, we hear of the freemasons patronising the play of
_Henry IV._, marching to the house ‘in procession, with aprons and white
gloves, attended with flambeaux.’ Mrs Bulkely took her benefit on the
22d January in _Oroonoko_ and a farce, in both of which she was to play;
but ‘being weak, and almost incapable to walk, [she] cannot acquit
herself to her friends’ satisfaction as usual; yet hopes to be favoured
with their presence.’

It is observable that the plays represented in the Cowgate house were
all of them of classic merit. This was, of course, prudential with
regard to popular prejudices. Persons possessed of a love of literature
were very naturally among those most easily reconciled to the stage; and
amongst these we may be allowed to class certain schoolmasters, who
about this time began to encourage their pupils to recite plays as a
species of rhetorical exercise.

On Candlemas, 1734—when by custom the pupils in all schools in Scotland
brought gifts to their masters, and had a holiday—the pupils of the
Perth Grammar School made an exhibition of English and Latin readings in
the church before the clergy, magistrates, and a large miscellaneous
auditory. ‘The Tuesday after, they acted _Cato_ in the school, which is
one of the handsomest in Scotland, before three hundred gentlemen and
ladies. The youth, though they had never seen a play acted, performed
surprisingly both in action and pronunciation, which gave general
satisfaction. After the play, the magistrates entertained the gentlemen
at a tavern.’[722]

In August, ‘the young gentlemen of Dalkeith School acted, before a
numerous crowd of spectators, the tragedy of _Julius Cæsar_ and comedy
of _Æsop_, with a judgment and address inimitable at their years.’ At
the same time, the pupils in the grammar school of Kirkcaldy performed a
piece composed by their master, entitled _The Royal Council for Advice,
or the Regular Education of Boys the Foundation of all other National
Improvements_. ‘The council consisted of a preses and twelve members,
decently and gravely seated round a table like senators. The other boys
were posted at a due distance in a crowd, representing people come to
attend this meeting for advice: from whom entered in their turn and
order, a tradesman, a farmer, a country gentleman, a nobleman, two
schoolmasters, &c., and, last of all, a gentleman who complimented and
congratulated the council on [Sidenote: 1733.] their noble design and
worthy performances.’ The whole exhibition is described as giving high
satisfaction to the audience.

This sort of fair weather could not last. At Candlemas, 1735, the Perth
school-boys acted _George Barnwell_—certainly an ill-chosen play—twice
before large audiences, comprising many persons of distinction; and it
was given out that on the succeeding Sunday ‘a very learned moral
sermon, suitable to the occasion, was preached in the town.’ Immediately
after came the corrective. The kirk-session had nominated a committee to
take measures to prevent the school from being ‘converted into a
playhouse, whereby youth are diverted from their studies, and employed
in the buffooneries of the stage;’ and as for the moral sermon, it was
‘directed against the sins and corruptions of the age, and was very
suitable to the resolution of the session.’


[Sidenote: JULY.]

England was pleasingly startled in 1721 by the report which came home
regarding a singularly gallant defence made by an English ship against
two strongly armed pirate vessels in the Bay of Juanna, near Madagascar.
The East India Company was peculiarly gratified by the report, for,
though it inferred the loss of one of their ships, it told them of a
severe check given to a system of marine depredation, by which their
commerce was constantly suffering.

It appeared that the Company’s ship _Cassandra_, commanded by Captain
Macrae, on coming to the Bay of Juanna in July 1720, heard of a
shipwrecked pirate captain being engaged in fitting out a new vessel on
the island of Mayotta, and Macrae instantly formed the design of
attacking him. When ready, on the 8th of August, to sail on this
expedition, along with another vessel styled the _Greenwich_, he was
saluted with the unwelcome sight of two powerful pirate vessels sailing
into the bay, one being of 30, and the other of 34 guns. Though he was
immediately deserted by the _Greenwich_, the two pirates bearing down
upon him with their black flags, did not daunt the gallant Macrae. He
fought them both for several hours, inflicting on one some serious
breaches between wind and water, and disabling the boats in which the
other endeavoured to board him. At length, most of his officers and
quarter-deck men being killed or wounded, he made an attempt to run
ashore, and did get beyond the reach of the two pirate vessels. With
boats, however, they beset his vessel with redoubled fury, and in the
protracted fighting which ensued, he suffered severely, though not
without inflicting fully as much [Sidenote: 1733.] injury as he
received. Finally, himself and the remains of his company succeeded in
escaping to the land, though in the last stage of exhaustion with wounds
and fatigue. Had he, on the contrary, been supported by the _Greenwich_,
he felt no doubt that he would have taken the two pirate vessels, and
obtained £200,000 for the Company.[723]

The hero of this brilliant affair was a native of the town of Greenock,
originally there a very poor boy, but succoured from misery by a
kind-hearted musician or violer named Macguire, and sent by him to sea.
By the help of some little education he had received in his native
country, his natural talents and energy quickly raised him in the
service of the East India Company, till, as we see, he had become the
commander of one of their goodly trading-vessels. The conflict of Juanna
gave him further elevation in the esteem of his employers, and, strange
to say, the poor barefooted Greenock laddie, the protégé of the
wandering minstrel Macguire, became at length the governor of Madras! He
now returned to Scotland, in possession of ‘an immense estate,’ which
the journals of the day are careful to inform us, ‘he is said to have
made with a fair character’—a needful distinction, when so many were
advancing themselves as robbers, or little better, or as truckling
politicians. One of Governor Macrae’s first acts was to provide for the
erection of a monumental equestrian statue of King William at Glasgow,
having probably some grateful personal feeling towards that sovereign.
It was said to have cost him £1000 sterling. But the grand act of the
governor’s life, after his return, was his requital of the kindness he
had experienced from the violer Macguire. The story formed one of the
little romances of familiar conversation in Scotland during the last
century. Macguire’s son, with the name of Macrae, succeeded to the
governor’s estate of Holmains, in Dumfriesshire,[724] which he handed
down to his son.[725] The three daughters, highly educated, and
handsomely dowered, were married to men of figure, the eldest to the
Earl of Glencairn (she was the mother of Burns’s well-known patron); the
second to Lord Alva, a judge in the Court of Session; the third to
Charles Dalrymple of Orangefield, near Ayr. Three years after his return
from the East Indies, Governor Macrae [Sidenote: 1733.] paid a visit to
Edinburgh, and was received with public as well as private marks of
distinction, on account of his many personal merits.

An amusing celebration of the return of the East India governor took
place at Tain, in the north of Scotland. John Macrae, a near kinsman of
the great man, being settled there in business, resolved to shew his
respect for the first exalted person of his hitherto humble clan.
Accompanied by the magistrates of the burgh and the principal burgesses,
he went to the Cross, and there superintended the drinking of a hogshead
of wine, to the healths of the King, Queen, Prince of Wales, and the
Royal Family, and those of ‘Governor Macrae and all his fast friends.’
‘From thence,’ we are told, ‘the company repaired to the chief taverns
in town, where they repeated the aforesaid healths, and spent the
evening with music and entertainments suitable to the occasion.’[726]


[Sidenote: DEC. 6.]

The tendency which has already been alluded to, of a small portion of
the Scottish clergy to linger in an antique orthodoxy and strenuousness
of discipline, while the mass was going on in a progressive laxity and
subserviency to secular authorities, was still continuing. The chief
persons concerned in the Marrow Controversy of 1718[727] and subsequent
years, had recently made themselves conspicuous by standing up in
opposition to church measures for giving effect to patronage in the
settlement of ministers, and particularly to the settlement of an
unpopular presentee at Kinross; and the General Assembly, held this year
in May, came to the resolution of rebuking these recusant brethren. The
brethren, however, were too confident in the rectitude of their course
to submit to censure, and the commission of the church in November
punished their contumacy by suspending from their ministerial functions,
Ebenezer Erskine of Stirling, William Wilson of Perth, Alexander
Moncrieff of Abernethy, and James Fisher of Kinclaven.

The suspended brethren, being all of them men held in the highest local
reverence, received much support among their flocks, as well as among
the more earnest clergy. Resolving not to abandon the principles they
had taken up, it became necessary that they should associate in the
common cause. They accordingly met at this date in a cottage at Gairney
Bridge near Kinross, and constituted themselves into a provisional
presbytery, though [Sidenote: 1733.] without professing to shake off
their connection with the Established Church. It is thought that the
taking of a mild course with them at the next General Assembly would
have saved them from an entire separation. But it was not to be. The
church judicatories went on in their adopted line of high-handed
secularism, and the matter ended, in 1740, with the deposition of the
four original brethren, together with four more who took part with them.
Thus, unexpectedly to the church, was formed a schism in her body,
leading to the foundation of a separate communion, by which a fourth of
her adherents, and those on the whole the most religious people, were
lost.

An immense deal of devotional zeal, mingled with the usual alloys of
illiberality and intolerance, was evoked through the medium of ‘the
Secession,’ The people built a set of homely meeting-houses for the
deposed ministers, and gave them such stipends as they could afford. In
four years, the new body appeared as composed of twenty-six clergy, in
three presbyteries. It was the first of several occasions of the kind,
on which, it may be said without disrespect, both the strength and the
weakness of the Scottish character have been displayed. A single
anecdote, of the truth of which there is no reason to doubt, will
illustrate the spirit of this first schism. There was a family of
industrious people at Brownhills, near St Andrews, who adhered to the
Secession. The nearest church was that of Mr Moncrieff at Abernethy,
twenty miles distant. All this distance did the family walk every
Sunday, in order to attend worship, walking of course an equal distance
in returning. All that were in health invariably went. They had to set
out at twelve o’clock of the Saturday night, and it was their practice
to make all the needful preparations of dress and provisioning without
looking out to see what kind of weather was prevailing. When all were
ready, the door was opened, and the whole party walked out into the
night, and proceeded on their way, heedless of whatever might fall or
blow.


[Sidenote: 1734. JAN.]

Our Scottish ancestors had a peculiar way of dealing with cases of
ill-usage of women by their husbands. The cruel man was put by his
neighbours across a tree or beam, and carried through the village so
enthroned, while some one from time to time proclaimed his offence, the
whole being designed as a means of deterring other men from being cruel
to their spouses.

We have a series of documents at this date, illustrating the regular
procedure in cases of _Riding the Stang_ [properly, sting—meaning
[Sidenote: 1734.] a beam]. John Fraser, of the burgh of regality of
Huntly, had gone to John Gordon, bailie for the Duke of Gordon,
complaining that some of his neighbours had threatened him with the
riding of the stang, on the ground of alleged ill-usage of his wife. The
first document is a complaint from Ann Johnston, wife of Fraser, and
some other women, setting forth the reality of this bad usage: the man
was so cruel to his poor spouse, that her neighbours were forced
occasionally to rise from their beds at midnight, in order to rescue her
from his barbarous hands. They justified the threat against him, as
meant to deter him from continuing his atrocious conduct, and went on to
crave of the bailie that he would grant them a _toleration of the
stang_, as ordinarily practised in the kingdom, ‘being, we know, no act
of parliament to the contrary.’ If his lordship could suggest any more
prudent method, they said they would be glad to hear of it ‘for
preventing more fatal consequences.’ ‘Otherwise, upon the least
disobligement given, we must expect to fall victims to our husbands’
displeasure, from which _libera nos, Domine_.’ Signed by Ann Johnston,
and ten other women, besides two who give only initials.

Fraser offered to prove that he used his wife civilly, and was allowed
till next day to do so. On that next day, however, four men set upon
him, and carried him upon a tree through the town, thus performing the
ceremony without authority. On Fraser’s complaint, they were fined in
twenty pounds Scots, and decerned for twelve pounds of assythment to the
complainer.[728]


[Sidenote: 1735. SEP.]

The execution of the revenue laws gave occasion for much bad blood. In
June 1734, a boat having on board several persons, including at least
one of gentlemanlike position in society, being off the shore of Nairn
with ‘_unentrable goods_,’ the custom-house officers, enforced by a
small party from the Hon. Colonel Hamilton’s regiment, went out to
examine it. In a scuffle which ensued, Hugh Fraser younger of Balnain
was killed, and two of the soldiers, named Long and Macadam, were tried
for murder by the Court of Admiralty in Edinburgh, and condemned to be
hanged on the 19th of November within flood-mark at Leith.

An appeal was made for the prisoners to the Court of Justiciary,
[Sidenote: 1735.] which, on the 11th of November, granted a suspension
of the Judge-admiral’s sentence till the 1st of December, that the case
might before that day be more fully heard. Next day, the Judge-admiral,
Mr Graham, caused to be delivered to the magistrates sitting in council
a ‘Dead Warrant,’ requiring and commanding them to see his sentence put
in execution on the proper day. The magistrates, however, obeyed the
Court of Justiciary. Meanwhile, four of those who had been in the boat,
and who had given evidence against the two soldiers on their trial, were
brought by the custom-house authorities before the Judge-admiral,
charged with invading and deforcing the officers, and were acquitted.

On the 5th December, the Court of Justiciary found that the
Judge-admiral, in the trial of Long and Macadam, had ‘committed
iniquity,’ and therefore they suspended the sentence indefinitely. On a
petition three weeks after, the men were liberated, after giving caution
to the extent of 300 merks, to answer on any criminal charge that might
be exhibited against them before the Court of Justiciary.[729]


[Sidenote: NOV. 18.]

Dancing assemblies, which we have seen introduced at Edinburgh in 1723,
begin within the ensuing dozen years to be heard of in some of the other
principal towns. There was, for example, an assembly at Dundee at this
date, and an Edinburgh newspaper soon after presented a copy of verses
upon the ladies who had appeared at it, celebrating their charms in
excessively bad poetry, but in a high strain of compliment:

             ‘Heavens! what a splendid scene is here,
               How bright those female seraphs shine!’ &c.

From the indications afforded by half-blank names, we may surmise that
damsels styled Bower, Duncan, Reid, Ramsay, Dempster, and Bow—all of
them names amongst the gentlefolks of the district—figured conspicuously
at this meeting—

         ‘Besides a much more numerous dazzling throng,
         Whose names, if known, should grace my artless song.’

The poet, too, appears to have paid 2_s._ 6_d._ for the insertion of his
lines in the _Caledonian Mercury_.

From this time onward, an annual ball, given by ‘the Right Honourable
Company of Hunters’ in the Palace of Holyroodhouse, is regularly
chronicled. At one which took place on the 8th [Sidenote: 1735.] January
1736—the Hon. Master Charles Leslie being ‘king,’ and the Hon. Lady
Helen Hope being ‘queen’—‘the company in general made a very grand
appearance, an elegant entertainment and the richest wines were served
up, and the whole was carried on and concluded with all decency and good
order imaginable.’ A ball given by the same fraternity in the same
place, on the ensuing 21st of December, was even more splendid. There
were two rooms for dancing, and two for tea, illuminated with many
hundreds of wax-candles. ‘In the Grand Hall [the Gallery?], a table was
covered with three hundred dishes _en ambiqu_, at which sate a hundred
and fifty ladies at a time ... illuminated with four hundred
wax-candles. The plan laid out by the council of the company was exactly
followed out with the greatest order and decency, and concluded without
the least air of disturbance.’

On the 27th January 1737, ‘the young gentlemen-burghers’ of Aberdeen
gave ‘a grand ball to the ladies, the most splendid and numerous ever
seen there;’ all conducted ‘without the least confusion or disorder.’
The anxiety to shew that there was no glaring impropriety in the conduct
of the company on these occasions, is significant, and very
amusing.[730]


The reader of this work has received—I fear not very thankfully—sundry
glimpses of the frightful state of the streets of Edinburgh in previous
centuries; and he must have readily understood that the condition of the
capital in this respect represented that of other populous towns, all
being alike deficient in any recognised means of removing offensive
refuse. There was, it must be admitted, something peculiar in the state
of Edinburgh in sanitary respects, in consequence of the extreme
narrowness of its many closes and wynds, and the height of its houses.
How it was endured, no modern man can divine; but it certainly is true
that, at the time when men dressed themselves in silks and laces, and
took as much time for their toilets as a fine lady, they had to pass in
all their bravery amongst piles of dung, on the very High Street of
Edinburgh, and could not make an evening call upon Dorinda or Celia in
one of the alleys, without the risk of an ablution from above sufficient
to destroy the most elegant outfit, and put the wearers out of conceit
with themselves for a fortnight.

The struggles of the municipal authorities at sundry times to [Sidenote:
1735.] get the streets put into decent order against a royal ceremonial
entry, have been adverted to in our earlier volumes. It would appear
that things had at last come to a sort of crisis in 1686, so that the
Estates then saw fit to pass an act[731] to force the magistrates to
clean the city, that it might be endurable for the personages concerned
in the legislature and government, ordaining for this purpose a ‘stent’
of a thousand pounds sterling a year for three years on the rental of
property. A vast stratum of refuse, through which people had made lanes
towards their shop-doors and close-heads, was then taken away—much of it
transported by the sage provost, Sir James Dick, to his lands at
Prestonfield, then newly enclosed, and the first that were so—which
consequently became distinguished for fertility[732]—and the city was
never again allowed to fall into such disorder. There was still,
however, no regular system of cleaning, beyond what the street sewers
supplied; and the ancient practice of throwing ashes, foul water, &c.,
over the windows at night, graced only with the warning-cry of _Gardez
l’eau_, was kept up in full vigour by the poorer and more reckless part
of the population.

An Edinburgh merchant and magistrate, named Sir Alexander Brand, who has
been already under our attention as a manufacturer of gilt leather
hangings, at one time presented an overture to the Estates for the
cleaning of the city. The modesty of the opening sentence will strike
the reader: ‘Seeing the nobility and gentry of Scotland are, when they
are abroad, esteemed by all nations to be the finest and most
accomplished people in Europe, yet it’s to be regretted that it’s always
casten up to them by strangers, who admire them for their singular
qualifications, that they are born in a nation that has the nastiest
cities in the world, especially the metropolitan.’ He offered to clean
the city daily, and give five hundred a year for the refuse.[733] But
his views do not seem to have been carried into effect.

After 1730, when, as we have seen, great changes were beginning to take
place in Scotland, increased attention was paid to external decency and
cleanliness. The Edinburgh magistrates were anxious to put down the
system of cleaning by ejectment. We learn, for example, from a
newspaper, that a servant-girl having thrown foul water from a fourth
story in Skinners’ Close, ‘which much abused a lady passing by, was
brought before the bailies, [Sidenote: 1735.] and obliged to enact
herself never to be guilty of the like practices in future. ’Tis hoped,’
adds our chronicler, ‘that this will be a caution to all servants _to
avoid this wicked practice_.’

There lived at this time in Edinburgh a respectable middle-aged man,
named Robert Mein, the representative of the family which had kept the
post-office for three generations between the time of the civil war and
the reign of George I., and who boasted that the pious lady usually
called Jenny Geddes, but actually Barbara Hamilton, who threw the stool
in St Giles’s in 1637, was his great-grandmother. Mein, being a man of
liberal ideas, and a great lover of his native city, desired to see it
rescued from the reproach under which it had long lain as the most fetid
of European capitals, and he accordingly drew up a paper, shewing how
the streets might be kept comparatively clean by a very simple
arrangement. His suggestion was, that there should be provided for each
house, at the expense of the landlord, a vessel sufficient to contain
the refuse of a day, and that scavengers, feed by a small subscription
among the tenants, should discharge these every night. Persons paying
what was then a very common rent, ten pounds, would have to contribute
only five shillings a year; those paying fifteen pounds, 7_s._ 6_d._,
and so on in proportion. The projector appears to have first explained
his plan to sundry gentlemen of consideration—as, for example, Mr
William Adam, architect, and Mr Colin Maclaurin, professor of
mathematics, who gave him their approbation of it in writing—the latter
adding: ‘I subscribe for my own house in Smith’s Land, Niddry’s Wynd,
fourth story, provided the neighbours agree to the same.’ Other
subscribers of consequence were obtained, as ‘Jean Gartshore, for my
house in Morocco’s Close, which is £15 rent,’ and ‘the Countess of
Haddington, for the lodging she possessed in Bank Close, Lawnmarket,
valued rent £20.’ Many persons agreed to pay a half-penny or a penny
weekly; some as much as a half-penny per pound of rent per month. One
lady, however, came out boldly as a recusant—‘Mrs Black refuses to
agree, and _acknowledges she throws over_.’[734]

Mr Mein’s plan was adopted, and acted upon to some extent by the
magistrates; and the terrible memory of the ‘DIRTY LUGGIES,’ which were
kept in the stairs, or in the passages within doors, as a necessary part
of the arrangement, was fresh in the minds of old people whom I knew in
early life. The city was in 1740 [Sidenote: 1735.] divided into
twenty-nine districts, each having a couple of scavengers supported at
its own expense, who were bound to keep it clean; while the refuse was
sold to persons who engaged to cart it away at three half-pence per
cart-load.[735]


[Sidenote: 1736. JAN. 9.]

Five men, who had suffered from the severity of the excise laws, having
formed the resolution of indemnifying themselves, broke into the house
of Mr James Stark, collector of excise, at Pittenweem, and took away
money to the extent of two hundred pounds, besides certain goods. They
were described as ‘Andrew Wilson, indweller in Pathhead; George
Robertson, stabler without Bristoport [Edinburgh]; William Hall,
indweller in Edinburgh; John Frier, indweller there; and John Galloway,
servant to Peter Galloway, horse-hirer in Kinghorn.’ Within three days,
the whole of them were taken and brought to Edinburgh under a strong
guard.

Wilson, Robertson, and Hall were tried on the 2d of March, and condemned
to suffer death on the ensuing 14th of April. Five days before that
appointed for the execution—Hall having meanwhile been reprieved—Wilson
and Robertson made an attempt to escape from the condemned cell of the
Old Tolbooth, but failed in consequence of Wilson, who was a squat man,
sticking in the grated window. Two days later, the two prisoners being
taken, according to custom, to attend service in the adjacent church,
Wilson seized two of the guard with his hands, and a third with his
teeth, so as to enable Robertson, who knocked down the fourth, to get
away. The citizens, whose sympathies went strongly with the men as
victims of the excise laws, were much excited by these events, and the
authorities were apprehensive that the execution of Wilson would not
pass over without an attempt at rescue. The apprehension was strongly
shared by John Porteous, captain of the town-guard, who consequently
became excited to a degree disqualifying him for so delicate a duty as
that of guarding the execution. When the time came, the poor smuggler
was duly suspended from the gallows in the Grassmarket, without any
disturbance; but when the hangman proceeded to cut down the body, the
populace began to throw stones, and the detested official was obliged to
take refuge among the men of the guard. Porteous, needlessly infuriated
by this demonstration, seized a musket, and fired among the crowd,
commanding his men to do the same. [Sidenote: 1735.] There was
consequently a full fusillade, attended by the instant death of six
persons, and the wounding of nine more.

The magistrates being present at the windows of a tavern close by, it
was inexcusable of Porteous to have fired without their orders, even had
there been any proper occasion for so strong a measure. As it was, he
had clearly committed manslaughter on an extensive scale, and was liable
to severe punishment. By the public at large he was regarded as a
ferocious murderer, who could scarcely expiate with his own life the
wrongs he had done to his fellow-citizens. Accordingly, when subjected
to trial for murder on the ensuing 5th of July, condemnation was almost
a matter of course.

The popular antipathy to the excise laws, the general hatred in which
Porteous was held as a harsh official, and a man of profligate life, and
the indignation at his needlessly taking so many innocent lives,
combined to create a general rejoicing over the issue of the trial.
There were some, however, chiefly official persons and their
connections, who were not satisfied as to the fairness of his assize,
and, whether it was fair or not, felt it to be hard to punish what was
at most an excess in the performance of public duty, with death. On a
representation of the case to the queen, who was at the head of a
regency during the absence of her husband in Hanover, a respite of six
weeks was granted, five days before that appointed for the
execution.[736]

[Sidenote: 1736.]

The consequent events are so well known, that it is unnecessary here to
give them in more than outline. The populace of Edinburgh heard of the
respite of Porteous with savage rage, and before the eve of what was to
have been his last day, a resolution was formed that, if possible, the
original order of the law should be executed. The magistrates heard of
mischief being designed, but disregarded it as only what they called
‘cadies’ clatters;’ that is, the gossip of street-porters. About nine in
the evening of the 7th September, a small party of men came into the
city at the West Port, beating a drum, and were quickly followed by a
considerable crowd. Proceeding by the Cowgate, they shut the two gates
to the eastward, and planted a guard at each. The ringleaders then
advanced with a large and formidable mob towards the Tolbooth, in which
Porteous lay confined. The magistrates came out from a tavern, and tried
to oppose the progress of the conspirators, but were beat off with a
shower of stones. Other persons of importance whom they met, were
civilly treated, but turned away from the scene of action. Reaching the
door of the prison, they battered at it for a long time in vain, and at
length it was found necessary to burn it. This being a tedious
[Sidenote: 1736.] process, it was thought by the magistrates that there
might be time to introduce troops from the Canongate, and so save the
intended victim. Mr Patrick Lindsay, member for the city, at
considerable hazard, made his way over the city wall, and conferred with
General Moyle at his lodging in the Abbeyhill; but the general hesitated
to act without the authority of the Lord Justice Clerk (Milton), who
lived at Brunstain House, five miles off. Thus time was fatally lost.
After about an hour and a half, the rioters forced their way into the
jail, and seized the trembling Porteous, whom they lost no time in
dragging along the street towards the usual place of execution. As they
went down the West Bow, they broke open a shop, took a supply of rope,
and left a guinea for it on the table. Then coming to the scene of what
they regarded as his crime, they suspended the wretched man over a
dyer’s pole, and having first waited to see that he was dead, quietly
dispersed.

The legal authorities made strenuous efforts to identify some of the
rioters, but wholly without success. The subsequent futile endeavour of
the government to punish the corporation of Edinburgh by statute,
belongs to the history of the country.


[Sidenote: JUNE 24.]

Considering how important have been the proceedings under the act of the
ninth parliament of Queen Mary _Anentis Witchcrafts_, it seems proper
that we advert to the fact of its being from this day repealed in the
parliament of Great Britain, along with the similar English act of the
first year of King James I. It became from that time incompetent to
institute any suit for ‘witchcraft, sorcery, enchantment, or
conjuration,’ and only a crime to pretend to exercise such arts, liable
to be punished by a year’s imprisonment, with the pillory. There seems
to be little known regarding the movement for abolishing these laws. We
only learn that it was viewed with disapprobation by the more zealously
pious people in Scotland, one of whom, Mr Erskine of Grange, member for
Clackmannanshire, spoke pointedly against it in the House of Commons.
Seeing how clearly the offence is described in scripture, and how direct
is the order for its punishment, it seemed to these men a symptom of
latitudinarianism that the old statute should be withdrawn. When the
body of dissenters, calling themselves the Associate Synod in 1742,
framed their Testimony against the errors of the established church and
of the times generally, one of the specific things condemned was the
repeal of the acts against witchcraft, which was declared to be
‘contrary to [Sidenote: 1736.] the express letter of the law of God,
“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”’


[Sidenote: NOV. 8.]

Amongst the gay and ingenious, who patronised and defended theatricals,
Allan Ramsay stood conspicuous. He entertained a kind of enthusiasm on
the subject, was keenly controversial in behalf of the stage, and
willing to incur some risk in the hope of seeing his ideal of a sound
drama in Scotland realised. We have seen traces of his taking an
immediate and personal interest in the performances carried on for a few
years by the ‘Edinburgh Company of Comedians’ in the Tailors’ Hall. He
was now induced to enter upon the design of rearing, in Edinburgh, a
building expressly adapted as a theatre; and we find him going on with
the work in the summer of this year, and announcing that ‘the New
Theatre in Carrubber’s Close’ would be opened on the 1st of November.
The poet at the same time called upon gentlemen and ladies who were
inclined to take annual tickets, of which there were to be forty at
30_s._ each, to come forward and subscribe before a particular day,
after which the price would be raised to two guineas.

Honest Allan knew he would have to encounter the frowns of the clergy,
and be reckoned as a rash speculator by many of his friends; but he
never expected that any legislative enactment would interfere to crush
his hopes. So it was, however. The theatre in Carrubber’s Close was
opened on the 8th of November, and found to be, in the esteem of all
judges, ‘as complete and finished with as good a taste as any of its
size in the three kingdoms.’[737] A prologue was spoken by Mr Bridges,
setting forth the moral powers of the drama, and attacking its
enemies—those who

                ‘From their gloomy thoughts and want of sense,
          Think what diverts the mind gives Heaven offence.’

The Muse, it was said, after a long career of glory in ancient times,
had reached the shores of England, where Shakspeare taught her to soar:

             ‘At last, transported by your tender care,
             She hopes to keep her seat of empire here.
             For your protection, then, ye fair and great,
             This fabric to her use we consecrate;
             On you it will depend to raise her name,
             And in Edina fix her lasting fame.’

[Sidenote: 1736.]

Alas! all these hopes of a poet were soon clouded. Before the
Carrubber’s Close playhouse had seen out its first season, an act was
passed (10 Geo. II. chap. 28) explaining one of Queen Anne regarding
rogues and vagabonds, the whole object in reality being to prevent any
persons from acting plays for hire, without authority or licence by
letters-patent from the king or his Lord Chamberlain.[738] This put a
complete barrier to the poet’s design, threw the new playhouse useless
upon his hands,[739] and had nearly shipwrecked his fortunes. He
addressed a poetical account of his disappointment to the new Lord
President of the Court of Session, Duncan Forbes, a man who united a
taste for elegant literature with the highest Christian graces. He
recites the project of the theatre:

                ‘Last year, my lord, nae farther gane,
                A costly wark was undertane
                By me, wha had not the least dread
                An act would knock it on the head:
                A playhouse new, at vast expense,
                To be a large, yet bien defence,
                In winter nights, ’gainst wind and weet,
                To ward frae cauld the lasses sweet;
                While they with bonny smiles attended,
                To have their little failings mended.’

He asks if he who has written with the approbation of the entire
country, shall be confounded with rogues and rascals, be twined of his
hopes, and

                ‘Be made a loser, and engage
                With troubles in declining age,
                While wights to whom my credit stands
                For sums, make sour and thrawn demands?’

Shall a good public object be defeated?

              ‘When ice and snaw o’ercleads the isle,
              Wha now will think it worth their while
              To leave their gousty country bowers,
              For the ance blythesome Edinburgh’s towers,
              Where there’s no glee to give delight,
              And ward frae spleen the langsome night?’

He pleads with the Session for at least a limited licence.

                   ‘... I humbly pray
               Our lads may be allowed to play,
               At least till new-house debts be paid off,
               The cause that I’m the maist afraid of;
               Which lade lies on my single back,
               And I maun pay it ilka plack.’

[Sidenote: 1736.]

Else let the legislature relieve him of the burden of his house,

                  ‘By ordering frae the public fund
                  A sum to pay for what I’m bound;
                  Syne, for amends for what I’ve lost,
                  Edge me into some canny post.’

All this was of course but vain prattle. The piece appeared in the
_Gentleman’s Magazine_ (August 1737), and no doubt awoke some sympathy;
but the poet had to bear single-handed the burden of a heavy loss, as a
reward for his spirited attempt to enliven the _beau monde_ of
Edinburgh.


[Sidenote: NOV. 28.]

Amongst other symptoms of a tendency to social enjoyments at this time,
we cannot overlook a marked progress of free-masonry throughout the
country. This day, the festival of the tutelar saint of Scotland, the
Masters and Wardens of forty regular lodges met in St Mary’s Chapel, in
Edinburgh, and unanimously elected as their Grand Master, William
Sinclair, of Roslin, Esq., representative of an ancient though reduced
family, which had been in past ages much connected with free-masonry.

On St John’s Day, 27th December, this act was celebrated by the
freemasons of Inverness, with a procession to the cross in white gloves
and aprons, and with the proper badges, the solemnity being concluded
with ‘a splendid ball to the ladies.’[740]


[Sidenote: 1737. JUNE 30.]

The Edinburgh officials who had been taken to London for examination
regarding the Porteous Riot, being now at liberty to return, there was a
general wish in the city to give them a cordial reception. The citizens
rode out in a great troop to meet them, and the road for miles was lined
with enthusiastic pedestrians. The Lord Provost, Alexander Wilson, from
modesty, eluded the reception designed for him; but the rest came
through the city, forming a procession of imposing length, while bells
rang and bonfires blazed, and the gates of the Netherbow, which had been
removed since the 7th of September last, were put up again amidst the
shouts of the multitude.

A month later, one Baillie, who had given evidence before the Lords’
Committee tending to criminate the magistrates, returned [Sidenote:
1737.] in a vessel from London, and had no sooner set his foot on shore
than he found himself beset by a mighty multitude bent on marking their
sense of his conduct. To collect the people, some seized and rang a
ship’s bell; others ran through the streets ringing small bells. ‘Bloody
Baillie is come!’ passed from mouth to mouth. The poor man, finding that
thousands were gathered for his honour, flung himself into the
stage-coach for Edinburgh, and was solely indebted to a fellow-passenger
of the other sex for the safety in which he reached his home.

Captain Lind, of the Town-guard, having given similar evidence, was
discharged by the town-council; but the government immediately after
appointed him ‘lieutenant in Tyrawley’s regiment of South British
Fusiliers at Gibraltar.’[741]


[Sidenote: 1738. FEB. 3.]

It was still customary to keep recruits in prison till an opportunity
was obtained of shipping them off for service. A hundred young men, who
had been engaged for the Dutch republic in Scotland, had been for some
time confined in the Canongate Tolbooth, where probably their treatment
was none of the best. Disappointed in several attempts at escape, they
turned at length mutinous, and it was necessary to carry four of the
most dangerous to a dungeon in the lower part of the prison. By this the
rest were so exasperated, ‘that they seized one of their officers and
the turnkey, whom they clapped in close custody, and, barricading the
prison-door, bade defiance to all authority. At the same time they
intimated that, if their four comrades were not instantly delivered up
to them, they would send the officer and turnkey to where the d—— sent
his mother; so that their demand was of necessity complied with.’

During all the next day (Saturday) they remained in their fortress
without any communication either by persons coming in or by persons
going out. The authorities revolved the idea of a forcible attempt to
reduce them to obedience; but it seemed better to starve them into a
surrender. On the Sunday evening, their provisions being exhausted, they
beat a chamade and hung out a white flag; whereupon some of their
officers and a few officers of General Whitham’s regiment entered into a
capitulation with them; and, a general amnesty being granted, they
delivered up their stronghold. ‘It is said they threatened, in case of
non-compliance with their articles, to fall instantly about eating the
turnkey.’[742]

[Sidenote: 1738. AUG.]

Isabel Walker, under sentence of death at Dumfries for child-murder,
obtained a reprieve through unexpected means. According to a letter
dated Edinburgh, August 10, 1738, ‘This unhappy creature was destitute
of friends, and had none to apply for her but an only sister, a girl of
a fine soul, that overlooked the improbability of success, and helpless
and alone, went to London to address the great; and solicited so well,
that she got for her, first, a reprieve, and now a remission. Such
another instance of onerous friendship can scarce be shewn; it well
deserved the attention of the greatest, who could not but admire the
virtue, and on that account engage in her cause.’[743]

Helen Walker, who acted this heroic part, was the daughter of a small
farmer in the parish of Irongray. Her sister, who had been under her
care, having concealed her pregnancy, it came to be offered to Helen as
a painful privilege, that she could save the accused if she could say,
on the trial, that she had received any communication from Isabel
regarding her condition. She declared it to be impossible that she
should declare a falsehood even to save a sister’s life; and
condemnation accordingly took place. Helen then made a journey on foot
to London, in the hope of being able to plead for her sister’s life;
and, having almost by accident gained the ear and interest of the Duke
of Argyle, she succeeded in an object which most persons would have said
beforehand was next to unattainable.

Isabel afterwards married her lover, and lived at Whitehaven for many
years. Helen survived till 1791, a poor peasant woman, living by the
sale of eggs and other small articles, or doing country work, but always
distinguished by a quiet self-respect, which prevented any one from ever
talking to her of this singular adventure of her early days. Many years
after she had been laid in Irongray kirkyard, a lady who had seen and
felt an interest in her communicated her story to Sir Walter Scott, who
expanded it into a tale (_The Heart of Mid-Lothian_) of which the chief
charm lies in the character and actings of the self-devoted heroine. It
was one of the last, and not amongst the least worthy, acts of the great
fictionist to raise a monument over her grave, with the following
inscription:

‘This stone was erected by the Author of _Waverley_ to the memory of
HELEN WALKER, who died in the year of God 1791. This humble individual
practised in real life the virtues with which [Sidenote: 1738.] fiction
has invested the imaginary character of JEANIE DEANS; refusing the
slightest departure from veracity, even to save the life of a sister,
she nevertheless shewed her hardiness and fortitude in rescuing her from
the severity of the law, at the expense of personal exertions which the
time rendered as difficult as the motive was laudable. Respect the grave
of poverty when combined with love of truth and dear affection.’


[Sidenote: 1739. JAN.]

This month was commenced in Edinburgh a monthly miscellany and
chronicle, which long continued to fill a useful place in the world
under the name of the _Scots Magazine_. It was framed on the model of
the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, which had commenced in London eight years
before, and the price of each number was the modest one of sixpence.
Being strictly a _magazine_ or store, into which were collected all the
important newspaper matters of the past month, it could not be
considered as a literary effort of much pretension, though its value to
us as a picture of the times referred to is all the greater. Living
persons connected with periodical literature will hear with a smile that
this respectable miscellany was, about 1763 and 1764, conducted by a
young man, a corrector of the press in the printing-office which
produced it, and whose entire salary for this and other duties was
sixteen shillings a week.[744]


[Sidenote: JAN. 14.]

A hurricane from the west-south-west, commencing at one in the morning,
and accompanied by lightning, swept across the south of Scotland, and
seems to have been beyond parallel for destructiveness in the same
district before or since. The blowing down of chimneys, the strewing of
the streets with tiles and slates, were among the lightest of its
performances. It tore sheet-lead from churches and houses, and made it
fly through the air like paper. In the country, houses were thrown down,
trees uprooted by hundreds, and corn-stacks scattered. A vast number of
houses took fire. At least one church, that of Killearn, was prostrated.
Both on the west and east coast, many ships at sea and in harbour were
damaged or destroyed. ‘At Loch Leven, in Fife, great shoals of perches
and pikes were driven a great way into the fields; so that the country
people got horse-loads of them, and sold them at one penny per hundred.’
The number of casualties to life and limb seems, after all, to have been
small.[745]

[Sidenote: 1730.]

James, second Earl of Rosebery, was one who carried the vices and
follies of his age to such extravagance as to excite a charitable belief
that he was scarcely an accountable person. In his father’s lifetime, he
had been several times in the Old Tolbooth for small debts. In 1726,
after he had succeeded to the family title, he was again incarcerated
there for not answering the summons of the Court of Justiciary ‘for
deforcement, riot, and spulyie.’ A few years later, his estates are
found in the hands of trustees.

At this date, he excited the merriment of the thoughtless, and the
sadness of all other persons, by advertising the elopement of a girl
named Polly Rich, who had been engaged for a year as his servant;
describing her as a London girl, or ‘what is called a Cockney,’ about
eighteen, ‘fine-shaped and blue-eyed,’ having all her linen marked with
his cornet and initials. Two guineas reward were offered to whoever
should restore her to her ‘right owner,’ either at John’s Coffee-house,
or ‘the Earl of Roseberry, at Denham’s Land, Bristow, and no questions
will be asked.’[746]


The potato—introduced from its native South American ground by Raleigh
into Ireland, and so extensively cultivated there in the time of the
civil wars, as to be a succour to the poor when all cereal crops had
been destroyed by the soldiery—transplanted thence to England, but so
little cultivated there towards the end of the seventeenth century, as
to be sold in 1694 at sixpence or eightpence a pound[747]—is first heard
of in Scotland in 1701, when the Duchess of Buccleuch’s household-book
mentions a peck of the esculent as brought from Edinburgh, and costing
2_s._ 6_d._[748] We hear of it in 1733, as used occasionally at supper
in the house of the Earl of Eglintoun, in Ayrshire.[749] About this
time, it was beginning to be cultivated in gardens, but still with a
hesitation about its moral character, for no reader of Shakspeare
requires to be told that some of the more uncontrollable passions of
human nature were supposed to be favoured by its use.[750]

[Sidenote: 1739.]

At the date here noted, a gentleman, styled Robert Graham of Tamrawer,
factor on the forfeited estate of Kilsyth, ventured on the heretofore
unknown step of planting a _field of potatoes_. His experiment was
conducted on a half-acre of ground ‘on the croft of Neilstone, to the
north of the town of Kilsyth.’ It appears that the root was now, and for
a good while after, cultivated only on _lazy beds_. Many persons—amongst
whom was the Earl of Perth, who joined in the insurrection of 1745—came
from great distances to witness so extraordinary a novelty, and inquire
into the mode of culture.

The field-culture of the potato was introduced about 1746 into the
county of Edinburgh by a man named Henry Prentice, who had made a
little money as a travelling-merchant, and was now engaged in
market-gardening.[751] His example was soon extensively followed, and
before 1760 the root was very generally reared in fields, as it is at
present.


[Sidenote: 1740. JAN.]

A frost, which began on the 26th of the previous month, lasted during
the whole of this, and was long remembered for its severity, and the
many remarkable circumstances attending it. We nowhere get a scientific
statement of the temperature at any period of its duration; but the
facts related are sufficient to prove that this was far below any point
ordinarily attained in this country. The principal rivers of Scotland
were frozen over, and there was such a general stoppage of water-mills,
that the knocking-stones usually employed in those simple days for
husking grain in small quantities, and of which there was one at nearly
every cottage-door, were used on this occasion as means of grinding it.
Such mills as had a flow of water, were worked on Sundays as well as
[Sidenote: 1740.] ordinary days. In some harbours, the ships were frozen
up. Food rose to famine prices, and large contributions were required
from the rich to keep the poor alive.

The frost was severe all over the northern portion of Europe. The Thames
at London being thickly frozen over, a fair was held upon it, with a
multitude of shows and popular amusements. At Newcastle, men digging
coal in the pits were obliged to have fires kindled to keep them warm;
and one mine was through this cause ignited permanently. In the
metropolis, coal became so scarce as to reach 70_s._ per chaldron; and
there also much misery resulted among the poor. People perished of cold
in the fields, and even in the streets, and there was a prodigious
mortality amongst birds and other wild animals.


[Sidenote: OCT.]

In consequence of the failure of the crop of this year, Scotland was now
undergoing the distresses attendant upon the scarcity and high price of
provisions. The populace of Edinburgh attacked the mills, certain
granaries in Leith, and sundry meal-shops, and possessed themselves of
several hundred bolls of grain, the military forces being too limited in
number to prevent them. Several of the rioters being captured, a mob
attempted their rescue, and thus led to a fusillade from the soldiery,
by which three persons were wounded, one of them mortally. Great efforts
were made by the magistracy to obtain corn at moderate prices for the
people, by putting in force the laws against reservation of grain from
market, and the dealing in it with a view to profit; also by the more
rational method of subscriptions among the rich for the sale of meal at
comparatively low rates to the poor. The magistrates of Edinburgh also
invited importations of foreign grain (December 19), proclaiming that,
in case of any being seized by mobs, the community should make good the
loss.[752]


[Sidenote: 1741. JULY.]

George Whitfield, whose preachings had been stirring up a great
commotion in England for some years past, came to Scotland, and for a
time held forth at various places in the open air, particularly on the
spot where the Edinburgh Theatre afterwards stood. ‘This gentleman,’
says a contemporary chronicler, ‘recommends the essentials of religion,
and decries the distinguishing punctilios of parties; exclaims against
the moral preachers of the age; preaches the doctrine of free grace
according to the [Sidenote: 1741.] predestinarian scheme; mentions often
the circumstance of his own regeneration, and what success he has had in
his ministerial labours.’[753] Having heard of the late secession from
the Church of Scotland by a set of clergymen reputed to be unusually
sanctimonious, he was eager to fraternise with them, and lost no time in
preaching to the congregation of Mr Ralph Erskine at Dunfermline. But
here he met unexpected difficulties. The Scottish seceders could not
hold out the right hand of fellowship to one who did not unite with them
in their testimony against defective churches. He was a man of too broad
sympathies to suit them; so they parted; and Whitfield from that time
fraternised solely with the established clergy.

[Sidenote: 1742. FEB.]

About this time began a series of religious demonstrations, chiefly
centering at Cambuslang on the Clyde, and long after recognised
accordingly as the _Camb’slang Wark_. Mr Whitfield, in his visit of some
months last year, had stirred up a new zeal in the Established Church.
Mr M‘Culloch, minister of Cambuslang, was particularly inflamed by his
eloquence, and he had all winter been addressing his flock in an
unusually exciting manner. The local fervour waxing stronger and
stronger, a shoemaker and a weaver at length lent their assistance to
it, and now it was breaking out in those transports of terror of
hell-fire, prostrate penitence, and rejoicing re-assurance, which mark
what is called a _revival_. The meetings chiefly took place in a natural
amphitheatre or holm, on the river’s side, and were externally very
picturesque. There seldom was wanting a row of patients in front of the
minister, with their heads tied up, and pitchers of water ready to
recover those who fainted. Early in the summer, Mr Whitfield returned to
Scotland, and immediately came to lend his assistance to the work, both
at Cambuslang, and in the Barony parish of Glasgow. ‘From that time the
multitudes who assembled were more numerous than they had ever been, or
perhaps than any congregation which had ever before been collected in
Scotland; the religious impressions made on the people were apparently
much greater and more general; and the visible convulsive agitations
which accompanied them, exceeded everything of the kind which had yet
been observed.’[754] The clergy of the establishment were pleased with
what was going on, as it served to shew that their lamp was not gone
out, thereby enabling them to hold up their heads against the taunts of
the Secession as to growing [Sidenote: 1742.] lukewarmness and
defection. And they pointed with pathetic earnestness to the many
sinners converted from evil ways, as a proof that real good was done. On
the other hand, the seceders loudly deplored ‘the present awful symptom
of the Lord’s anger with the church and land, in sending them _strong
delusion_, that they should _believe a lie_,’ and ordained a day to be
observed as a fast, in order to avert the evils they apprehended in
consequence.[755] A fierce controversy raged for some time between the
two bodies, as to whether the Camb’slang Wark was of God or of the
Devil, each person being generally swayed in his decision by his love
for, or aversion to, the Established Church. A modern divine just quoted
(Erskine), disclaims for them a miraculous character, but asserts, as
matter of historic verity, that fully four hundred persons at Cambuslang
underwent a permanent religious change, independent of those who were
converted in like manner at Kilsyth. It is understood that the
proceedings of the Associate Synod on the occasion have since been much
deplored by their successors.


[Sidenote: OCT. 10.]

Public attention was strongly roused by an accident of an uncommon kind
which happened in the lowlands of Ross-shire. The church of Fearn parish
was an old Gothic structure covered with a heavy roof of flagstone. This
day, being Sunday, while the parishioners were assembled at worship, the
roof and part of the side-wall gave way, under the pressure of a load of
prematurely fallen snow; and the bulk of the people present were buried
under the ruins. The fortunate arrangement of the seats of the gentry in
the side recesses saved most of that class from injury; and the
minister, Mr Donald Ross, was protected by the sounding-board of his
pulpit. There chanced to be present Mr James Robertson, the minister of
Lochbroom, a man of uncommon personal strength and great dexterity and
courage. He, planting his shoulder under a falling _lintel_, sustained
it till a number of the people escaped. Forty poor people were dug out
dead, and in such a state of mutilation that it was found necessary to
huddle them all into one grave.[756]


[Sidenote: 1743.]

The period of the extinction of wild and dangerous animals in a country
is of some importance, as an indication of its [Sidenote: 1743.] advance
in civilisation, and of the appropriation of its soil for purely
economic purposes. One learns with a start how lately the wolf inhabited
the Highlands of Scotland. It is usually said that the species was
extirpated about 1680 by the famous Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheil; but the
tradition to that effect appears to be only true of Sir Ewen’s own
district of Western Inverness-shire, and there is reason to believe that
the year at which this chronicle has arrived is the date of the death of
the last wolf in the entire kingdom. The slayer of the animal is
represented as being a notable Highland deer-stalker of great stature
and strength, named Macqueen of Pall-a’-chrocain, and the Forest of
Tarnaway in Morayland is assigned as the scene of the incident. The
popular Highland narration on the subject is as follows:

‘One winter’s day, about the year before mentioned, Macqueen received a
message from the Laird of Macintosh that a large “black beast,” supposed
to be a wolf, had appeared in the glens, and the day before killed two
children, who, with their mother, were crossing the hills from Calder;
in consequence of which a “Tainchel,” or gathering to drive the country,
was called to meet at a tryst above Fi-Giuthas, where Macqueen was
invited to attend with his dogs. Pall-a’-chrocain informed himself of
the place where the children had been killed, the last tracks of the
wolf, and the conjectures of his haunts, and promised his assistance.

‘In the morning the “Tainchel” had long assembled, and Macintosh waited
with impatience, but Macqueen did not arrive; his dogs and himself were,
however, auxiliaries too important to be left behind, and they continued
to wait until the best of a hunter’s morning was gone, when at last he
appeared, and Macintosh received him with an irritable expression of
disappointment.

‘“_Ciod e a’ chabhag?_—“What was the hurry?” said Pall-a’-chrocain.

‘Macintosh gave an indignant retort, and all present made some impatient
reply.

‘Macqueen lifted his plaid, and drew the black bloody head of the wolf
from under his arm—“_Sin e dhùibh_”—“There it is for you!” said he, and
tossed it on the grass in the midst of the surprised circle.

‘Macintosh expressed great joy and admiration, and gave him the land
called Sean-achan for meat to his dogs.’[757]

[Sidenote: 1743. MAY.]

Owing to a severe spring, a malady called ‘fever and cold’ prevailed in
Edinburgh, and was spreading all over the country. On Sunday, the 8th
May, fifty sick people were prayed for in the city churches, and in the
preceding week there had been seventy burials in the Greyfriars, being
three times the usual number.


[Sidenote: JULY.]

For a number of years, the six independent companies of armed
Highlanders, commonly called the Reicudan Dhu, or Black Watch, had been
effective in keeping down that system of cattle-lifting which ancient
prejudice had taught the Highlanders generally to regard as only a kind
of clan warfare. But in 1739, the government was induced to form these
companies into a regular regiment for service in the foreign war then
entered upon; and in March of this year, they were actually sent into
England, leaving the Highlands without adequate protection. The
consequence was an immediate revival of old practices.

In July of this year, it was reported to the Edinburgh newspapers that
the highlands of Nairnshire were absolutely infested with depredators,
who came by day as well as night, and drove off the cattle, not
scrupling to kill the inhabitants when they were resisted. The
proprietors were trying to form a watch or guard for the country; but
these people often fell into complicity with the spoilers, or entered on
a similar career themselves. The greatest confusion and difficulty
prevailed, and other districts were soon after involved in the same
calamitous grievance.

One day in October, a party of nine _cearnochs_ or _caterans_, well
armed, came from Rannoch into Badenoch, and laid a large part of the
district under contribution, ‘forcing the people to capitulate for their
lives at the expense of all they possessed,’ and carrying off a great
quantity of sheep. The gentlemen of the district hastily assembled with
some of their people, but felt greatly at a loss on account of their
want of arms. Nevertheless, with a few old weapons, they resolved to
attack the depredators. A smoke seen on a distant hillside led them to
the place where the robbers were halting. Their firearms were by this
time useless with wet; yet they fell on with great courage, and obtained
a victory, at the expense of a wound to one of their party. Four of the
offenders were secured, and carried to the prison at Ruthven.[758] It
was hoped that the fate of this party would deter others; but the hope
was not realised.

[Sidenote: 1743.]

In March 1744, a general meeting of the gentlemen of the district of
Badenoch took into consideration the sad state of their country. It was
represented that, owing to the frequent thefts committed, the tenants
were on the brink of utter ruin: some who paid not above fifteen pounds
of rent, had suffered losses to the extent of a hundred. Evan Macpherson
of Cluny, the leading man of the district, and a person of activity and
intelligence, had been repeatedly entreated to undertake the formation
and management of an armed watch, to be supported from such small
contributions as could be raised; but he regarded the country as too
poor to support such an establishment as would be necessary. Yet he now
told them that, unless the king could protect them, he could suggest no
other course than the putting of their own and the neighbouring
districts under persons who could guard the country by their own armed
retainers, and guarantee the restitution of lost goods to all such as
would contribute to the necessary funds.

On the entreaty of his neighbours, Cluny, in May, did muster a number of
his people, of honest character, whom he planted at the several passes
through which predatory incursions were made, ‘giving them most strict
orders that these passes should be punctually travelled and watched
night and day, for keeping off, intercepting, seizing, and imprisoning
the villains, as occasion offered, and as strictly forbidding and
discharging them to act less or more in the ordinary way of other
undertakers [leviers of black-mail], who, instead of suppressing theft,
do greatly support it, by currying the favour of the thieves, and
gratifying them for their diverting of the weight of theft from such
parts of the countries as pay the undertaker for their protection, to
such parts as do not pay them.’

Cluny is allowed to have tolerably well effected his purpose. The
thieves, being hemmed in by him, and reduced to great straits, offered
to keep his own lands skaithless if he would cease to guard those of his
neighbours, a proposal to which, as might be expected, he gave no heed.
They tried to evade his vigilance by taking a _spreath_ of cattle from
Strathnairn by boats across Loch Ness, instead of by the ordinary route;
but he then set guards on the ferries of Loch Ness, albeit at a great
additional expense. The lands of gentlemen who declined to contribute
were as safe as those in the opposite circumstances. He was even able to
restore some cattle taken from distant places, as Banffshire,
Strathallan, and the Colquhoun’s grounds near Dumbarton.[759]

[Sidenote: 1743.]

The Rev. Mr Lapslie, writing in 1795 the statistical account of his
parish of Campsie, remarks with a feeling of wonder the fact that, so
recently as 1744, his father ‘paid black-mail to Macgregor of Glengyle,
in order to prevent depredations being made upon his property; Macgregor
engaging, upon his part, to secure him from suffering any _hardship_
[hership, that is, despoliation], as it was termed; and he faithfully
fulfilled the contract; engaging to pay for all sheep which were carried
away, if above the number of seven, which he styled a _lifting_; if
below seven, he only considered it a piking; and for the honour of this
warden of the Highland march, Mr John Lapslie having got fifteen sheep
lifted in the commencement of the year 1745, Mr Macgregor actually had
taken measures to have their value restored, when the rebellion broke
out, and put an end to any further payment of black-mail, and likewise
to Mr Macgregor’s self-created wardenship of the Highland borders.’[760]


[Sidenote: OCT.]

We have seen that an abortive attempt was made in 1678 to set up a
stage-coach between Edinburgh and Glasgow.[761] Nothing more is heard of
such a scheme till the present date, when John Walker, merchant in
Edinburgh, proposed to the town council of Glasgow the setting up of a
stage-coach between the two towns, for six persons, twice a week, for
twenty weeks in summer, and once a week during the rest of the year,
receiving ten shillings per passenger, provided that he should have the
sale of two hundred tickets per annum guaranteed.[762] This effort was
likewise abortive.

It was not till 1758, when the population of Glasgow had risen to about
thirty-five thousand, that a regular conveyance for passengers was
established between the two cities. It was drawn by four horses, and the
journey of forty-two miles was performed in twelve hours, the passengers
stopping to dine on the way. Such was the only stage-coach on that
important road for thirty years, nor during that time did any
acceleration take place. A young lady of Glasgow, of distinguished
beauty, having to travel to Edinburgh about 1780, a lover towards whom
she was not very favourably disposed, took all the remaining tickets,
was of course her sole companion on the journey, entertained her at
dinner, and otherwise found such means of pressing his suit, that she
soon after became his wife. This was, so far as it goes, a very pretty
piece [Sidenote: 1743.] of stage-coach romance; but, unluckily, the
lover was unworthy of his good-fortune, and the lady, in a state of
worse than widowhood, was, a few years after, the subject of the
celebrated Clarinda correspondence of Burns.

Mr Palmer, the manager of the Bath Theatre, having succeeded in
introducing his smart stage-coaches, one was established, in July 1788,
between London and Glasgow, performing the distance (405 miles) in
sixty-five hours. This seems to have led to an improvement in the
conveyances between Edinburgh and the western city. Colin M‘Farlane, of
the Buck’s Head Inn of Glasgow, announced, in the ensuing October, his
having commenced a four-seated coach between the two cities every lawful
day at eleven o’clock, thus permitting mercantile men to transact
business at the banks and public offices before starting. ‘In most of
the coaches running at present,’ says he, ‘six are admitted, and three
into a chaise, which proves very disagreeable for passengers _to be so
situated for a whole day_. The inconvenience is entirely removed by the
above plan.... Owing to the lightness of the carriage, and frequent
change of horses, she arrives at Glasgow and Edinburgh as soon as the
carriages that set off early in the morning.’ ‘Price of the tickets from
both towns, 9_s._ 6_d._’[763] Notwithstanding this provocative to
emulation, ‘the Diligence’ for Edinburgh was announced in 1789 as
starting from the Saracen’s Head each morning at nine, ‘_or at any other
hour the two first passengers might agree on_.’[764] It was not till
1799 that the time occupied by a stage-coach journey between these two
cities was reduced so low as even six hours, being still an hour and a
half beyond the time ultimately attained before the opening of the
railway in 1842.


[Sidenote: 1744.]

For some years the use of tea had been creeping in amongst nearly all
ranks of the people. It was thought by many reflecting persons, amongst
whom was the enlightened Lord President Forbes, to be in many respects
an improper diet, expensive, wasteful of time, and calculated to render
the population weakly and effeminate. During the course of this year,
there was a vigorous movement all over Scotland for getting the use of
tea abated. Towns, parishes, and counties passed resolutions
condemnatory of the Chinese leaf, and pointing strongly to the manlier
attractions of beer. The tenants of William Fullarton [Sidenote: 1744.]
of Fullarton, in Ayrshire, in a bond they entered into on the occasion,
thus delivered themselves: ‘We, being all farmers by profession, think
it needless to restrain ourselves formally from indulging in that
foreign and consumptive luxury called _tea_; for when we consider the
_slender constitutions_ of many of higher rank, amongst whom it is used,
we conclude that it would be but an improper diet to qualify us for the
more _robust_ and _manly_ parts of our business; and therefore we shall
only give our testimony against it, and leave the enjoyment of it
altogether to those who can afford to be _weak_, _indolent_, and
_useless_.’


[Sidenote: 1745. OCT.]

Lord Lovat, writing to the Lord President Forbes on the 20th of this
month, adverts to the effect of the civil broils in giving encouragement
to men of prey in the Highlands. He says: ‘This last fortnight, my
cousin William [Fraser], Struie’s uncle, that is married to Kilbockie’s
daughter, and who is a very honest man, and she a good woman, had twenty
fine cows stolen from him. The country [that is, the country people]
went upon _the track_, and went into Lochaber and to Rannoch, and came
up with the thieves in my Lord Breadalbane’s forest of Glenurchy. The
thieves, upon seeing the party that pursued them, abandoned the cattle,
and ran off; and William brought home his cattle, but had almost died,
and all that was with him, of fatigue, cold, and hunger; but, indeed, it
is the best-followed track that ever I heard of in any country. You see
how loose the whole country is, when four villains durst come a hundred
miles, and take up the best cattle they could find in this country; for
they think there is no law, and that makes them so insolent.’[765]

The practice of stealing cattle in the Highlands has already been
several times alluded to, as well as the system of compromise called
_black-mail_, by which honest people were enabled in some degree to
secure themselves against such losses. Down to 1745, there does not
appear to have been any very sensible abatement of this state of things,
notwithstanding the keeping up of the armed companies, professedly for
the maintenance of law and order. Perhaps the black-mail caused there
being less robbery than would otherwise have been the case, and also the
occasional restoration of property which had been taken away; but it was
of course necessary for the exactors of the mail to allow at least as
much despoliation as kept up the occasion for the tax. [Sidenote: 1745.]
Mr Graham of Gartmore, writing on this subject immediately after the
close of the rebellion, enters into a calculation of the entire losses
to the Highlands through robbery and its consequences.

‘It may be safely affirmed,’ he says, ‘that the horses, cows, sheep, and
goats yearly stolen in that country are in value equal to £5000, and
that the expenses lost in the fruitless endeavours to recover them, will
not be less than £2000; that the extraordinary expenses of keeping
[neat-]herds and servants to look more narrowly after cattle on account
of stealing, otherwise not necessary, is £10,000. There is paid in
black-mail or watch-money, openly or privately, £5000; and there is a
yearly loss, by understocking the grounds, by reason of thefts, of at
least £15,000; which is altogether a loss to landlords and farmers in
the Highlands of £37,000 a year.

‘... The person chosen to command this _watch_, as it is called, is
commonly one deeply concerned in the thefts himself, or at least that
hath been in correspondence with the thieves, and frequently who hath
occasioned thefts in order to make this watch, by which he gains
considerably, necessary. The people employed travel through the country
armed, night and day, under pretence of inquiring after stolen cattle,
and by this means know the situation and circumstances of the whole
country. And as the people thus employed are the very rogues that do
these mischiefs, so one half of them are continued in their former
businesses of stealing, that the business of the other half may be
necessary in recovering.... Whoever considers the shameful way these
watches were managed, particularly by Barrisdale and the Macgregors, in
the west ends of Perth and Stirling shires, will easily see into the
spirit, nature, and consequences of them.’[766]

Pennant informs us that many of the lifters of black-mail ‘were wont to
insert an article by which they were to be released from their
agreement, in case of any civil commotion; thus, at the breaking out of
the last rebellion, a Macgregor (who assumed the name of Graham), who
had with the strictest honour till that event preserved his friends’
cattle, immediately sent them word that from that time they were out of
his protection, and must now take care of themselves.’

The same author justly remarks the peculiar code of morality which
circumstances, partly political, had brought into existence [Sidenote:
1745.] in the Highlands, whereby cattle-stealing came to be considered
rather as a gallant military enterprise than as theft. He says the young
men regarded a proficiency in it as a recommendation to their
mistresses. Here, however, it must be admitted, we only find the
disastrous results of a general civil disorder arising from political
disaffection and antagonisms.

Both Gartmore and Mr Pennant speak of ‘Barrisdale’ as a person who at
this time stood in great notoriety as a levier of black-mail, or, as
Barrisdale himself might have called it, a protector of the country.
Descended from a branch of the Glengarry family, his father had obtained
from the contemporary Glengarry, on wadset, permission to occupy a
considerable tract of ground named Barrisdale, on the south side of Loch
Hourn, and from this he had hereditarily derived the appellative by
which he was most generally known, while his real name was Coll
MacDonell, and his actual residence was at Inverie, on Loch Nevis.
Although the government had kept up a barrack and garrison at Glenelg
since 1723, Barrisdale carried on his practice as a cattle-protector
undisturbed for a course of years, drawing a revenue of about five
hundred a year from a large district, in which there were many persons
that might have been expected to give him opposition. According to
Pennant, ‘he behaved with genuine honour in restoring, on proper
consideration, the stolen cattle of his friends.... He was indefatigable
in bringing to justice any rogues that interfered with his own. He was a
man of a polished behaviour, fine address, and fine person. He
considered himself in a very high light, as a benefactor to the public,
and preserver of general tranquillity, for on the silver plates, the
ornaments of his baldric, he thus addresses his broadsword:

             “Hæ tibi sunt artes, pacis componere mores;
             Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos.”[767]

At the breaking out of the rebellion, Barrisdale and his son acted as
partisans of the Stuart cause, the latter in an open manner, the
consequence of which was his being named in the act of attainder. During
the frightful time of vengeance that followed upon Culloden, the father
made some sort of submission to the government troops, which raised a
rumour that he had undertaken to assist in securing and delivering up
the fugitive [Sidenote: 1745.] prince. What truth or falsehood there
might be in the allegation, no one could now undertake to certify; but
certain it is, that, when a party of the Camerons were preparing, in
September 1746, to leave the country with Prince Charles in a French
vessel, they seized the Barrisdales, father and son, as culprits, and
carried them to France, where they underwent imprisonment, first at St
Malo, and afterwards at Saumur, for about a year. It was at the same
time reported to London that the troops had found, in Barrisdale’s
house, ‘a hellish engine for extorting confession, and punishing such
thieves as were not in his service. It is all made of iron, and stands
upright; the criminal’s neck, hands, and feet are put into it, by which
he’s in a sloping posture, and can neither sit, lie, nor stand.’[768]
This report must also remain in some degree a matter of doubt.

The younger Barrisdale, making his escape from the French prison,
returned to the wilds of Inverness-shire, and was there allowed for a
time to remain in peace. The father, liberated when Prince Charles was
expelled from France, also returned to Scotland; but he had not been
more than two days at his house in Knoydart, when a party from Glenelg
apprehended him. Being placed as a prisoner in Edinburgh Castle, he died
there in June 1750, after a confinement of fourteen months. The son was
in like manner seized in July 1753, in a wood on Loch-Hourn-side, along
with four or five other gentlemen in the same circumstances, and
imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle. He was condemned upon the act of
attainder to die in the Grassmarket on the 22d of May 1754, and while he
lay under sentence, his wife, who attended him, brought a daughter into
the world.[769] He was, however, reprieved from time to time, and
ultimately, after nine years’ confinement, received a pardon in March
1762, took the oath of allegiance to George III., and was made a captain
in Colonel Graeme’s regiment, being the same which was afterwards so
noted under the name of the _Forty-second_. When Mr John Knox made his
tour of the West Highlands in 1786, to propagate the faith in
herring-curing and other modern arts of peace, he found
‘Barrisdale’—that name so associated with an ancient and ruder state of
things—residing at the place from which he was named. ‘He lives,’ says
the traveller, ‘in silent retirement upon a slender income, and seems by
his appearance, conversation, and deportment, to have merited a better
fate. He is about six feet high, [Sidenote: 1745.] proportionally made,
and was reckoned one of the handsomest men of the age. He is still a
prisoner, in a more enlarged sense, and has no society excepting his own
family, and that of Mr Macleod of Arnisdale. Living on opposite sides of
the loch, their communications are not frequent.’[770]


It seems not inappropriate that this record of the old life of Scotland
should end with an article in which we find the associations of the
lawless times of the Highlands inosculating with the industrial
proceedings of a happier age. A further extension of our domestic annals
would shew how the good movements of the last fifteen years were now
accelerated, and how our northern soil became, in the course of little
more than a lifetime, one of the fairest scenes of European
civilisation. Fully to describe this period—its magnificent industries,
its rapid growth of intelligence, of taste, of luxury, the glories it
achieved in literature, science, and art—would form a noble task; but it
is one which would need to be worked out on a plan different from the
present work, and which I should gladly see undertaken by some son of
Caledonia who may have more power than I to do her story justice, though
he cannot love or respect her more.




                               APPENDIX.


Having been favoured by the publishers of the _Courant_ and _Mercury_
with an inspection of such early volumes of their venerable journals as
they respectively possess, I have caused a few curious but comparatively
trivial paragraphs to be copied for insertion in this place. To these
are added a few notices of a characteristic nature from other sources:

[Sidenote: 1720. SEP.]

  ‘EDINBURGH, _September 19_.—Upon the 17th instant, the Right
  Honourable the Earl of Wemyss was married to the only child of Colonel
  Charteris, a fortune of five hundred thousand pounds sterling, English
  money, which probably in a short time may be double that sum. But that
  is nothing at all in comparison of the young lady herself, who is
  truly, for goodness, wit, beauty, and fine shapes, inferior to no lady
  of Great Britain; all which the very noble earl richly deserves, being
  a most complete and well-accomplished gentleman, and the lineal
  representative of a most noble, great, and ancient family in Scotland
  of five or six hundred years’ standing,’ &c.—_Contemporary Journal._


[Sidenote: 1722. AUG. 13.]

  ‘Last week Sir Robert Sibbald of Kipps, M.D., Fellow of the Royal
  College of Physicians, died here in the 83d year of his age. He was a
  person of great piety and learning, and author of many learned and
  useful books, especially in natural history.’—_C. M._


  On the 11th November 1723, a number of people proceeding from
  Galashiels and its neighbourhood to attend a fair at Melrose, and
  crossing the Tweed in a ferry-boat at Nether Barnsford, near what
  afterwards became Abbotsford, were thrown by the oversetting of the
  boat into the water, then in flood, and eighteen of them drowned. A
  boy named Williamson, son of a tradesman in Galashiels, was preserved
  in a wonderful way. Thrown at first to the bottom of the river, he
  caught a man by the hair of his head, and was thus enabled to rise to
  the surface. There he was kept afloat by grasping, first by a bundle
  of lint, and then a sackful of gray cloth, letting go each in
  succession as it became saturated with water. Then a deal from the
  ‘lofting’ of the boat came near him, and he grasped it firmly below
  his breast. Meanwhile he was moving rapidly down the stream. There was
  a place where formerly a bridge had been, and where three piers yet
  stood in the water. It was with difficulty he got through one of the
  spaces, and over a cascade on the lower side of the bridge. Sometimes,
  thrown on his back, he was under water for thirty or forty yards, but
  he never let go the deal. At length, after going considerably more
  than a mile in this manner, he was taken up by the West-house-boat,
  the manager of which had been warned of his coming, and of his
  possible preservation, by a ploughman mounted on a horse which,
  escaping from the overset boat, had swum ashore, in time to admit of
  this rapid and dexterous movement—_C. M._


[Sidenote: 1724. JUNE 2.]

  There was this day buried in the Greyfriars’ Churchyard, the wife of
  Captain Burd of Ford, ‘thought to be the largest woman in Scotland.’
  ‘Her coffin was a Scots ell and four inches wide, and two feet
  deep.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: 1725. FEB. 18.]

  ‘We hear that a Quaker woman is encouraged by our magistrates, in her
  proposal of setting up a woollen manufactory in this city, and
  obliging herself to employ all the strolling beggars in work, and to
  give them food and raiment.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: MAR. 13.]

  ‘Died William Clerk, brother to the deceased Sir John Clerk of
  Pennicuik; remarkable for his frequent peregrinations through Europe,
  which procured him the name of _Wandering Will_.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: 1728. FEB. 26.]

  Died Marjory Scott, an inhabitant of Dunkeld, who appears to have
  reached the extraordinary age of a hundred years. An epitaph was
  composed for her by Alexander Pennecuik, but never inscribed, and it
  has been preserved by the reverend statist of the parish, as a
  whimsical statement of historical facts comprehended within the life
  of an individual:

              ‘Stop, passenger, until my life you read,
              The living may get knowledge from the dead.
              Five times five years I led a virgin life,
              Five times five years I was a virtuous wife;
              Ten times five years I lived a widow chaste,
              Now tirèd of this mortal life I rest.
              Betwixt my cradle and my grave hath been
              Eight mighty kings of Scotland and a queen.
              Full twice five years the Commonwealth I saw,
              Ten times the subjects rise against the law;
              And, which is worse than any civil war,
              A king arraigned before the subjects’ bar.
              Swarms of sectarians, hot with hellish rage,
              Cut off his royal head upon the stage.
              Twice did I see old prelacy pulled down,
              And twice the cloak did sink beneath the gown.
              I saw the Stuart race thrust out; nay, more,
              I saw our country sold for English ore;
              Our numerous nobles, who have famous been,
              Sunk to the lowly number of sixteen.
              Such desolation in my days have been,
              I have an end of all perfection seen!’[771]

[Sidenote: OCT. 29.]

  ‘A person, who frequents the [King’s] Park, having long noticed a man
  to come from a cleft towards the north-west of Salisbury Rocks, had
  the curiosity some days ago to climb the precipice, if possibly he
  might discover something that could invite him there. He found a
  shallow pit, which delivered him into a little snug room or vault hung
  with dressed leather, lighted from the roof, the window covered with a
  bladder. It is thought to have been the cave of a hermit in ancient
  times, though now the hiding-place of a gang of thieves.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: NOV. 7.]

  ‘Yesterday, one Margaret Gibson, for the crime of theft, was drummed
  through the city in a very disgraceful manner. Over her neck was fixed
  a board with spring and bells, which rung as she walked. At some
  inches distant from her face was fixed a false-face, over which was
  hung a fox’s tail. In short, she was a very odd spectacle.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: DEC. 10.]

  ‘A gentleman travelling to the south was attacked on Soutra Hill by
  two fellows armed with bayonets, who desired him to surrender his
  purse. The gentleman putting his hand beneath his jockey-coat,
  presented a pistol, and asked them whether that or [Sidenote: 1728.]
  his money were fittest for them. They earnestly begged he would spare
  their lives, for necessity had forced them to it, and they had never
  robbed any save one countryman an hour before of 6_s._ 8_d._ The
  gentleman put them to this dilemma, either to receive his bullets or
  cut an ear out of each other’s heads; the last of which with sorrowful
  hearts they performed.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: DEC.]

  The prospectus was issued of a weekly paper under the name of _The
  Echo_, to contain, besides news, literary matter for the instruction
  and amusement of society. The undertakers expressed themselves
  confident of assistance from ‘persons of taste, wit, and humour, with
  which they know our nation abounds.’ The price to be 2_s._ 6_d._ a
  quarter.—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: DEC. 24.]

  ‘A fire broke out in the house of William Gib in Kittlenaked, and
  burnt four cows to death; but how the fire happened is not known.’—_E.
  E. C._

[Sidenote: 1729. JAN. 14.]

  ‘We hear that the Lady Cherrytrees died some days ago in the 104th
  year of her age.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: JAN. 28.]

  ‘Yesternight, two women were committed to the Guard for walking the
  streets in men’s apparel.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: JAN. 30.]

  ‘Yesternight, a company of night-ramblers demolished a vast many
  windows in the Cowgate and Grassmarket, broke down the seat and loosed
  the railing before Scott’s Land, and played the like tricks in several
  other places.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: FEB. 4.]

  ‘There are just now fifty recruits in the Canongate gaol, belonging to
  Halket’s Regiment, ready to be transported to Holland.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: SEP.]

  ‘The Quakers are building a place of worship in Peebles’s Wynd. Though
  it be roofed, there is as yet no window in it; but some merrily
  observe these people have light within.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: 1730. APR. 27.]

  ‘On Thursday was interred, in the Greyfriars’ Churchyard, the corpse
  of Mr Andrew Cant, one of the ministers of this city at the
  Revolution, and since made a bishop of the clergy of the Episcopal
  Communion. He was esteemed a learned and eloquent preacher. He died in
  the 91st year of his age, and 64th of his ministry.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: 1731. MAR. 29.]

  ‘Last Thursday night, Mr Cockburn, son to my Lord Justice-clerk, was
  married to Miss Rutherford, daughter to the Laird of Fernilie.’ [This
  lady was the authoress of the song, beginning ‘I’ve seen the smiling
  of Fortune beguiling,’ to the tune of the _Flowers of the
  Forest_.]—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: APR. 12.]

  ‘There is one Mr David Burnet, officer of the Excise in Glasgow, died
  the 8th instant, and left £50 sterling to the poor of the parishes
  where he was officer in—namely, £10 to Edinburgh, £10 to Glasgow, £10
  to Ayr, £10 to Hamilton, £10 to Carnwath, as an encouragement to these
  several places to deal kindly with the officers residing among
  them.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: JULY 1.]

  ‘Yesternight.... Ferrier, Esq., late Provost of Dundee, was married to
  the heiress of Coldingknows, a handsome young lady of a considerable
  fortune; and we hear that he was attended by persons of
  distinction.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: AUG. 26.]

  ‘Last Tuesday, died Mrs Heriot, late the widow of Mr James Watson, his
  Majesty’s Printer, by whom she had a very considerable estate, a great
  part of which comes to her present husband.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: AUG. 30.]

  ‘They write from Glasgow that one Robert Lyon is now living there, who
  was in the service of King Charles I.; aged 109 years. He has got a
  new set of teeth, and recovered his sight in a wonderful manner.’—_E.
  E. C._

[Sidenote: DEC. 21.]

  ‘By a letter from Stonhive, we have an account that one John Anderson
  died there lately who could not be less than 108 years old, he having
  been about 16 at the fight of the Bridge of Dee, which happened in the
  1639.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: 1731. NOV.]

  ‘William Crawford, janitor of the High School at Edinburgh, somewhat
  in years, having been thrice proclaimed in the kirk, went thither with
  his friends, and stood some hours expecting his bride. At last he
  received a ticket from her in these terms: “William, you must know I
  am pre-engaged. I am so. I never could like a burnt cuttie. I have now
  by the hand my sonsie, menseful strapper, with whom I intend to pass
  my youthful days. You know, old age and youth cannot agree together. I
  must then be excused if I tell you I am not your humble servant.” The
  honest man, not taking it much to heart, only said: “Come, let us at
  least keep the feast on a feast-day. Dinner will be ready. Let us go
  drink, and drive care away. May never a greater misfortune attend an
  honest man!” Back to dinner they went, and from the company convened
  the bridegroom got a hundred merks, and all charges defrayed; with
  which he was as well satisfied as he who got madam.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: NOV. 19.]

  ‘Died William Eadie, bellman of the Canongate, Edinburgh, aged 120. He
  had buried the inhabitants of the Canongate thrice. He was 90 years a
  freeman, and married a second wife, a lusty young woman, after he was
  100 years old.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: 1732. APR. 9.]

  ‘Died John Gray, master of the Rope and Sail Manufactory at Edinburgh;
  eminent for his unparalleled skill in cutting whalebone.’—_C. M._

  In April, it was intimated from Kirkcaldy, that Margaret White of that
  place, aged 87, has lately cut eight fresh teeth. ‘Her husband,’
  moreover, ‘is in hopes she may bring him also a new progeny, as she
  has recovered, with her new tusks, a blooming and juvenile air.’

  These were encouraging facts for the aged; but what were they in
  comparison with the case of Jean Johnston of Old Deer, in Buchan!
  Being aged 80, and the widow of three husbands, she lately married for
  her fourth a young man of eighteen, who had since bound himself
  apprentice to a wheel-wright. ‘She seems exceedingly well pleased with
  him, and remarks that, had it not been for the many changes of
  husbands she had been blessed with, she must have long ago been dead.’
  She lived, too, in hopes of a fifth husband, should this one
  unfortunately not live long.

  ‘Thursday last,’ says the paper of June 5th, ‘a certain gray-haired
  hair-merchant in the Landmarket, aged between seventy and eighty, a
  very heavy and corpulent man, laid half a guinea that he should make
  the round of Hope Park in twenty minutes, which is reckoned about a
  Scots mile. He made it out in about _nineteen_ minutes, but was so
  reduced before he reached the starting-post that he arrived there upon
  _all-fours_. On taking a dram, he reverted so well, that he offered to
  lay the same wager again instantly.’

  The paper for 4th May related that, lately, ‘a young man, a merchant
  in Edinburgh, came to Leith to see a female friend take boat in order
  to cross the water. The boat being put off and near the pier-end
  before he came down, and he observing a rival in the boat with madame,
  was so exasperate, that in order to get at ’em, he jumped off the
  pier-end into the flood, and had actually perished by this passionate
  frolic, had not two of Montague’s regiment stepped down, and with both
  difficulty and danger, haled him out.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: FEB. 6.]

  ‘Died the Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth, Countess of Dalkeith,
  &c., aged about 90. She was relict of James Duke of Monmouth, natural
  son of Charles II., beheaded on Tower Hill, July 15, 1685. She had
  issue by the Duke, James, late Earl of Dalkeith, and Henry, late Earl
  of Deloraine. In 1688, she was again married to Charles Lord
  Cornwallis, and had issue a son and two daughters. By her death, an
  estate of £15,000 per annum, and the title of Duke of Buccleuch,
  descend to Francis, Earl of Dalkeith, her grandson.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: OCT. 18.]

  Thomas Ruddiman gave in his paper an account of an incident at
  Musselburgh, such as a subsequent native, the late David M. Moir
  (Delta), would have delighted to paint in even [Sidenote: 1732.]
  greater breadth. The magistrates, according to ancient annual custom,
  had to perform the ceremony of riding round the marches of their
  burghal property. On this occasion, they were attended by their
  vassals and the burgesses, to the number of 700, all of them of course
  mounted and in their best array. ‘The trumpets and hautboys marched in
  front; then the magistrates and town council, followed by the
  gentlemen vassals, with the town standard; after them the several
  incorporations, distinguished by their respective shining new
  standards, and headed by the masters of the crafts. In this good order
  they marched out to the Links, making a gay appearance. But, alas!
  while they were marshalling, an unlucky difference arose between the
  weavers and the tailors, which should have the _pas_ or precedency. In
  order to prevent effusion of the blood of his majesty’s good subjects,
  they agreed to submit the merits of the cause to the magistrates. The
  tailors argued that, as the precedency had previously fallen to them
  by lot, no opposition could now be offered in that respect. It was
  alleged, on the other hand, that they—the weavers—were _Men_, and as
  such preferable at all events to _Tailors_. This signal affront could
  not be digested. Accordingly, to work they went, without waiting the
  decision of authority; and while the weaver squadron were filing off
  to take the post of honour, with Captain Scott at their head, Adjutant
  Fairley, who acted in that capacity to the tailor squadron, directed a
  blow at the captain’s snout, which brought him to the ground. Thus
  were the two corps fiercely engaged, and nought was to be seen but
  heavy blows, hats off, broken heads, bloody noses, and empty saddles;
  till at last the plea of manhood seemed to go in favour of the
  needlemen, who took Scott, hero of the weavers, prisoner, disarmed
  him, and beat his company quite out of the field, though far more
  numerous. It was with the utmost difficulty that the weavers got their
  standard carried off, which they lodged in their captain’s quarters
  under the discharge of three huzzas: ’tis true the conquering tailors
  were then off the field, and at a mile’s distance. The weavers allege,
  in excuse of their retreat, that the butcher squadron had been ordered
  up to assist the tailors, and that they did not incline to engage with
  these men of blood.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: 1733. OCT. 30.]

  A circumstance somewhat like the Tain entertainment, in honour of
  Governor Macrae, took place in Edinburgh, on this king’s birthday,
  which was observed with unusual rejoicings, on account of the recent
  stimulus to loyalty from the marriage of the Princess Royal to the
  Prince of Orange. ‘David Campbell, his Majesty’s Tailor for Scotland,
  came to this kingdom from Jamaica, purely on design to solemnise the
  day. He accordingly entertained at his lodgings in the Abbey his
  Majesty’s Blue Gowns [a set of licensed beggars, corresponding in
  number to the king’s years, which were now fifty], and at night he
  kept open table, where several gentlemen were entertained, all the
  royal healths were drunk, and those of every remarkable person of the
  illustrious name of Campbell, with the sound of trumpet and other
  music.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: OCT.]

  The _Caledonian Mercury_ gives a droll, chirping account of an
  association which, it is easy to see, had in view the prevention of an
  over-severe excise system for Scotland. Yesternight, says the
  paragraph, ‘there came on, at the Parrot’s Nest in this city, the
  annual election of office-bearers in the ancient and venerable
  _Assembly of Birds_; when the _Game-cock_ was elected preses; the
  _Blackbird_, treasurer; the _Gled_, principal clerk; the _Crow_, his
  depute; and the _Duck_, officer; all birds duly qualified to our happy
  establishment, and no less enemies to the excise scheme. After which
  an elegant entertainment was served up; all the royal and loyal
  healths were plentifully drunk in the richest wines; _the glorious
  205_; _all the bonny birds_, &c. On this joyful occasion nothing was
  heard but harmonious music, each bird striving to excel in chanting
  and warbling their respective melodious notes.’ The glorious 205, it
  may be remarked, were those members of the House of Commons who had
  recently thrown out a bill for increasing the tax on tobacco.

[Sidenote: 1734. MAR. 6.]

  ‘John Park, some time dempster to the Court of Justiciary, and who
  lately stood a trial there for horse-stealing, was whipped through the
  city, pursuant to his sentence; [Sidenote: 1734.] by which also he
  stands condemned to transport himself, never again to return to
  Scotland, on pain of being whipped quarterly till he is again
  transported. He is a very old man, with a graceless gray head, gray
  beard, and but one hand, having left the other in some scrape.’—_C.
  M._

[Sidenote: APR. 19.]

  ‘When Mr Adam Fergusson, minister of Killin, came to Perth to intimate
  the sentence of the commission (which looses Mr William Wilson’s
  pastoral relation in that burgh), Mr Fergusson was met in the suburbs
  by several of the inhabitants, who fell upon the gentleman, though
  vested with supreme authority, and attended by several armed men; yet
  they were all severely cudgelled, and obliged to retire, _re
  infectâ_.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: JULY 12.]

  ‘Died here, the Rev. Mr John Maclaren, one of the ministers of the
  city; esteemed a well-meaning man, and void of hypocrisy.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: 1735. JAN. 9.]

  ‘On Saturday was se’nnight [Dec. 28, 1734], died at Balquhidder, in
  Perthshire, the famous Highland partisan, _Rob Roy_.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: JAN. 24.]

  ‘Died, in the 12th year of her age, the Lady Jane Campbell, fourth
  daughter to his Grace the Duke of Argyle.... His Grace has no male
  issue, but several daughters living, and it is the peculiar right of
  this family, that when they marry any daughters, their vassals are
  obliged to pay their portions, and are taxed in order to it, according
  to the number of their cattle.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: AUG. 18.]

  We find at this time a beginning to that system of emigration to
  America by which the Highlands were so much depopulated during the
  eighteenth century. ‘The trustees for the colony of Georgia have
  projected a settlement of Highlanders from this country, and have
  actually sent round for Inverness and Cromarty a ship commanded by
  Captain Dunbar, to take in 160 men, women, and children, who are to be
  settled on the far boundary of the river Alatamaha, who will be a
  gallant barrier in case of a war with France and Spain. And Mr
  Oglethorpe, with the other trustees, are applying to the society in
  Scotland for Propagating Christian Knowledge to send a minister along
  with them who speaks Irish, with proper encouragement; and we are
  assured the society are so well satisfied with the project, that they
  have amply instructed their committee of directors to close in with
  it.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: 1736. JAN. 19.]

  ‘The annual friendly meeting of the gentlemen of the name of Wilson,
  was held at the house of Jean Wilson, spouse to Arthur Cumming,
  periwig-maker, opposite to the City Guard; the Right Hon. Alexander
  Wilson, Lord Provost of the city, preses. There were present about
  forty gentlemen and others of that clan, who were served at supper by
  persons of the name. The entertainment was sumptuous, and choice wines
  went merrily round.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: JAN. 21.]

  ‘A very uncommon chain of events happened here [Lanark] t’other week.
  Elizabeth Fairy was proclaimed in order to marriage on Sunday, was
  accordingly married on Monday, bore a child on Tuesday; her husband
  went and stole a horse on Wednesday, for which he was banished on
  Thursday; the heir of this marriage died on Friday, and was decently
  interred on Saturday; all in one week.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: FEB. 9.]

  ‘The 4th inst., several young gentlemen of this place [Montrose] acted
  Mr Allan Ramsay’s celebrated _Pastoral Comedy_, for the diversion of
  the gentlemen and ladies of and about this town, with all the dresses
  suitable, and performed it with so much spirit and humour, as
  agreeably surprised the whole audience; to oblige whom they re-enacted
  it and the farce of the _Mock Doctor_ two succeeding nights. The money
  taken, after deducting the necessary charges, being very considerable,
  was distributed among the poor.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: MAR. 13.]

  ‘This week, several gentlemen laid a wager that a horse, twenty-six
  years old, belonging to Mr. Pillans, brewer, should not draw 101
  stone-weight up the West Bow to the Weigh-house; and yesterday it was
  surprisingly performed, one of the wagerers riding on the top of
  all.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: JULY 9.]

  Nine unfortunate young women—‘very naked and meagre beings’—‘made an
  _amende_ [Sidenote: 1736.] _honorable_ through the several streets of
  the city [of Edinburgh], the hangman attending them, and drums beating
  to the tune of _Cuckolds-come-dig_.’—_C. M._

  While Allan Ramsay was preparing his playhouse, an Italian female
  rope-dancer, named Signora Violante, performed in Edinburgh and some
  other Scottish towns. It was announced that she danced a minuet on the
  rope, as well as it could be done on the floor—danced on a board
  placed loosely on the rope—danced on the rope with two boys fastened
  to her feet—danced with two swords at her feet—the rope being no
  thicker than penny whip-cord. In Edinburgh, the scene of her
  performances was the ‘Old Assembly Hall.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: 1738. MAR. 22.]

  ‘A grand convention was held of the adherents to the seceding
  ministers of the Church of Scotland, in a square plain on Braid Hills,
  two miles south of this city. About 10 before noon, Mr Thomas Mair,
  minister of Orwel, in Kinross-shire, opened the service of the day
  (standing in a pulpit reared up within a tent), with a sermon from
  Jeremiah i. 5. At noon, Mr William Wilson, one of the ministers of
  Perth, preached from Ezekiel xxii. 24, and afterwards baptized ten
  children, brought thither some 20, some 30 miles off. At four
  afternoon, Mr Ralph Erskine, one of the ministers of Dunfermline,
  preached from Hosea xxiii. 9, &c. The apparent tendency of these
  sermons was to excite devotion and fervour, a renewal of solemn
  engagements, to deprecate sin in general, and those of this corrupt
  age in particular: and it was observed that it was no proper expedient
  either to wash away sin, or indemnify the sinner, to purchase
  indulgences at the hand of the kirk-treasurer, and some other tenets
  that savoured of a popish tincture were soundly lashed. There were
  about 5000 hearers at each sermon (I mean of the household of faith),
  some of whom from South Britain and Ireland, besides the ungodly
  audience, consisting of many thousands, some of whom set fire to
  furze; others hunted the hare around ’em to create disturbance, a
  certain huntsman having laid a plot to carry off the collection. The
  convention dispersed at 7 at night.’—_C. M._

[Sidenote: APR. 7.]

  In consequence of a butcher’s dog going mad, and biting some others of
  her species, the magistrates of Edinburgh ordered the slaughter of all
  the butchers’ dogs in the city, and, commanding the seclusion of all
  other dogs whatsoever, put a shilling on the head of every one which
  should be found abroad. There then took place a crusade against the
  canine species, which seems to have been nearly the sole Scottish
  incident reported in London for the year. ‘The street cadies went very
  early into obedience to this edict; for the drum had scarce gone round
  to intimate the same, when they fell a-knocking on the head all
  suspicious or ill-affected curs, some of which they hanged on
  sign-posts, &c.; and with difficulty could they be restrained from
  killing the dogs that lead the blind about the streets, or attacking
  the ladies with their lap-dogs. A detachment of the City Guard was
  ordered down to the butcher-market, when they made very clean havoc of
  all the dogs there. Saturday, at noon, the town-officers being
  provided with large oaken clubs, went a dog-hunting, and killed every
  cur they could see or hear of; so that nothing was to be seen but
  chasing, hacking, and slashing, or heard other than the lamentation of
  butchers’ wives, &c., for the loss of _Credit_, _Honesty_, _Turk_,
  _Twopenny_, _Cæsar_, &c.’

  Three days later, the magistrates of Leith ordered all the dogs of
  their town to be put to death. Accordingly, the curs were driven into
  the harbour, and drowned, or else knocked on the head. ‘Several
  gentlemen and others,’ it is reported, ‘have sent off their dogs to
  the country, and a certain writer has despatched his favourite _Tipsy_
  to Haddington in a cloak-bag. Patrick Kier in Multries-hill having
  tied up his dog, the beast gnawed the rope, and getting loose, rushed
  into the room on his master, and bit him severely. The dog was
  immediately killed, and Mr Kier carried to the sea and dipped.’—_C.
  M._

[Sidenote: 1740. JULY 30.]

  Lord Lovat having occasion at this time to travel from his house of
  Beaufort, in Inverness-shire, to Edinburgh, with his two daughters,
  made an effort to get his coach [Sidenote: 1740.] ready, and, after
  two or three days spent in its repair, set out on his journey. Passing
  through Inverness without stopping, he came the first night to
  Corriebrough. To pursue his own narrative, as given in a letter to a
  friend:[772] ‘I brought my wheel-wright with me the length of
  Aviemore, in case of accidents, and there I parted with him, because
  he declared that my chariot would go safe enough to London; but I was
  not eight miles from the place, when on the plain road, the axle-tree
  of the hind-wheels broke in two, so that my girls were forced to go on
  bare horses behind footmen, and I was obliged to ride myself, though I
  was very tender, and the day very cold. I came with that equipage to
  Ruthven late at night, and my chariot was pulled there by force of
  men, where I got an English wheel-wright and a smith, who wrought two
  days mending my chariot; and after paying very dear for their work,
  and for my quarters two nights, I was not gone four miles from
  Ruthven, when it broke again, so that I was in a miserable condition
  till I came to Dalnakeardach, where my honest landlord, Charles
  M‘Glassian, told me that the Duke of Athole had two as good workmen at
  Blaire as were in the kingdom, and that I would get my chariot as well
  mended there as at London. Accordingly, I went there and stayed a
  night, and got my chariot very well mended by a good wright and a good
  smith. I thought then that I was pretty secure till I came to this
  place. I was storm-stayed two days at Castle Drummond by the most
  tempestuous weather of wind and rain that I ever remember to see. The
  Dutches of Perth and Lady Mary Drummond were excessively kind and
  civil to my daughters and to me, and sent their chamberlain to conduct
  me to Dumblain, who happened to be very useful to us that day; for I
  was not three miles gone from Castle Drummond, when the axle-tree of
  my fore-wheels broke in two, in the midst of the hill, betwixt
  Drummond and the bridge of Erdoch, and we were forced to sit in the
  hill, with a boisterous day, till Chamberlain Drummond was so kind as
  to go down to Strath, and bring wrights, and carts, and smiths to our
  assistance, who dragged us to the plain, where we were forced to stay
  five or six hours till there was a new axle-tree made, be that it was
  dark night before we came to Dumblain, which is but eight miles from
  Castle Drummond, and we were all much fatigued. The next day, we came
  to Lithgow, and the day after that we arrived here, so that we were
  twelve days on our journey by our misfortunes, which was seven days
  more than ordinary.’

[Sidenote: 1743. JAN. 10.]

  ‘Friday [Jan. 7], died William Mackintosh of Borlum, Esq., aged
  upwards of 80 years of age. He has been prisoner in the Castle these
  15 years for his accession to the Rebellion 1715.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: JAN. 17.]

  ‘On Thursday last [Jan. 13], died the Honourable Colonel John Erskine
  of Carnock. He was a True Old Whig.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: JAN. 17.]

  ‘Friday, the place of one of the Principal Clerks of this city was
  conferred on Mr William Forbes, writer, he paying, as a consideration
  for the same, in room of Mr Home deceased, £1410 sterling.’—_E. E. C._

  APR. 14.

  ‘Thursday last, died at Sanquhar, William Kelloch, aged 111 years. He
  served the town as one of their common officers 96 years, and his son,
  now living, has served in the same station 70 years. He was a very
  honest man, had his senses to the last, and never made use of
  spectacles.’—_E. E. C._

[Sidenote: MAY 9.]

  ‘Notwithstanding the late execution of Margaret Stewart for
  child-murder, yet we are told that two more new-born children have
  since been found dead, with marks of violence on them.’—_E. E. C._




                                 INDEX.


 Aa-na-Mullich, skirmish at, between the government troops and the
    Mackenzies, 463.

 Aberdeen, King’s College, grants a diploma to a quack doctor, 262.

 Aberdeen, pope burned in effigy at, 4;
   disturbances at Church of, on account of doxology, 103;
   woollen manufactures at, 156;
   popish meeting dispersed at, 203.

 Abernethy forest, cutting of, superintended by Aaron Hill, 547.

 ADAIR, John, mathematician, engaged in making maps of Scotland, 42.

 Advertisements, curious, in _Edinburgh Gazette_ in 1707, 325.

 Advocates’ Library, established under Parliament House, 245.

 African Company, established, 121;
   expedition to Darien, 206;
   restitution of its losses, 259.

 Agricultural improvements, introduced into Scotland by Elizabeth
    Mordaunt, an English lady, 419;
   promoted by a society, 484.

 Agricultural Improvers, Society of, 484;
   implements invented, 503.

 AIKENHEAD, Thomas, tried and executed for blasphemy, 160.

 ALLARDICE, Catharine, a misspelled letter by, 595.

 Anatomy first proposed to be taught in Edinburgh, 105.

 Ancrum Bridge rebuilt by kirk collection, 134.

 ANDERSON, James, editor of _Diplomata Scotiæ_, encouraged in his work,
    318;
   appointed postmaster for Scotland, 400;
   lets a house to Sir R. Steele, 418.

 ANDERSON, Mrs, printer of the Bible, 364.

 ANGUS, an Episcopal clergyman, deposed, 78.

 Apostasy from Protestant faith punished, 214.

 Apparel, act of parliament for restraining expenses of, 149;
   old fashions of dress enumerated, 148;
   extravagances of, denounced, 448, 482;
   cost of various articles, 571.

 ARBUTHNOT, Lady, her jointure, 57.

 Archbishop of Glasgow imprisoned, 12;
   permitted to live at certain places, 167.

 Archers, Royal Company of, 495.

 ARGYLE, John, Duke of, takes command of government troops (1715), 389.

 ARGYLE, seventh Earl, and first Duke of, 1;
   his debauched life, 191;
   befriends the Master of Lovat, 187.

 Arithmetic, a mechanical invention for, 210.

 Arms being got from abroad, James Donaldson proposes to manufacture
    them at home, 311;
   edict against carrying arms, 497.

 ARNOT, Sir David, assault by, 157.

 Assembly, General, clergy of, at first plainly dressed, 148.

 Assembly in Edinburgh for dancing purposes, 480.

 Aston’s company of players, 518, 544, 550.

 Astrology practised by John Stobo, 85.

 Atheistical books imported into Edinburgh, 160.

 Atmospherical phenomena, 366, 442, 480.

 Auchensaugh, covenant renewed at, in 1712, 376.

 Auchterarder, riot at, on reading of funeral-service, 366.


 BAILLIE, Captain William, imprisoned debtor, liberated by Privy
    Council, 28.

 BAIRD, Archibald, imprisoned for housebreaking, 64.

 BALCARRES, Earl of, imprisoned at Revolution, 11;
   replaced in confinement, 19;
   story of Dundee’s ghost having appeared to, 19.

 Baldoon park for rearing cattle, 152.

 BALFOUR of Denmill, mysterious disappearance of, 346.

 BANE, Donald, a prize-fighter, 522.

 ‘_Bangstrie_’ at Earlshall, Croshlachie, Ellieston, &c., 157–159.

 Banishment petitioned for by various culprits, 116.

 Bank-notes for twenty shillings commenced, 212.

 Bank of Scotland established, 128;
   temporarily suspends payment in 1704, 306;
   run upon in 1715, 402;
   last stoppage in 1728, 544;
   sets up four branches, 577.

 Bank, Royal, of Scotland, established, 537;
   causes a stoppage in the Bank of Scotland, 544.

 Banking, primitive style of, by a shopkeeper in Glasgow, 577.

 Baptism, inconsistencies regarding, 370.

 _Barbreck’s Bone_, for cure of madness, 262.

 Bargarran’s daughter (Christian Shaw), her case, 167;
   thread spun by her, 510.

 Barrisdale, Macdonell of, 615.

 Bass, siege of, 95.

 Bath of hot air (a hummum) established at Perth, 260.

 BAYNE, James, wright, ruined by his concern in rebuilding Holyrood
    Palace, 29.

 _Beardie_ [Walter Scott]‘s marriage, 37;
   attends a funeral at Glasgow, 387.

 BELL, Sir John, of Glasgow, episcopal worship at his house disturbed,
    273.

 Bible in Irish language, first printed, 39.

 ——, printing of, in Scotland (1712), 364.

 Bills of Exchange, treatise upon, printed, 278.

 Births, ceremonies at, 572.

 Bishops expelled from the Convention in 1689, 5.

 _Black-foot_, a, litigation by one for remuneration, 191.

 _Black Mail_ in the Highlands, 498, 612, 614.

 —— _Watch_, the, 498, 581, 610.

 BLACKWELL, a preceptor, libels Lady Inglis of Cramond, 89.

 _Blair_ of Balthayock and Carnegie of Finhaven, 190.

 ‘Bloody Baillie,’ a witness on Porteous Mob, 601.

 Blythswood, Campbell of, _cousinred_ with Sir Walter Scott, 37.

 BOIG, Adam, starts the _Edinburgh Courant_, 314.

 Books burnt at Cross, 276.

 ——, licenses for printing, 52, 220.

 BOSWELL of Balmouto, a rash Jacobite, 84.

 Botanic Garden established in Edinburgh, 81;
   extension of, 142.

 BRAND, Alexander, in trouble for making ‘donatives’ to Privy Council,
    176;
   proposes scavengering of Edinburgh, 592.

 Brewers of Edinburgh in rebellion, 509.

 Bride’s clothes, their cost, 240.

 BRIDGE, William, an English coppersmith, 33.

 BRIDGMAN, or Evory, a pirate, seizes a man-of-war, 150.

 BROICH, James, sad tale of his ship taken by a privateer, 22.

 BROWN, Dr Andrew (Dolphington), is licensed to print a treatise of his
    own on fevers, 52.

 BROWN, Jean, of Potterrow, a religious visionary, 430.

 BROWN, Rev. George, his _Rotula Arithmetica_, 210.

 _Browny_, a spirit, 284.

 BRUCE, Captain Henry, imprisoned for defending Holyroodhouse, 13.

 BRUCE, David, and other boys, carried out to sea in an open boat, 355.

 BRUCE, Peter, confined at the Revolution, 12;
   transfers right of making playing-cards, 34.

 BUCHANAN, David, servant of Lord Dundee, 15.

 Bugs in Glasgow, 542.

 Bullock, fat, at Dalkeith, 479.

 Burghs, royal, convention of, curious details, 51.

 Burleigh, Master of, murders Stenhouse, a schoolmaster, 326.

 BURNET, Captain, of Barns, his unscrupulous recruiting, 43.

 BUTE, Earl of, his law-case against his stepmother, 375.


 CAIRNS, a boy, murdered, 547.

 Caldron, a copper, law-case about, 77.

 CALLENDER, John, master-smith, his account against exchequer, 47
    _note_.

 Cambuslang, religious demonstrations at, 607.

 CAMERON, Sir Evan, of Locheil, 288.

 Cameronian regiment raised in 1689, 8.

 Cameronians, the, proceedings of, 376, 532.

 CAMPBELL of Cessnock’s parks for rearing cattle, 153;
   his plan for shot-casting, 155.

 CAMPBELL of Lawers, murdered at Greenock, 473.

 CAMPBELL of Lochnell’s funeral, 387.

 Canongate, duels in, 466.

 —— Tolbooth, mutiny of prisoners in, 71;
   petition from keeper of, 80;
   mutinies of recruits in, 182, 601.

 Card-playing, law against, 296.

 Cards, playing, manufacture of, a monopoly, 34.

 CARDROSS, Lord, and Sir John Cochrane, case between, 191.

 CARMICHAEL of Bonnyton, his quarrel with opposite neighbours, 73.

 CARSTARES, William, the king’s adviser, 107;
   his death, 403.

 Catarrh, infection of, at St Kilda, 181.

 Catholics, troubles of, after the Revolution, 25;
   severe treatment of priests, 82;
   act against in 1700, 205;
   worship interrupted in Edinburgh, 108;
   at Aberdeen, 203;
   again in Edinburgh, 204, 466;
   Catholic priest banished, 362;
   gentlemen troubled, 295;
   priests numerous and bold, 383;
   seminary for priests at Scalan, 205;
   Catholic books seized and burned, 146.

 Cattle, breeds of, efforts to improve, at Baldoon and elsewhere, 152.

 Cattle fair of Crieff, 338.

 —— ‘lifting’ in the Highlands, 30, 420, 486, 498, 610, 614.

 CAYLEY, Captain John, shot by Mrs M‘Farlane, 412.

 Cess, evasion of, in the Highlands, 91.

 CHANCELLOR of Shieldhill fined for a riot, 73.

 CHARTERIS, Colonel Francis, gambling anecdote of, 296;
   his death, 579.

 Child-murder, imputed, cases of, 19, 27, 625.

 Children of the upper classes, provision for, in various instances, 55.

 Choille Van, skirmish at, 468.

 Christian Knowledge, Society for Propagation of, 252.

 Claim of Right, some articles violated, 10.

 Claret, &c., price of in Scotland, at beginning of 18th century, 183,
    270.

 CLELAND, William, appointed lieutenant-colonel of Cameronian regiment,
    9.

 Clerical uniform recommended, 147.

 Cloth-manufacture, woollen, 155.

 Clubs of a censurable character, 521, 543.

 CLUNY MACPHERSON establishes a guard in lieu of ‘Black Watch,’ 611.

 Coal-pits at Tranent, mode of draining, 472.

 —— -works, railway at Prestonpans, 472.

 COCKBURN, Andrew, post-boy, robbed, 32.

 —— ——, an Episcopalian minister at Glasgow, his chapel destroyed by a
    mob, 367.

 COCKBURN, Justice-clerk, quarrels with Earl of Ilay and Sir David
    Dalrymple, 402.

 COCKBURN, Mr, of Ormiston, an improver of agriculture, 485.

 Cock-fighting introduced, 266.

 Coin of Scotland at the Union, 330.

 Coldingham, kirk discipline of, 92;
   episcopal meeting-house, 93;
   witches of Coldingham, 94.

 _Collegium Butterense_ at Aberdeen, 230.

 Colliers in Fife and Lothian, as slaves, 248.

 Combats with swords in public, 522.

 Commerce as affected by the Union, 336, 338.

 —— and Manufactures in Scotland, subsequent to Revolution, 336, 416.

 Common Prayer, Book of, two clergymen maltreated for using, at
    Dumfries, 65;
   Rev. James Greenshields prosecuted for using, 350.

 Companies formed for manufactures, 88.

 Concert of music in Edinburgh in 1695, 89;
   by Edinburgh amateurs, 432.

 Condition and habits of Scottish people, change for the better, 568;
   hospitality, 570;
   dress, &c., 571.

 Copyrights of books, granted by Privy Council to printers and
    booksellers, 220.

 CORNWELL, Christopher, servitor, imprisoned, 15.

 Coronation of George I., rejoicings at, 414.

 Corporation privileges, troubles arising from, 75.

 Correction-houses for mendicants built, 219.

 _Courant, Edinburgh_, commenced, 314.

 _Courant, Edinburgh Evening_, newspaper started (1718), 438.

 Covenant sworn at Auchensaugh, 376.

 Covenanters’ heads, re-interment of, 532.

 Cowbin, estate of, ruined by drifted sand, 119;
   Kinnaird of Culbin petitions for exemption from cess, 119;
   inscription on family tombstone, 120.

 CRAIG, Margaret, a poor girl, drowns her infant, 19.

 Craigcrook, romantic story of a murder connected with, 333.

 CRAWFORD, Earl of, president of parliament, 1;
   superintends torture of a prisoner, 40.

 CRAWFORD, John, Morer’s account of, 271.

 Crieff, cattle-fair of, described, 338.

 CRIGHTON, Captain John, his restraint relaxed and renewed, 67;
   liberated, 68.

 Criminalities connected with the sexual affections, 59.

 Criminals condemned to become soldiers, 64.

 —— banished without trial, 115, 211.

 Cromdale, dispersion of Highlanders at, 2.

 CULLODEN, Lady, the body forgotten at her funeral, 309.

 _Culreach_, system of in Scotland, 236.

 _Curiosities, House of_, at Grange Park, 99.

 Customs, attacks on officers of, 215, 589, 594.


 Dalnaspidal, fête at, by General Wade, 561.

 DALRYMPLE, Sir John, his enmity against Highland Jacobites, 61;
   his concern in massacre of Glencoe, 62.

 DALYELL, Sir Thomas, of Binns, treated for lunacy, 297.

 Dancing Assembly established, 479;
   meetings for in provincial towns, 590.

 Darien Expedition, 107, 206.

 DAVIDSON, Robert, of Ellon, Aberdeenshire, petitions Council in
    consequence of having had his house destroyed, 108.

 DAVIDSON, William, ‘writer,’ incarcerated for false news, 72.

 Dearth in Scotland, 136, 195, 348, 606.

 Debauchery in Edinburgh, 312.

 Dee, bridge over at Black Ford, erected, 277.

 Defoe visits Scotland (1706), 322;
   conducts the _Courant_ newspaper, 324, 325;
   his account of the _Equivalent_, 328;
   quoted regarding trade of Scotland, 336;
   his illiberal remark on Greenshields’s case, 351.

 Deportment, Rules of Good, by Petrie, 455.

 DICKSON, Margaret, her trial, execution, and subsequent recovery, 500.

 DICKSON, Sir R., of Sorn-beg, refuses to pay for wines to gratify the
    officers of state, 188.

 Dies and punches for coining, 141.

 Dingwall, poverty-stricken in 1704, 52;
   deputation from Inverness visits the town to report on its trade, 52;
   effect of cheap whisky at, 133.

 _Dirty Luggies_ in Edinburgh, 593.

 Disarming of the Highlanders, 497;
   General Wade’s letter to Lord Townsend, 528.

 Dogs, mad, 624.

 Don river dried up in several places, 442.

 DON, Sir James, of Newton, receives permission to travel into England
    with horses and arms, 50.

 DONALDSON, James, commences _Edinburgh Gazette_ (1699), 313;
   which stops (1707), but is recommenced, 324;
   his invention for manufacture of arms, 311.

 _Donatives_ to Privy Council, custom of giving, 177.

 Douglas, Cameronian regiment formed at, 8.

 DOUGLAS, Captain, convicted of assault, 60.

 DOUGLAS, Duchess of, her style of speech, 507.

 DOUGLAS, Duke of, murders Mr Ker, 506.

 Dow Loch, story of the, 263.

 Doxology attempted to be introduced in church, 103.

 Dress, old, articles of, enumerated, 148;
   a constant fashion of, proposed in parliament, 149;
   description of, 269;
   changes of, 571.

 Drove-road for cattle at New Galloway, 153.

 DRUM, Lady of, petitions to be left unmolested by Irvine of Murtle,
    144.

 DRUM, Laird of, taken in care for weakness of mind, 22.

 DRUMMOND, George, founds the Royal Infirmary, 557.

 DRUMMOND, Lord, popish baptism of his child, 383.

 DRUMMOND, May, a preaching Quaker lady, affecting case of, 559.

 DUDDS, Dr, a quack mediciner, 261.

 Duel between Matthew M‘Kail and William Trent in King’s Park,
    Edinburgh, 149;
   other duels, 543, 566.

 Duels, military, their prevalence, 405.

 DUFF, Laird of Braco, checks lawless proceedings of the gipsies of
    Moray, 234.

 Dumfries, riot at, from reading Book of Common Prayer, 65.

 DUN, Lord, a judge, anecdote of, 293.

 DUNBAR, Sir David, of Baldoon, his breeds of cattle, 152.

 Dundee, Jacobitism in, 415;
   grain riots at, 452;
   dancing assembly at, 590.

 DUNDEE, Lady, 97.

 ——, Viscount of, 1, 16, 19.

 DUNDONALD, Countess of, her death, 356.

 DUNKELD, Bishop of, speaks pathetically of James VII., 5.

 DUPIN, Nicolas, engaged in the linen-manufacture and paper-making, 86;
   his inventions, 102.

 Dutch Guards’ officer, wounded in duel, 543.

 DYSART, Rev. John, of Coldingham, his rigorous discipline, 92.


 Earlshall, violences at, 157.

 Earthenware manufacture, 156.

 Earthquake at Selkirk, 543;
   at Glasgow, 581.

 East Indiaman, loss of, near island of Lewis, 551.

 _Echo_, a literary paper proposed, 621.

 Eclipse of the sun, April 22, 1715, 399.

 EDIE, David, apostate from Protestant faith, 214.

 Edinburgh, dirty state of, 593.

 ——, great fire in (1700), 225.

 ——, Lord Provost of, inflicts capital punishment, 568.

 Edinburgh; see the entire volume _passim_.

 EDMONDSTONE of Newton, banished for concern in murder of the Master of
    Rollo, 119.

 EDMONDSTONE, William, comes into collision with Row of Inverallan, 49.

 Education in practical arts recommended (1726), 530.

 EGLINTOUN, Earl of, beggars at his funeral, 555.

 Egyptians, or gipsies, 233.

 Election for Ross-shire, on a Saturday, 341;
   one at Fortrose, strange proceedings at, 465.

 Election of Peers at Holyrood, incident at one, 403.

 ELPHINSTONE, Alexander, fights a duel with Lieutenant Swift, 566.

 Episcopal clergy, rabbled out at the Revolution, 6;
   persecuted, 78, 229, 273, 350, 366, 405;
   two relieved by Principal Carstares, 404.

 Episcopal meeting-houses at Eyemouth, &c., suppressed, 229;
   one at Glasgow destroyed by a mob, 368;
   remarkable number of, in Edinburgh, in 1715, 405;
   increase of, in the North, 480.

 Episcopalians, their troubles regarding Book of Common Prayer, 65, 366.

 ‘Equivalent Money,’ at the Union, 259, 328;
   its disposal, 444.

 Equivocating prayers, 78.

 Erskine, disgraceful scenes at parish-church of, 69.

 ERSKINE, Mrs, widow of minister of Chirnside, petitions for relief,
    181.

 ERSKINE, Thomas, a Quaker brewer, 467.

 Exchange Coffee-house (Edinburgh) circulates ‘seditious news,’ and is
    shut up in consequence, 72.

 Exchequer, Scottish, extreme poverty of, 45.

 Excise and Customs, small amount of before Union, 339;
   curious anecdote of the transmission of excise revenue to London,
      341.

 Excise law victims revenge themselves, 594.


 FAE, Sergeant, undertakes to catch robbers, 83.

 FAIRFOUL, David, a Catholic priest, confined, 25.

 ‘Fair Intellectual Club,’ 574.

 Fallowing first introduced into Scotland, 419.

 Famines in Scotland, 136, 195, 348, 606.

 Fast on account of sickness and scarcity, 160;
   in apprehension of renewed scarcity, 233.

 FEA of Clestran takes Gow, a pirate, 505.

 Fearn church roof falls in, 608.

 Ferintosh, whisky distilled at, free of duty, 133.

 Fife, sickness in, 363.

 Fire in Edinburgh, of 1700, 225.

 —— Insurance Company first started, 446.

 —— raising in Lanarkshire, 578.

 FLAIKFIELD, Mary, a poor woman, prosecuted by Merchant Company, 76.

 FLETCHER of Salton’s statements and proposals regarding vagrant poor,
    218.

 Flogging in schools (1700), boy whipped to death, 222.

 Flood in west of Scotland (1712), 381.

 FORBES, Duncan, Lord Advocate, suppresses a riot at Glasgow, 509.

 FORBES, John, of Culloden, his convivial practices, 184.

 FORBES of Culloden obtains permission to distil usquebaugh duty-free,
    133.

 Foreigners prohibited from transporting labourers, 211;
   distinguished foreigners visiting Edinburgh, 581.

 Forfeited estates, commissioners of, meet in Edinburgh, 408;
   further proceedings of commissioners, 443.

 Forfeited estates in inaccessible situations, difficulty of dealing
    with, 458.

 Forgery on Bank of Scotland by Thomas M‘Gie, 229;
   by Robert Fleming, 356.

 FORGLEN, Lord, his eccentric bequest, 533.

 FORSYTH, Matthew, cook, his miserable imprisonment, 90.

 Fortrose, election at, and riot, 465.

 FOULIS, Messrs, of Glasgow, their elegant printing, 516.

 France, gentlemen returned from, objects of suspicion, 216.

 FRASER, Captain Simon (afterwards Lord Lovat), his wild proceedings in
    Inverness-shire, 186, 254.
   See LOVAT.

 FRASER, John, imprisoned for ridiculing the divine authority of the
    Scriptures, 147.

 FREEBAIRN, the bookseller, 379.

 Freemasonry, 600.

 Free-trade hinted at, 243.

 French fleet appears in Firth of Forth, 332.

 —— Protestants, succour for in Scotland, 9.

 French taught by a native, in Edinburgh, 449.

 Friendly Society, the, for fire-insurance, 446.

 Frost of 1740, 605.

 Funeral at Glasgow, described by Walter Scott (‘Beardie’), 387;
   of Campbell of Lochnell (1713), 387;
   of Robertson of Struan, 526;
   convivialities at one, 309,
   give rise to a murder, 545.

 Funerals conducted on a superb scale, 307;
   Lord Whitelaw’s, 308;
   Sir Hugh Campbell of Calder’s, 309;
   Sir R. Monro’s, 560.


 Galloway, _Levellers_ of, 492;
   state of tenantry of, 494.

 Gambling in Scotland, act regarding, and notable instances of, 296.

 Gambling Society, 543.

 GARDINER, Colonel James, his pious character, 487.

 GARDNER, John, minister of Elgin, falls into a trance, 422.

 _Gazette, Edinburgh_, newspaper commenced by Captain Donaldson, 212;
   recommenced, 324.

 GED, William, invents stereotyping, 555;
   his son James joins the rebellion, 557.

 Gentleman, John Purdie pleads that he is not a, 352.

 GIBSON of Durie and his colliers, 249.

 —— of Linkwood, imprisoned in Elgin tolbooth, and burns it, 239.

 Gilmerton, subterranean house at, 502.

 Gipsies of the province of Moray, 233.

 _Girded Tails_, 448.

 Glasgow, cruelty at to Quakers, 57;
   rise of commercial wealth in, 125;
   trades with colonies, 431;
   deterioration of morals at, 486;
   mercantile losses at, 337, 487, 565;
   bankrupt pilloried, 487;
   malt-tax riot at, 508;
   making great advances, 515;
   a mad merry-making at, 543;
   afflicted with bugs, 542.

 Glass for mirrors, art of polishing, by Leblanc, a French refugee, 154.

 Glass-work at Leith, 23;
   at Glasgow, 128;
   at Aitchison’s Haven, 154;
   of Lord Elcho, 155;
   complaint about English bottles imported, 229.

 GLENBUCKET, Gordon of, attempt to assassinate him, 488.

 GLENBUCKET, Lady, dispute between her and her eldest son, 159.

 Glencoe, massacre at, 2, 62;
   French version of, 64.

 Glenorchy, Episcopal minister of kept in at the Revolution, 7.

 GORDON, Duchess of (Elizabeth Howard), meeting of Catholic worshippers
    at her house in the Canongate, 466.

 GORDON, Duchess of (Elizabeth Mordaunt), introduces agricultural
    improvements, 419;
   pensioned for Protestantising her husband’s family, 554.

 GORDON, Duke of, holds out Edinburgh Castle for King James, 1;
   has a meeting of Catholic worshippers in his house in Edinburgh, 204.

 GORDON, second Duke of, his death, and its political importance, 554.

 GORDON, Mr, his powers of _clairvoyance_, 490.

 GORDON of Ellon’s two sons murdered, 422.

 GORDON of Glenbucket, his attempted assassination, 488.

 GORDONS of Cardiness and M‘CULLOCHS of Myreton, 174.

 GORDONS of Gicht, 304.

 GOW, the pirate, affair of at Orkney, 505.

 GRAHAM of Gartmore, his account of state of the Highlands, 615.

 Grain, export and import acts, 137;
   Kerr of Chatto’s appeal for custom on grain brought to Kelso, 138;
   importation permitted (1697), 182;
   forbidden to be exported (1699), 221.

 GRANGE, Lord, visits a religious visionary, 430;
   his troublesome wife, 578;
   opposes abolition of the witchcraft laws in parliament, 579.

 GRANT of Monymusk’s improvements of land, 418.

 GREEN, Captain, and his companions, unjustly tried and executed, 316.

 GREENSHIELDS, Rev. James, Episcopal minister, persecutions of, 350.

 GREGORY, Professor, his machine for raising water, 237.

 GRIERSON, Sir Robert, of Lagg, imprisoned as a ‘suspect person,’ 11,
    68;
   accused of ‘clipping and coining,’ 145.

 Gunpowder, explosion at Leith, 264.


 HADDINGTON, Thomas, Earl of, his improvements and plantations, 417.

 HALDEN and LESLIE, Covenanters, 378.

 HALL, Lady Anne, her funeral, 212.

 —— of Dunglass, desecration of a church by, 369.

 HALL, Robert, of Inchinnan, his ‘pretty peculiar accident,’ 353.

 HAMILTON, keeper of Canongate tolbooth, asks Privy Council to renew
    certain perquisites lately withdrawn, 80;
   another petition by, 182.

 HAMILTON, Lord Basil, his death, 246.

 ——, William, of Bangour, in connection with the Dancing Assembly, 483.

 HAMILTON’S lottery, 88.

 HART, Rev. James, a noted clergyman of Edinburgh, 397, 429.

 Harvest of 1699, thanksgiving for, 221.

 Haunted houses, 169, 435.

 Healing virtues ascribed to crystal, ivory, stones, glass, &c., 262;
   Dow Loch, 263.

 Healths, treasonable, 182.

 Hell-fire clubs, 521.

 HEPBURN, John, persecuted for preaching without authority, 149.

 Heraldry, Alexander Nisbet’s System of, published by aid from Scottish
    parliament, 276.

 Heriot’s Hospital boys taught useful arts at the suggestion of ‘Society
    of Improvers,’ 530.

 Hership of cattle on lands of Lord Rollo, 117.

 Highlanders, predatory habits of the, 30, 31, 498, 612.

 Highlands, resistance in, to taxation, 91;
   ignorance in, 252.

 Highway robberies, 83.

 _Historia Anglo-Scotica_, a book, burned at the Cross of Edinburgh,
    276.

 Historical Society at Edinburgh, 487.

 Holyrood Sanctuary, anecdotes of the, 349.

 HOME, Earl of, ordered into Edinburgh Castle as a dangerous person, but
    allowed, on medical certificate, to remain at home, 117.

 HOME, Lady, of Renton, conduct at her husband’s funeral, 200.

 HOME of Renton writes about increase of witchcraft, 94;
   affray with tenants of Sir James Hall of Dunglass, 345.

 Hoops for ladies, fashionable in 1719, 448.

 HOPE of Rankeillor, an agricultural improver, 485.

 HOPETOUN, Charles Hope of, his arrangement for supplying victual to his
    miners, 210;
   his windmill at Leith, 290.

 ‘_Horn Order_,’ meeting called the, 482.

 Hospital for sick first established in Edinburgh, 557.

 Hospitality, great, in Scotland, 570.

 Housebreaking, capitally punished by the Lord Provost of Edinburgh in
    1730; W. Muir’s execution, 568.

 HOUSTON, James, and Sir JOHN SHAW of Greenock, assault between, 402.

 HUME, David, circumstances connected with his birth, 56.

 HUME, John of Ninewells, married to Lady Falconer, 55.

 HUME of Marchmont, 1.

 Hummum, a, or Turkish bath, set up at Perth in 1702, 260.

 HUNTER and STRAHAN hanged for forgery, 335.

 Hunters’ ball at Holyrood, 590.

 Hurricane in January 1739, 603.

 Husbands ill-using wives, their punishment by the _Stang_, 589.


 ILAY, Earl of, admitted as an extraordinary Lord of Session, 341;
   curious anecdotes of in connection with the Post-office, 266.

 Immorality and impiety ascribed to Scotland by General Assembly in
    1691, 41;
   efforts to restrain, 342.

 Improvers [Agricultural] Society of, 484, 580.

 Incestuous connections severely treated, 59, 354.

 INCHBRAKIE, George Graham of, makes a riot, 24;
   Patrick, the young laird, kills the Master of Rollo, 117.

 Infanticide and concealed pregnancy, 26.

 Infirmary at Edinburgh, its origin, 557.

 Influenza in Scotland, 554.

 Inoculation introduced into Scotland, 530.

 Insurance against fire, 446.

 Intelligence-office projected, 244.

 Inventions and manufactures, various, 154.

 Inverary petitions for ‘ease’ from the tax-roll, pleading ‘poverty and
    want of trade,’ 51.

 Invergarry House garrison, 304.

 Inverlochy, fort planted at, 2.

 Irish cattle imported, 153.

 —— ——, laws against importation of, 242;
   contraband Irish victual staved in Clyde, 137, 241.

 IRVINE of Drum, of weak intellect, arrangements regarding, 22;
   anecdote of his widow, 144.

 IRVINE of Murtle’s conduct towards Lady of Drum, 144.

 IRVINE, Robert, murders his two pupils, 423.

 ——, Robert, of Corinhaugh—slow travelling, 222.


 Jacobite party formed, 2;
   Jacobites in Perthshire make a riot, 24;
   persecuted under apprehension of a French invasion, 66;
   the Jacobite clans unsubmissive, 60;
   Jacobite lairds of Fife, 84;
   Jacobite gentlemen troubled for drinking treasonable toasts, 182;
   their plot in 1704, 295;
   proceedings of the party in 1715, 389;
   their estates forfeited, 408;
   subscription for prisoners (1716), 411;
   gentlemen in exile, 524.

 JAMATI, Joseph, Baculator of Damascus, in Edinburgh, 581.

 JAMES VII., death of, 107.

 Jedburgh, incident at proclamation of King William at, 7.

 JOHNSTONE, James, a very wretched prisoner, 14.

 JOHNSTONE, Margaret, widow of Johnstone younger of Lockerby, forcibly
    asserts her rights, 35.

 Jubilation in Edinburgh on reconciliation between king and Prince of
    Wales, 453.

 Judges, severity of, in cases of Rutherford and Gray, 371;
   salaries of, 303.

 Justiciary, commissioners of, their salaries, 302.


 KELLIE, John, a corporal, fights a duel, 404.

 KENNEDY, James and David, under prosecution as paramours of one woman,
    59.

 KENNEDY of Auchtyfardel kills Houston, W.S., on streets of Edinburgh,
    321.

 KEPPOCH, Macdonalds of, a wild race, 15;
   fight with Laird of Mackintosh at Inverroy, 16;
   Coll Macdonald of, 192.

 KER, Robert, his censure of _Girded Tails_, 448.

 KILRAVOCK, Laird of, amounts paid for his daughter’s education, 57.

 Kilsyth church, body of Lady Kilsyth preserved in, 98.

 KINCAID, Mrs, of Gogar Mains, murder of, 473.

 KINCARDINE, Earl of, his death, 319.

 KINNARIES, Fraser of, a Catholic, placed in restraint, 25.

 KINTORE, Earl of, his concern in preservation of the Regalia disputed,
    264.

 KIRCHER’S _Disfigured Pictures_, an optical curiosity, 101.

 Kirkcaldy, &c., nearly ruined by the debts of a regiment quartered
    there, 45.

 Kirkcudbright, stewartry of, riot in, on account of the Sheriff’s
    _Mart_, 362.

 Kirk-treasurer’s Man, a bugbear to men of gaiety, 343.

 Konigsberg, church at, built by a Scottish collection, 134.


 Ladies, Scottish, in 1718, described by a traveller, 433.

 LAGG, Sir Robert Grierson of, confined at the Revolution, 11;
   suffers from confinement, 68;
   charged with coining, 145.

 Lanark, assisted on account of poverty, in building a bridge, 134.

 _Land Mint_, essay published on, 320.

 ——, price of, 103.

 LANGTON, Laird of, his wards and their allowances, 56.

 Lantern, Magical, in 1694, 100.

 LAUDER, Bailie, of Haddington, imprisoned, 33.

 LEAS, John, of Croshlachie’s maltreatment, 157.

 LEBLANC, French refugee, mirrors made by, 154.

 Leith, glass-work at, 23, 229;
   gunpowder explosion at, 264;
   duel at, 566.

 _Levellers_ of Galloway, 492.

 LEVEN, Earl of, assaulted by Boswell of Balmouto, 84;
   by revellers, 312;
   carries Excise money to London, 340.

 Libraries, presbyterial, in the Highlands projected, 250;
   partly realised, 253.

 Licentiousness, 41, 320;
   proclamations regarding, 342.

 LINDSAY, Patrick, upholsterer, connected with nobility, 547.

 Linen manufacture, 85, 541.

 Linlithgow, remarkable disappearance of a gentleman at, 239.

 LIVINGSTONE, William, of Kilsyth, a Jacobite, temporary leniency shewn
    to, 66;
   liberated on condition of exile, 97;
   romantic story of his marriage to Dundee’s widow, _ibid._

 LOCKERBY, Johnstone of, troubles in family of, 34.

 Locks, ingenious, invented, 99.

 LOGAN, Robert, makes wooden kettles to ‘abide the strongest fire,’ 214.

 LOTHIAN, John, imprisoned after the Revolution, 14.

 LOTHIAN, Marquis of, letter from, regarding slave colliers, 249.

 Lottery proposed by Alexander Hamilton, 88;
   one by Roderick Mackenzie, 310.

 LOVAT, Hugh Lord, confined at the Revolution, 11.

 LOVAT, Simon Lord, his violences in Inverness-shire, 186, 254;
   has a command in the Black Watch, 498;
   his account of the Highlands (1725), 498;
   puffing letters of, 552;
   alludes to depredations in the Highlands, 614.

 LOVE, John, charged with _brewing_ on Sunday, 582.

 Loyalty a paradoxical feeling, 415.


 MABIE, Catherine Herries of, forcibly dispossesses a tenant, 36.

 M‘CULLOCH, Sir Godfrey, murder by, 174.

 MACDONALD of Glengarry exhibits a strange trait of Highland feeling,
    18;
   a garrison at his house, 304.

 MACDONELL of Barrisdale, 616.

 M‘EWEN, Elspeth, accused of witchcraft, 193.

 M‘EWEN, James, starts a newspaper, 439.

 M‘FADYEN, a drover, robbed, 83.

 M‘FARLANE, Mrs, murders Captain Cayley, 412.

 M‘GILL, Mr, minister of Kinross, his house haunted, 435.

 MACGREGOR, Robert (_Rob Roy_), see ROB ROY.

 MACGREGOR of Glengyle levies _black-mail_, 612.

 MACHRIE, William, a fencing-master, 267.

 MACKAY, General, his cheap dinner, 46.

 MACKENZIE, Roderick, of Prestonhall, his petition for transporting
    victual from Forfarshire to Midlothian, 211.

 MACKENZIE, Sir George, warrant granted to print his works, 220.

 MACKIE, Andrew, his house haunted, 109.

 MACKINTOSH, Laird of, kept out of his property in Glenroy, 15;
   made prisoner, 16;
   obtains letters of fire and sword against Keppoch, 192;
   his expensive funeral, 307.

 M‘LACHLAN, John, sentenced to be whipped and banished for tampering
    with recruits, 79.

 MACLAURIN, Professor Colin, election of, 512.

 MACPHERSON, James, the robber, 234;
   his execution, 236.

 MACPHERSON of Invernahaven charged with stealing cattle from Grant of
    Conygass, 142.

 MACQUEEN of Pall-a’-chrocain kills the last wolf in Scotland, 609.

 MACRAE, James, a Quaker, pressed as a soldier, 59.

 MACRAE’S, Governor, return to Scotland, 585.

 _Magazine, Scots_, established, 603.

 _Malicious Society of Undertakers_, 578.

 Malt, Patrick Smith’s plan for drying, 303.

 —— tax riots at Glasgow, 508.

 Manners, general change of (1730), 568;
   levity of, censured, 520.

 Man-stealing, a case of, 44;
   edict against, 211.

 Manufactures set up, 85, 126, 154.

 MAR, Earl of, hoists standard of rebellion in Aberdeenshire, 389;
   letter to Robertson of Struan, 526.

 Marriages, forbidden, 353.

 Marriages in high life, ceremonies at, 240.

 Marrow Controversy, 441.

 MARTIN’S description of Western Isles, 278.

 Martyrs’ tomb in Greyfriars’ Churchyard, 533.

 MAXWELL, John, of Munshes, his account of agriculture in his early
    days, 494.

 MAXWELL, Robert, a noted early writer on agriculture, 485.

 MAXWELL of Dargavel and HAMILTON of Orbieston, dispute between, 69.

 MAXWELL of Orchardton, a Catholic, his case, 295.

 Mechanical inventions, curious, 99.

 Medical practice, popular, as exhibited in _Tippermalloch’s Receipts_,
    53;
   fees, 22, 117.

 MEIN family connected with Post-office in Edinburgh, 514, 593.

 MENZIES, Major, kills town-clerk of Glasgow, 103.

 MENZIES, Professor John, characteristic letter by, 524.

 Mercantile enterprise in Scotland takes its rise, 121;
   increased after the Union, 336.

 _Merchandising Spiritualised_, a book printed in Glasgow in 1699, 220.

 Merchant Company of Edinburgh, their treatment of Mary Flaikfield, 76.

 Metrical elegies, 140.

 MILLER, George, a boy, trepanned as a soldier, 43.

 MILLER, Hugh, quoted regarding sand-hills of Culbin, 110.

 MILN, Sir Robert, his reduced circumstances, 208.

 Miners’ provisions, mode of obtaining from distant towns, 210, 211.

 Mint in Scotland, 330.

 MITCHELL, the ‘Tinklarian Doctor,’ 358;
   his visit to Calder, 450.

 MITCHELL, William, his ear nailed to the Tron for insolency, 23.

 _Mock Senator_, a satire by Pennecuik, 473.

 Money in Scotland at the Union, 330.

 MONTEATH, Robert, advertises for epitaphs, &c., for his _Theater of
    Mortality_, 382.

 MONTGOMERY of Skelmorley, plot of, 3.

 MORAY, Earl of, small debt-case, 77.

 MORER’S _Account of Scotland_, 269.

 Mortality in Edinburgh (1743), 610.

 MOSS NOOK, a Scottish serf living in 1820, 250.

 MOWAT, Ensign, concerned in a murder at Leith, 48.

 MUIR, David, surgeon at Stirling, charge for drugs used by him to
    wounded of Killiecrankie, 47.

 MUNRO of Foulis, his funeral, 560.

 MURCHISON, Donald, defends the Seaforth estates against government
    troops, 459, 468;
   his death, 471.

 MURE, Elizabeth, her account of Scottish manners in eighteenth century,
    571.

 MURE of Caldwell’s journey from Edinburgh to Ross-shire, 406.

 MURRAY, a tavern-keeper, in trouble on account of a false news-letter,
    71, 144.

 MURRAY, Clara, her violent letter to Lord Alexander Hay, 275.

 MURRAY, Lady, of Stanhope, assault on, 478.

 MURRAY, Sir Alexander, of Stanhope, his projects, 474;
   Strontian mines, 476;
   Ardnamurchan scheme, 474.

 MUSHET, Nichol, murders his wife, 454;
   he is executed, 455.

 Music, concerts of, in Edinburgh, 89, 139;
   rising taste for in Scotland, 432;
   _Orpheus Caledonius_, 434.

 Musical instruments, curious advertisement of, 325.

 Musselburgh, riding of marches at, 622.


 NASMYTH, a builder, at Inversnaid fort, 374.

 Navigation of rivers, Henry Neville Payne’s petition, 217.

 Negro slave, runaway, advertisement in _Courant_ regarding, 453.

 News, false, punishment for, 71.

 —— -letters, 71;
   Murray, a tavern-keeper, sued for a false news-letter, _ibid._

 Newspapers, notices of early, 212, 313, 324, 414, 438.

 NICHOLSON, Daniel, his case of adultery with Mrs Pringle, 60.

 NICOL, William, of High School of Edinburgh, anecdote of, 223.

 NISBET, Alexander, his _System of Heraldry_ patronised, 276.

 NITHSDALE, Earl of, troubled on return from France, 216.

 Noblemen, imprisonments of, 68.

 NORVILL, Dame Mary, petitions Privy Council in behalf of her children,
    55.


 Officers of the army, their accounts at hotels, 45.

 OGILVIE, Patrick, of Cairns, employed to guard the coasts against Irish
    importations, 243.

 OGILVY of Forglen, his death and last injunctions, 533.

 Orkney, a pirate taken in, 505.

 ORMISTON, Alexander, imprisoned, 14.


 Painting in oil, early notices of in Scotland, 563.

 Paper-manufacturing, 87.

 Paragraphs from old newspapers, _Appendix_.

 Paraphernalia of women, decided by Court of Session, 166.

 Parochial schools, establishment of, in Scotland, 151.

 PARSONS, Anthony, a quack medicine-vender, 261.

 PATERSON, Archbishop of Glasgow, imprisoned, 12;
   permitted to live at certain places, 167.

 PATERSON, William, promotes commerce and founds African Company, 121;
   his liberal ideas, 124;
   opposition to Bank of Scotland, 131.

 _Pates_ of Court of Session, 291.

 PAYNE, Henry Neville, tortured and imprisoned for ten years, 39;
   proposes an improvement in river navigation, 218.

 Pease-meal, nutritiousness of, 472.

 Peebles, infanticide at, 19;
   prison not strong enough to secure a female culprit, 20;
   vested with a peculiar privilege, 51.

 Perpetual motion, scheme of, by David Ross, 102.

 PERTH, ‘Duke’ of, his baptism, 383.

 ——, Earl of, taken prisoner at the Revolution, 11, 12;
   liberated, 66;
   again imprisoned, 67.

 Perth, tumult at, on account of a picture, 565.

 Peterhead as a harbour of refuge for vessels pursued by French
    privateers, 120.

 Petrie’s _Rules of Good Deportment_, &c., 455.

 Piper of Musselburgh, trepanned as a recruit, 44.

 Pirates hanged at Leith, 458.

 —— under Henry Evory seize a man-of-war, 150;
   a pirate in Orkney, 505.

 PITCAIRN, Dr Archibald, introduces dissection in Edinburgh, 105;
   anecdotes concerning, 223;
   brought before the Council for _leasing-making_, 224;
   raises an action for defamation against Rev. James Webster, 378;
   his death, 383;
   his writings, 384.

 Pittenweem, treatment of witches there in 1704, 299.

 Plantations, criminals and degraded persons transported to, without
    trial, 115, 211.

 Planting first attempted in Scotland, 417.

 POIRET, Elias, murdered at Leith, 48.

 Poor, vagrant, multitude of, 218;
   regulations for, proposed, 219.

 Pope, the, tried and burned in effigy in Edinburgh, 3.

 Porpoises thrown ashore at Cramond, 23.

 PORTEOUS, Captain John, plays a match at golf with Hon. Alexander
    Elphinstone, 566;
   his unpopularity, 594;
   condemned for murder, 595;
   executed by the mob, 596.

 Porteous riot, unpopular witnesses regarding, 600.

 Post-office, general arrangements in 1689, 20;
   the post sometimes robbed and tampered with, 21, 74;
   post-boy robbed by Jacobite gentlemen, 32;
   act for establishing General Post-office, 125;
   violation of letters at Post-office, 265;
   affairs of, in 1710, 327, 357;
   improvements of, by Mr James Anderson, 400;
   accidents to postbags, 513;
   improvements of, 514.

 Potato culture, 604.

 Poverty of Scotland, traits of the extreme character of, 45.

 Prayers, equivocating, 78;
   meetings for, 228.

 Preaching in open air, 606.

 Pregnancy, concealment of, act against, 26.

 Presbyterian form of worship, innovation on, punished, 350.

 Press, restrictions on the, 181.

 Priests in trouble. See _Catholics_.

 PRINGLE of Clifton, fights a duel with Scott of Raeburn, 330.

 Printing, art of, in Scotland (1712), 363.

 Prisoners’ aliment, 208.

 Prisoners detained, from inability to pay prison dues, 34.

 Prisoners of Canongate Tolbooth, take possession of it, 71.

 Prisons crammed with disaffected persons in 1689, 11.

 Privy Council deals with Episcopal clergymen, 78.

 Profaneness, proclamations against, 342.

 Prussian grenadiers, recruiting for, in Edinburgh, 490.

 PURDIE, John, pleads he is not a gentleman, 352.


 Quack medicines vended, 260.

 Quakers, persecuted at Glasgow, 57;
   persecuted at Edinburgh, 178;
   appear at Cross of Edinburgh, 467;
   build a meeting-house there, 621;
   one sets up a manufactory, 620.


 Racing in Scotland, 454.

 Raffle of Indian screens by Roderick Mackenzie, 310.

 Railway, an early, at Prestonpans, 472.

 RAMSAY, Allan, Scottish poet, satirises metrical elegies, 140;
   his reference to Sir Richard Steele, 427, 429;
   reference to musical entertainments in Edinburgh, 432;
   to the dancing assembly, 483;
   concern in theatrical entertainments, 518;
   lends plays, 544;
   erects a theatre, 598;
   his _Gentle Shepherd_ acted, 624.

 RATTRAY, John, a poor man, imprisoned at the Revolution, 14.

 Rebel prisoners removed from Edinburgh to Carlisle for trial, by virtue
    of ‘treason-law,’ 411.

 Rebellion of 1715, 389;
   of 1745, 535.

 Recruiting, unscrupulous system of, 43.

 Recruits kept in jails, 79, 182, 601.

 Regalia, controversy about its preservation, 264.

 _Reicudan Dhu_, or Black Watch, 498.

 Repentance Tower, subject of a rustic _bon mot_, 429.

 ‘Rerrick Spirit,’ strange story of the, 169.

 Restoration of Charles II., celebrated by one Jackson, 371.

 Restrictions regarding victual, troubles from, 210.

 Revenue laws disrelished and resisted, 508, 589, 594.

 Review of Highland Companies at Ruthven, 581.

 Revolver, the, anticipated, 101.

 RITCHIE, Charles, a minister, in trouble about an irregular marriage,
    190.

 Roads made in the Highlands, 526, 561.

 ROB ROY, first public reference to, 373;
   seizes Graham of Killearn, 420;
   is taken prisoner by the Duke of Montrose, but escapes, 421;
   forfeiture of his estate, 422;
   taken by Duke of Athole at Logierait, and escapes, 425;
   Rob’s bad excuse to General Wade, 500;
   his death, 624.

 Robberies, great number of in 1693, 83;
   increase in Highlands from withdrawal of ‘Black Watch,’ 610.

 ROBERTSON, Alexander, of Struan, 523.

 —— ——, Duncan, dispossesses his mother, Lady Struan, of her property,
    233.

 RODERICK, the St Kilda Impostor, 179.

 ROLLO, Lady, her charge against her husband, 143.

 ROLLO, Lord, tries to repress cattle _lifting_, 31;
   prosecuted by his lady, 143.

 ROLLO, Master of, killed, 117.

 Rope-performers, Italian, 582.

 —— -work established, 87.

 ROSE, Bishop of Edinburgh, his death, 452.

 ROSEBERRY, Earl of, pranks of, 604.

 Ross-shire, election for, on a Saturday, 341.

 ROW, Captain, raises sunk treasure, 551.

 Royal Bank of Scotland, started, 537;
   rivalry of banks, 537.

 Royal burghs, convention of, curious details concerning, 51.

 RUDDIMAN, Thomas, his connection with Dr Pitcairn, 385;
   improves the classical learning of Edinburgh, 438.

 Rum, sale of forbidden, and subsequently permitted, 277.

 RUTHERGLEN, Earl of, ‘bangstrie’ upon his property, 158.


 _Saddle, Elastic Pacing_, invented, 101.

 St Cecilia, feast of, celebrated in 1695, 139.

 St Cecilia’s Day, celebrated in Edinburgh with a concert, 139.

 St Kilda, account of, 168.

 —— —— islanders acquire a minister, 178;
   curious peculiarity attending the inhabitants, 181.

 St Luke, School of, institution of at Edinburgh, 564.

 Salaries of judges of Justiciary and Court of Session, 303.

 Salmon-fishery in Scotland (1709), 353.

 Salt proposed to be made in a new manner, 154.

 Salters and miners considered as slaves or necessary servants, 248.

 SALTON and MURRAY, Lords, seized by Master of Lovat, 185.

 Sanctuary (Holyrood Abbey), taken advantage of by Patrick Haliburton,
    &c., 349.

 SANDILANDS, Hon. Patrick, a boy, bewitched, 449.

 SAVERY’S engine for raising water, 237.

 Scavengering of Edinburgh, 593.

 Schools, parochial, establishment of, in Scotland, 151;
   plays acted at, 584.

 _Scots Magazine_ established, 603.

 SCOTT of Raeburn killed in a duel, 330.

 ——, Walter, of Kelso, his marriage, and letter describing it, 39;
   funeral of his father-in-law at Glasgow, 387.

 Scriptures, a multitude of copies of, distributed in the Highlands in
    1690, 39.

 SEAFORTH, Earl of, in rebellion of 1715, 391, 393;
   again in rebellion in 1719;
   his forfeited estates kept for his use by Donald Murchison, 459, 468;
   his ingratitude to Murchison, 471.

 _Secession, The_, a schism in the kirk, 588, 625.

 _Second-sight_, described by Martin, with instances, 278.

 Servants, register-office for, proposed in 1700, 244.

 Session, Court of, new judges appointed for, 10;
   its purity under suspicion, 291;
   tyranny of, 293;
   severity of judges of, 371;
   salaries of judges, 303.

 SETON, Hon. James, accused of robbing a post-boy, 32.

 Settlement, an inharmonious, 580.

 _Sharps_, a trial at designed, 209.

 SHAW, Christian, of Bargarran, her case, 167;
   thread spun by her, 510.

 SHAW, Sir John, of Greenock, his marriage, 240;
   kills Mr Houston, 402.

 SHORT’S telescopes, 567.

 SIBBALD, Sir R., claims a share in Adair’s maps of Scotland, 42;
   his concern in originating a botanic garden, 81;
   his death, 619.

 ‘Siller,’ origin of term in Scotland, 212.

 Silver-mine at Alva, 247.

 SIMSON, Professor John, teaches Arminianism, 441.

 Skye, Isle of, _Second-sight_ in, 280.

 Slaughters—town-clerk of Glasgow by Major Menzies, 103;
   Master of Rollo by Graham of Inchbrakie, 117;
   Houston, Writer to the Signet, by Kennedy of Auchtyfardel, 321;
   Cowpar of Lochblair by Ogilvie of Cluny, 322;
   Robert Oswald by Baird of Sauchtonhall, 322;
   by Master of Burleigh, 326;
   of Mrs Kincaid by her husband, 473;
   of Campbell of Lawers, 473;
   a boy Cairns killed, 547.

 Slave (or ‘perpetual servant’), man adjudged to be for theft, and
    handed over to Sir John Areskine of Alva, 246.

 Slave, negro, advertisement of a stolen one found, 453.

 Slavery of salters and miners till 1775, 249.

 SLEZER, John, in prison after the Revolution, 13;
   a creditor punished for imprisoning him, 27.

 Small-pox (1713), 387;
   inoculation for introduced, 530.

 SMITH of Whitehill’s plans for introducing water into towns, 238.

 Soldiers, recruiting of, by nefarious means, 43;
   from criminals, 64;
   recruits kept in jails, 79;
   mutinies of recruits in Canongate Tolbooth, 182, 601.

 Spirits, young man troubled with, at Glencorse, 555.

 Spott church communion-cups, 335;
   witch of Spott, 275.

 Stage-coach from Edinburgh to Glasgow (1758), 612;
   from London to Glasgow, 613;
   from Edinburgh to London, 407.

 Stair church burnt, 355.

 STAIR, Viscountess of, death of; her coffin placed in an upright
    position; _bon mot_ of, 74.

 _Stang_, riding of the, a punishment for cruel husbands, 589.

 _Staving_ of Irish victual, proclamation regarding, 241.

 STEELE, Sir R., visits Scotland, as a commissioner on forfeited
    estates, 409, 426;
   anecdotes concerning, 429.

 Stereotyping invented by Ged, 555.

 STEUART, Sir James, Lord Advocate for Scotland, favourable to
    witch-prosecutions, 135;
   his death, 382;
   Lt.-Gen. Sir James Steuart, his recollections of Duchess of Douglas
      at Paris, 507.

 STEWART, General, killed by Elliot of Stobbs, 523.

 STIRLING of Kier, his trial for high-treason, 345.

 STOBO, John, ‘student in astrologico-physick,’ 85.

 Storm, an extraordinary, in 1739, 603.

 STRAHAN, W.S., of Edinburgh, is robbed of a large sum, 333.

 STRATHMORE, Earl of, killed in a drunken fray, 545.

 Streets and Wynds of Edinburgh, in 18th century, 591.

 SUDDY, Mackenzie of, killed at Inverroy, 16.

 Summer of 1723, its sultriness, 480.

 Sunday observance, 271, 342, 344, 397, 569.

 SUTHERLAND, James, in charge of the Physic Garden, 81;
   introduces culture of melons, 142.


 Tain Tolbooth steeple falls, 277.

 TARBET, Master of, charged with a murder at Leith, 48.

 _Tascal-money_, murder of Cameron for, 486.

 Tavern-bill, example of one in Edinburgh, 183.

 Taverns much frequented, 575.

 Taverns open on Sunday, disturbance regarding, 271.

 Taxes of Scotland and England equitably adjusted by Union, 328.

 Tea, its disuse recommended in favour of beer, 613.

 Tennis Court, theatricals in, 398.

 Thanksgiving hypocritically ordered, 221.

 Theatricals in Edinburgh (1715), 397, 518, 544, 550, 583, 598;
   at Glasgow, 550.

 Thrashing-machine invented, 503.

 Thunderstorm at Edinburgh (June 10, 1717), 424.

 _Tinklarian Doctor_, a strange enthusiast, 358;
   visits the witch-boy of Calder, 449.

 _Tippermalloch’s Receipts_, 53;
   medical practice and literature of the time, 53;
   Tippermalloch’s pharmacopœia, 54;
   his dream about battles and ambassadors, 55.

 Toasts, treasonable, drunk at Dumfries, 182.

 Tobacco trade of Glasgow, 431, 516.

 Tolbooth, Canongate, mutiny of recruits in, 601.

 Tolbooth of Edinburgh stuffed with political prisoners, 11.

 Toleration Act for Scottish Episcopalians, 367.

 Torture employed after the Revolution, 39.

 Travelling, formal permission required from government for persons of
    eminence, 51;
   slowness of, 222;
   means of, 406;
   coaches set up, 612;
   a difficult journey of Lord Lovat, 625.

 Treasure lost at sea, dived for, 551.

 TROTTER’S _Compendium of Latin Grammar_, 582.

 Trustees, Board of, established, 541.

 Tyninghame Woods planted by Earl of Haddington, 417.


 Union, changes in commerce produced by, 336;
   customs and excise of Scotland, 339.

 Union, treaty of, 258.

 University of Edinburgh, cleared of Episcopalian professors, 7;
   medical education introduced, 105.


 Vice and immorality severely punished, 342.

 VIOLANTE, Signora, an Italian rope-dancer, 625.


 WADE, General, sent as commander-in-chief to disarm the Highlanders,
    497;
   pleads for exiled rebels, 523;
   his Highland roads, 526, 561;
   _fête_ at Dalnaspidal, 561.

 WALKER, Helen, intercedes for her sister’s pardon, 602.

 WALKER, Patrick, his account of the expulsion of the bishops in 1689,
    5;
   his account of the Seven Dear Years, 196;
   denounces the dancing assemblies, 482.

 Walking-swords and other weapons worn by gentlemen, 49.

 WALLACE, Captain John, long kept a prisoner for defending
    Holyroodhouse, 13;
   petition for release, 68.

 WATSON, Andrew, Glasgow shoemaker, 386.

 ——, a skipper, subscription in behalf of, 134.

 Weapons worn by gentlemen, a fatal practice, 49.

 Weights and measures, statutory, confided to various towns, 51.

 _Western Isles, Description of_, by Martin, 278.

 Whales in Firth of Forth, 77, 327;
   at Culross and Kilrenny, 458.

 WHISTON’S _Primitive Christianity_ seized, 363.

 WHITFIELD’S open-air preaching, 606.

 WILLIAM III., crown settled on, 1;
   concern in massacre of Glencoe, 60;
   his sentiments on Catholic worship, 204;
   death of, 256.

 WILLIAMSON, Rev. J., of Musselburgh, his letter on ‘recent domestic
    events,’ 403.

 WILSON, Robert, a servant lad, stolen as a recruit, 44.

 Windmill at Leith, building of, 290.

 Winds, destructive, in Lothian, 471.

 Wines, use of, and prices, 183, 270.

 Witch-boy at Calder, 449.

 ——, Marion Lillie, at Spott, 275.

 ——, the last burnt in Scotland, 540.

 Witchcraft jurisprudence, 135;
   laws against, repealed, 597.

 Witches at Coldingham, 94;
   at Torryburn and Pittenweem, Fife, 298;
   at Inverness, 302.

 Witches, five, burnt at Paisley, 172.

 —— of Ross-shire treated leniently for the first time, 216;
   see also, 540.

 Witches, various, proceedings against, 66, 94, 135, 193, 216, 275, 298,
    302, 540.

 WODROW, Rev. Mr, his remarks on mercantile losses at Glasgow, 337, 487,
    565;
   on plague of bugs at, 542;
   excursion into Galloway, 380;
   deplores religious changes at Glasgow, 432, 486, 515;
   sad account of general condition of the country, 491;
   condemns theatricals, 519, 544, 550;
   describes profligacy of manners, 521.

 Wolf, last in Scotland, killed, 609.

 Women of evil repute banished, 115.

 Women’s ‘Girded Tails’ satirised, 448.

 Wool forbidden to be exported, 238.

 Woollen manufactures at Aberdeen, 156.

 WORTLEY MONTAGU, Lady Mary, satirises Lady Murray of Stanhope, 479;
   introduces inoculation, 530.

 _Writers_, malignant feelings displayed on opposing interests, case of;
    Leslie and Comrie, 278.

 Writing, engine for, invented, 99.


 York Buildings Company purchases forfeited estates, 443;
   leases Strontian mines, 475;
   its failure alluded to, 492;
   leases woods of Abernethy, 547.

 YOUNG, George, troubles from enforcing Sunday observance, 271.

 YOUNG, James, an ingenious mechanist and curiosity-monger, 99;
   House of Curiosities at Edinburgh, 100.


                                THE END.

                               Edinburgh:
                     Printed by W. and R. Chambers.

[Illustration: Old Tolbooth, Edinburgh.]

The state of the Leg-of-Mutton-School of verse[242] in Scotland at the
end of the seventeenth century, may be pretty fairly inferred from this
specimen.]

-----

Footnote 1:

  A very animated review of these affairs will be found in Mr Burton’s
  excellent _History_.

Footnote 2:

  _Collection of Papers_, &c. London, Richard Janeway, 1689.

Footnote 3:

  _Account of the Pope’s Procession at Aberdene_, &c., reprinted in
  Laing’s _Fugitive Poetry of the Seventeenth Century_.

Footnote 4:

  _Biographia. Presbyteriana_, i. 221.

Footnote 5:

  Under this title, a pamphlet, detailing the _outing_ and _rabbling_ of
  the clergy, was published in London in 1690.

Footnote 6:

  Stewart’s _Sketches of the Highlanders_, i. p. 99, note.

Footnote 7:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, i. 338.

Footnote 8:

  _Life and Diary of Lieutenant-colonel Blackader of the Cameronian
  Regiment._ By Andrew Crichton. Edin. 1824.

Footnote 9:

  Privy Council Record, MS., Gen. Register House, Edinburgh.

Footnote 10:

  Home of Crossrig’s _Diary_. Stevenson, Edinburgh, 1843.

Footnote 11:

  _Domestic Annals of Scotland_, ii. 408, 432.

Footnote 12:

  _Acts of Scottish Parliament_, ix. 12.

Footnote 13:

  On the 12th February 1690, the Privy Council had under their notice
  the case of a man named Samuel Smith, who had been imprisoned in the
  Edinburgh Tolbooth for three years on a charge of theft, without
  trial, and ordained him to be set at large, there being ‘no probation’
  against him.

Footnote 14:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 15:

  Privy Council Record, under February 22, 1698.

Footnote 16:

  _Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheil_ [by Drummond of Balhadics],
  p. 243.

Footnote 17:

  _Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheil_, p. 254.

Footnote 18:

  C. K. Sharpe in note to Law’s _Memorials_.

Footnote 19:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 20:

  Justiciary Record.

Footnote 21:

  Mrs Gibb seems to have been the person who managed the transmission or
  carrying between Edinburgh and Haddington.

Footnote 22:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 23:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 24:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 25:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 26:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 27:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 28:

  Scots Acts, iii. 310.

Footnote 29:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 30:

  Contemporary broadsides.

Footnote 31:

  _Domestic Annals_, ii. 384.

Footnote 32:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 33:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 34:

  A picturesque glimpse of the Highland marauding of this period was
  obtained some years ago at second-hand from the memory of William Bane
  Macpherson, who died in 1777 at the age of a hundred. ‘He was wont to
  relate that, when a boy of twelve years of age, being engaged as
  _buachaille_ [herd-boy] at the _summering_ [i. e., summer grazing] of
  Biallid, near Dalwhinnie, he had an opportunity of being an
  eye-witness to a _creagh_ and pursuit on a very large scale, which
  passed through Badenoch. At noon on a fine autumnal day in 1689, his
  attention was drawn to a herd of black-cattle, amounting to about six
  score, driven along by a dozen of wild Lochaber men, by the banks of
  Loch Erroch, in the direction of Dalunchart in the forest of Alder,
  now Ardverikie. Upon inquiry, he ascertained that these had been
  “lifted” in Aberdeenshire, distant more than a hundred miles, and that
  the reivers had proceeded thus far with their booty free from
  molestation and pursuit. Thus they held on their way among the wild
  hills of this mountainous district, far from the haunts of the
  semi-civilised inhabitants, and within a day’s journey of their home.
  Only a few hours had elapsed after the departure of these marauders,
  when a body of nearly fifty horsemen appeared, toiling amidst the
  rocks and marshes of this barbarous region, where not even a footpath
  helped to mark the intercourse of society, and following on the trail
  of the men and cattle which had preceded them. The troop was well
  mounted and armed, and led by a person of gentlemanlike appearance and
  courteous manners; while, attached to the party, was a number of
  horses carrying bags of meal and other provisions, intended not solely
  for their own support, but, as would seem from the sequel, as a ransom
  for the _creagh_. Signalling William Bane to approach, the leader
  minutely questioned him about the movements of the Lochaber men, their
  number, equipments, and the line of their route. Along the precipitous
  banks of Loch Erroch this large body of horsemen wended their way,
  accompanied by William Bane, who was anxious to see the result of the
  meeting. It bespoke spirit and resolution in those strangers to seek
  an encounter with the robbers in their native wilds, and on the
  borders of that country, where a signal of alarm would have raised a
  numerous body of hardy Lochaber men, ready to defend the _creagh_, and
  punish the pursuers. Towards nightfall, they drew near the encampment
  of the thieves at Dalunchart, and observed them busily engaged in
  roasting, before a large fire, one of the beeves, newly slaughtered.

  ‘A council of war was immediately held, and, on the suggestion of the
  leader, a flag of truce was forwarded to the Lochaber men, with an
  offer to each of a bag of meal and a pair of shoes, in ransom for the
  herd of cattle. This offer, being viewed as a proof of cowardice and
  fear, was contemptuously rejected, and a reply sent, to the effect
  that the cattle, driven so far and with so much trouble, would not be
  surrendered. Having gathered in the herd, both parties prepared for
  action. The overwhelming number of the pursuers soon mastered their
  opponents. Successive discharges of firearms brought the greater
  number of the Lochaber men to the ground, and in a brief period only
  three remained unhurt, and escaped to tell the sad tale to their
  countrymen.’—_Inverness Courier_, August 17, 1847.

Footnote 35:

  This post-boy appears to have been forty-four years old.

Footnote 36:

  Lord Viscount Kingston was a cadet of the Winton family, and had
  delivered a Latin oration to Charles I., at his father’s house of
  Seton, in 1633.

Footnote 37:

  In the parliament which sat down in September, robbing the post-packet
  was declared to be ‘robbery,’ to be punished with death and
  confiscation of movables.—_Scots Acts._

Footnote 38:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 39:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 40:

  Privy Council Record. The privileges of Mr Hamilton were confirmed by
  the Estates in June 1693.

Footnote 41:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 42:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 43:

  A portrait of the house, and some particulars of the family, are to be
  found in Robert Stuart’s _Views and Notices of Glasgow in Former
  Times_, 4to, 1847.

Footnote 44:

  This must have been Lady Raeburn (Anne Scott of Ancrum).

Footnote 45:

  Probably his sister Isobel’s husband, described in Burke as Captain
  Anderson.

Footnote 46:

  _Acts of General Assembly_, 1690, p. 18.

Footnote 47:

  See page 10.

Footnote 48:

  _Melville Correspondence_, p. 150. The parliament, on the 18th July
  1690, gave a warrant for subjecting one Muir or Ker to the torture, in
  order to expiscate the truth regarding the murder of an infant, of
  which he was vehemently suspected.

Footnote 49:

  Mr Burton, in his _History of Scotland from 1689 to 1748_, gives the
  following account of this nobleman: ‘The Earl of Crawford, made
  chairman of the Estates and a privy councillor, was the only statesman
  of the day who adopted the peculiar demeanour and scriptural language
  of the Covenanters. It is to him that Burnet and others attribute the
  severities against the Episcopal clergymen, and the guidance of the
  force brought to bear in the parliament and Privy Council in favour of
  a Presbyterian establishment.’

Footnote 50:

  _Melville Correspondence._ Privy Council Record.

Footnote 51:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 52:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 53:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 54:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 55:

  Burt’s _Letters_, i. 128.

Footnote 56:

  A phrase of the time, found in the Privy Council Record.

Footnote 57:

  John Callander, master-smith, petitioned the Privy Council in June
  1689, regarding smith-work which he had executed for Edinburgh and
  Stirling Castles, to the amount of eleven hundred pounds sterling,
  whereof, though long due, he had ‘never yet received payment of a
  sixpence.’ On his earnest entreaty, three hundred pounds were ordered
  to be paid to account. On the ensuing 23d of August, he was ordained
  to be paid £6567, 17_s._ 2_d._, after a rigid taxing of his accounts,
  Scots money being of course meant. Connected with this little matter
  is an anecdote which has been told in various forms, regarding the
  estate of Craigforth, near Stirling. It is alleged that the
  master-smith, failing to obtain a solution of the debt from the
  Scottish Exchequer, applied to the English treasury, and was there so
  fortunate as to get payment of the apparent sum in English money.
  Having out of this unexpected wealth made a wadset on the estate of
  Craigforth, he ultimately fell into the possession of that property,
  which he handed down to his descendants.[58] John Callander was
  grandfather of a gentleman of the same name, who cultivated literature
  with assiduity, and was the editor of two ancient Scottish poems—_The
  Guberlunzie Man_, and _Christ’s Kirk on the Green_. This gentleman,
  again, was grandfather to Mrs Thomas Sheridan and Lady Graham of
  Netherby.

Footnote 58:

  _Sir James Campbell’s Memoirs._ _A Week at the Bridge of Allan_, by
  Charles Rogers, 1853, p. 334.

Footnote 59:

  Justiciary Records.

Footnote 60:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 61:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 62:

  Record of Convention of Burghs, MS. in Council Chamber, Edinburgh.

Footnote 63:

  Anderson’s Prize Essay on the State of the Highlands in 1745, p. 95.

Footnote 64:

  _New Stat. Acc. of Scotland_: Ross, p. 220.

Footnote 65:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 66:

  Dr John Brown: _Locke and Sydenham_, &c., 1858, p. 457.

Footnote 67:

  The second edition of Tippermalloch was published in 1716, containing
  Dr Pitcairn’s method of curing the small-pox. It professes to be
  superior to the first edition, being ‘taken from an original copy
  which the author himself delivered to the truly noble and excellent
  lady, the late Marchioness of Athole, and which her Grace the present
  duchess, a lady no less eminent for her singular goodness and virtue
  than her high quality, was pleased to communicate to us and the
  public.’

Footnote 68:

  _Analecta Scotica_, ii. 176.

Footnote 69:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 70:

  Crossrig’s _Diary_.

Footnote 71:

  Kilravock Papers, Spald. Club, p. 388.

Footnote 72:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 73:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 74:

  _Life of Peden_, _Biogr. Presbyteriana_, i. 112.

Footnote 75:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 76:

  _Domestic Annals of Scotland_, ii. 29.

Footnote 77:

  Criminal Proceedings, a Collection of Justiciary Papers in Library of
  the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland.

Footnote 78:

  Macdonald of Glencoe bore the subordinate surname of M‘Ian, as
  descended from a noted person named Ian or John.

Footnote 79:

  Addressed to Sir Thomas Livingstone, commander-in-chief of the forces
  in Scotland.

Footnote 80:

  See _Papers Illustrative of the Political Condition of the Highlands
  from 1689 to 1696_. Maitland Club. 1845.

Footnote 81:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 82:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 83:

  This was the father of Mr Andrew Drummond, the founder of the
  celebrated banking-house in the Strand.

Footnote 84:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 85:

  From papers in possession of John Hall Maxwell, of Dargavel, Esq.

Footnote 86:

  Privy Council Record. (See onward, under December 31, 1692, and July
  13, 1697.)

Footnote 87:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 88:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, i. 693.

Footnote 89:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 90:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, i. 693.

Footnote 91:

  _Domestic Annals of Scotland_, ii. 326.

Footnote 92:

  _Mem. of John Earl of Stair by an Impartial Hand_, p. 7.

Footnote 93:

  Murray’s _Literary Hist. of Galloway_, p. 155.

Footnote 94:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 95:

  Minutes of Merchant Company, MS. in possession of the Company.

Footnote 96:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, i. 518, 564.

Footnote 97:

  _Ibid._, i. 525.

Footnote 98:

  _Ibid._

Footnote 99:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 100:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 101:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 102:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 103:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 104:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 105:

  In July 1695, there was a further act ‘anent burying in Scots linen,’
  ordaining that none should be used for sepulchral purposes above
  twenty shillings Scots per ell, and also commanding that the nearest
  elder or deacon of the parish, with one or two neighbours, should be
  called by the friends of deceased persons to see that the shroud was
  in all respects conform to the acts thereanent.

Footnote 106:

  _Wodrow Pamphlets_, Adv. Lib., vol. 115.

Footnote 107:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 108:

  _Acts of Scottish Parliament_, ix. 429.

Footnote 109:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 110:

  _Acts of Scottish Parliament_, ix. 420.

Footnote 111:

  See _Domestic Annals of Scotland_, ii. 398.

Footnote 112:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 113:

  _Letter from a Gentleman in the Country to his Friend at Edinburgh_,
  &c. Edin. 1696.

Footnote 114:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 115:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, i. 590.

Footnote 116:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 117:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 118:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 119:

  _Scottish Journal_, ii. 200.

Footnote 120:

  The troubles from the meeting-houses at Coldingham and two
  neighbouring parishes, led to their being entirely suppressed by the
  arm of the government in March 1700 [q. v.]

Footnote 121:

  The above, and some other curious extracts from the parish register of
  Coldingham, are given in an interesting volume, entitled _History of
  the Priory of Coldingham_. By William King Hunter. Edinburgh, 1858.

Footnote 122:

  _Analecta_, ii. 250. Wodrow tells us that Lady Dundee had been very
  violent against the Presbyterians, and ‘used to say she wished that,
  that day she heard a Presbyterian minister, the house might fall down
  and smother her, which it did.’

Footnote 123:

  _Analecta Scotica_, i. 187. Wodrow’s _Analecta_, ii. 250.

Footnote 124:

  William Livingstone survived his wife nearly forty years. In the
  _Caledonian Mercury_ for February 6, 1733, is this paragraph: ‘We are
  assured private letters are in town, giving account, that on the 12th
  of last month, the Right Hon. the late Viscount Kilsyth died at Rome,
  in an advanced age, in perfect judgment, and a Christian and exemplary
  resignation.’

Footnote 125:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 126:

  _A Summer’s Divertisement of Mathematical and Mechanical Curiosities,
  being an Account of the Things seen at the House of Curiosities, near
  Grange Park._ Edinburgh: James Watson. 1695.

Footnote 127:

  Nicolas’s spelling is here given _literatim_.

Footnote 128:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 129:

  From ‘a double of the oath’ in the _Kilravock Papers_, Spald. Club
  publication, p. 387.

Footnote 130:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, i. 629.

Footnote 131:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 132:

  ‘James Peedie of Roughill and John Anderson of Dowhill were the first
  merchants who brought a loading of cherry-sack into this
  city.’—_M‘Ure’s Hist. Glasg._, p. 250.

Footnote 133:

  Arnot’s _Criminal Trials_, p. 163.

Footnote 134:

  Chalmers’s _Life of Ruddiman_, p. 30. Bower’s _Hist. Univ. of
  Edinburgh_, ii. 153.

Footnote 135:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 136:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 137:

  These legends appear to have been intended to read as follows: ‘Three
  years thou shalt have to repent, and note it well. Wo be to thee,
  Scotland! Repent and take warning, for the doors of heaven are already
  barred against thee. I am sent for a warning to thee, to flee to God.
  Yet troubled shall this man be for twenty days and three. Repent,
  repent, Scotland, or else thou shalt’——.

Footnote 138:

  On the 7th of January 1696, the Privy Council gave licence to George
  Mossman, stationer in Edinburgh, to ‘print and sell a book entitled _A
  True Relation of an Apparition, Expressions, and Actings of a Spirit
  which infested the House of Andrew Mackie, in Ring-croft of Stocking,
  in the Parish of Rerrick, &c._,’ with exclusive right of doing so for
  a year.

Footnote 139:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 140:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, Nov. 20, 1732.

Footnote 141:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 142:

  From _Information for his Majesty’s Advocate, &c., against James
  Edmonstoun of Newton_.

Footnote 143:

  Maclaurin’s _Criminal Cases_, p. 10.

Footnote 144:

  _Introductions, &c., to Waverley Novels_, i. 255.

Footnote 145:

  _Acts of Scot. Par._, ix. 452.

Footnote 146:

  Hugh Miller’s _Sketch-book of Popular Geology_, pp. 13, 14.

Footnote 147:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 148:

  A few of the subscriptions are here subjoined: For £1000 each, the
  Faculty of Advocates, John Anderson of Dowhill, Provost of Glasgow,
  the Earl of Annandale; Alexander Brand, merchant in Edinburgh; James
  Balfour, merchant in Edinburgh; George Clerk, merchant in Edinburgh;
  Daniel Campbell, merchant in Glasgow; Sir Robert Dickson of Sorn-beg,
  Andrew Fletcher of Salton, the town of Glasgow, John Graham younger of
  Dougalston, the Earl of Haddington, Lord Yester, Sir David Home of
  Crossrig, Sir John Home of Blackader, Sir Alexander Hope of Kerse,
  William Hay of Drumelzier, Sir James Hall of Dunglass, Lockhart of
  Carnwath, William Livingstone of Kilsyth; George Lockhart, merchant in
  Glasgow; the Merchant House of Glasgow, the Marquis of Montrose, Sir
  John Maxwell of Pollock, Sir Patrick Murray of Auchtertyre, Francis
  Montgomery of Giffen, William Morison of Prestongrange, William Nisbet
  of Dirleton, Sir James Primrose of Carrington, the Countess of Rothes,
  the Countess of Roxburgh, Lord Ross, Lord Ruthven, William Robertson
  of Gladney, the Earl of Sutherland, the Earl of Southesk, Viscount
  Strathallan, Viscount Stair, Sir John Swinton, Sir Francis Scott of
  Thirlstain, Sir John Shaw of Greenock; Thomas Spence, writer in
  Edinburgh; John Spreul, _alias_ Bass John, merchant in Glasgow; the
  Marquis of Tweeddale, Viscount Tarbat; Robert Watson, merchant in
  Edinburgh; George Warrender, merchant there; and William Wardrop,
  merchant in Glasgow: for £1200, the Merchant Company of Edinburgh: for
  £1300, James Pringle of Torwoodlee: for £1500, the Earl of Argyle,
  William Lord Jedburgh, and Patrick Thomson, treasurer of Glasgow: for
  £2000, Mr Robert Blackwood, merchant in Edinburgh; Sir Robert
  Chiesley, Lord Provost of Edinburgh, John Lord Glenorchy, Lord Basil
  Hamilton, the Earl of Hopetoun, the Earl of Leven; William Menzies,
  merchant in Edinburgh; the town of Perth, Sir William Scott of Harden:
  for £3000, Lord Belhaven, the Good Town of Edinburgh, the Duchess of
  Hamilton, the Duke of Queensberry, the Easter Sugarie of Glasgow, and
  Sir John Stuart of Grandtully.

Footnote 149:

  Scots Acts, _sub anno_ 1695.

Footnote 150:

  [Sinclair’s] _Statistical Account of Scotland_, vi. 586.

Footnote 151:

  In April 1703, John Dunbabbine, an Englishman, who in his own country
  had for several years followed the trade of pin-making ‘to the
  satisfaction of all those with whom he had any dealing,’ was now
  inclined to set up a work at Aberdeen, which he thought would be ‘very
  much for the advantage of the kingdom [of Scotland] and all the
  inhabitants thereof.’ All he required previously was his work being
  endowed with the privileges and immunities of a manufactory; which the
  Privy Council readily granted.

Footnote 152:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 153:

  Mr James Foulis and Mr John Holland are probably identical with the
  persons of the same names who received some encouragement from the
  parliament in April 1693, for the setting up of a manufacture of
  _Colchester Baises_ in Scotland. See _Domestic Annals_, under that
  date.

Footnote 154:

  See a pamphlet by Mr Holland, published in 1715, under the title of
  _The Ruine of the Bank of England and all Publick Credit inevitable_.

Footnote 155:

  Exchange was not dealt in by the Bank of England, any more than the
  Bank of Scotland, during many of its earlier years.

Footnote 156:

  _Account of the Bank of Scotland_, published in 1728.

Footnote 157:

  _Acts of Scottish Parliament_, ix. 465.

Footnote 158:

  _Culloden Papers_, Introduction, p. xliv.

Footnote 159:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 160:

  Patrick Walker’s _Life of Donald Cargill_, _Biog. Pres._, ii. 24.

Footnote 161:

  Patrick Walker.

Footnote 162:

  Ibid.

Footnote 163:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 164:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 165:

  We have no means of knowing if this concert was connected with the
  enterprise of Beck and his associates, noticed under January 10, 1694.
  The name of Beck does not occur in the list of performers on this
  occasion.

Footnote 166:

  W. Tytler, _Trans. Soc. of Antiq. of Scotland_, i. 506.

Footnote 167:

  Ramsay’s _Scribblers Lashed_.

Footnote 168:

  Through her, as daughter of William first Duke of Queensberry, her
  descendant, the Earl of Wemyss, succeeded in 1810 to large estates in
  Peeblesshire and the earldom of March.

Footnote 169:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 170:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 171:

  See under Feb. 2, 1693.

Footnote 172:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 173:

  Ibid.

Footnote 174:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 175:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 176:

  Printed informations in the case. Justiciary Records.

Footnote 177:

  _Acts of Scot. Parliament._

Footnote 178:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 179:

  The authority for this is a very bad one—the scurrilous book called
  _Scots Presbyterian Eloquence Displayed_; but on such a point, with
  support from other quarters, it may be admitted.

Footnote 180:

  Calamy’s Account of his Own Life.

Footnote 181:

  Watson’s _Collection of Scots Poems_, 1709.

Footnote 182:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 183:

  A tolerably full detail of Mr Hepburn’s persecutions is given in
  Struthers’s _Hist. Scot. from the Union to 1748_. 2 vols.

Footnote 184:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 185:

  Scots Acts, vol. iii.

Footnote 186:

  See _Domestic Annals_, under date August 24, 1669.

Footnote 187:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 188:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 189:

  Records of Parliament and Privy Council.

Footnote 190:

  _Acts of Scot. Parl._, xi. 82.

Footnote 191:

  Ibid.

Footnote 192:

  _Acts of Scot. Parl._, xi. 111.

Footnote 193:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 194:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 195:

  The above account of the prosecution of Aikenhead is derived from
  Howell’s _State Trials_, in which there has been printed a collection
  of documents on the case, collected by John Locke.

Footnote 196:

  Preface to _Two Sermons_, &c., by Mr Lorimer.

Footnote 197:

  Foun., _Decisions_.

Footnote 198:

  Privy Council Record, under various dates.

Footnote 199:

  Signed at Glasgow, December 31, 1696.

Footnote 200:

  _Domestic Annals_, _sub_ July 9, 1668, vol ii. p. 321.

Footnote 201:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 202:

  Justiciary Record.

Footnote 203:

  _New Stat. Acc. of Scotland_, iv. Wigton, 226.

Footnote 204:

  Criminal Proceedings, &c., MS., in possession of Ant. Soc. Scot.

Footnote 205:

  _New Stat. Acc. Scotland_, _ut supra_.

Footnote 206:

  _Decisions_, i. 522.

Footnote 207:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 208:

  _A Voyage to St Kilda_, &c., by M. Martin, Gent. 4th ed., 1753.

Footnote 209:

  Macaulay’s _History of St Kilda_, 1766, p. 241.

Footnote 210:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 211:

  Ibid.

Footnote 212:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 213:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 214:

  _Letters from North of Scotland_, ii. 134 (2d ed.).

Footnote 215:

  _Edin. Courant_, May 1720.

Footnote 216:

  _Letters_, &c., i. 135.

Footnote 217:

  Arnot’s _Crim. Trials_, Anderson’s _Hist. Fam. Fraser_, Carstares’s
  _State Papers_.

Footnote 218:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 219:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 220:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 221:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 5.

Footnote 222:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 223:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 224:

  _Acts of General Assembly._

Footnote 225:

  _Wodrow Pamphlets_, Adv. Lib.

Footnote 226:

  Under extremity of suffering during the dearth, in September 1699, one
  David Chapman, belonging to Crieff, broke into a lockfast place, and
  stole some cheese, a sugar-loaf, and about four shillings sterling of
  money. His sole motive for the crime, as he afterwards pleaded, was
  the desire of relieving his family from the pains of want. Apprehended
  that day, he confessed the crime, and restored the spoil; yet, being
  tried by the commissioner of justiciary for the Highlands, he was
  condemned to death.

  On a petition, the Privy Council commuted the sentence to scourging
  through the town of Perth, and banishment to the plantations.[228]

Footnote 227:

  Published in 1702.

Footnote 228:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 229:

  _Coltness Collections._

Footnote 230:

  _Polit. Works of A. Fletcher_, edit. 1749, p. 85.

Footnote 231:

  Privy Council Record. Fountainhall’s _Decisions_.

Footnote 232:

  _Scots Acts_, iii. 628.

Footnote 233:

  [Leslie’s] _Survey of the Province of Moray_, p. 280.

Footnote 234:

  The father of the present Earl of Stair, Sir John Dalrymple, was born
  in 1726, and might have heard these particulars from his grand-uncle,
  the second President Dalrymple, who died in 1737. Sir John’s _Memoirs
  of Great Britain_ are here followed, therefore, as the best authority
  available.

Footnote 235:

  Dalrymple’s _Memoirs_.

Footnote 236:

  _Memoirs of John Macky, Esq._, 1733, p. 205.

Footnote 237:

  _Acts of S. Parl._, x. 136. Wodrow’s _History_, i. 320.

Footnote 238:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 239:

  Ibid.

Footnote 240:

  This gentleman, who became Earl of Hopetoun, first of the title, was
  married, on the 31st August 1699, to ‘the very vertuous Lady Henrietta
  Johnston,’ daughter of the Earl of Annandale. A congratulatory poem on
  the occasion contains the following passage:

             May Hopetoun flourish still with Lady Hen-
             Rietta, and have a stock of good childrén.[241]

Footnote 241:

  _Wodrow Pamphlets_, Adv. Lib.

Footnote 242:

  See _Blackwood’s Magazine_, ix. 345.

Footnote 243:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 244:

  Ibid.

Footnote 245:

  Of this fact, the use of the word _siller_ for money generally in
  Scotland is a notable memorial.

Footnote 246:

  _Account of Bank of Scotland_, p. 6.

Footnote 247:

  _Letter of Earl of Argyle_, _Carstares Papers_, 458.

Footnote 248:

  James Donaldson seems to have been engaged in the poetic elegy trade;
  that is, the writing of deplorations in verse on great personages for
  sale in the streets: see an example of his verse of this description
  under November 1695. He seems also to have been the author of
  _Husbandry Anatomised, or an Enquiry into the Present Manner of
  Tilling and Manuring the Ground in Scotland_, 12mo, 1697; and of _A
  Picktooth for Swearers, or a Looking-glass for Atheists and Profane
  Persons_, &c., small 4to, 1698. See _Scottish Elegiac Verses, with
  Notes_, 1847.

Footnote 249:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 250:

  Ibid.

Footnote 251:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 252:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 253:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 254:

  The Lord Rankeillor who assisted in giving things this favourable turn
  was paternal grandfather of Dr John Hope, well known towards the close
  of the last century as Professor of Botany in the Edinburgh
  University.

Footnote 255:

  Quoted in _Scots Magazine_, Jan. 1810, ‘from a collection of pamphlets
  in the possession of Mr Blackwood.’

Footnote 256:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 257:

  The irascible temper of Fletcher is well known, and his slaughter of
  an associate in the Monmouth expedition is a historical fact. A
  strange story is told of him in Mrs Calderwood of Polton’s account of
  her journey in Holland (_Coltness Collections_). ‘Salton,’ she says,
  ‘could not endure the smoke of toback, and as he was in a night-scoot
  [in Holland] the skipper and he fell out about his forbidding him to
  smoke. Salton, finding he could not hinder him, went up and sat on the
  ridge of the boat, which bows like an arch. The skipper was so
  contentious that he followed him, and on whatever side Salton sat, he
  put his pipe in the check next him, and whiffed in his face. Salton
  went down several times and brought up stones in his pocket from the
  ballast, and slipped them into the skipper’s pocket that was next the
  water, and when he found he had loadened him as much as would sink
  him, he gives him a shove, so that over he hirsled. The boat went on,
  and Salton came down among the rest of the passengers, who probably
  were asleep, and fell asleep among the rest. In a little time, bump
  came the scoot against the side, on which they all damned the skipper;
  but, behold, when they called, there was no skipper; which would breed
  no great amazement in a Dutch company.’

Footnote 258:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 259:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 260:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 261:

  Ibid.

Footnote 262:

  _Criminal Proceedings_, MS. Ant. Soc.

Footnote 263:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 264:

  _Act. Parl._ x. 284.

Footnote 265:

  Letter of Mr Duncan Forbes of Culloden (father of the President).
  _Culloden Papers._

Footnote 266:

  _Memoirs of Elizabeth West._ Edinburgh, 1733.

Footnote 267:

  D. Forbes’s Letter, _ut supra_.

Footnote 268:

  _Treatise on the Sanctification of the Lord’s Day._

Footnote 269:

  Maitland’s _History of Edinburgh_, p. 202.

Footnote 270:

  _Elizabeth West._

Footnote 271:

  _Coltness Collections._

Footnote 272:

  _Historical Account of the Bank of Scotland_, 4to, p. 6.

Footnote 273:

  _Diary of David Hume of Crossrig_, p. 69.

Footnote 274:

  _Account of Bank of Scotland_, p. 7.

Footnote 275:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 276:

  As to the troubles from the Coldingham meeting-house, see under March
  24, 1694.

Footnote 277:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 278:

  A _quaigh_ or drinking-cup.

Footnote 279:

  Alluding to a controversy between two of the Aberdeen professors on a
  question which we have seen revived in great fervour in our own day.

Footnote 280:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 281:

  Alexander Duff was descended from a race of gentry in Morayshire—the
  Duffs of Muldavit—and it stems to have been by saving, prudence, and
  good management that he was enabled to increase his share of the
  family possessions, and so far advance the prospects of his house,
  that it was ennobled in the next generation, and now ranks among the
  eight or ten families of highest wealth in Scotland. There is a
  characteristic story about Braco surveying one day an extensive tract
  of country containing several tolerable lairdships, when, seeing the
  houses in various directions all giving out signs of being inhabited
  by their respective families, he said: ‘A’ that reek sall come out o’
  ae lum yet!’ and he made good his word by ultimately buying up the
  whole of that district.

Footnote 282:

  The above narration appeared in the _Dumfries Journal_ (newspaper).

Footnote 283:

  The system of _culreach_ or repledgiation was one of great antiquity
  in Scotland, but last heard of in the Highlands. So lately as 1698,
  George Earl of Cromarty obtained a charter, giving him this among
  other powers: If any of the indwellers and tenants of his lands should
  happen ‘to be arrested or attached before any judge or judges,
  spiritual or temporal, in any time coming, to repledge and call them
  back to the privilege and liberty of the said court of bailiery and
  regality of Tarbat.’

Footnote 284:

  Documents of the process in Spalding Club Miscellany, iii. 175.

Footnote 285:

  Burns’s fine ode on Macpherson will be remembered:

                 Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
                   Sae dantonly gaed he,
                 He played a spring and danced it round,
                   Beneath the gallows tree.

  There was, however, an earlier celebration of the robber’s hardihood
  on a broadside, a copy of which will be found in Herd’s _Collection of
  Scottish Songs_ (1776). See also a curious volume, entitled _Scottish
  Ballads and Songs_ (Edinburgh, T. G. Stevenson, 1859).

  A long two-handed sword is shewn in Duff House, the seat of the Earl
  of Fife, as that of Macpherson. It is a formidable weapon, 4 feet 3
  inches long, and having a wavy-edged blade. It is obviously a mediæval
  weapon, yet, of course, may have been used in a later age.

  _March 4, 1701._—There was a petition to the Privy Council from Peter
  and Donald Brown, prisoners in the Tolbooth of Banff, representing
  that they had been condemned solely as ‘repute vagabond Egyptians,’ to
  be hanged on the 2d April. They claimed a longer day, ‘either for
  their relief or due preparation;’ and the Lords granted reprieve till
  the second Wednesday of June.

Footnote 286:

  _Edinburgh Encyclopædia_, article ‘Steam-engine.’

Footnote 287:

  _Acts of S. Parl._, x. 267.

Footnote 288:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 289:

  See a more remarkable case of the disappearance of a gentleman under
  March 1709.

Footnote 290:

  See account for ‘Mrs Margaret’s wadding-cloaths,’ given in full in the
  _Edinburgh Magazine_ for October 1817.

Footnote 291:

  Memoir by Elizabeth Mure of Caldwell [a lady who died in 1795, at the
  age of eighty-one], _Caldwell Papers_, i. 264.

Footnote 292:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 293:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 294:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii.

Footnote 295:

  It was an old mode of advertisement in country towns, down to the
  author’s early years, to send an old woman through the streets with a
  wooden dish and a stick, to _clap_ or beat upon it so as to gather a
  crowd, before whom she then gave her recital.

Footnote 296:

  _Analecta_, i. 10.

Footnote 297:

  Sir John had entered at the bar in the preceding year, and it is not
  improbable that he came into acquaintance with Steuart in a
  professional capacity.

Footnote 298:

  Copy of the sentence printed in Wilson’s _Prehistoric Annals of
  Scotland_, from one in the possession of the late Alexander Macdonald,
  Esq.

Footnote 299:

  That is, the eighteenth century.

Footnote 300:

  [Sinclair’s] _Stat. Acc. of Scot._, xviii. 578.

Footnote 301:

  Collection of papers in Oxenford Castle.

Footnote 302:

  _Ed. Ev. Courant_, Nov. 21, 1743.

Footnote 303:

  Alluding, probably, to the affair of the Impostor Roderick. See under
  June 1, 1697.

Footnote 304:

  _Copy of a Letter anent a Project for Erecting a Library in every
  Presbytery, or at least County, in the Highlands, from a Reverend
  Minister of the Scots Nation, now in England, to a Minister in
  Edinburgh._ Edinburgh, 1702. Small 4to, 6 leaves.

Footnote 305:

  Wodrow Pamphlets, vol. xciii.

Footnote 306:

  _Analecta Scotica_, ii. 366; iv. 235.

Footnote 307:

  Anderson’s _Prize Essay on the State of Knowledge in the Highlands_.

Footnote 308:

  See under October 6, 1697.

Footnote 309:

  A district on the south side of Loch Ness, in Inverness-shire.

Footnote 310:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 311:

  The daughter of the late peer.

Footnote 312:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 313:

  Mr Campbell had, in 1709, an action at law against Mungo Campbell of
  Netherplace, for recovery of fifty pounds which he charged for
  attendance upon him, and performance of the operation of lithotomy. It
  was represented on the other side that he had done his work with an
  unskilfulness which resulted in some most distressing injuries to his
  patient, and the Lords held that the seventeen guineas already paid
  was guerdon sufficient.—Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 510.

Footnote 314:

  Dalyell’s _Musical Memoirs of Scotland_, p. 132.

Footnote 315:

  _Edinburgh Evening Courant._

Footnote 316:

  _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, December 30, 1725.

Footnote 317:

  _Edinburgh Evening Courant._

Footnote 318:

  From a description of the presbytery of Penpont, App. to Symson’s
  _History of Galloway_. Edin. 1823.

Footnote 319:

  A fairy legend connected with the Dow Loch, and illustrating the
  superstitious feeling with which it was regarded, has been
  communicated by a friend:

  ‘The farmer of Auchen Naight, near the Dow Loch, was not in opulent
  circumstances. One day, during the pressure of some unusual calamity,
  he noticed, to his surprise, a cow browsing tranquilly by the side of
  the lake, and, on nearer inspection, found it to be a beautiful animal
  of large size, and perfectly white. She allowed herself to be driven
  home by him without resistance, and soon commended herself greatly to
  his wife by her tameness and exceeding opulence in milk. The result of
  her good qualities, and also her fruitfulness, was that a blessing
  seemed to have come with her to his house. He became rich in the
  possession of a herd of twenty fine cattle, all descended from the
  original White Cow.

  ‘After some years had elapsed, and all his other cattle had been used
  up, the goodman had to consider how he was to provide a winter’s
  “mart” for his family—that is, a bullock to be killed and salted
  according to the then universal practice of the country. Should it be
  the mother or one of her comely daughters? The former was still in
  fine condition, highly suitable for the purpose; but then the feeling
  connected with her—should they sacrifice in this manner the source of
  all their good-fortune? A consideration that she might fail in health,
  and be lost to them, determined them to make her the mart of the year.
  It is said that, on the morning which was to be her last, she shewed
  the usual affection to her mistress, who came to bid her a mournful
  farewell; but when the butcher approached with his rope and axe, she
  suddenly tore up the stake, and broke away from the byre, followed by
  the whole of her progeny. The astonished goodman and his wife were
  only in time to see the herd, in which their wealth consisted, plunge
  into the waters of the Dow Loch, from which they never re-emerged.’

Footnote 320:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 321:

  His lordship died in 1714.

Footnote 322:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 323:

  _Caledonia_, i. 881, _note_.

Footnote 324:

  Arnot’s _Hist. Edinburgh_, 4to, p. 195. It would appear that the
  combativeness of the cock furnished in those days no insignificant
  part of the amusements of the English people. We find in the London
  newspapers of March 1720, the following paragraph, speaking strongly
  of the prevalence of the sport: ‘On the last Monday of the month,
  there will be kept a famous _cocking_ betwixt the gentlemen of
  Shropshire and Cheshire, at Mr George Smith’s, at the Red Lion, at
  Whitchurch.’

Footnote 325:

  _Reliquiæ Scoticæ_ (Edin. 1828).

Footnote 326:

  [Sinclair’s] _Stat. Acc. Scot._ iii. 378.

Footnote 327:

  This tourist’s manuscript, after lying for many years in the
  possession of Mr Johnes of Hafod, was printed by Mr Blackwood of
  Edinburgh in 1818.

Footnote 328:

  _Dom. Ann. of Scotland_, ii. 494.

Footnote 329:

  _Ibid._ ii. 282.

Footnote 330:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 331:

  A term expressive of a tough, lean person.

Footnote 332:

  _Domestic Annals of Scotland_, i. 68.

Footnote 333:

  Ibid. ii. 318.

Footnote 334:

  Ibid. ii. 401.

Footnote 335:

  _Letters of Lady Margaret Burnett_, Edinburgh, 4to, 1828, p. 63.

Footnote 336:

  _Acts of Scot. Parl._, xi. 66, 221.

Footnote 337:

  EDINBURGH, _December 6, 1725_.—‘Died Alexander Nisbet of that Ilk, so
  well known by being author of several elaborate Treatises of Heraldry,
  one of which treatises is now at the press, and will be shortly
  published, the author having finished the manuscript long before his
  death.’—_Edinburgh Evening Courant._

Footnote 338:

  _Acts of Scot. Parl._, xi. 85.

Footnote 339:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 203.

Footnote 340:

  By Andrew Bell in Cornhill, London.

Footnote 341:

  Boswell. _Tour to the Hebrides_, p. 401.

Footnote 342:

  Anderson’s _Hist. Fam. of Fraser_, p. 110.

Footnote 343:

  _Miscellanies_, p. 189.

Footnote 344:

  John Brand, in his _Description of Orkney and Zetland_, 1703, says,
  with reference to the population of the latter group of islands: ‘Not
  above forty or fifty years ago, almost every family had a Browny, or
  evil spirit so called, which served them, to whom they gave a
  sacrifice for his service; as, when they churned their milk, they took
  a part thereof, and sprinkled every corner of the house with it for
  Browny’s use; likewise, when they brewed, they had a stone, which they
  called _Browny’s Stone_, wherein there was a little hole, into which
  they poured some wort for a sacrifice to Browny. My informer, a
  minister in the country, told me that he had conversed with an old
  man, who, when young, used to brew, and sometimes read upon his Bible,
  to whom an old woman in the house said, that Browny was displeased
  with that book he read upon, which if he continued to do, they would
  get no more service of Browny. But he being better instructed from
  that book, which was Browny’s eyesore, and the object of his wrath,
  when he brewed he would not suffer any sacrifice to be given to
  Browny, whereupon the first and second brewings were spilt, and for no
  use; though the wort worked well, yet in a little time it left off
  working, and grew cold; but of the _third_ browst or brewing he had
  ale very good, though he would not give any sacrifice to Browny, with
  whom they were no more troubled. I had also from the same informer,
  that a lady in Unst, now deceased, told him that when she first took
  up house, she refused to give a sacrifice to Browny; upon which the
  first and second brewings misgave, but the third was good, and Browny
  not being regarded nor rewarded, as formerly he had been, abandoned
  his wonted service. They also had stacks of corn called _Browny’s
  Stacks_, which, though they were not bound with straw-ropes, or any
  way fenced, as other stacks use to be, yet the greatest storm of wind
  was not able to blow any straw off them.

  ‘Now, I do not hear of any such appearances the devil makes in these
  isles, so great and many are the blessings which attend a Gospel
  dispensation.’

Footnote 345:

  Harrington’s _Nugæ Antiquæ_, by Park, 2 vols. 1804, i. 369.

Footnote 346:

  _Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheil_, 4to (Abbotsford Club), 1842,
  p. 24.

Footnote 347:

  This investigation occurred in the year 1665.

Footnote 348:

  Identical with Charles Hope of Hopetoun introduced under December 22,
  1698.

Footnote 349:

  Original document quoted and abridged in a volume called _The Court of
  Session Garland_. Edinburgh: T. G. Stevenson. 1839.

Footnote 350:

  _Analecta_, iii. 364.

Footnote 351:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 125.

Footnote 352:

  See _Court of Session Garland_, p. 20.

Footnote 353:

  Published in 1754.

Footnote 354:

  Brewster’s _Edinburgh Encyclopædia_, art. ‘Burnett, James.’

Footnote 355:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 356:

  Petition against Mr Greenshields, 1709, Defoe’s _History of the
  Union_, p. 21.

Footnote 357:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 358:

  Minutes of the Session of Torryburn, printed in a _Collection of
  Tracts on Witchcraft_, by David Webster. Edinburgh: 1820.

Footnote 359:

  Lord Anstruther was the same judge and privy-councillor whom we have
  seen concerned in the case of Aikenhead. He published a volume of
  Essays, in which he speaks not very handsomely of the fair sex. ‘It is
  true,’ says he, ‘woman is subject to man; he is her head; but I may
  question if it was not rather inflicted as the punishment of her sin,
  than sprung from the prerogative of our nature. But it may be thought
  we retain some resentment at the first cause of our misery, and _by
  our innate love to the sex, they continue to be the bane of human
  life_.’—_Scottish Elegiac Verses_, note. p. 175.

Footnote 360:

  _Acts of S. Parl._, xi. 180.

Footnote 361:

  Hume of Crossrig’s _Diary_. Stevenson, Edin. 1843.

Footnote 362:

  Memorial by his Lordship, _Culloden Papers_, p. 35.

Footnote 363:

  Chamberlayne’s _Pres. State of Great Britain_, 1718.

Footnote 364:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 365:

  _Account of the Bank of Scotland_, p. 7.

Footnote 366:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 367:

  _Account of the Bank_, &c., p. 8.

Footnote 368:

  Anderson’s _Essay on the Highlands_, 1827, p. 142.

Footnote 369:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 527.

Footnote 370:

  _Book of the Thanes of Cawdor_ (Spald. Club), p. 417.

Footnote 371:

  This anecdote is related in a memoir of President Forbes (_Scots
  Magazine_, 1802), as having been derived from his lordship’s own
  conversation.

Footnote 372:

  Broadside of the time.

Footnote 373:

  Privy Council Record.

Footnote 374:

  _Analecta Scotica_, i. 238.

Footnote 375:

  _Analecta Scotica_, ii. 59.

Footnote 376:

  The town of Kirkcaldy was at the same time favoured with a like
  imposition on its beer, with certain little drawbacks or burdens, as
  ten pounds a year to the professor of mathematics in King’s College,
  Aberdeen, and twenty-five to the seven macers of parliament.

Footnote 377:

  Colonel Erskine had purchased the earl’s estates in 1700.

Footnote 378:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, i. 273.

Footnote 379:

  _Essays on a Land Mint_, Edinburgh, 1706. It would appear, from the
  records of parliament, that Dr Hugh Chamberlain was the author of this
  scheme.

Footnote 380:

  _Crim. Proc._, MS. Ant. Soc.

Footnote 381:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iv. 115.

Footnote 382:

  Wilson’s _Life of Defoe_ (3 vols., 1830), _passim_.

Footnote 383:

  Maclaurin’s _Criminal Cases_, p. 21. Wood’s _Peerage_.

Footnote 384:

  Contemporary broadside.

Footnote 385:

  Defoe’s _Hist. of Union_, p. 591.

Footnote 386:

  Statutes at large, v. 149.

Footnote 387:

  _Domestic Annals_, ii., 311.

Footnote 388:

  _Scots Acts_, iii. 810.

Footnote 389:

  _Hist. Acc. of the Bank of Scotland_, p. 9.

Footnote 390:

  Introduction to Anderson’s _Diplomata_, reprint 1773, p. 174.

Footnote 391:

  _Hist. Union_, p. 598.

Footnote 392:

  _Historical Account of the Bank of Scotland_, p. 10.

Footnote 393:

  Ruddiman, _Introduction to Diplomata_.

Footnote 394:

  Wood’s _History of Cramond_, p. 39, _note_.

Footnote 395:

  _Edinburgh Gazette_, Nov. 4, 1707.

Footnote 396:

  Wodrow reports a wild tale about the discovery of the guilty man. It
  is to the effect that Lady Craigcrook, a twelvemonth after the fact,
  dreamed she saw the murderer, whom she recognised as an old servant,
  kill the woman, and then hide the money in two old barrels filled with
  trash. Her husband made inquiry, and finding the man possessed of a
  suspicious amount of money, got him apprehended, and had his house
  searched, when he found his bags, which he readily identified, and a
  portion of the missing coin.—_Analecta_, iv. 171.

Footnote 397:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 409.

Footnote 398:

  Parish Register of Spott.

Footnote 399:

  Defoe’s _Hist. Union_, pp. 602, 604.

Footnote 400:

  _Analecta_, i. 218.

Footnote 401:

  Mr Strang, who quotes this passage in his amusing book on the Clubs of
  Glasgow, states that these four gentlemen were Mr Cunninghame of
  Lainshaw, Mr Spiers of Elderslie, Mr Glassford of Dougalston, and Mr
  Ritchie of Busby—the estates here named being all purchased out of
  their acquired wealth.

Footnote 402:

  This anecdote was related to me by Sir Walter Scott, as derived from
  his mother, who had received part of her education under the care of
  the Hon. Patrick’s widow.

Footnote 403:

  [Mackie’s] _Journey through Scotland_, 1723, p. 194.

Footnote 404:

  The Customs and Excise in England brought in respectively £1,341,559
  and £947,602.

Footnote 405:

  ‘Mum, a species of fat ale, brewed from wheat and bitter herbs, of
  which the present generation only knew the name by its occurrence in
  revenue acts of parliament, coupled with cider, perry, and other
  excisable commodities.’—_The Antiquary_, chap. xi.

Footnote 406:

  This is partly shewn by the small sum (£431) set down in the year 1748
  for ‘spirit imported.’

Footnote 407:

  For the statistics of this article, the author is indebted to a
  manuscript volume containing an abstract of the Scottish Excise
  revenues, which has been kindly shewn to him by the gentleman above
  adverted to.

Footnote 408:

  _Genealogical Deduction of the Family of Rose of Kilravock_, Spald.
  Club publication, p. 397.

Footnote 409:

  The entire poem was published in the _Edinburgh Annual Register_ for
  1813.

Footnote 410:

  Burt’s _Letters_, i. 194.

Footnote 411:

  _Letters_, i. 193.

Footnote 412:

  See a small volume containing all these acts, printed by the heirs of
  Andrew Anderson, Edinburgh, 1709.

Footnote 413:

  _State Trials_, fol. v. 630.

Footnote 414:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 556.

Footnote 415:

  _Dom. Annals of Scot._, ii. 424.

Footnote 416:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 554.

Footnote 417:

  Act, Town Council of Edinburgh.

Footnote 418:

  Wodrow Coll. of Pamphlets. Adv. Lib.

Footnote 419:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 518.

Footnote 420:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant_, April 7, 1724.

Footnote 421:

  _Decisions_, ii. 524.

Footnote 422:

  Forbes’s _Journal of the Session_, 1714, p. 352.

Footnote 423:

  Broadside printed by Reid, Bell’s Wynd, Edinburgh, 1709.

Footnote 424:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, i. 237.

Footnote 425:

  Ibid., iv. 288.

Footnote 426:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, passim.

Footnote 427:

  _Analecta_, i. 283.

Footnote 428:

  _Scots Magazine_, 1771.

Footnote 429:

  _Hist. Acc. Bank of Scotland_, p. 10.

Footnote 430:

  Letter of Campbell of Burnbank. _Argyle Papers_, p. 187.

Footnote 431:

  _Analecta_, i. 309, 313.

Footnote 432:

  9 Anne, c. 10.

Footnote 433:

  ‘The Tinklarian Doctor, in one of his singular pamphlets addressed to
  the French king, and commencing: “Old Lewis, may it please your
  majesty,” asks, “I would fain ken, Lewis, if ever you heard of me, for
  many times I have heard of you, and more in the pulpits than anywhere
  else; and if you were as oft at your own kirks in France as you are in
  our pulpits in Scotland, you’d be very sib [akin] to the kirk—so
  nearest the kirk, nearest the devil.”‘—Maidment’s _Collection of
  Pasquils_, p. 74.

Footnote 434:

  In the catalogue of a sale by Messrs Puttock and Simpson, Leicester
  Square, London, June 1860, the following group of articles occurs:

    ‘157 Mitchell (Will.), the “Tinklarian Doctor” of Edinburgh, Tracts
    by, viz.:

      ‘_Inward and Outward Light to be Sold. A wonderful Sermon preached
        by the Tinklarian Doctor William Mitchell, in the sixty-first
        year of his age, concerning Predestination._ 1731.

      ‘_Second Day’s Journey of the Tinklarian Doctor._ 1733.

      ‘_Short History, to the Commendation of the Royal Archers, with a
        Description of six of the Dukes in Scotland, especially Argile,
        written by the Tinklarian Doctor_, with a remarkable Colloquy in
        Verse at the end, entitled _One Man’s Meat is another Man’s
        Poison_. 1734.

      ‘_Voice (The) of the Tinklarian Doctor’s last Trumpet, sounding
        for the Downfall of Babylon, and his last Arrow shot at her_,
        &c. 1737.

      ‘_Prophecy of an Old Prophet, concerning Kings, and Judges, and
        Rulers, and of the Magistrates of Edinburgh, and also of the
        Downfall of Babylon, which is_ Locusts, _who is King of the
        Bottomless Pit. Dedicated to all the Members of Parliament_
        (1737).

      ‘_Revelation of the Voice of the Fifth Angel’s Trumpet_, &c.
        Edinburgh, 1737.

      ‘_Tinklarian Doctor’s Dream, concerning those Locusts who hath
        come out of the Smoke of the Pit, and hath Power to hurt all
        Nations_, &c. The author refers to the Earl of Hyndford, and
        wishes he had the knowledge of the hangman of Perth! Edinb.
        1739.

      ‘_Tinklarian (The) Doctor’s Four Catechisms_, all published
        separately. [Edinburgh] 1736, 1737, 1738.’

  The auctioneers add: ‘A singular and remarkably rare collection of
  eleven tracts. [The author] appears to have been a bookseller or petty
  chapman in a small way. The most illiterate (and sometimes obscene)
  language, applied to the aristocracy, is used in these works, and the
  most severe animosity is displayed towards the Catholics (in the
  advertisements at the end), because they would not accept, or purchase
  for a penny, the _Light_, &c. The works of this author are unmentioned
  by all Bibliographers, and we can trace only a single piece in the
  British Museum under the heading of the _Tinklarian Doctor_, but none
  of the above, neither do any occur in several other public libraries
  where reference has been made.’

Footnote 435:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 667.

Footnote 436:

  Crim. Proc. MS. Ant. Soc.

Footnote 437:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_.

Footnote 438:

  Ibid.

Footnote 439:

  _History of the Art of Printing_, Edinburgh, 1713.

Footnote 440:

  Lee’s _Memorial for the Bible Societies_, 1824, p. 168.

Footnote 441:

  Watson was a man of some merit, and deserves to be remembered as the
  first publisher of a collection of Scottish poetry. His death, with
  the style of ‘his majesty’s printer,’ on the 24th September 1722, is
  noticed by the _Edinburgh Courant_. He appears to have thriven by his
  patent, as the paragraph stating his widow’s death, a few years later,
  adverts to the considerable means which had been left to her, and
  which she then left to a second husband.

Footnote 442:

  Brochure of two pages, _Miscellany Papers_, Adv. Lib.

Footnote 443:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_.

Footnote 444:

  Wodrow _Correspondence_, _index_.

Footnote 445:

  Wodrow MSS., Adv. Lib., and printed entire in _A New Book of Ballads_,
  Edinburgh, 1844. Lockhart admits that Cockburn was not one of the most
  respectable of the Episcopal clergy.

Footnote 446:

  _Strange News from Scotland, or Scotch Presbyterian Piety evidently
  proved by the Regard they shew to Consecrated Churches; a late
  Instance whereof may be seen at this Day at Dunglass, belonging to Sir
  James Hall, Bart., near Cockburnspath._ Sold by J. Morphew, near
  Stationers’ Hall. 1712.

Footnote 447:

  _Courant_ newspaper, quoted in _Reliquiæ Scoticæ_.

Footnote 448:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 735, 738.

Footnote 449:

  Sir Hugh Dalrymple’s report of the case, quoted in Burton’s _Criminal
  Trials_, i. 55.

Footnote 450:

  ‘The building of Inversnaid Fort was contracted for by —— Nasmyth,
  builder in Edinburgh, grandfather of Alexander Nasmyth, the well-known
  landscape-painter. One winter-night, Mr Nasmyth and his party of
  workmen were roused from sleep in their lodging at the rising fort by
  some travellers, who piteously beseeched shelter from the snow-storm.
  On the door being opened, Rob Roy’s men rushed in, and began to abuse
  the poor masons in a shocking manner; could scarcely be restrained
  from taking their lives; and finally drove or dragged them half-naked
  through the snow to a place where they dismissed them, after taking
  them solemnly bound by oath never to come back to that country. Mr
  Nasmyth, being held by government to a contract which he could not
  fulfil, was seriously injured in his means by this affair; but its
  worst consequence was the effect of the exposure of that dreadful
  night on his health. He sunk under his complaints about eighteen
  months after.’—_Information communicated by Mr James Nasmyth, late of
  Patrickcroft, near Manchester._

Footnote 451:

  _Alamode_, ‘a kind of thin silken manufacture.’—_Johnson._

Footnote 452:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_.

Footnote 453:

  _Analecta_, ii. 76.

Footnote 454:

  These expressions are from the _Engagement to Duties_, printed in
  Struthers’s _Hist. Scot. from Union to 1748_.

Footnote 455:

  _Analecta_, i. 322.

Footnote 456:

  Fountainhall’s _Decisions_, ii. 756.

Footnote 457:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, ii. 85, 86.

Footnote 458:

  _Analecta Scotica_, i. 877.

Footnote 459:

  _Courant_ newspaper, _Reliquiæ Scot._

Footnote 460:

  _Analecta_, ii. 206.

Footnote 461:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, ii. 254.

Footnote 462:

  P. Rae’s _History of Rebellion of 1715–16_, p. 40.

Footnote 463:

  A congenial spirit, Matthew Prior, produced a sort of paraphrase of
  this piece:

           ‘In total death suppose the mortal lie,
           No new hereafter, nor a future sky,
           Yet bear thy lot content, yet cease to grieve,
           Why, ere Death comes, shouldst thou forbear to live?
           The little time thou hast ’twixt instant now
           And death’s approach, is all the gods allow:
           And of this little hast thou aught to spare
           To sad reflection and corroding care?
           The moments past, if thou art wise, retrieve
           With pleasant memory of the bliss they give;
           The present hour in present mirth employ,
           And bribe the future with the hope of joy.’

Footnote 464:

  _Analecta_, ii. 261.

Footnote 465:

  From a private letter, dated Edinburgh, Feb. 20, 1714, _Analecta
  Scotica_, i. 14.

Footnote 466:

  His son Robert, father of Walter Scott, W.S. The youth was designed
  for the sea, but became disgusted with it in consequence of a
  shipwreck on the first voyage, and settled as a farmer at Sandyknowe,
  near Kelso.

Footnote 467:

  _Journal of Mr James Hart_ (Edinburgh, 1832), _preface_.

Footnote 468:

  This play was entitled _Marciano, or the Discovery_, and was described
  on the title as having been ‘acted with great applause before his
  Majesty’s High Commissioner and others of the Nobility at the Abbey of
  Holyroodhouse on St John’s Night.’

Footnote 469:

  George Chalmers, _Life of Ramsay_, quoting the _Scots Courant_ for
  August and December, 1715. The Tennis Court still exists, but reduced
  to the condition of a smith’s workshop.

Footnote 470:

  Alex. Maxwell to R. Wodrow, Edin., Feb. 15, 1715, in _Private Letters,
  now first printed from Orig. MSS._ Edin. 1829.

Footnote 471:

  Preface to the _Journal of Mr James Hart_. Edinburgh, 1832.

Footnote 472:

  Meaning the total solar eclipse which happened on the 29th of March
  1652, of which see an account in _Domestic Annals_, vol. ii. p. 215.

Footnote 473:

  _Historical Summary of the Post-office in Scotland._ By T. B. Lang.
  (For private circulation.) Edinburgh, 1856.

Footnote 474:

  Justiciary Record. Sir John, soon after his collision with Mr Houston,
  was actively engaged in raising volunteers at Greenock for the
  suppression of the Rebellion.

Footnote 475:

  _Hist. Acc. Bank of Scotland_, p. 10.

Footnote 476:

  Orig. letter in Paper Office, quoted by George Chalmers, _Caledonia_,
  i. 870, _note_.

Footnote 477:

  _Private Letters_, &c., Edin., 1829, p. 17.

Footnote 478:

  _Life of Carstares_, prefixed to his _State Papers_. Edinburgh, 1774.

Footnote 479:

  Notes on Old Tolbooth, _Scottish Journal_, p. 299.

Footnote 480:

  Chalmers’s _Life of Ruddiman_, p. 37.

Footnote 481:

  Justiciary Record.

Footnote 482:

  _Caldwell Papers_, i. 235.

Footnote 483:

  _St James’s Evening Post._

Footnote 484:

  Newspaper advertisements.

Footnote 485:

  See _Domestic Annals_ under those dates.

Footnote 486:

  _Reports of the Commissioners_, fol.

Footnote 487:

  The original subscription list is in possession of N. Fergusson Blair,
  of Balthayock, Esq.

Footnote 488:

  Burton’s _History of Scotland_, ii. 218.

Footnote 489:

  Colonel Patrick Vans of Barnbarroch.

Footnote 490:

  _Scottish Elegiac Verses_, 1842.

Footnote 491:

  See Lockhart’s _Life of Scott_, index.

Footnote 492:

  Justiciary Record.

Footnote 493:

  Notes to _Peveril of the Peak_.

Footnote 494:

  Pope’s Works, Roscoe’s ed., ix. 34, 35.

Footnote 495:

  _The Scots Courant._

Footnote 496:

  _Scots Courant_, Oct 24, 1716.

Footnote 497:

  _A Treatise on Forest Trees, in a Letter_, &c., published at Edinburgh
  in 1761.

Footnote 498:

  Perhaps Sir Archibald was wrong here. See the account of Baldoon Park
  in this volume, under the date October 1696.

Footnote 499:

  _Spalding Club Miscellany_, ii. 97.

Footnote 500:

  The above facts are gathered from an anonymous volume, published in
  1729, entitled _An Essay on the Means of Enclosing and Fallowing
  Scotland_.

Footnote 501:

  MS. of Graham of Gartmore, App. to Burt’s _Letters_, 2d ed., ii. 349.

Footnote 502:

  Gordon of Ellon, son to a farmer in Bourtie—a merchant in Edinburgh,
  and once a bailie there, and a rich man. By him the house of Ellon was
  built anew in a handsome style.—_View of Diocese of Aberdeen_, Spal.
  Club, p. 301 (written about beginning of the 18th century).

Footnote 503:

  In February 1721, John Webster, a gardener, having committed murder
  upon a young woman named Campbell, ‘on Heriot’s Hospital ground,
  behind our town-wall,’ was tried in the barony of Broughton, and
  condemned to die.

Footnote 504:

  _Celebrated Trials_, iii. 272 (name and date of incident there given
  erroneously). _Scottish Journal_, Oct. 23, 1847. Contemporary
  confession. _Notes and Queries_, Dec. 1859, quoting three numbers of
  the contemporary newspaper, the _Scots Courant_.

Footnote 505:

  Broadside reprinted in _Analecta Scotica_, i. 246.

Footnote 506:

  Letter of Rev. Mr Murray, dated Comrie Manse, 2d July, 1717; _Ant.
  Scot. Transactions_, iii. 296.

  In a letter of Mr James Anderson, editor of the _Diplomata Scotiæ_, to
  his son, Edinburgh, June 20, 1717, it is noted, as a recent event,
  that ‘Rob Roi surrendered to D. Atholl, but not meeting with such
  things as he expected, has made his escape.’—_MSS._, _Adv. Library_.

Footnote 507:

  _Steele’s Correspondence_, edited by John Nicholls. 2 vols. 1787.

Footnote 508:

  _Streams from Helicon_, 1720, p. 48.

Footnote 509:

  He wrote to his daughter on the 17th September and 7th October, 1720,
  from Edinburgh.—_Steele’s Letters._

Footnote 510:

  _Analecta Scotica_, i. 16.

Footnote 511:

  Cibber’s [Shiels’s] _Lives of the Poets_, iv. 118.

Footnote 512:

  Gibson’s _History of Glasgow_, 1777, p. 208. It was asserted that the
  duties paid to government for tobacco brought to Glasgow between
  August 1716 and March 1722, amounted to no more than £2702. A
  representation for the Glasgow merchants shewed that the real sum was
  £38,047, 17_s._ 0¾_d._—_Edin. Ev. Courant_, Jan. 21, 1723.

Footnote 513:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iii. 129.

Footnote 514:

  _The City of Edinburgh’s Address to the Country_, Ramsay’s _Poems_, i.
  19.

Footnote 515:

  _Journey through Scotland_ [by Macky?], 1723, p. 274.

Footnote 516:

  _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, June 14, 1722. ‘On Tuesday last [19th
  January 1725], being the birthday of Prince Frederick, there was an
  extraordinary appearance of ladies and persons of distinction, at a
  musick opera in this city.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 517:

  M‘Gibbon died on the 3d October 1756, bequeathing the whole of his
  means to the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh.

Footnote 518:

  ‘My Lord Colville died in March last, and about Culross it is very
  currently believed that he has appeared more than once, and has been
  seen by severals. Some say that he appeared to Mr Logan, his
  brother-in-law [minister of Torry]; but he does not own it. Two of his
  servants were coming to the house, and saw him walking near them; and,
  if I remember, he called to them just in the same voice and garb he
  used to be in; but they fled from him, and came in, in a great fright.
  They are persons of credibility and gravity, as I am told.”[521]

Footnote 519:

  Arnot’s _Hist. Edinburgh_, p. 379.

Footnote 520:

  Adam Craig died in October 1741. For this and several facts involved
  in the above article, I have to express my obligation to Mr David
  Laing’s Introduction to Johnson’s _Scots Musical Museum_.

Footnote 521:

  Wodrow’s Analecta, iii. 519.

Footnote 522:

  _Analecta Scotica_, i. 195.

Footnote 523:

  Ibid. ii. 830.

Footnote 524:

  From documents printed in Law’s _Memorials_.

Footnote 525:

  George Chalmers’s _Life of Ruddiman_, p. 83.

Footnote 526:

  _Edin. Ev. Courant_, Feb. 18, 1850.

Footnote 527:

  Those who are desirous of further light upon the Marrow Controversy,
  may be referred to Struthers’s _History of Scotland from the Union_,
  &c., 2 vols. 8vo, which, by the way, is a book entitled to more notice
  than it has received. The worthy author, a self-educated working-man,
  has been led by his own taste to give details, not elsewhere to be
  easily met with, of the ecclesiastical proceedings of the earlier half
  of the eighteenth century, all of which he treats in the spirit of a
  strenuous old-fashioned west-country Presbyterian. He is copious and
  severe about the Jacobite and Episcopalian movements, but slights the
  troubles of the Catholics as ‘beneath the dignity of history.’

Footnote 528:

  Letter of Alexander Jaffray of Kingsmills, to Sir Archibald Grant of
  Monymusk.—_Spalding Club Miscellany_, ii. 98.

Footnote 529:

  Jaffray’s letter, as above.

Footnote 530:

  ‘LONDON, _September 3, 1720_.—Last Wednesday, the York Buildings
  Company sent down to Scotland about sixty thousand pounds in guineas,
  guarded by a party of horse, being part of the purchase-money for
  forfeited estates. The same is to be lodged in the Exchequer at
  Edinburgh.’—_Newspapers of the day._

Footnote 531:

  The Commissioners, who were engaged in their task for nearly nine
  years, seem to have had £1000 per annum each.

Footnote 532:

  5 George I. cap. 20. _Statutes at large_, v. 152.

Footnote 533:

  Mr James Drummond, on the 26th May 1720, writes from Blair-Drummond to
  ‘Mr David Drummond, Treasurer of the Bank, Edinburgh:’ ‘I’m heartily
  glad the Bank holds out so well. Ther’s great pains taken in the
  countrey to raise evill reports upon it. I had occasion to find so in
  a pretty numerous company the other day; yet I did not find any
  willing to part with your notes at the least discount.’—_MSS. in
  possession of N. Fergusson Blair of Balthayock._

Footnote 534:

  The arrangement of the Friendly Society consisted simply in a
  combination of house-proprietors, each paying in 100 merks per £1000
  Scots, or a fifteenth of the value of the property, as a stock out of
  which to compensate for all damage by fire.

Footnote 535:

  _The Scribblers Lashed._ Ramsay’s _Poems_, i. 316.

Footnote 536:

  From a contemporary account appended to _Satan’s Invisible World
  Discovered_.

Footnote 537:

  Private Letters, &c.

Footnote 538:

  See under September 1711.

Footnote 539:

  Dr Mitchell’s _Strange and Wonderful Discourse concerning the Witches
  and Warlocks in Calder_, quoted in Sharpe’s edition of Law’s
  _Memorials_.

Footnote 540:

  _Edin. Evening Courant._

Footnote 541:

  _Ibid._

Footnote 542:

  Bishop Keith’s _Catalogue of the Scottish Bishops_.

Footnote 543:

  _Edin. Evening Courant._

Footnote 544:

  From the documents printed in _Criminal Trials illustrative of the
  Heart of Mid-Lothian_. Edinburgh, 1818.

Footnote 545:

  Edinburgh, 1835.

Footnote 546:

  Private Letters, &c., p. 29.

Footnote 547:

  Sir Walter Scott mentions this little fact in the _Border Minstrelsy_.

Footnote 548:

  For a short time before the insurrection, he had acted as factor to
  Sir John Preston of Preston Hall, in Mid-Lothian, now also a forfeited
  estate, but of minor value.

Footnote 549:

  _Memorial of William and Robert Ross to the Commissioners on Forfeited
  Estates. Report of Commissioners_, printed for Jacob Tonson,
  1724.—Traditional and topographical notes from a relative of Donald
  Murchison.

Footnote 550:

  It may be curious to contrast with the above account of the fight of
  Aa-na-Mullich, framed mainly from authentic documents, the following
  traditionary account, which has been communicated by Mr F. Macdonald,
  residing at Druidag Lodge, Lochalsh.

  ‘The first encounter that this famous man [Donald Murchison] had with
  the royal commissioner and troops was at the pass of Aa-na-Mullich,
  about a hundred yards from the end of Loch Affaric. He stationed
  himself and his Kintail men at the pass, on the north side of the
  river which empties itself into Loch Affaric, on a place called
  Tor-an-beithe, or Birch Hillock, where they had a good view of the
  enemy some miles off. On advancing towards this pass, Captain Monro of
  Fearn [mistake for Ross of Easterfearn], the royal commissioner, sent
  his son forward to reconnoitre on horseback, and when he appeared on
  the opposite side of the river, the poor fellow was shot at once,
  receiving a mortal wound. Upon hearing the report, and that Monro’s
  son was shot, the bulk of the royal troops wheeled round, and took to
  their heels, leaving Captain Monro with very few of his men to help in
  the painful duty of conveying his wounded son back. In this emergency,
  he implored Murchison to lend him some of his men to assist in
  carrying the wounded young man till he should be able to join his own
  fugitive troops; which, with his wonted generosity, he immediately
  complied with. They constructed a litter the best way they could, and
  retraced their steps to Beauly, which, however, they did not reach
  before the young man died. Murchison and his men followed, lest those
  troops who formerly fled should turn round and assault the men he had
  given to assist them. He followed as far as Knockfin on the heights of
  Strathglass.’ [Mr Macdonald ends by quoting two or three stanzas of a
  Gaelic poem composed by an old woman at Beauly, as they were passing
  with the dead body.]

Footnote 551:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant._

Footnote 552:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, May 7, 1722.

Footnote 553:

  _Wodrow Correspondence_, ii. 640.

Footnote 554:

  Arnot’s _Crim. Trials_, p. 335.

Footnote 555:

  _Wodrow Correspondence_, ii. 646.

Footnote 556:

  _Cal. Mercury_, Aug. 7, 1722.

Footnote 557:

  _Caledonian Mercury._

Footnote 558:

  English contemporary journals. Broadside account of the skirmish.
  Information from Lochcarron, MS.

Footnote 559:

  Wade’s Report in App. to 2d ed. of Burt’s _Letters_, 1822, vol. ii. p.
  280.

Footnote 560:

  _Lockhart Papers._

Footnote 561:

  MS. poem on _Wade’s Roads in Scotland_, dated 1737, in possession of
  the Junior United Service Club.

Footnote 562:

  The traditional account of Donald Murchison, communicated by Mr F.
  Macdonald, states that the heroic commissioner had been promised a
  handsome reward for his services; but Seaforth proved ungrateful. ‘He
  was offered only a small farm called Bundalloch, which pays at this
  day to Mr Matheson, the proprietor, no more than £60 a year; or
  another place opposite to Inverinate House, of about the same value.
  It is no wonder he refused these paltry offers. He shortly afterwards
  left this country, and died in the prime of life near Conon. On his
  death-bed, Seaforth went to see him, and asked how he was. He said:
  “Just as you will be in a short time,” and then turned his back. They
  never met again.’

Footnote 563:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, ii. 368.

Footnote 564:

  _New Statistical Account of Scotland_, art. _Tranent_.

Footnote 565:

            ‘The brave Locheil, as I heard tell,
              Led Camerons on in clouds, man.’
                                        _Contemporary Ballad._

Footnote 566:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant_, Jan. 29, 1723.

Footnote 567:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant_, April 1, 1723. _Scot. Elegiac Verses_, p.
  247.

Footnote 568:

  MS., Advocates’ Library.

Footnote 569:

  Letter by Andrew M‘Dowall (subsequently Lord Bankton) and J. M‘Gowan.
  _Nugæ Scoticæ_, Edinburgh, 1829.

Footnote 570:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant_, May 1723.

Footnote 571:

  From pamphlets published by Sir Alexander Murray.

Footnote 572:

  Probably some attempt had been made to turn to account the foliated
  gypsum beds which exist near Kelso.

Footnote 573:

  Poem on the Highland Roads, Wade’s MSS., in possession of Junior
  United Service Club.

Footnote 574:

  _Edin. Ev. Courant_, August 22, 1743.

Footnote 575:

  _Memoirs of George Baillie of Jerviswood and of Lady Grizel Baillie_,
  &c. 1822.

Footnote 576:

  _Chalmers’s Brit. Poets_, xiv. 576.

Footnote 577:

  _Celebrated Trials_, 6 vols. 1825. Vol. iii. p. 395.

Footnote 578:

  _Memoirs of Lady Grizel Baillie._

Footnote 579:

  _Edin. Ev. Courant_, May 9, 1723.

Footnote 580:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_.

Footnote 581:

  This was the place of worship which Dr Johnson attended when in
  Edinburgh in 1773. It is now demolished.

Footnote 582:

  _Analecta._

Footnote 583:

  It may be satisfactory to local antiquaries to know that this hall was
  situated in what was consequently called the _Assembly_ (latterly, Old
  Assembly) _Close_, on the south side of the High Street. The assembly
  to be held on the 25th May 1736 was advertised as to take place ‘in
  their _new hall_, behind the City Guard.’ This last site was that
  afterwards occupied by a building used as an office by the Commercial
  Bank, now the Free Church of the Tron parish. A rent of £55 was paid
  for this new hall, which continued to be used for fifty years,
  although confessedly too small, and very inconvenient.

Footnote 584:

  Burt’s _Letters_, i. 193.

Footnote 585:

  The Horn Order and Crispin Knights are satirised in several pasquils
  of the time of Queen Anne as fraternities practising debauchery to an
  unusual degree. A satire on the Union says:

       The Canongate know no cabals,
       Nor knights of the Horn order;
       And lights were not put out at balls,
       When I was a dame of honour.

       The Crispins, and the Crispin pins,
       Wore things unknown unto us;
       We ladies then thought shame to sin,
       It cost pains to undo us, &c.
                       _Maidment’s Collection of Pasquils_, il. 75.

Footnote 586:

  Burt’s _Letters_, i. 193.

Footnote 587:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, November 14, 1723.

Footnote 588:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant._

Footnote 589:

  _Letters from the North of Scotland_, ii. 143.

Footnote 590:

  Chalmers’s _Life of Ruddiman_, p. 75.

Footnote 591:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iii. 142.

Footnote 592:

  Mortgage.

Footnote 593:

  Burt’s _Letters_, ii. 73.

Footnote 594:

  Alexander Pennecuik, of Edinburgh, has a poem entitled _A Curse on the
  Clan Macphersons, occasioned by the News of Glenbucket being murdered
  by them_:

  ‘May that cursed clan up by the roots be pluckèd,
  Whose impious hands have killed the good Glenbucket!
  Villains far worse than Infidel or Turk,
  To slash his body with your bloody durk—
  A fatal way to make his physic work!
  Rob Roy and you fight ’gainst the noblest names,
  The generous Gordons and the gallant Grahams.
  Perpetual clouds through your black clan shall reign,
  Traitors ’gainst God, and rebels ’gainst your king,
  Until you feel the law’s severest rigour,
  And be extinguished like the base Macgregor!’
                                          Pennecuik’s _Poems_, MS., Adv.
                                             Lib.

Footnote 595:

  Wade’s MSS., in possession of Junior United Service Club.

Footnote 596:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant_, April 9, 1724.

Footnote 597:

  _Private Letters_, &c., p. 37.

Footnote 598:

  _Analecta._

Footnote 599:

  Letter of John Maxwell of Munshes, writing, in 1811, from personal
  recollection of the incidents.—_Murray’s Lit. Hist. Galloway_, p. 337.

Footnote 600:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iii. 152, 157, 170.

Footnote 601:

  ‘A ewe which has given over bearing.’—_Jamieson._

Footnote 602:

  That is, a native of Ireland.

Footnote 603:

  Letter of John Maxwell of Munshes to W. M. Herries of Spottes, dated
  February 1811.—_Murray’s Lit. Hist. of Galloway_, Appendix, p. 337.

Footnote 604:

  See _Domestic Annals of Scotland_, under September 1583.

Footnote 605:

  _Caledonian Mercury_ of the day.

Footnote 606:

  _Edin. Ev. Courant._

Footnote 607:

  Lovat’s Memorial to the King, Burt’s _Letters_, 2d ed., ii. 264, App.

Footnote 608:

  Letter of General Guest, _Spalding Club Miscellany_, iii. 229.

Footnote 609:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant_, September 6, 1725. This paper remarks that
  the extent of country which belonged to the late Earl of Seaforth, and
  disarmed on this occasion, was no less than sixty miles in length and
  forty in breadth.

Footnote 610:

  Lockhart Papers.

Footnote 611:

  Miscellany Papers, Adv. Lib.

Footnote 612:

  _Ed. Ev. Courant._

Footnote 613:

  D. Webster’s _Account of Roslin Chapel_, &c., Edinburgh, 1819.

Footnote 614:

  _Transactions of the Society of Improvers._

Footnote 615:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, July 1735.

Footnote 616:

  [Sinclair’s] _Stat. Acc. Scot._, xx. 74.

Footnote 617:

  [Sinclair’s] _Stat. Acc. Scot._, viii. 525. A drawing and description
  of a winnowing-machine used in Silesia appears in the _Gentleman’s
  Magazine_ for 1747, as a thing unknown in England.

Footnote 618:

  _Old Mortality_, chap. vii.

Footnote 619:

  Newspapers of the day.

Footnote 620:

  Introduction to the _Pirate_—a novel, it need scarcely be remarked,
  founded on the story of Gow.

Footnote 621:

  ‘LONDON, _March 29, 1720_.—Sunday evening the Duke of Douglas and the
  Earl of Dalkeith fought a duel behind Montague House, and both were
  wounded.’—_Newspapers of the day._

Footnote 622:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iii. 208.

Footnote 623:

  _Lockhart Papers._ Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iii. 210, et seq. Contemporary
  narration.

Footnote 624:

  See _antea_, under February 1697.

Footnote 625:

  Sinclair’s _Statistical Acc. of Scotland_, article ‘Erskine.

Footnote 626:

  Notice from the Edinburgh Post-office, Nov. 23, 1725.

Footnote 627:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, Oct. 1733, and Jan. 1734.

Footnote 628:

  _Edin. Ev. Courant._

Footnote 629:

  Chamberlayne’s _Present State of Great Britain_ for the years cited.

Footnote 630:

  _Scottish Journal_, p. 208.

Footnote 631:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_.

Footnote 632:

  _New Stat. Acc. of Scot._, vi. 157.

Footnote 633:

  Scrap-book of Dugald Bannatyne, quoted in _New Stat. Acc. of Scot._,
  vi. 231.

Footnote 634:

  Smollett’s _Humphry Clinker_.

Footnote 635:

  Ramsay’s Works, i. 285.

Footnote 636:

  Arnot’s _History of Edinburgh_, p. 366.

Footnote 637:

  Mr Jackson had heard that Aston’s theatre was ‘in a close on the north
  side of the High Street, near Smith’s Land. A Mrs Millar at that time
  was esteemed a capital actress, and was also a very handsome woman. Mr
  Westcombe was the principal comedian. The scheme was supported by
  annual tickets, subscribed for by the favourers of the drama.’—_Hist.
  Scot. Stage_, p. 417.

Footnote 638:

  Arnot’s _Hist. Edinburgh_, p. 366.

Footnote 639:

  _Analecta Scotica_, ii. 211.

Footnote 640:

  ‘EDINBURGH, _April 9, 1728_.—Yesterday, Tony Astons, elder and
  younger, stage-players, were committed prisoners to the Tolbooth. ’Tis
  said they are charged with the crime of carrying off a young lady
  designed for a wife to the latter.’—_Ed. Ev. Courant._

Footnote 641:

  Private Letters, &c.

Footnote 642:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iii. 309.

Footnote 643:

  Printed by James Duncan, Glasgow, 1728, pp. 168.

Footnote 644:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iii. 318.

Footnote 645:

  MS. in possession of the Junior United Service Club.

Footnote 646:

  _Struan Papers_, MS. The Earl of Mar, writing to Struan from Paris,
  January 6, 1724, says: ‘Our poor friend John Menzies has been very
  near walking off the stage of life; but I now hope he may still be
  able to act out the play of the Restoration with us, though he must
  not pretend to a young part.’ Among Struan’s published poems is ‘an
  Epitaph on his Dear Friend John Menzies;’ from which it would appear
  that Menzies had died abroad, and been buried in unconsecrated ground.

Footnote 647:

  _History of the Robertsons of Struan.... Poems of Robertson of
  Struan_, Edinburgh, no date, p. 167.

Footnote 648:

  _Feb. 4, 1755._ ‘At London, Edmund Burt, Esq., late agent to General
  Wade, chief surveyor during the making of roads through the Highlands,
  and author of the _Letters concerning Scotland_.’—_Scots Mag.
  Obituary._

Footnote 649:

  Burt’s _Letters_, ii. 189.

Footnote 650:

  This poem exists in MS. in the library of the Junior United Service
  Club, London.

Footnote 651:

  Usquebaugh, whisky.

Footnote 652:

  Library of the Junior United Service Club, London, to which body I
  have to express my obligations for the permission to inspect and make
  extracts.

Footnote 653:

  _Letters_, &c. i. 77.

Footnote 654:

  This road was completed in October 1729. See onward.

Footnote 655:

  _Select Transactions of the Society of Improvers._

Footnote 656:

  Works of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Dalloway’s ed., iii. 127.

Footnote 657:

  _Gentleman’s Magazine_, iii. 515.

Footnote 658:

  _Cyc. of Pract. Medicine_, iii. 749.

Footnote 659:

  _Analecta Scotica_, ii. 322.

Footnote 660:

  _Boswelliana_, privately printed by R. Monckton Milnes, Esq.

Footnote 661:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant._

Footnote 662:

  _Hist Acc. of the Bank of Scotland_, 1728.

Footnote 663:

  _Analecta_, iii. 476.

Footnote 664:

  _A Letter containing Remarks on the Historical Account of the Old
  Bank_, by a Gentleman concerned in neither Bank. Edin., James Davidson
  & Co., 1728.

Footnote 665:

  This is a statement of the pamphlet last quoted, p. 30.

Footnote 666:

  In British Museum, 8223 C/2 (b/2).

Footnote 667:

  _Analecta_, iii. 302.

Footnote 668:

  Burt’s _Letters from the North of Scotland_, 2d ed., i. 230.

Footnote 669:

  Sharpe’s Introduction to Law’s _Memorials_, cvi.

Footnote 670:

  Scott’s _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, p. 328.

Footnote 671:

  Representation by the linen-drapers at the bar of the House of
  Commons, Jan. 1720.

Footnote 672:

  Letter in the Paper-office, quoted by Chalmers, _Caledonia_, i. 873,
  _note_.

Footnote 673:

  _Analecta_, iii. 452.

Footnote 674:

  Private Letters, &c., p. 59.

Footnote 675:

  _Edinburgh Ev. Courant._

Footnote 676:

  Mr Wodrow relates that, about the same time, a number of ministers in
  England met occasionally together under the name of the Orthodox Club,
  and ‘frequently their conversation is _gay and_ jocose’—‘_gay and_’
  being here a Scotch adverb meaning considerably.

Footnote 677:

  Private Letters, &c., p. 61.

Footnote 678:

  _State Trials_, ix. 26. Arnot’s _Crim. Trials_, p. 190.

Footnote 679:

  Private Letters, &c., p. 64. Mr Lindsay was soon after lord provost
  and member for the city, in which latter capacity he made a remarkably
  good speech in the House of Commons on the bill for taking away the
  privileges of the corporation in consequence of the Porteous Riot. See
  _Gentleman’s Magazine_, vii. 457.

Footnote 680:

  What seems sufficient to set this matter in a clear light is the fact
  that, up to this time, such a thing as a sawn deal was unknown in the
  Spey Highlands; they could only split a tree, and chip the pieces into
  something like a deal; and some of the upper rooms of Castle-Grant are
  actually floored of wood prepared in this manner.

Footnote 681:

  At the end of the voyage, he took the curragh upon his back, and
  trudged back to the point of departure. An example of this primitive
  kind of canoe was exhibited at the archæological museum connected with
  the British Association at Aberdeen, September 1859.

Footnote 682:

  [Leslie’s] _Survey of the Province of Moray_, 1798, p. 267. Anderson’s
  _British Poets_, viii. 655.

Footnote 683:

  _Analecta_, _passim_.

Footnote 684:

  Private Letters, &c., p. 66; also newspapers of the day.

Footnote 685:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_, iv. 97.

Footnote 686:

  See under the year 1716 for some notice of her Grace’s services to the
  country as a promoter of agricultural improvements.

Footnote 687:

  Faculty Records, quoted in _Analecta Scotica_, ii. 170. The plate of
  Sallust is now shewn under a glass-case in the Advocates’ Library.

Footnote 688:

  _Biog. Memoirs of William Ged._ Nichols, London, 1781. To a daughter
  of Ged, it was proposed that the profits of this publication, if any,
  should be devoted; hence it may be inferred that the family continued
  poor.

Footnote 689:

  Mores’s _Narrative of Block-printing, with Notes, apud_ Topham and
  Willett’s _Memoir on the Origin of Printing_. Newcastle, 1820.

Footnote 690:

  Maitland’s _History of Edinburgh_, p. 460.

Footnote 691:

  Arnot’s _History of Edinburgh_, p. 546.

Footnote 692:

  _Gentleman’s Magazine_, v. 555.

Footnote 693:

  The remaining verses of the poem are thus given in the _Scots
  Magazine_ for June 1773:

                ‘Ah! where is now th’ innumerous crowd,
                  That once with fond attention hung
                On every truth divine that flowed,
                  Improved from thy persuasive tongue!

                ’Tis gone!—it seeks a different road;
                  Life’s social joys to thee are o’er;
                Untrod the path to that abode
                  Where hapless _Penury_ keeps the door.

                Drummond! thine audience yet recall,
                  Recall the young, the gay, the vain;
                And ere thy tottering fabric fall,
                  Sound forth the deeply moral strain.

                For never, sure, could bard or sage,
                  _Howe’er_ inspired, more clearly shew,
                That all upon this transient stage
                  Is folly, vanity, or woe.

                Bid them at once be _warned_ and taught—
                  Ah, no!—suppress th’ ungrateful tale—
                O’er every frailty, every fault,
                  _Oblivion_, draw _thy_ friendly veil.

                Tell rather what transcendent joy
                  Awaits them on th’ immortal shore,
                If well they _Summer’s_ strength employ,
                  And well distribute _Autumn’s_ store.

                Tell them, if _Virtue_ crown their bloom,
                  _Time_ shall the happy period bring,
                When the dark Winter of the tomb
                  Shall yield to everlasting _Spring_.’

Footnote 694:

  Letter by a clansman of the deceased. _Edin. Ev. Courant._

Footnote 695:

  _Culloden Papers_, p. 111. _Edin. Ev. Courant_, Oct. 9, 1729. This
  chronicle adds: ‘They named the bridge where the parties met
  OXBRIDGE.’ A statement which appears somewhat inconsistent with one
  already made in our general account of the Highland roads.

  General Stewart of Garth, in his interesting book on the Highland
  Regiments, makes an amusing mistake in supposing that General Wade
  here condescended to be entertained by a set of _cearnochs_, or
  cattle-lifters.

Footnote 696:

  Notes to 2d ed. of Burt’s _Letters_. There being a distinction between
  natural tracks, such as formerly existed in the Highlands, and _made_
  roads, and ‘made’ being used here in a secondary and technical sense,
  it is not absolutely necessary to suppose, as has been supposed, that
  the author of this couplet was an _Irish_ subaltern quartered at Fort
  William.

Footnote 697:

  In May 1711, the ‘relict’ of Sir John Medina, limner, advertised her
  having for sale ‘a great many pictures of several of the nobility,
  gentry, and eminent lawyers of this nation,’ at her lodging, ‘the
  first stone land above the Tron Church, second story.’—_Ed. Ev.
  Courant._

Footnote 698:

  Daniel Wilson states, in his work, _Edinburgh in the Olden Time_, that
  Scougal possessed Sir James Steuart’s house in the Advocates’ Close,
  and there fitted up an additional floor as a picture-gallery.

Footnote 699:

  The document is fully printed in the _Edin. Annual Register_ for 1816.

Footnote 700:

  _Caledonian Mercury._

Footnote 701:

  _Analecta_, iv. 86, 162.

Footnote 702:

  Minutely narrated in Burnet.

Footnote 703:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, April 6, 1724.

Footnote 704:

  Sir D. Brewster’s _Life of Sir Isaac Newton_, 1855, i. 57

Footnote 705:

  _Edin. Ev. Courant._

Footnote 706:

  Stewart’s _Highland Regiments_, i. 49.

Footnote 707:

  _Dom. Annals_, under March 1, 1701.

Footnote 708:

  French, _commère_, a godmother.

Footnote 709:

  _An Essay on the Means of Inclosing Scotland_, 1729, p. 229.

Footnote 710:

  Records of the Bank, quoted in Chalmers’s _Caledonia_, i. 873, _note_.

Footnote 711:

  _Edin. Ev. Courant._

Footnote 712:

  Wodrow’s _Analecta_.

Footnote 713:

  _Domestic Ann. Scot._, ii. 495.

Footnote 714:

  See under June 24, 1736.

Footnote 715:

  It is rather curious that, in a subscription for the relief of the
  sufferers by a fire in the Lawnmarket of Edinburgh, in 1725, ‘Colonel
  Francis Charteris, £4, 4_s._’ is the only contribution from a private
  individual. Uncharitable onlookers would probably consider this as
  intended for an insurance against another fire on the part of the
  subscriber.

Footnote 716:

  _Private Letters_, &c., p. 80.

Footnote 717:

  _Gentleman’s Magazine_, ii. 674.

Footnote 718:

  _Caledonian Mercury._

Footnote 719:

  _Cal. Mercury_, August 8, 1732.

Footnote 720:

  Chalmers’s _Life of Ruddiman_, p. 136.

Footnote 721:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, May and July 1733.

Footnote 722:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, February 14, 1734.

Footnote 723:

  _Historical Register_ for 1721, p. 253.

Footnote 724:

  July 21, 1744, died at his seat of Orangefield, in the shire of Ayr,
  James Macrae, Esq., late governor of Fort George.

Footnote 725:

  The son, Captain James Macrae, was a person of most unhappy history,
  having shot an innocent gentleman in a duel, and obliged, in
  consequence, to leave his native country.

Footnote 726:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, July and August 1733.

Footnote 727:

  See under 1718, pp. 440, 441 of this volume.

Footnote 728:

  A riding of the stang, attended with tragical results, happened in
  March 1736. George Porteous, smith at Edmondstone, having severely
  beaten and abused his wife, was subjected to the ignominy by his
  neighbours; which so highly ‘affronted’ him, that he went and hanged
  himself.—_Caledonian Mercury._

Footnote 729:

  _Caledonian Mercury_, passim.

Footnote 730:

  Edinburgh newspapers, _passim_.

Footnote 731:

  James VII.’s _First Parliament_, chap. 12.

Footnote 732:

  [Sinclair’s] _Stat. Acc. Scot._, xviii. 362.

Footnote 733:

  Wodrow Pamphlets, vol. 275.

Footnote 734:

  From Mein’s original paper, apparently prepared for publication, 1735.
  MS. in possession of Society of Antiquaries.

Footnote 735:

  Act of Town Council, August 29, 1740. Robert Mein died in 1776, at the
  age of ninety-three.

Footnote 736:

  Amongst the papers of General Wade, in the possession of the Junior
  United Service Club, is a letter addressed to him by a lady who felt
  interested in behalf of Porteous. It is here transcribed, with all its
  peculiarities of spelling, &c., as an illustration of the exceptive
  feeling above adverted to, and also as a curious memorial of the
  literary gifts then belonging to ladies of the upper classes. The
  writer appears to have been one of the daughters of George Allardice
  of Allardice, by his wife, Lady Anne Ogilvy, daughter of the fourth
  Earl of Findlater:

  ‘I dute not Dear general waid but by this time yon may have heard the
  fattel sentence of the poor unhappy cap^t porteous how in six weeks
  time most dye if he riceve not speedy help from above, by the
  asistance of men of generosity and mercy such as you realy are it is
  the opinion of all thos of the better sort he has been hardly deelt
  by, being cond’mned but by a very slender proof, and tho he was much
  provokted by the mob and had the provest and magestrets order to fire
  which th’y now sheamfuly deney nor had he the leeberty to prove it tho
  even in his own defence, but the generous major powl will assure you
  of the trouth, and yet tho the cap^t had thos crule orders it is
  proven my [by] commiserer wesly mr Drumond doctor horton and severel
  other gentel men of undouted crided he realy did not make use of them,
  that there eyes were fixed on him all the while and have declar’d upon
  oth he deed not fire, true it is he presented his firelock in hopes to
  frighten the mob when ane unlucky felow at the same time and just by
  the cap^t fired which lead the two witness into the fatel mistake that
  has condmn’d him the unfortenat pannal both befor and after the dismal
  sentence protested befor god and the judges he was entierly inesent
  puting all thes circomstances to gether the miserable state he now is
  in most draw your generous pity on his side ther’for dr general waid
  continwa your uswal mercy and plead for him and as our sex are neturly
  compassinot and being now in the power of the quin, so generous a
  pleader as you may easely persuad, considring it is a thing of great
  concquenc to the whol army which yourself better knou then I can
  inform the duke of buccleugh, marques of Lowding [Lothian] Lord morton
  geneal myls all the commissioners and chiff baron are to join ther
  intrest with yours in this affair, by your own generous soul I beg
  again Dear sir you will do whats in your power to save him, thos that
  think right go not through this poor short life just for themselves
  which your good actions shou you oft consider, and as many just now
  put a sincer trust in your generous mercy I am sure they will not be
  disapointed throgh aney neglect of yours let this letter be taken
  notes of amongst the nomber you will reseve from your frinds in
  Scotland in behalf of the unfortunat capt which will intierly oblidg

                                        Dear general waid
                                your most affectionate and most
                                    obident humble servant
                                                    CATHARINE ALLARDICE.

  ‘you would be sory for the unexresable los I have had of the kindest
  mother, and two sisters I am now at Mrs Lind’s where it would be no
  smal satesfaction to hear by a Line or two I am not forgot by you
  drect for me at Mr Linds hous in Edenburg your letter will come safe
  if you are so good as to writ Mr Lind his Lady and I send our best
  complements to you, he along with Lord aberdour and mr wyevel how has
  also wrot to his sister mrs pursal go hand in hand togither makeing
  all the intrest they can for the poor cap^t and meet with great sucess
  they join in wishing you the same not fearing your intrest the
  generals Lady how is his great friend were this day to speak to the
  Justes clarck but I have not since seen her, so that every on of
  compassion and mercy are equely bussey forgive this trouble and send
  ous hop’

Footnote 737:

  _Caledonian Mercury._

Footnote 738:

  Statutes at large, vi. 51.

Footnote 739:

  In November 1737, the poet is found advertising an assembly
  (dancing-party) ‘in the New Hall in Carrubber’s Close;’
  subscription-tickets, two for a guinea, to serve throughout the winter
  season.—_Cal. Merc._

Footnote 740:

  _Caledonian Mercury._

Footnote 741:

  Newspapers of the time.

Footnote 742:

  _Caledonian Mercury._

Footnote 743:

  _Daily Post_, Aug. 17, 1738, quoted in _Household Words_, 1850.

Footnote 744:

  His name was William Smellie. The fact is stated in his _Memoirs_ by
  Robert Kerr, Edinburgh, 1811.

Footnote 745:

  _Scots Magazine_, January 1739.

Footnote 746:

  _Scottish Journal_, p. 313.

Footnote 747:

  Houghton’s _Collections on Husbandry and Trade_, 1694.

Footnote 748:

  Arnot’s _History of Edinburgh_, 4to, p. 201.

Footnote 749:

  Robertson’s _Rural Recollections_, 1829.

Footnote 750:

  ‘The man has not been dead many years who first introduced from
  Ireland the culture of the potato into the peninsula of Cantyre; he
  lived near Campbelton. From him the city of Glasgow obtained a regular
  supply for many years; and from him also the natives of the Western
  Highlands and Isles obtained the first plants, from which have been
  derived those abundant supplies on which the people there now
  principally subsist.’—Anderson’s _Recreations_, vol. ii. (1800) p.
  382.

Footnote 751:

  ‘This singular individual died at Edinburgh [January 24, 1788]. In
  1784, he sunk £140 with the managers of the Canongate Poor’s House,
  for a weekly subsistence of 7_s._, and afterwards made several small
  donations to that institution. His coffin, for which he paid two
  guineas, with “1703,” the year of his birth, inscribed on it, hung in
  his house for nine years previous to his death; and it also had
  affixed to it the undertaker’s written obligation to screw him down
  with his own hands _gratis_. The managers of the Poor’s House were
  likewise taken bound to carry his body with a hearse and four coaches
  to Restalrig Churchyard, which was accordingly done. Besides all this,
  he caused his grave-stone to be temporarily erected in a conspicuous
  spot of the Canongate Churchyard, having the following quaint
  inscription:

         “HENRY PRENTICE,

         DIED.

         Be not curious to know how I lived;
         But rather how yourself should die.“‘
                                     —_Contemporary Obituaries._

Footnote 752:

  _Scots Magazine_, Oct. 1740. Act of Town Council, Dec. 19, 1740.

Footnote 753:

  _Scots Magazine_, July 1741.

Footnote 754:

  Moncrieff’s _Life of John Erskine, D.D._, p. 110.

Footnote 755:

  _Scots Magazine_, July 1742.

Footnote 756:

  _Scots Magazine_, Oct. 1712. _New Statistical Acc. Scot._, art.
  ‘Lochbroom,’ where many curious anecdotes of Robertson, called
  _Ministeir laidir_, ‘the Strong Minister,’ are detailed.

Footnote 757:

  _Lays of the Deer Forest_, by the Messrs Stuart.

Footnote 758:

  _Edin. Ev. Courant_, Nov. 15, 1743.

Footnote 759:

  _Spalding Club Miscellany_, ii. 87.

Footnote 760:

  _Old Statist. Acc. of Scot._, xv. 379.

Footnote 761:

  _Domestic Ann. of Scot._, ii. 392.

Footnote 762:

  _Memorabilia of Glasgow_, p. 502.

Footnote 763:

  Newspaper advertisement.

Footnote 764:

  Jones’s _Glasgow Directory_, quoted in Stuart’s _Notices of Glasgow in
  Former Times_.

Footnote 765:

  _Culloden Papers_, p. 233.

Footnote 766:

  Appendix to Burt’s _Letters_, 5th ed., ii. 359.

Footnote 767:

  _Tour in Scotland_, i. 225; ii. 425.

Footnote 768:

  _Gentleman’s Magazine_, xvi. 429.

Footnote 769:

  _Scots Magazine_, 1750, 1753, 1754.

Footnote 770:

  _Tour through the Highlands_, &c. By John Knox. 1787, p. 101.

Footnote 771:

  [Sinclair’s] _Stat. Acc. Scot._, xx. 424. The minister’s version is
  here corrected from one in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for January
  1733; but both are incorrect in the historical particulars, there
  having been during 1728 and the hundred preceding years no more than
  six kings of Scotland.

Footnote 772:

  Printed in _Spalding Club Miscellany_, ii. 7.

 Page Changed from                     Changed to
   90 resetter                         reseller

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES


 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
      spelling.
 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
 4. Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=.
 5. Denoted superscripts by a caret before a single superscript
      character, e.g. M^r..



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOMESTIC ANNALS OF SCOTLAND  ***