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.
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]]
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 |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]]
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 |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 |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 |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 |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 |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, |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.
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 |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]]
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, 2s. 2d.), and Gideon Elliot, chirurgeon, one hundred merks.[[141]]
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 |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 |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]]
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, |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]]
June 4.
The same advantages of situation which are now thought to |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]]
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 |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 |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.
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 |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 |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 2s. 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 3s. 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.
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, |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 |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.’
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]]
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 |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. |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, 13s. 4d. 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, 6s. 8d. 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 |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 |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]]
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]]
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, 6s. 8d. 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.
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.
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 |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.
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, |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.
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.
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 |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.
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. |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.
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 |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]]
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 |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.
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 |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.
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, |1695.| recommended the Treasury to pay him two hundred pounds sterling, being the sum agreed upon.[[169]]
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 |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, 13s. 4d. 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]]
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, 8s. 10d.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]]
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]]
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 |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 |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.
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.
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.’
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]]
Apr. 15.
In the austerity of feeling which reigned through the Presbyterian Church on its re-establishment, there had been but little |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]]
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.’
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]]
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 |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.
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,’ |1696.| a hundred pounds of reward being offered for apprehending Bridgman, and fifty for each of the others.[[184]]
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, 11s. 1d.⅓ and £11, 2s. 2d.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.
Oct. 15.
It is a rather whimsical association of ideas, that Sir David |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]]
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 |1696.| park.’ Soon after, the Council recalled the permission for the sheep.
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 |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, |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 |1696.| right of making laim, purslane, and earthenware for fifteen years.[[192]]
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 |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 |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]]
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 |1697.| to have become satisfied of the truth of her complaint; but what steps they took in the case does not appear.[[194]]
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.’
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, |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 |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 |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 |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 |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.’
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, 8s. 10d.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 |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]]
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]]
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 |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, |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.
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 |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 |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 |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.
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 |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 |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]]
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, |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, 16s. (Scots); to his men, £8, 14s.; to his boy, £1, 8s. Again, to the king’s advocate, for consulting anent the fishery, bullion, &c., £58; and to his men, £11, 12s. Besides these sums, £333, 6s. 8d. were paid to the same officer as pension, and to his men, £60. There were paid in the same year, £11, 12s. to the chancellor’s servants; £26, 13s. 4d. to the macers of the Council; and an equal sum to the macers of the Court of Session.
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]]
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 |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 |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 |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.’
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]]
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 |1697.| the present humane arrangements in behalf of the surviving relatives of the established clergy.
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, 17s. for house-dues for the recruits, during a certain term, and £107, 8s. for damages done by the mutiny.[[212]]
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.’
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 |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]]
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, 10s. 6½d. 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 10d. 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 2s. 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 11d., strong at 15d.; white wine at 12d.; Rhenish at 16d.; old Hock at 20d.—all per bottle.’ Cherry |1697.| sack was 28d. per pint. The same dealer had English ale at 4d. 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.
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.
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.
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 |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, |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]]
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 |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]]
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.
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 |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]]
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 |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.’
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 |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.’
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 |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 |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]]
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 |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 |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 |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 |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.
May 31.
Sir Alexander Home of Renton, in Berwickshire, appears to |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) |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 |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]]
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.’
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 |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 |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]]
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 |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 |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]]
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.
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.
Oct.
Jean Gordon, widow of Mr William Fraser, minister of Slaines, |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.
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]]
Dec. 1.
Mr George Brown, a minister under banishment from Edinburgh |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.
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 |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]]
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 |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.
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]]
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]]
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 |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 |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.
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]]
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 |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.
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]]
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]]
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 |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]]
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 |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]]
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. |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. |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]]
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 |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]]
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.
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 |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]]
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]]
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 |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.
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 |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.
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 |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]]
Feb. 3.
This is the date of a conflagration in Edinburgh, which made a great impression at the time, and was long remembered. It |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 |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]]
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 |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]]
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]]
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]]
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 |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 |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.
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 |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.
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.’
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]]
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 |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.
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 |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]]
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, |1700.| have risen to some better distinction than that which unfortunately he has attained.[[285]]
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, |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.
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 |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]]
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.
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 |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]]
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, 3s. 4d.: the entire outfit costing £109, 18s. 3d.[[290]]
When Mrs Margaret Rose, daughter of the Laird of Kilravock, was married in 1701, there was an account from Francis Brodie, |1701.| merchant in Edinburgh, for her wedding-clothes, including seventeen and a quarter ells of flowered silk, £11, 13s.; nine and a quarter ells of green silk shagreen for lining, £2, 14s.; six and a half ells of green galloon, 19s. 6d.; with other sums for a gown and coat, for an under-coat, and an undermost coat; also, for a pair of silk stockings, 12s.; a necklace and silk handcurcher, 8s.; and some thirty or forty other articles, amounting in all to £55, 8s. 9d. 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, [[291]]
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 |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.
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 |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 |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]]
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 |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 (1s. 2d.), where the fee is twelve pounds Scots (£1 sterling) or upwards, and seven shillings Scots where the fee is below that sum.
July 3.
The infant library of the Faculty of Advocates having been |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.
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]]
Dec. 5.
Four men were tried at Perth for theft by the commissioners |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: ‘Alexr. 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; |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 |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 |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 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.
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 |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 |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 |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 |1702.| involve a true turpitude, being so much connected as they were with national and clan feelings.
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 |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 |1702.| Grant’s company remained in Stratherrick till the ensuing February.[[312]]
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.
House of Lord Advocate Steuart, at bottom of Advocates’ Close, west side.