PATRICK WALKER.
The objurgatory exhortation which David Deans delivers to his daughters, on suddenly overhearing the word “dance” pronounced in their conversation, will be remembered by our readers. He there “blesses God, (with that singular worthy, Patrick Walker the packman at Bristo-port,) that ordered his lot in his dancing days, so that fear of his head and throat, cauld and hunger, wetness and weariness, stopped the lightness of his head and the wantonness of his feet.” Almost the whole of David’s speech is to be found at the 59th page of Patrick Walker’s “Life of Cameron,” with much more curious matter.
This “Patrick Walker” was a person who had suffered for the good cause in his youth, along with many others of the “singular worthies” of the times. After the Revolution, it appears that he exercised the profession of a pedlar. He probably dealed much in those pamphlets concerning the sufferings and the doctrines of the “Martyrs,” which were so widely diffused throughout Scotland, in the years subsequent to the Revolution. In the process of time he set up his staff of rest in a small shop at the head of Bristo Street, opposite to the entrance of a court entitled “Society.” Here Patrick flourished about a century ago, and published several works, now very scarce and curious, of “Remarkable Passages in the Lives and Deaths of those famous worthies, signal for piety and zeal, viz. Mr. John Semple, Mr. Wellwood, Mr. Cameron, Mr. Peden, etc.; who were all shining lights in the Land, and gave light to many, in which they rejoiced for a season.” For this sort of biography Patrick seems to have been excellently adapted; for he had not only been witness to many of the incidents which he describes, but, from his intimate personal friendship with the subjects of his narratives, he was also a complete adept in all their intricate polemics and narrow superstitions. These he accordingly gives in such a style of length, strength, and volubility, as leaves us weltering in astonishment at the extensive range of expression of which Cant was susceptible. Take the following, for instance, from the rhapsodies of Peden. “A bloody sword, a bloody sword, a bloody sword for thee, O Scotland! Many miles shall ye travel and shall see nothing but desolation and ruinous wastes in thee, O Scotland! The fertilest places shall be desert as the mountains in thee, O Scotland! Oh the Monzies, the Monzies, see how they run! how long will they run? Lord, cut their houghs and stay their running. The women with child shall be ript up and dashed in pieces. Many a preaching has God waired (spent) on thee, O Scotland! But now He will come forth with the fiery brand of His wrath, and then He will preach to thee by conflagration, since words winna do! O Lord, Thou hast been baith good and kind to auld Sandy, thorow a long tract of time, and given him many years in Thy Service which have been but like as many months. But now he is tired of the warld, and sae let him away with the honesty he has, for he will gather no more!” We will also extract Patrick’s own account of an incident which is related upon his authority in the “Heart of Midlothian,” at the 54th page of the second volume. It is a good specimen of his style:—
“One time, among many, he[32] designed to administrate the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper; and before the time cam, he assured the people that the devil would be envious of the good work they were to go about,—that he was afraid he would be permitted to raise a storm in the air with a speat of rain, to raise the water, designing to drown some of them; but it will not be within the compass of his power to drown any of you, no not so much as a dog. Accordingly it came to pass, on Monday, when they were dismissing, they saw a man all in black, entering the water to wade, a little above them; they were afraid, the water being big; immediately he lost his feet, (as they apprehended,) and came down lying on his back, and waving his hand. The people ran and got ropes, and threw in to him; and tho’ there were ten or twelve men upon the ropes, they were in danger of being drowned into the water: Mr. Semple, looking on, cryed, ‘Quit the ropes and let him go, (he saw who it was,) ’tis the devil, ’tis the devil; he will burn, but not drown; and, by drowning you, would have God dishonoured, because He hath gotten some glory to His free grace, in being kind to mony of your souls at this time. Oh! he is a subtile wylie devil, that lies at the catch, waiting his opportunity, that now, when ye have heard all ye will get at this occasion, his design is to raise a confusion among you, to get all out of your minds that ye have heard, and off your spirits that ye have felt.’ He earnestly exhorted them all to keep in mind what they had heard and seen, and to retain what they had attained, and to go home blessing God for all, and that the devil was disappointed of his hellish design. All search was made in the country, to find out if any man was lost, but none could be heard of; from whence all concluded that it was the devil.”
According to Patrick, this same Mr. Semple was remarkable for much discernment and sagacity, besides that which was necessary for the detection of devils. From the following “passage,” the reader will observe that he was equally acute in the detection of witches. “While a neighbouring minister was distributing tokens before the sacrament, Mr. Semple standing by, and seeing him reaching a token to a woman, said, ‘Hold your hand; that Woman hath got too many tokens already, for she is a witch;’ of which none suspected her then: yet afterwards she confessed herself to be a witch, and was put to death for the same.”
We also find John Semple, of Carsphearn, introduced into that well-known irreverent work, “Scots Presbyterian Eloquence”; where an humorous burlesque of his style of expression is given in the following words: “In the day of judgment the Lord will say, ‘Who’s that there?’ John will answer, ‘It’s e’en poor auld John Semple, Lord.’ ‘Who are these with you, John?’ ‘It’s a few poor honest bonneted men.’ ‘Strange, John! where’s all your folks with their hats and silk hoods?’ ‘I invited them, Lord; but they would not come.’ ‘It’s not your fault, John; come forward, ye are very welcome, and these few with you!’”
In the reekit and mutilated volume of “Lives” before us, we have found a considerable number of passages which are alluded to in the narratives of My Landlord—more indeed than it would be interesting to point out. The use which the Author makes of the information he derives from them is by no means dishonourable, except perhaps in one instance, vol. iv., page 134, where it must be allowed he is rather waggish upon Patrick, besides corrupting the truth of his text. This instance relates to the murder of a trooper named Francis Gordon, said to have been committed by the Cameronians. Patrick denies the charge of murder, and calls it only killing in self-defence. His own account is as follows: “It was then commonly said, that Mr. Francis Gordon was a Volunteer out of Wickedness of Principles, and could not stay with the Troops, but must alwaies be raging and ranging to catch hiding suffering people. Meldrum and Airly’s Troops, lying at Lanark upon the first Day of March, 1682, Mr. Gordon and another Comrade, with their two Servants and four Horses, came to Kilcaigow, two Miles from Lanark, searching for William Caigow and others under Hiding. Mr. Gordon, rambling thorow the Town, offered to abuse the women. At night they came a mile further to the Easterseat, to Robert Muir’s, he being also under hiding. Gordon’s comrade and the two servants went to bed, but he could sleep none, roaring all the night for women. When day came, he took his sword in his hand, and came to Moss-Platt; and some men, (who had been in the fields all night,) seeing him, they fled, and he pursued. James Wilson, Thomas Young, and myself, having been in a meeting all night, were lying down in the morning. We were alarmed, thinking there were many more than one. He pursued hard and overtook us. Thomas Young said, ‘Sir, what do you pursue us for?’ He said, he was come to send us to Hell. James Wilson said, ‘That shall not be, for we will defend ourselves.’ He answered that either he or we should go to it now, and then ran his sword furiously thorow James Wilson’s coat. James fired upon him, but missed him. All the time he cried, ‘damn his soul!’ He got a shot in his head out of a pocket pistol, rather fit for diverting a boy than for killing such a furious, mad, brisk man; which notwithstanding killed him dead.” Patrick does not mention who it was that shot him; and from his obscurity on this point, we are led to suspect that it was no other than himself; for had it been Thomas Young, it is probable that he would have mentioned it. In the ‘Tale,’ David Deans is mentioned as being among them, and half confesses to the merit of having killed Mr. Gordon; but our venerable biographer is also made to prefer a sort of a half claim to the honour, while neither of them dared utterly to avow it; ‘there being some wild cousins of the deceased about Edinburgh who might have been yet addicted to revenge.’”
The “worthy John Livingston, a sailor in Borrowstownness,” who is quoted for a saying at the 37th page of the fourth volume, will be found at 107th page of Patrick’s “Life of Cameron,” with the words ascribed to him at full length. Borrowstownness seems to have been a somewhat holy place in its day; for, besides this worthy, we learn from the same authority that it also produced “Skipper William Horn, that singular, solid, serious, old exercised, self-denied, experienced, confirmed, established, tender Christian,” and another tar of the name of Alexander Stewart, who “suffered at the Cross” for a cause in which few of his profession have ever since thought of suffering,—together with two other worthies named Cuthel, one of whom was beheaded along with Mr. Cargill.
At the 40th page of the same fourth volume, David Deans declares himself to have been the person “of whom there was some sport at the Revolution, when he noited thegither the heads of the twa false prophets, their ungracious Graces the Prelates, as they stood on the High Street, after being expelled from the Convention-parliament.” The source of this story is also to be found in the works of Patrick Walker. This sage historian relates the circumstance in a manner rather too facetious to be altogether consistent with his habitual gravity. “Fourteen Bishops,” says he, “were expelled at once, and stood in a cloud, with pale faces, in the Parliament Close. James Wilson, Robert Neilson, Francis Hislop, and myself, were standing close by them. Francis Hislop, with force, thrust Robert Neilson upon them, and their heads went hard upon each other. Their graceless Graces went quickly off; and in a short time neither Bishop nor Curate were to be seen in the streets. This was a sudden and surprising change, not to be forgotten. But some of us would have rejoiced still more to have seen the whole cabalzie sent legally down the Bow, that they might have found the weight of their tails in a tow, to dry their stocking-soles, and let them know what hanging was.”[33]