Feb. 4. Feb. 8.
1589-90.
It is with unexpected pleasure that we find another matter betokening the progress of literature and intelligence only four days after the licence for paper-making. Andro Hart then carried on the business of a bookseller in Edinburgh, and his name appears on so many interesting title-pages, that he is really a notable man of the time. He and John Norton, Englishman, now send a petition to the Privy Council, setting forth ‘what hurt the lieges of this realm susteint through the scarcity of buiks and volumes of all sorts,’ and to what exorbitant prices those had risen which were brought from England. They, ‘upon an earnest zeal to the propagation and incress of vertue and letters within this realm, had, two years ago, enterprisit the hame-bringing of volumes and buiks furth of Almane and Germanie, fra the whilk parts the maist part of the best volumes in England are brought, and in this trade have sae behavit themselves that this town is furnist with better buiks and volumes nor it was at ony time heretofore, and the said volumes sauld by them in this country are als guid cheap as they are to be sauld in London or ony other part of England, to the great ease and commodity of all estates of persons within this realm.’ Behold, however, John Gourlay, the customer (that is, farmer of customs), had laid hands upon the books which Hart and Norton were importing, and demanded that they should pay a duty—a demand altogether unprecedented. ‘Upon the like complaint made by Thomas Vautrollier, printer, he obteint ane decreet discharging the provost and bailies of this burgh and their customer fra all asking of ony customs for ony buiks sauld or to be sauld by him.’ The present petitioners only demanded to be so treated likewise. It is gratifying to find that the lords unhesitatingly granted the prayer of the two booksellers, so that the books they imported from Germany would thenceforth be duty-free.—P. C. R.
1590.
In the early part of this year, ‘the wicked clan Gregor, so lang continuing in blood, slaughters, herships, manifest reifs, and stouths,’ fell under notice for a frightful outrage. The king had his forest of Glenartney, in Perthshire, under the care of one Drummond, usually called Drummond-ernoch, on account of his having spent part of his life in Ireland. His neighbours, the Macgregors, taking mortal offence at this man, for some cause probably connected with their own misdeeds, fell upon him one day, while he was collecting venison against the return of the king from Denmark with his new-wed spouse. They barbarously cut off the forester’s head, which they carried off with them, wrapped in the corner of a plaid. Soon after, passing the house of Ardvorlich, the lady of which was sister of the murdered man, they entered in peaceful fashion, and were regaled with bread and cheese. While the lady was absent, looking after better entertainment, they placed Drummond-ernoch’s ghastly head on the table, and put a piece of bread and cheese in the mouth, telling him in mockery to eat it, as many a similar morsel he had formerly eaten in that house. The lady, returning, and seeing the frightful object, in which she recognised her brother’s features, fled from the house in a state of distraction, and was recovered to her home and sanity with great difficulty.
1590.
This part of the story rests on tradition; but the subsequent procedure of the murderers comes to us on historical authority. The bloody head being brought to the chief of Macgregor in Balquhidder, he and the whole clan assembled in the parish kirk, and the head being then presented, all present laid their hands upon it in succession, avowing that the homicide had been done under their counsel and with their sanction, and swearing to defend the actual committers of the fact with all their power![161]
These proceedings being reported to the Privy Council, a commission was granted (February 4, 1590) to the Earl of Huntly, and certain other nobles and gentlemen, to search for the culprits, and, if they should flee, to pursue them with fire and sword. What success attended this edict does not appear.
In spring, while the king was absent in Norway, a General Assembly was held in Edinburgh, and it being found that the country was surprisingly free of all steerage from either papists or evil-doers, the brethren praised God for the same, and agreed that there should be fasting and moderate diet observed every day till the king’s return. ‘The whilk custom, being found very meet for the exercise of the Sabbath, was keepit in Edinburgh, in the houses of the godly, continually thereafter. Sae that, sparing their gross and sumptuous dinners, they usit nocht but a dish of broth, or some little recreation, till night; and that whilk was spared was bestowed on the poor.’[162] Such seems to have been the origin of a custom which many travellers remark in Scotland in the seventeenth century, of having only a lunch instead of dinner on Sunday. Our diarist makes, however, only a faint allusion in the phrase ‘till night,’ to what the same travellers remark, that there was always a hearty supper in the evenings, amply making up for the half-fast of the day, and at which human nature found vent occasionally in a little good-humour and merriment.