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.