Take thou the care to tune her heart to mine.’
Unhappily for this accomplished and poetical lover, Lord Eglintoune’s sickly wife happened just about this time to die, and set his lordship again at large among the spinsters of Scotland. Admirers of a youthful, impassioned, and sonnet-making cast might have trembled at his approach to the shrine of their divinity; for his lordship was one of those titled suitors who, however old and horrible, are never rejected, except in novels and romances. It appears that poor Clerk had actually made a declaration of his passion for Miss Kennedy, which her father was taking into consideration, a short while before the death of Lady Eglintoune. As an old friend and neighbour, Sir Archibald thought he would consult the earl upon the subject, and he accordingly proceeded to do so. Short but decisive was the conference. ‘Bide a wee, Sir Archy,’ said his lordship; ‘my wife’s very sickly.’ With Sir Archibald, as with Mrs Slipslop, the least hint sufficed: the case was at once settled against the elegant baronet of Penicuik. The lovely Susanna accordingly became in due time the Countess of Eglintoune.
Even after this attainment of one of the greatest blessings that life has to bestow,[165] the old peer’s happiness was like to have been destroyed by another untoward circumstance. It was true that he had the handsomest wife in the kingdom, and she brought him as many children as he could desire. One after another came no fewer than seven daughters. But then his lordship wanted a male heir; and every one knows how poor a consolation a train of daughters, however long, proves in such a case. He was so grieved at the want of a son that he threatened to divorce his lady. The countess replied that he need not do that, for she would readily agree to a separation, provided he would give back what he had with her. His lordship, supposing she alluded only to pecuniary matters, assured her she should have her fortune to the last penny. ‘Na, na, my lord,’ said she, ‘that winna do: return me my youth, beauty, and virginity, and dismiss me when you please.’ His lordship, not being able to comply with this demand, willingly let the matter drop; and before the year was out her ladyship brought him a son, who established the affection of his parents on an enduring basis. Two other male children succeeded. The countess was remarkable for a manner quite peculiar to herself, and which was remembered as the Eglintoune air, or the Eglintoune manner, long after her death. A Scottish gentleman, writing from London in 1730, says: ‘Lady Eglintoune has set out for Scotland, much satisfied with the honour and civilities shown her ladyship by the queen and all the royal family: she has done her country more honour than any lady I have seen here, both by a genteel and a prudent behaviour.’[166] Her daughters were also handsome women. It was a goodly sight, a century ago, to see the long procession of sedans, containing Lady Eglintoune and her daughters, devolve from the close and proceed to the Assembly Rooms, where there was sure to be a crowd of plebeian admirers congregated to behold their lofty and graceful figures step from the chairs on the pavement. It could not fail to be a remarkable sight—eight beautiful women, conspicuous for their stature and carriage, all dressed in the splendid though formal fashions of that period, and inspired at once with dignity of birth and consciousness of beauty! Alas! such visions no longer illuminate the dark tortuosities of Auld Reekie!
Many of the young ladies found good matches, and were the mothers of men more or less distinguished for intellectual attainments. Sir James Macdonald, the Marcellus of the Hebrides, and his two more fortunate brothers, were the progeny of Lady Margaret; and in various other branches of the family talent seems to be hereditary.
The countess was herself a blue-stocking—at that time a sort of prodigy—and gave encouragement to the humble literati of her time. The unfortunate Boyse dedicated a volume of poems to her; and I need scarcely remind the Scottish reader that the Gentle Shepherd was laid at her ladyship’s feet. The dedication prefixed to that pastoral drama contains what appears the usual amount of extravagant praise; yet it was perhaps little beyond the truth. For the ‘penetration, superior wit, and profound judgment’ which Allan attributes to her ladyship, she was perhaps indebted in some degree to the lucky accident of her having exercised it in the bard’s favour; but he assuredly overstrained his conscience very little when he said she was ‘possessed of every outward charm in the most perfect degree.’ Neither was it too much to speak of ‘the unfading beauties of wisdom and piety’ which adorned her ladyship’s mind.’[167] Hamilton of Bangour’s prefatory verses, which are equally laudatory and well bestowed, contain the following beautiful character of the lady, with a just compliment to her daughters:
‘In virtues rich, in goodness unconfined,
Thou shin’st a fair example to thy kind;
Sincere, and equal to thy neighbours’ fame,
How swift to praise, how obstinate to blame!
Bold in thy presence bashfulness appears,