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BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

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A

BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

OF

EMINENT SCOTSMEN.

ORIGINALLY EDITED BY ROBERT CHAMBERS.

NEW EDITION,

REVISED THROUGHOUT AND CONTINUED

REV. THOMAS THOMSON,

EDITOR OF THE "COMPREHENSIVE HISTORY OF ENGLAND," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS AUTHENTIC PORTRAITS ON STEEL.

VOLUME II.

LONDON:
BLACKIE AND SON, PATERNOSTER ROW;

AND GLASGOW AND EDINBURGH.

1870.

A

BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

EMIXEXT SCOTSMEX.

F.

FALCOXER, Hi-GH, M.D. During the eight-
eenth cenrun,-, when ethical and metaphysical specu-
lation was accounted the highest effort of intellect,
the Scottish mind heartily sympathized in the stud v.
It was an outlet to the keen investigating character
which formed one of the national distinctions, and
the writings of Hume and others of his countr}"men
soon effected a revolution in the world of abstract
thought. But in the nineteenth century, when the
tide had entirely changed — when metaph}"sic3 was
exchanged for physics, and the theoretic for the
practical, so that the present age came to be called
the age of utilitarianism — Scotland was not found
wanting. Hence in every department of natural
science we find her children among the foremost; and
not the least of these was Hugh Falconer, the sub-
ject of the present biographical notice. He was bom
at Forres, Mora%-5hire, on the 29th of Februar}-,
180S. Having prosecuted his litenm- and general
education at King's College, Aberdeen, where he
took the degree of A.M., after completing the usual
curriculum, he went to Edinburgh about the year
1826, and studied at its university until he had
finished his medical education, and received the
diplomas of surgeon and M.D. But although he
acquired a competent knowledge of the medicd pro-
fession, it was not to the mysteries of the healing art
that he exclusively, or even chiefly, confined his at-
tention : his enthusiasm was directed to natural
science, while his comprehensive intellect ranged
over its ^s-ide and diversified field — and the lessons of
Professors Jameson and Graham, as well as the so-
ciety of their chief pupils, aided and animated him in
his scientific career. He was also a member of the
Plinian Societv", where he found associates with whom
he maintained a close intimacy that lasted till his death.

Having graduated for the medical profession, Hugh
Falconer commenced his active course as assistant-
surgeon in the East India Company's sen-ice, and on
his arrival in Bengal he was so forttmate as to find a
field already prepared for him. His favourite study
had been botany, and in this his proficiency was so
marked, as to show him a fit successor to the Rox-
burghs and Wallichs, by whom the gardens of the
Honourable East India Company had been superin-
tended. He was therefore placed in charge of them,
first at Seharunpoor, and latterly at Calcutta. His
gratification at the appointment, and modest estimate
of his own claims to such distinction, are thus men-
tioned in one of his letters written ft-om Mussooree,
7000 feet in height among the Himalaya Mountains:

VOL. II.

"Botany is now a sort of profession with me. I am
superintendent of a botanic garden in India, I had
the luck to get it before I was a year in the country,
and perhaps long before I could have expected any-
thing of the kind; but as there are few in the medic^
senice in India who trouble themselves with botany,
I got the charge in lack of a fitter man."

Of his superior fitness for such a charge, even
though able competitors had been at hand, it was
soon e\adent that there could be little question.
During a tenure of office that lasted twent}' years,
his researches extended fi-om Calcutta to Cashmere
in a northerly and westerly, and from Calcutta to
Burmah in a south-easterly direction, while his in-
quiries were directed to every branch by which the
resources of India could be developed, and the in-
terests of natural science promoted. In Indian
botany he may be pronounced the creator of the teas
of Assam, the first attempt to transfer the Chinese
plant to other regions, by which the world at a
future day may be made independent of its exclusive
supplies of tea fi-om China. It was he also who
developed the resources of the great teak forests of
Martaban, where the sound of the woodman's axe
had never been heard; and who first suggested the
naturalization of the Jesuit's bark of Peru in the
Himalaya Mountains and the Xeilgherr)- Hills. But
independently of these strictly professional duties,
were Falconers discoveries in palaeontolog)- while in
India. In the Sewalik Mountains, the lowest range
of the Himalayas, he classified, described, and brought
to England the largest collection of fossils, the organic
beings of a former state of the world, that any in-
di\-idual had ever hitherto collected. Thus briefly
we are compelled to comprise the narrative of a
twenty years' scientific life in India — a life filled with
active adventure, scientific discover)-, and successfid
experiment, by which the boundaries of knowledge
were enlarged^ and the welfare of society promoted.
And, with the exception of the usual furlough to
Europe, these years had been passed, and these toils
undergone, in the diversified climates and under the
burning sun of the East. Ha^-ing thus so ably dis-
charged his task. Dr. Falconer retired from the
service, and returned to England; but although his
constitution was considerably shattered, his mental
acti^•ity was as great and his love of scientific re-
search as strong as ever. As soon, therefore, as his
health was partially recruited, he resumed those
palseontological inquiries among the fields of Europe,
which he had so successfully prosecuted in Indix

S6

WILLIAM FALCONER.

And for this also he was admirahly qualified, as, in-
dependently of his enthusiasm in the pursuit, and
his intellectual adaptation for such a task as that of
collecting the fragments of a past existence, and out
of these educing the forms and characters of the
creatures to which they had belonged — a work in
which he showed himself equal to the most distin-
guished paUvontologists of the day, he possessed an
amount of experience derived from the earliest eastern
fields of prehistoric life to which they could not lay
claim. In the course of his investigations he visited
t.he drift of Amiens, the caverns of southern France,
and those of Sicily. He also, in the autumn of 1864,
made a voyage to Gibraltar in company with Pro-
fessor Busk, the eminent naturalist and anatomist,
for the purjjose of exploring its caves, in which not
only the fossilized bones of extinct animals were
discovered, such as mastodons, cave-lions, cave-bears,
and elephants, but those of man himself This jour-
ney, however, terminated his life as well as his
scientific inquiries. On returning to England through
Spain, exposure to the weather tried his constitution
so severely that he was unable to rally from its effects,
and he died in Park Crescent, London, on the 31st
of January, 1S65, being only fifty-five years old.
Such was Dr. Hugh Falconer, a man whose many-
sided mind this brief sketch can but imperfectly
delineate. In every department of natural science,
and the departments of knowledge connected with
them, he was completely versed. A perfect master
of geology, botany, and zoology, he was also an ex-
cellent ethnologist and archaeologist, while in litera-
ture he was not only well acquainted with the clas-
sical but oriental languages. Having died a bachelor,
he left no children to succeed him, and it was un-
fortunate that his busy life allowed him no leisure
to construct such a work as might have shown the
amount of his acquirements, and been a lasting
monument to his fame. His two principal publica-
tions, of which, however, the labour was shared with
others, were — i. '^ Fauna Antiqita Sivalonis, being
the Fossil Zoology of the Sewalik Hills, in the North
of India" (in conjunction with T. Cautley), Lond.
fol. 1846-49; and, 2. A Descriptive Catalogue of the
Fossil Ketnai Its of Vcrtebrata in the Museum of Bengal
(in conjunction with H. Walker). Calcutta, 8vo,
1859. Besides these, he contributed several papers
to the chief scientific societies, especially the Geolo-
gical and Philosophical, which are published in their
Transactions.

FALCONER, William, author of The Ship-
wreck, a poem, was bom in Edinburgh about the
year 1730. His father was a barber and wig-maker
in a well-known street called the Netheibow, where
he ultimately became insolvent. A brother and
sister of the tuneful Falconer — the only individuals
who stood in that relation to him — were born deaf
and dumb; and the latter, on account of her infirmi-
ties, was a constant inmate of the Royal Infirmary of
Edinburgh, some time after the beginning of the
present century. The father of the poet was a
cousin-german of the Rev. Mr. Robertson, minister
of the parish of Borthwick; so that this humble bard
was a very near relation of the author of the Ilistorv
of Scotland, and also of Lord Brougham and Vaux.
Old Falconer, being reduced to insolvency, was
enabled by his friends to open a grocer's shop; but
being deprived of his wife, who was a prudent and
active woman, his affairs once more became deranged,
and he terminated his life in extreme indigence.

The education of young Falconer was of that
humble kind which might have been expected from
his father's circumstances. A teacher of the name of

Webster gave him instructions in reading, writing,
and arithmetic. He used to say that this was the
whole amount of his school education. It appears
that he possessed, even in early youth, an ardour of
genius, and a zeal in the acquisition of knowledge,
which in a great measure supplied his deficiencies.
In his poem of the Ship-wreck he evidently alludes to
his own attainments in the following lines : —

"On him fair science dawned in happier hour,
Awakening into bloom young fancy's flower;
But soon adversity, with freezing blast,
I'he blossom withered and the dawn o'ercast;
Forlorn of heart, and, by severe decree.
Condemned, reluctant, to the faithless sea;
With long farewell, he left the laurel grove.
Where science and the tuneful sLsters rove."

W'hen very young he was torn from his self-pursued
studies, and entered as an apprentice on hoard a
merchant vessel belonging to Leith. He afterwards
became servant to Mr. Campbell, the author of Zt'.r/-
phanes, who was purser of the ship to which he
belonged, and who, finding in him an aptitude for
knowledge, kindly undertook to give him some in-
structions in person. He subsequently became
second mate in the Britannia, a vessel in the Levant
trade, which, on her passage from Alexandria to
Venice, was shipwrecked off Cape Colonna, on the
coast of Greece. Only three of the crew were saved,
and Falconer was of the number. The event fur-
nished him with the material of a poem, by which
it is probable his name will be for ever remembered.

The poet was at this time about eighteen years of
age. In 1751, when two or three years older, he is
found residing in his native city, where he published
his first known work, a poem, Saered to the Me?nory
of His Royal Highness Frederick Prince of I Vales.
He is said to have followed up this effort by several
minor pieces which he transmitted to the Gen-
tle/nan's Jl/agazine. !Mr. Clarke, the editor of a
respectable edition of his poems, points out The
Chaplain's Petition to the Lietitenants in the Ward-
room, the Description of a Ninety-gun Ship, and
some lines On the ztncoiiunon Scarcity of Poetry, as
among these fugitive productions. ^Ir. Clarke has
likewise presented his readers with a whimsical little
poem, descriptive of the abode and sentiments of a
midshipman, which was one of the poet's early pro-
ductions, and offers some reasons for supposing that
he was the author of the popular song. Cease, nide
Boreas.

Little is known of Falconer during this period of
his life except that he must have been making con-
siderable additions to his stock of knowledge and
ideas. His poem 7'he Shipwj-eck was published in
1762, being dedicated to Edward, Duke of York,
brother of George III. This composition displays a
degree of polish and an array of classical allusions
which could only have been acquired by extensive
reading. It was at once placed in the first rank of
descriptive poetry, where it has ever since continued.
"The distant ocean," says an eminent critic, "and
its grand phenomena have employed the pens of the
most eminent poets, but they have generally pro-
duced an effect by indefinite outlines and imaginary
incidents. In Falconer we have the painting of a
great artist, taken on the spot, with such minute
fidelity, as well as picturesque effect, that we are
chained to tlie scene with all the feelings of actual
terror. In the use of imagery Falconer displays
original powers. His sunset, midnight, morning,
&c., are not such as have descended from poet to
poet. He beheld these objects under circumstances
in which it is the lot of few to be placed. His
images, therefore, cannot be transferred or borrowed;
they have an appropriation which must not be dis-

WILLIAM FALCONER JOHN FARQUIIAR.

turbed, nor can we trace them to any source but that
of genuine poetry." Another writer remarks, '■'^ The
Shipzureck is didactic as well as descriptive, and may
be recommended to a young sailor, not only to excite
his enthusiasm, but improve his knowledge of the art.
It is of inestimable value to this countr)-, since it
contains within itself the rudiments of navigation: if
not sufficient to form a complete seaman, it may cer-
tainly be considered as the grammar of his profes-
sional science. I have heard many experienced
officers declare that the rules and maxims delivered
in this poem for the conduct of a ship in the most
perilous emergency form the best, indeed the only
opinions which a skilful mariner should adopt."
Against such a poem it forms no proper objection
that much of the language, being technical, is only
perfectly understood by a class.

By his dedication the poet gained the notice and
patronage of the Duke of York, who, it will be recol-
lected, was himself a seaman. Almost immediately
after the poem was published his royal highness in-
duced Falconer to leave the merchant service, and
procured him the rank of a midshipman in Sir Ed-
ward Hawke's ship, the Royal George. In gratitude,
Falconer wrote an Ode on the Duke of York^s Second
Departure from England as Rear-admiral, which was
published, but displays a merit more commensurate
with the unimportance of the subject than the genius
of the author. It is said that Falconer composed
this poem "during an occasional absence from his
messmates, when he retired into a small space formed
between the cable tiers and the ship's side."

In 1763, the war being brought to a close,
Falconer's ship was paid off, — long before he had
completed that period of service which could have
entitled him to promotion. He then exchanged the
military for the civil department of the naval ser-
vice, and became purser of the Glory frigate of 32
guns. Either in the interval between the two ser-
vices, or before his appointment as a midshipman,
he paid a visit to Scotland, and spent some time in
the manse of Gladsmuir with Dr. Robertson, the his-
torian, who, we are told, was proud to acknowledge
the relationship that existed between him and this
self-instructed and ingenious man.

Soon after this period Falconer married a Miss
Hicks, daughter of the surgeon of Sheemess Yard.
She has been described as "a woman of cultivated
mind, elegant in her person, and sensible and agreeable
in conversation."^ It is said that the match was
entered into against the will of her parents, who, look-
ing only to the external circumstances of the poet,
thought her thrown away upon a poor Scottish ad-
venturer. Notwithstanding this painful circumstance,
and there is reason to fear real poverty besides, the
pair lived happily. Falconer endeavoured to sup-
port himself by literature. He compiled a Universal
Marine Diciio>tary, which, from its usefulness as a
book of reference, soon became generally used in the
navy. Like most other literary Scotsmen of that
period, he was a zealous partisan of the Bute ad-
ministration, and endeavoured to defend it against
the attacks of its jealous and illiberal enemies. For
this purpose he published a satire, called The Dema-
gogue, which was more particularly aimed at Lord
Chatham, Wilkes, and Churchill. We have not
learned that it was attended with any particular
effect. Falconer at this time lived in a manner at
once economical, and highly appropriate to his
literary character. "When the Glory was laid
in ordinary at Chatham, Commissioner Hanway,
brother to the benevolent Jonas Hanway, became

* Letter by Joseph Moser, European Magazine, 1803, p. 424.

delighted with the genius of its purser. The cap-
tain's cabin was ordered to be fitted up with a stove,
and with every addition of comfort that could be
procured, in order that Falconer might thus be
enabled to enjoy his favourite propensity, without
either molestation or expense" (Clarke's Life).

In 1769 the poet had removed to London, and
resided for some time in the former buildings of
Somerset House. From this place he dated the last
edition of the Shipvjrcck published in his own life-
time. That P'alconer must have possessed the per-
sonal qualities of a man of the world, rather than
those of an abstracted student or child of the muses,
seems to be proved by Mr. Murray, the bookseller,
having proposed to take him into partnership. He
is supposed to have been only prevented from acced-
ing to this proposal by receiving an appointment to
the pursership of the Aurora frigate, which was
ordered to carry out to India Messrs. Vansittart,
Scrofton, and Forde, as supervisors of the affairs
of the Company. He was also promised the office
of private secretary to those gentlemen, a situation
from which his friends conceived hopes that he might
eventually obtain lasting advantages. It had been
otherwise ordered. The Au>-ora sailed from Eng-
land on the 30th of September, 1769, and, after
touching at the Cape, was lost during the remainder
of the passage, in a manner that left no trace by
which the cause of the calamity could be discovered.
It was conjectured that the vessel took fire at sea;
but the more probable supposition is that she foun-
dered in the Mosambique Channel. The widow of
Falconer (who eventually died at Bath) resided for
some years afterwards in his apartments at Somerset
House, partly supported by Mr. Miller, the book-
seller, who, in consideration of the rapid sale of the
Marine Dictionary, generously bestowed upon her
sums not stipulated for in his contract with the author.
Mr. Moser, whom we have already quoted, mentions
that he once met her walking in the garden, near
her lodging, and, without knowing who she was,
happened, in conversation, to express his admiration
of the Shipiureck. She was instantly in tears. "She
presented me," says Mr. M., "with a copy of the
Shipivreck, and seemed much affected by my com-
miseration of the misfortunes of a man whose work
appears in its catastrophe prophetic." They had
never had any children.

"In person," says Mr. Clarke, "Falconer was
about five feet seven inches in height; of a thin light
make, with a dark weather-beaten complexion, and
rather what is termed hard-featured, being consider-
ably marked with the small-pox; his hair was of a
brownish hue. In point of address, his manner was
blunt, awkward, and forbidding; but he spoke with
great fluency; and his simple yet impressive diction
was couched in words which reminded his hearers
of the terseness of Swift. Though he possessed a
warm and friendly disposition, he was fond of con-
troversy, and inclined to satire. His observation
was keen and rapid; his criticisms on any inaccuracy
of language or expression were frequently severe;
yet this severity was always intended to create mirth,
and not by any means to show his own superiority,
or to give the smallest offence. In his natural tem-
per he was cheerful, and frequently used to amuse
his messmates by composing acrostics on their favour-
ites, in which he particularly excelled. As a pro-
fessional man, he was a thorough seaman; and, like
most of that profession, was kind, generous, and
benevolent. "

FARQUHAR, John. This remarkable char-
acter, who went to India a penniless youth and re-

JOHN FARQUHAR.

turned a millionaire, was the son of poor parents,
and born in Crimond, Aberdeenshire, in 175 1. In
early life he went to India as a cadet in the iJombay
establishment, and in the voyage was a chum of the
late General Kerr. A dangerous wound in the hip,
which affected his health and occasioned lameness,
disqualified him for the military service, and by the
advice of his friends he removed to Bengal, where
he became a free merchant. Either his original
tendencies, or the confinement occasioned by his
wound, maile him turn his mind to close study,
in which chemistry and its practical application was
the favourite pursuit. It was upon this that the
foundation of his immense fortune was laid. The
manufacturing of gunpowder in the interior at Pultah
being defective, Nlr. Far<iuhar was selected by Lord
Cornwallis, the governor-general of India, to aid in
rectifying it, and this he did so effectually as to secure
the confidence of his superiors, and gradually to ob-
tain the management of the concern, until at last he
became the sole contractor with the government.
Thus he rapidly rose to wealth and distinction, and
won the particular favour and confidence of Warren
Hastings; and that this rise was merited he showed
by his close application, extraordinary mental vigour,
and activity. He also evinced, by his habiis of
penuriousness, that he could keep a good hold of
the wealth that flowed in so abundantly upon him.
After years of labour he returned from India with
a fortune estimated at half-a-million, the greater part
of which was profitably invested by Mr. Hoare, his
banker, in the funds.

On landing at Gravesend on his return to England,
such was the appearance of this Indian Croesus, that
no pickpocket however hungry would have thought
him worth a search. His clothes were threadbare
and could scarcely hang together, while his whole
appearance was tlial of a pauper on his way to the
workhouse. He took the outside of the coach to
London to save expense, and his first visit was to
his banker; but on asking to see Mr. Hoare, the
clerks, who saw him covered with dust and dirt,
treated him with hauteur, and obliged him to wait
as a petitioner in the cash office. On Mr. Hoare
passing through it, he exchanged a few words with
the supposed mendicant, and was thunderstruck to
find that this was no other than his great Indian
customer. Farquhar drew only /^2^ and took his
leave. He then went to the house of a relation, a
baronet, and there took up his residence; but his
poverty-stricken appearance was an eyesore and
annoyanceto thewholeestablishment. At last, agreat
Christmas entertainment was to be given in the man-
sion, in c(jnsequence of which his relative, a week pre-
vious, hinted the |)r(jpriely of improving his costume,
and rec(miniended a I5ond Street tailor who would
drape him in the newest and most approved fashion.
Indignant at this aspersion of his favourite costume,
and the audacity of such interference, Mr. Farquhar
immediately packed uj) his trunk, ordered the servant
to call a coach, and took his deiJarture. He then
settled himself in Upper Baker Street, where his
house was soon characterized by its forlorn a|)pear-
ancc; the windows were uncleaned, the approach
dirty and neglected, while the only menial of whom
the establishment could boast was an old woman.
His own favourite room was a sanctuary which she
was not allowed to enter, or a brush or broom to
l)rofane; the floor was littered with books and papers,
where they were thrown and allowed to lie, when
their service was over; and the most active part of
its furniture was an old pan or pipkin, in which he
usually cooked his Brahminical meal of rice. His
neighbours were alarmed at this appearance of ex-

treme destitution, and in several cases some of them
offered him alms, supposing that he was a reduced
gentleman starving in poverty. His relations, how-
ever, were too wise to neglect such a rich kinsman,
let his dress and eccentricities be as annoying as they
might, and he was often invited to their tables. But
while he thus saved himself the expense of the day's
provender, he was not the less careful for the morrow,
and rolls or pieces of bread found their way into his
pocket to furnish the next day's breakfast or dinner.
His hosts were too wise to notice such abstractions,
and in the end were no losers by their short-sighted-
ness.

While Farquhar was thus saving in the common
necessaries of life, his mountain of money was not
allowed to lie idle. He became a partner in the
great agency house in the city having for its title
"Basset, Farquhar, & Co.," and purchased the late
Mr. Whitebread's share in the brewery. With part
of his wealth he purchased estates, but the bulk of
it was invested in stock, and allowed to increase on
the principle of compound interest. Every half
year he drew his dividends, his mercantile profits,
and his rents, and purchased in the funds, so that
his capital with every year was steadily and rapidly
increasing, liut the most wonderful of his mercan-
tile transactions was in the case of that gorgeous
Aladdin palace, Fonthill Abbey. In 1822 that
splendid edifice with all its rich treasures was an-
nounced for sale, and while the public mind antici-
pated the whole wealth and aristocracy of Britain
as bidders at the auction, the land was amazed
to learn that Mr. Farquhar — that most frugal man
and impersonation of poverty — had purchased the
whole by private bargain for ;i^330,ooo. Occasion-
ally also he resided afterwards in the abbey, like a
living sermon upon the vanity of its grandeur, until
the fall of its tower in December, 1825. The re-
maining wing of the older mansion he converted
into a woollen manufactory.

In this strange manner Mr. Farquhar held onward
in his career until its course was terminated, aston-
ishing the world by his vast wealth, but still more by
his penurious habits. Whatever he touched seemed
to turn into gold; but this, though he was able, he
was unwilling to enjoy, so that his Midas-like famine
was his own deliberate choice. But he was no ordi-
nary miser; and while hoarding scraps of victuals and
saving pence and farthings, he could freely part with
hundreds of pounds in acts of charity and benevo-
lence. Although slovenly in dress and disagreeable
in the usages of the table, he could yet be courteous
and gentlemanly in his manners and conversation.
He was an accomplished scholar and well versed in
the classics, and although disinclined to correspon-
dence, when he jirevailed upon himself to write, his
style was terse, elegant, and c(urect. In mathe-
matical, chemical, and mechanical science he also
showed remarkable proficiency, while his conversa-
tion was rich, animated, and varied. But the pos-
session of these endowments only increased the
general odium occasioned byhis insane loveof money,
as compared with his capability for higher and better
pursuits. What were his religious opinions even the
most intimate of his friends could not ascertain, but
it was suspected, from his mode of living, and his
admiration of the jiure and abstinent precepts of
Brahminisni, that he was at least a half-convert to
the Hindoo creed. It was also said that he offered
to devote ^100, cxx) in founding a college in Aberdeen
on the most enlarged plan of education, from which,
however, the subject of religion was to be excluded,
but which the legislature refused to sanction, so that
the plan was abandoned.

ADAM FERGUSON.

After having thus continued to be a wonder to
society, John Farquhar was suddenly withdrawn
from its gaze. On the 5th of July, 1S26, he had
taken an airing in his carriage, and returned to his
house in the New Road, opposite the Regent's Park,
at seven in the evening, and retired to rest between
the hours of ten and eleven. At eight in the follow-
ing morning his servant, according to custom, took
up breakfast to his master in his bedroom, but found
him a corpse. Suddenly and at midnight the rich
man's soul had been required of him, and he had
apparently died instantaneously and without a strug-
gle. As Mr. Farquhar died intestate, his fortune,
supposed to amount to a million and a half, was
divided among seven nephews and nieces.

FERGUSOISr, Dr. Adam, was the son of the
Rev. Adam Ferguson, parish minister of Logic Rait,
in Perthshire, descended of the respectable family of
Dunfallandy; his mother was from the county of
Aberdeen. He was born in the year 1724, in the
manse of his father's parish, and was the youngest
of a numerous family. He received the rudiments
of instruction at the parish school; but his father,
who had devoted much of his time to the tuition of
his son, became sd fully convinced of the superior
abilities of the boy, that he determined to spare no
expense in the completion of his education. He
was accordingly sent to Perth and placed under the
care of Mr. Martin, who enjoyed great celebrity as
a teacher. At this seminary Ferguson highly dis-
tinguished himself, as well in the classical branches
of education as in the composition of essays; an ex-
ercise which his master was in the habit of prescrib-
ing to his pupils. His theses were not only praised
at the time of their being delivered, but were long
preserved and shown with pride by Mr. Martin, as
the production of a youthful scholar. In October,
1739, Ferguson was, at the age of fifteen, removed
to the university of St. Andrews, where he was par-
ticularly recommended to the notice of Mr. TuUi-
delph, who had been lately promoted to the office
of principal of one of the colleges. At St. Andrews
there is an annual exhibition for four bursaries, when
the successful competitors in writing and translating
Latin obtain gratuitous board at the college table
during four years. Ferguson stood first among the
competitors of the undergraduate course for the year
he entered the college. At that period the Greek
language was seldom taught in the grammar-schools
in Scotland; and although young Ferguson had thus
honourably distinguished himself by his knowledge
of Latin, he seems to have been unacquainted with
Greek. By his assiduity, however, he amply re-
gained his lost time; for so ardently did he apply
himself to the study of that language, that, before
the close of the session, he was able to construe
Homer; nor did his ardour cease with his attendance
at college, for during the vacation he tasked him-
self to prepare one hundred lines of the Iliad every
day, and facility increasing as he advanced in know-
ledge, he was enabled to enlarge his task, so that
by the commencement of the succeeding session, or
term, he had gone through the whole poem. This
laborious course of study enabled him to devote the
succeeding years of his attendance at college to the
attainment of a knowledge of mathematics, logic,
metaphysics, and ethics.

From St. Andrews, on the close of his elementary
studies, Mr. Ferguson removed to Edinburgh to
mix with, and form a distinguished member of that
galaxy of great men which adorned the northern
metropolis about the middle of the iSth century.
Nor was it long before his acquaintance among those

who were thus to shed a lustre over Scotland com-
menced, for soon after his arrival in Edinburgh he
became a member of a philosophical society, which
comprehended Dr. Robertson, Dr. Blair, Mr. John
Home the author of Douglas, and Mr. Alexander
Carlyle. A society composed of young men of
abilities so eminent, it may easily be believed, was
an institution peculiarly well adapted to promote in-
tellectual improvement and the acquisition of know-
ledge. This society afterwards merged in the Specu-
lative Society, which has been the favourite resort
of most of the young men of talent who have been
educated in Edinburgh during the last hundred years.

"In his private studies" (we are informed by one
of his most intimate friends) Mr. Ferguson, while
in Edinburgh, devoted his chief attention "to natural,
moral, and political philosophy. His strong and
inquiring unprejudiced mind, versed in Grecian and
Roman literature, rendered him a zealous friend of
rational and well-regulated liberty. He was a con-
stitutional Whig, equally removed from Republican
licentiousness and Tory bigotry. Aware that all
political establishments ought to be for the good of
the whole people, he wished the means to vary in
different cases, according to the diversity of char-
acter and circumstances; and was convinced, with
Aristotle, that the perfection or defect of the institu-
tions of one country does not necessarily imply either
perfection or defect of the similar institutions of
another; and that restraint is necessary, in the in-
verse proportion of general knowledge and virtue.
These were the sentiments he cherished in his youth;
these the sentiments he cherished in his old age."

Mr. Ferguson was intended for the church, and
had not pursued the study of divinity beyond two
years when, in 1744, Mr. Murray, brother to Lord
Elibank, offered him the situation of deputy chap-
lain, under himself, in the 42d regiment. In order,
however, to obtain a license as a preacher in the
Church of Scotland, it was necessary at that time to
have studied divinity for six years, and although the
fact of Ferguson having some slight knowledge of
the Gaelic language might have entitled him to have
two of these years discounted, still no presbytery was
authorized to have granted him his license. He was
therefore obliged to apply to the General Assembly
of the Church of Scotland, when, in consideration of
the high testimonials which he produced from several
professors, a dispensation was granted in his tavour,
and having passed his trials, he obtained his license
as a preacher; immediately after which he joined
his regiment, then in active service in Flanders. In
a short time he had the good fortune to be promoted
to the rank of principal chaplain.

Mr. Gibbon has declared that the manoeuvres of a
battalion of militia, of which he was colonel, had
enabled him to comprehend and describe the evolu-
tions of the Roman legion; and no doubt Mr. P'er-
guson owed his knowledge of military affairs, by
which he was enabled to give such distinctness and
liveliness to his descriptions of wars and battles, to
the experience which he acquired while with his
regiment on the Continent. Nor did his service
prove less beneficial to him by throwing open a wide
and instructive field of observation of the human
character, and imparting a practical knowledge of
the mainspring of political events.

On the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle Mr. Ferguson
obtained leave of absence, when he visited his native
country. At home he spent his time partly in Perth-
shire, wandering about in comparative idleness, en-
joying the beautiful scenery which surrounded his
father's manse, and partly in the capital, where he
renewed his acquaintance with the friends of his

ADAM FERGUSON.

youth. About this period he solicited the Duke of
Athol for the living of Caputh, a beautiful and re-
tired parish near Dunkcld, in Perthshire; he was,
however, unsuccessful in his application, and it was
owing perhaps to this disappointment that he did
not a^k the living of Logic Kait, on the death of
his father, which took place shortly after. Having
rejoined his regiment, he seems thenceforward to
have abandoned all intention of undertaking a par-
ochial charge. Indeed his talents did not peculiarly
fit him for the office of a preacher; for although he
had acquired a great facility in writing, his sennons
were rather moral essays than eloquent discourses.
This, in a great measure, disqualified him for be-
coming a favourite with a Presbyterian congregation,
in which so much always depends on the preacher's
capacity to excite and sustain a spirit of devotion
among his hearers, by the fidelity, earnestness, and
energy of his exhortations, and the fervour of his
prayers. Although thus unfitted by the nature of
his genius to shine as a preacher, Mr. Ferguson's
great abilities, his polished manners, and the benevo-
lence of his disposition, peculiarly fitted him for
taking a prominent part in literature and in private
society.

In the year 1757 Mr. Ferguson resigned the chap-
laincy of the 42d regiment, after which he was em-
ployed for upwards of two years as private tutor in
the family of the Earl of Bute; and in the year 1759
he was chosen professor of natural philosophy in the
university of Edinburgh ; which chair he retained
until the year 1764, when he obtained the professor-
ship of moral philosophy — a chair much better suited
to his genius, and to the course of study which he
had pursued.

In 1766 he published his £ssays on Civil Society.
The object of this work is — according to the favourite
mode of the literary men with whom Ferguson
associated — to trace man through the several steps
in his progress from barbarism to civilization. This,
■which was his first publication, contributed not a
little to raise Mr. Ferguson in public estimation,
and the university of Edinburgh hastened to confer
on him the honorary degree of LL.D. In the same
year he revisited the scenes of his youth, and delighted
the old parishioners of his father by recollecting them
individually, while they were no less proud that their
parish had produced a man who was held in such
estimation in the world. During this year also he
was married to Miss Burnet, from Aberdeenshire,
the amiable niece of the distinguished Professor
Black, of Edinburgh. In order to render his lectures
more useful to his pupils, Dr. Ferguson about this
time published his Institutes or Synopsis of his Lec-
tures.

Dr. Ferguson continued to enjoy the literary so-
ciety of Edinburgh, interrupted only by the recrea-
tion of cultivating a small farm in the neighbourhood
of the city, until the year 1773; when he was in-
duced by the liberal offers of Lord Chesterfield,
nephew to the celebrated earl, to accompany him
in his travels. After a tour through most of the
countries of Europe, Dr. Ferguson returned in 1775
to the duties of his chair, whicii, during his absence,
had been ably performed by the well-known Dugald
Stewart. This relief from his academical duties
proved not only highly advantageous to Dr. Fer-
guson in a pecuniary point of view, but contributed
considerably to his improvement. His lectures on
his return were not only numerously attended by the
usual routine of students, but by men of the first rank
and talents in the country. We have the testimony
of one who, although young at the time, seems to
have been well able to appreciate his talents, as to

Dr. Ferguson's manner as a lecturer: — "The doctor's
mode of communicating knowledge was firm, manly,
and impressive, but mild and elegant ; he was mild, .
but justly severe in his rebukes to the inattentive and I
negligent. One day that he was engaged in that part
of his course that treated of the practical application
of the moral qualities which he had before described,
and was speaking of the folly of idleness and inatten-
tion to the business in hand, some thoughtless young
men were whispering and trifling in the gallery.
'Gentlemen,' said he, 'please to attend; this subject
peculiarly concerns you.'" In the year 1776 Dr.
Ferguson answered Dr. Price's production on civil
and religious liberty. The ground on which he
differed with Dr. Price was on the applicability of
his doctrine to society and to imperfect man.

We have an early notice of Dr. Ferguson's being
engaged in the composition of his J/istory of the
Roman Republic in the following valuable letter,
addressed by him to Edward Gibbon, dated Edin- -m
burgh, 1 8th April, 1776: — "Dear sir, I should make %
some apology for not writing you sooner an answer
to your obliging letter; but if you should honour me
frequently with such requests, you will find that,
with very good intentions, I am a very dilatory and
irregular correspondent. I am 5orry to tell you
that our respectable friend Mr. Hume is still declin-
ing in his health; he is greatly emaciated, and loses
strength. He talks familiarly of his near prospect
of dying. His mother, it seems, died under the
same symptoms; and it appears so little necessary,
or proper, to flatter him, that no one attempts it. I
never observed his understanding more clear, or his
humour more pleasant or lively. He has a great
aversion to leaving the tranquillity of his own house
to go in search of health among inns and hostlers.
And his friends here gave way to him for some time;
but now think it necessary that he should make an
effort to try what change of place and air, or any- J
thing else Sir John Pringle may advise, can do for I
him. I left him this morning in the mind to comply
in this article, and I hope that he will be prevailed
on to set out in a few days. He is just now sixty-
five.

"I am very glad that the pleasure you give us
recoils a little on yourself through our feeble testi-
mony. I have, as you suppose, been employed, at
any intervals of leisure or rest I have had for some
years, in taking notes, or collecting materials for a
history of the destruction that broke down the Roman
republic, and ended in the establishment of Augustus
and his immediate successors. The compliment you
are pleased to pay, I cannot accept of even to my
subject. Your subject now appears with advantages
it was not supposed to have had, and I suspect that
the magnificence of the mouldering ruin will appear
more striking than the same building when the
view is perplexed with scaffolding, workmen, and
disorderly lodgers, and the ear is stunned with the
noise of destructions and repairs, and the alarms of
fire. The night which you begin to describe is
solemn, and there are gleams of light superior to
what is to be found in any other time. I comfort
myself that, as my trade is the study of human nature,
I could not fix on a more interesting corner of it
than the end of the Roman republic. Whether my
compilations should ever deserve the attention of
any one besides myself, must remain to be deter-
mined after they are farther advanced. I take
the liberty to trouble you with the inclosed for Mr.
.Smith (Dr. Adam Smith), w^hose uncertain stay
in London makes me at a loss how to direct for
him. You have both such reason to be pleased
with the world just now, that I hope you are pleased

ADAM FERGUSON.

with each other. I am, with the greatest respect,
dear sir, your most obedient and humljle servant,
Adam Fercjuson." This letter is not only valuable
from its intrinsic worth and the reference it has to
the composition of The History of the Roman Re-
public, but from its presenting, connected by one link,
four of the greatest names in British literature. Mr.
Ferguson, however, was interrupted in the prosecu-
tion of his historical labours, having been, through
the inlluence of his friend Mr. Dundas, afterwards
Lord Melville, appointed secretary to the commis-
sioners sent out to America in the year 1778, to
negotiate an arrangement with our revolted colonies
in that continent. The following historical detail
will show the success of this mission: —

"In the beginning of June, 1778, the new com-
missioners arrived at Philadelphia, more than a month
after the ratification of the treaty with France had
been formally exchanged. The reception they met
with was such as men the most opposite in their
politics had foreseen and foretold. Dr. Ferguson,
secretary to the commission, was refused a passport
to the congress, and they were compelled to forward
their papers by the common means.

"The commissioners, at the very outset, made
concessions far greater than the Americans, in their
several petitions to the king, had requested or de-
sired—greater, indeed, than the powers conferred
upon them by the act seemed to authorize. Amongst
the most remarkable of these was the engagement
to agree that no military force should be kept up in
the different states of America without the consent
of the general congress of the several assemblies —
to concur in measures calculated to discharge the
debts of America, and to raise the credit and value
of the paper circulation — to admit of representatives
from the several states, who should have a seat and
voice in the parliament of Great Britain — to establish
a freedom of legislation and internal government,
comprehending every privilege short of a total sepa-
ration of interest, or consistent with that union of
force in which the safety of the common religion and
liberty depends.

"These papers, when laid before the congress,
were read with astonishment and regret, but from
the declaration of independen'ce, they had neither
the will nor the power to recede. An answer,
therefore, brief but conclusive, was returned by the
president, Henry Laurens, declaring, 'that nothing
but an earnest desire to spare the farther effusion of
human blood could have induced them to read a
paper containing expressions so disrespectful to his
most Christian majesty, their ally, or to consider of
propositions so derogatory to the honour of an inde-
pendent nation. The commission under which they
act supposes the people of America to be still sub-
ject to the crown of Great Britain, which is an idea
utterly inadmissible.' The president added, 'that
he was directed to inform their excellencies of the
inclination of the congress to peace, notwithstanding
the unjust claims from which this war originated,
and the savage manner in which it had been con-
ducted. They will, therefore, be ready to enter upon
the consideration of a treaty of peace and commerce,
not inconsistent with treaties already subsisting,
when the king of Great Britain shall demonstrate a
sincere disposition for that purpose; and the only
solid proof of this disposition will be an explicit
acknowledgment of the independence of the United
States, or the withdrawing his fleets and armies.'"
Conduct so haughty on the part of the Americans
necessarily put a stop to all farther negotiation, and
the commissioners having, in a valedictory mani-
festo, appealed to the people, returned home.

On his return to Scotland Dr. Fergiison resumed
the charge of his class and continued the preparation
of the Roman History. That work made its appear-
ance in the year 1783; and two years afterwards, he
resigned the chair of moral philosophy in favour of
Mr. Dugald Stewart; while he was himself permitted
to retire on the salary of the mathematical class
which Mr. Stewart had held. Dr. Ferguson then
took up his residence at Manor, in the county of
Peebles, where he passed his time in literary ease
and in farming; an occupation for which he had a
peculiar taste, but which he ultimately found so un-
profitable, that he was glad to relinquish it. He
seems also to have devoted his attention to the cor-
rection of his lectures, which he published in 1793.

While exempt from all cares, and in the enjoyment
of good health and of a competent fortune. Dr.
Ferguson, in his old age, conceived the extraordinary
project of visiting Rome. He accordingly repaired
once more to the Continent, visiting the cities of
Berlin and Vienna, where he was received with
great attention. His progress southward was, how-
ever, stopped by the convulsions associated with the
French revolution. To this great political pheno-
menon Dr. Ferguson's attention had been earnestly
directed, and it is curious to know, that he had
drawn up (although he did not publish it) a memorial
pointing out the dangers to which the liberties of
Europe were exposed, and proposing a congress with
objects similar to those which occupied the congress
of Vienna in 1814.

On his return home Dr. Ferguson retired for the
remainder of his life to St. Andrews, a place endeared
to him by early habits and admirably fitted for the
retreat of a literary man in easy circumstances.
There, in addition to the professors of that ancient
university, he enjoyed the society of the patriotic
George Dempster, of Dunnichen; and having had
almost uninterrupted good health up to the patri-
archal age of ninety-three, he died on the 22d of
Febmary, 1816. "He was," to use the words of an
intimate friend of the family, "the last great man of
the preceding century, whose writings did honour
to the age in which they lived, and to their country;
and none of them united in a more distinguished
degree the acquirements of ancient learning to a
perfect knowledge of the world, or more eminently
added to the manners of a most accomplished gentle-
man the principles of the purest virtues."

In his person Dr. Ferguson was well formed, ac-
tive, and muscular; his complexion was fair, his eyes
blue, his features handsome, intelligent, and thought-
ful. There is a very fine and correct portrait of him
in an anteroom at Brompton Grove, the seat of Sir
John Macpherson. Unlike many who have devoted
themselves to the abstruse study of philosophy, he
had an intimate knowledge of the world; having
mixed much with courtiers, statesmen, politicians,
and the learned and accomplished, not only in Great
Britain, but throughout Europe. His knowledge of
the human character was consequently accurate and
extensive; his manners were polished, simple, and
unostentatious; while his conversation was agreeable
and instructive. Warned by an illness with which
he was seized when about the age of fifty, resembling
in its character an apoplectic fit, he abstained from
the use of wine, and during the remainder of his life
lived most abstemiously, and enjoyed an uninter-
rupted course of good health. His fortune was
aftluent; besides the fees and salaries of his class and
the price of his works, he held two pensions, one
from government of ^{^400, and another from Lord
Chesterfield of ;[^200 a year. By these means, aided
by a munificent gift from his pupil. Sir John Mac-

8

JAMES FERGUSON.

pherson, he was enabled to purchase a small estate
near St. Andrews; he was also possessed of a house
and garden in that city, on which he expended
/■looo.

Bred in the tenets of the Church of Scotland, he
was a respectful believer in the truths of revelation;
he did not, however, conceive himself excluded from
cultivating the acquaintance of those who were
directly opposed to him in their religious opinions,
and his intimate friendship with David Hume sub-
jected him to the reprehension of many of the Chris-
tian professors of his time. A list of those with whom
Dr. P'erguson maintained an intimate acquaintance
and intercourse, w(juld include all who rose to emin-
ence during the last half of the eighteenth, and the
early part of the present century. Dr. Ferguson left
six children; three sons and three d.iughters: Adam
in the army, John in the navy, and the third son in
the East India Company's service.*

FERGUSON, J.A..MES, an ingenious experimental
philosopher, mechanist, and astronomer. Of this
miracle of self-instruction and native genius, we can-
not do better than give his own account, as drawn
up by himself a very few years before his death, and
prefixed to YHsSi/ect Me<r/ianiiral Exercises. It is one
of the most interesting specimens of autobiography
in the language.

I was born in the year 1710, a few miles from
Keith, a little village in Banffshire, in the north of
Scotland; and can with pleasure say that my parents,
though poor, were religious and honest ; lived in
good repute with all who knew them; and died with
good characters.

As my father had nothing to support a large family
but his daily labour, and the profits arising from a
few acres of land which he rented, it was not to be
expected that he could bestow much on the educa-
tion of his children; yet they were not neglected;
for at his leisure hours he taught them to read and
write. And it was while he was teaching my elder
brother to read the Scottish catechism that I acquired
my reading. Ashamed to ask my father to instruct
me, I used, when he and my brother v/ere abroad,
to take the catechism, and study the lesson which
he had been teaching my brother; and when any
difficulty occurred, I went to a neighbouring old
woman, who gave me such help as enabled me to
read tolerably well before my father had thought of
teaching me.

Some time after, he was agreeably surprised to find
me reading by myself: he thereupon gave me further
instruction, and also taught me to write; which, with
about three months I afterwards had at the grammar-
school at Keith, was all the education I ever received.

My taste for mechanics arose from an odd accident.
When about seven or eight years of age, a part of
the roof of the house being decayed, my father, de-
sirous of mending it, applied a prop and lever to an
upright spar to raise it to its former situation; and,
to my great astonishment, I saw him, without con-
sidering the reason, lift up the ponderous roof as if
it had been a small weight. I attributed this at first

1 The following is a list of Dr. Ferguson's works:^

The History 0/ Civil Society, in one volume, published 1766.

WXs, Institutes of Moral Philosophy, 8vo, 1769.

His Ans^ver to Dr. Price's Celebrated Obser-oations on
Civil and Political Liberty, 1776. This pamphlet is peculiarly
remarkable fur the liberality and delicacy with which he treats
the principles and intentions of his ant.igonist.

'flu History of the Progress and Termination of the
Roman Republic, 3 vols. 4to, 1783.

And lastly, his celebrated work, entitled. The Principles of
Moral and Political Science, being chiefly a Retrospect of
Lectures delivered in tlie College of Edinburgh, 2 vols. 4to,
1792.

to a degree of strength that excited my terror as well
as wonder: but, thinking further of the matter, I re-
collected that he had ap])lied his strength to that end
of the lever which was furthest from the prop; and
finding, on inquirj', that this was the means whereby
the seeming wonder was effected, I began making
levers (which I then called bars); and by applying
weights to them different ways, I found the power
gained by my bar was just in proportion to the
lengths of the different parts of the bar on either side
of the prop. — I then thought it was a great pity,
that, by means of this bar, a weight could be raised
but a very little way. On this I soon imagined that,
by pulling round a wheel, the weight might be raised
to any height by tying a rope to the weight, and
winding the rope round the axle of the wheel; and
that the power gained must be just as great as the
wheel was broader than the axle was thick; and
found it to be exactly so, by hanging one weight to
a rope put round the wheel, and another to the rope
that coiled round the axle. So that, in these two
machines, it appeared very plain that their advantage
was as great as the space gone through by the work-
ing power exceeded the space gone through by the
weight. And this property I also thought must take
place in a wedge for cleaving wood; but then I hap-
pened not to think of the screw. By means of a .
turning lathe which my father had, and sometimes
used, and a little knife, I was enabled to make wheels
and other things necessary for my purpose.

I then wrote a short account of these machines,
and sketched out figures of them with a pen, ima-
gining it to be the first treatise of the kind that ever
was written, but found my mistake when I after-
wards showed it to a gentleman, who told me that
these things were known long before, and showed
me a printed book in which they were treated of;
and I was much pleased when I found that my ac-
count (so far as I had carried it) agreed with the
principles of mechanics in the book he showed me.
And from that time my mind preserved a constant
tendency to improve in that science.

But as my father could not afford to maintain me
while I was in pursuit only of these matters, and I
was rather too young and weak for hard labour, he
put me out to a neighbour to keep sheep, which I
continued to do for some years; and in that time I
began to study the stars in the night. In the day-
time I amused myself by making models of mills,
spinning-wheels, and such other things as I happened
to see.

I then went to serve a considerable farmer in the
neighbourhood, whose name was James Glashan.
I found him very kind and indulgent; but he soon
observed that in the evenings, when my work was
over, I went into a field with a blanket about me,
lay down on my back, and stretched a thread with
small beads u]X)n it, at arm's-length, between my eye
and the stars, sliding the beads upon it till they hid
such and such stars from my eye, in order to take
their apparent distances from one another, and then,
laying the thread down on a paper, I marked the
.stars thereon by the beads, according to their respec-
tive positions, having a candle by me. My master
at first laughed at me; but when I explained my
meaning to him, he encouraged me to go on; and
that I might make fair copies in the day-time of what
I had done in the night, he often worked for me
himself. I shall always have a respect for the
memory of that man.

One day he happened to send me with a message
to the Rev. Mr. John Gilchrist, minister at Keith, to
whom I had been known from my childhood. I
carried my star-papers to show them to him, and

JAMES FERGUSON.

found him looking over a large parcel of maps, which
I surveyed witli great pleasure, as they were the first
I had ever seen. He then told me that the earth
is rountl like a ball, and explained the map of it to
me. I requested him to lend me that map, to take
a copy of it in the evenings. He cheerfully con-
sented to this, giving me at the same time a pair of
compasses, a ruler, pens, ink, and paper; and dis-
missed me with an injunction not to neglect my
master's business by copying the map, which I might
keep as long as I pleased.

For this pleasant employment my master gave me
more time than I could reasonably expect; and often
took the threshing-flail out of my hands, and worked
himself, while I sat by him in the barn, busy with
my compasses, ruler, and pen.

When I had finished the copy I asked leave to
carry home the map ; he told me I was at liberty to
do so, and might stay two hours to converse with the
minister. In my way thither I happened to pass by
the school at which I had been before, and saw a
genteel-looking man, whose name I afterwards
learned was Cantley, painting a sun-dial on the wall.
I stopped a while to obser\-e him, and the school-
master came out and asked me what parcel it was that
I had under my arm. I showed hmi the map, and
the copy I had made of it, wherewith he appeared to
be very well pleased; and asked me whether I should
not like to learn of Mr. Cantley to make sun-dials?
Mr. Cantley looked at the copy of the map, and com-
mended it much; telling the schoolmaster, Mr. John
Skinner, that it was a pity I did not meet with notice
and encouragement. I had a good deal of conversa-
tion with him, and found him to be quite affable and
communicative ; which made me think I should be
extremely happy if I could be further acquainted
with him.

I then proceeded with the map to the minister,
and showed him the copy of it. While we were
conversing together, a neighbouring gentleman,
Thomas Grant, Esq., of Achoynaney, happened to
come in, and the minister immediately introduced
me to him, showing him what I had done. He ex-
pressed great satisfaction, asked me some questions
about the construction of maps, and told me that if
I would go and live at his house, he would order his
butler, Alexander Cantley, to give me a great deal
of instruction. Finding that this Cantley was the
man whom I had seen painting the sun-dial, and of
whom I had already conceived a very high opinion,
I told 'squire Grant that I should rejoice to be at
his house as soon as the time was expired for which
I was engaged with my present master. He very
politely offered to put one in my place, but this I
declined.

When the term of my servitude was out I left
my good master and went to the gentleman's house,
where I quickly found myself with a most humane
good family. Rlr. Cantley the butler soon became
my friend, and continued so till his death. He was
the most extraordinary man that I ever was ac-
quainted with, or perhaps ever shall see; for he was
a complete master of arithmetic, a good mathema-
tician, a master of music on every known instrument
except the harp, understood Latin, French, and
Greek, let blood extremely well, and could even
prescribe as a physician upon any urgent occasion.
He was what is generally called self-taught ; but I
think he might with much greater propriety have
been termed God Almighty's scholar.

He immediately began to teach me decimal arith-
metic and algebra; for I had already learned vulgar
arithmetic at my leisure hours from books. He then
proceeded to teach me the elements of geometry;

but, to my inexpressible grief, just as I was begin-
ning that branch of science, he left Mr. Grant, and
went to the late Earl Fife's, at several miles' distance.
The good family I was then with could not prevail
with me to stay after he was gone; so I left them, and
went to my father's.

He had made me a present of Gordoit's Geographi-
cal Gravu/iar, which at that time was to me a great
treasure. There is no figure of a globe in it, although
it contains a tolerable description of the globes, and
their use. From this description I made a globe in
three weeks at my father's, having turned the ball
thereof out of a piece of wood; which ball I covered
with paper, and delineated a map of the world upon
it, made the meridian ring and horizon of wood,
covered them with paper, and graduated them ; and
was happy to find that by my globe, which was the
first I ever saw, I could solve the problems.

But this was not likely to afford me bread; and I
could not think of staying with my father, who, I
knew full well, could not maintain me in that W'ay,
as it could be of no service to him; and he had,
without my assistance, hands sufficient for all his
work.

I then went to a miller, thinking it would be a
very easy business to attend the mill, and that I
should have a great deal of leisure time to study
decimal arithmetic and geometry. But my master,
being too fond of tippling at an ale-house, left the
whole care of the mill to me, and almost star\-ed me
for want of victuals; so that I was glad when I could
have a little oatmeal mixed with cold water to eat.
I was engaged for a year in that man's service; at
the end of which I left him, and returned in a very
weak state to my father's.

Soon after I had recovered my former strength, a
neighbouring farmer, who practised as a physician
in that part of the country, came to my father's,
wanting to have me as a labouring servant. My
father advised me to go to Dr. Young, telling me
that the doctor would instruct me in that part of his
business. This he promised to do, which was a
temptation to me. But instead of performing his
promise, he kept me constantly at very hard labour,
and never once showed me one of his books. All
his servants complained that he was the hardest
master they had ever lived with; and it was my mis-
fortune to be engaged with him for half a year. But
at the end of three months I was so much over-
wrought that I was almost disabled, which obliged
me to leave him; and he was so unjust as to give me
nothing at all for the time I had been with him,
because I did not complete my half-year's service;
though he knew that I was not able, and had seen
me working for the last fortnight as much as possible
with one hand and arm, when I could not lift the
other from my side. And what I thought was par-
ticularly hard, he never once tried to give me the
least relief, further than once bleeding me, which
rather did me hurt than good, as I was very weak,
and much emaciated. I then went to my father's,
where I was confined for two months on account of
my hurt, and despaired of ever recovering the use of
my left arm. And during all that time the doctor
never once came to see me, although the distance
was not quite two miles. But my friend Mr. Cantley,
hearing of my misfortune, at twelve miles' distance,
sent me proper medicines and applications, by means
of which I recovered the use of my arm; but found
myself too weak to think of going into service again,
and had entirely lost my appetite, so that I could
take nothing but a draught of milk once a day for
many weeks.

In order to amuse mvself in this low state, I made

JAMES FERGUSON.

a wooden clock, the frame of which was also of wood;
and it kept time pretty well. The bell on which the
hammer struck the hours was the neck of a broken
bottle. Having then no idea how any time-keeper
could go but by a weight and a line, I wondered
how a watch could go in all positions; and was sorry
that I had never thought of asking Mr. Cantley, who
could very easily have informed me. But happening
one day to see a gentleman ride by my father's house,
which was close by a public road, I asked him what
o'clock it then was; he looked at his watch and told
me. As he did that with so much good nature, I
begged of him to show me the inside of his watch;
and though he was an entire stranger, he immedi-
ately opened the watch and put it into my hands.
I saw the spring-box with part of the chain round it,
and asked him what it was that made the box turn
round; he told me that it was turned round by a
steel spring within it. Having then never seen any
other spring than that of my father's gun-lock, I
asked how a spring within a box could turn the box
so often round as to wind all the chain upon it. He
answered that the spring was long and thin, that one
end of it was fastened to the axis of the box, and the
other end to the inside of the box, that the axis was
fixed, and the box was loose upon it. I told him I did
not yet thoroughly understand the matter: — "Well,
my lad," says he, "take a long thin piece of whale-
bone, hold one end of it fast between your finger and
thumb, and wind it round your finger, it will then
endeavour to unwind itself; and if you fix the other
end of it to the inside of a small hoop, and leave it
to itself, it will turn the hoop round and round, and
wind up a thread tied to the outside of the hoop." —
I thanked the gentleman, and told him that I under-
stood the thing very well. I then tried to make a
watch with wooden wheels, and made the spring of
whalebone; but found that I could not make the
watch go when the balance was put on, because the
teeth of the wheels were rather too weak to bear the
farce of a spring sufficient to move the balance;
although the wheels would run fast enough when the
balance was taken off. I inclosed the whole in a
wooden case very little bigger than a breakfast tea-
cup; but a clumsy neighbour one day looking at my
watch, happened to let it fall, and turning hastily
about to pick it up, set his foot upon it, and crushed
it all to pieces; which so provoked my father that he
was almost ready to beat the man, and discouraged
me so much that I never attempted to make such
another machine again, especially as I was thoroughly
convinced I could never make one that would he of
any real use.

As soon as I was able to go abroad I carried my
globe, clock, and copies of some other maps besides
that of the world, to the late Sir James Dunbar of
Dum, about seven miles from where my father lived,
as I had heard that Sir James was a very good-
natured, friendly, inquisitive gentleman. He re-
ceived me in a very kind manner, was pleased with
what I showed him, and desired I would clean his
clocks. This, for the first time, I attempted ; and
then began to pick up some money in that way
about the country, making Sir James's house my
home at his desire.

Two large globular stones stood on the top of his
gate; on one of them I painted with oil-colours a
map of the terrestrial globe, and on the other a map
of the celestial, from a planisphere of the stars which
I copied on paper from a celestial globe belonging
to a neighbouring gentleman. The poles of the
painted globes stood toward the poles of the heavens;
on each the twenty-four hours were placed around
the ecjuinoctial, so as to show the time of the day

when the sun shone out, by the boundary where the
half of the globe at any time enlightened by the sun
was parted from the other half in the shade; the
enlightened parts of the terrestrial globe answering to
the like enlightened parts of the earth at all times.
So that whenever the sun shone on the globe, one
might see to what places the sun was then rising, to
what places it was setting, and all the places where
it was then day or night throughout the earth.

During the time I was at Sir James's hospitable
house, his sister, the honourable Lady Dipple, came
there on a visit, and Sir James introduced me to her.
She asked me whether I could draw patterns for
needle-work on aprons and gowns. On showing
me some I undertook the work, and drew several
for her; some of which were copied from her patterns,
and the rest I did according to my own fancy. On
this I was sent for by other ladies in the countr)',
and began to think myself growing very rich by the
money I got for such drawings, out of which I had
the pleasure of occasionally supplying the wants of
my poor father.

Vet all this while I could not leave off star-gazing
in the nights, and taking the places of the planets
among the stars by my above-mentioned thread.
By this I could observe how the planets changed
their places among the stars, and delineated their
paths on the celestial map, which I had copied from
the above-mentioned celestial globe.

By observing what constellations the ecliptic
passed through in that map, and comparing these
with the starry heaven, I was so impressed as some-
times to imagine that I saw the ecliptic in the
heaven, among the stars, like a broad circular road
for the sun's apparent course; and fancied the paths
of the planets to resemble the narrow ruts made by
cart-wheels, sometimes on one side of a plain road,
and sometimes on the other, crossing the road at
small angles, but never going far from either side of
it.

Sir James's house was full of pictures and prints,
several of which I copied with pen and ink; this
made him think I might become a painter.

Lady Dipple had been but a few weeks there
when William Baird, Esq. of Auchmedden, came on
a visit ; he was the husband of one of that lady's
daughters, and I found him to be verj- ingenious and
communicative ; he invited me to go to his house
and stay some time with him, telling me that I
should have free access to his library', which was a
very large one, and that he would funiish me with
all sorts of implements for drawing. I went thither,
and stayed about eight months ; but was much dis-
appointed in finding no books of astronomy in his
library, except what was in the two volumes of
Harris's Lexicon Technicum, although there were
many books on geography and other sciences.
Several of these indeed were in Latin, and more in
French, which being languages that I did not under-
stand, I had recourse to him for what I wanted to
know of these subjects, which he cheerfully read to
me ; and it was as easy for him at sight to read
English from a Greek, Latin, or French book, as
from an English one. He furnished me with pencils
and Indian ink, showing me how to draw with them ;
and although he had but an indifferent hand at that
work, yet he was a very acute judge, and conse-
quently a very fit person for showing me how to
correct my own work. He was the first who ever
sat to me for a picture ; and I found it was much
easier to draw from the life than from any picture
whatever, as nature was more striking than any imi-
tation of it.

Lady Dipple came to his house in about half a

JAMES FERGUSOX.

year after I went thither; and as they thouglit I had
a genius for painting, they consulted together about
what might be the best way to put me forward.
Mr. Baird thought it wouhl be no difficult matter to
make a collection for me among the neighbouring
gentlemen, to put me to a painter at Edinlnirgh; but
he found, upon trial, that nothing worth the while
could be done among them : and as to himself, he
could not do much that way, because he had but a
small estate, and a very numerous family.

Lady Dipple then told me that she was to go to
Edinburgh next spring, and that if I would go thither
she would give me a year's bed and board at her
house gratis; and make all the interest she could for
me among her acquaintance there. I thankfully
accepted of her kind offer; and, instead of giving me
one year, she gave me two. I carried with me a
letter of recommendation from the Lord Pitsligo, a
near neighbour of Squire Baird's, to Mr. John Alex-
ander, a painter in Edinburgh, who allowed me to
pass an hour every day at his house for a month, to
copy from his drawings; and said he would teach me
to paint in oil-colours if I would serve him seven
years, and my friends would maintain me all that
time; but this was too much for me to desire them to
do, nor did I choose to serve so long. I was then
recommended to other painters, but they would do
nothing without money; so I was quite at a loss what
to do.

In a few days after this I received a letter of re-
commendation from my good friend Squire Baird
to the Rev. Dr. Robert Keith at Edinburgh, to whom
I gave an account of my bad success among the
painters there. He told me, that if I would copy
from nature I might do without their assistance, as
all the rules for drawing signified but very little when
one came to draw from the life; and by what he had
seen of my drawings brought from the north, he
judged I might succeed very well in drawing pictures
from the life, in Indian ink, on vellum. He then sat
to me for his own picture, and sent me with it and
a letter of recommendation to the Right Honourable
the Lady Jane Douglas, who lived with her mother,
the Marchioness of Douglas, at Merchiston House,
near Edinburgh. Both the marchioness and Lady
Jane behaved to me in the most friendly manner, on
Dr. Keith's account, and sat for their pictures, telling
me at the same time that I was in the very room in
which Lord Napier invented and computed the loga-
rithms; and that if I thought it would inspire me, I
should always have the same room whenever I came
to Merchiston. I stayed there several days, and
drew several pictures of Lady Jane, of whom it was
hard to say whether the greatness of her beauty or
the goodness of her temper and disposition was the
most predominant. She sent these pictures to ladies
of her acquaintance, in order to recommend me to
them; by which means I soon had as much business
as I could possibly manage, so as not only to put a
good deal of money in my own pocket, but also to
spare what was sufficient to help to supply my father
and mother in their old age. Thus a business was
providentially put into my hands, which I followed
for six and twenty years.

Lady Dipple, being a woman of the strictest piety,
kept a watchful eye over me at first, and made me
give her an exact account at night of what families
I had been in throughout the day, and of the money
I had received. She took the money each night,
desiring I would keep an account of what I had put
into her hands; telling me that I should duly have
out of it what I wanted for clothes, and to send to
my father. But in less than half a year she told me
that she would thenceforth trust me with being my

own banker; for she had made a good deal of private
inquiry how I had behaved when I was out of lier sight
through the day, and was satisfied with my conduct.

During my two years' stay at Edinburgh I some-
how took a violent inclination to study anatomy,
surgery, and physic, all from reading of books, and
conversing with gentlemen on these subjects, which
for that time j)ut all thoughts of astronomy out of my
mind; and I had no inclination to become acquainted
with any one there who taught either mathematics
or astronomy, for nothing would serve me but to be
a doctor.

At the end of the second year I left Edinburgh
and went to see my father, thinking myself tolerably
well qualified to be a physician in that part of the
country, and I carried a good deal of medicines,
plaisters, &c., thither; but to my mortification I soon
found that all my medical theories and study were
of little use in practice. And then, finding that very
few paid me for the medicines they had, and that I
was far from being so successful as I could wish, I
quite left off that business, and began to think of
taking to the more sure one of drawing pictures
again. For this purpose I went to Inverness, where
I had eight months' business.

When I was there I began to think of astronomy
again, and was heartily sorry for having quite ne-
glected it at Edinburgh, where I might have improved
my knowledge by conversing with those who were
very able to assist me. I began to compare the
ecliptic with its twelve signs, through which the sun
goes in twelve months, to the circle of twelve hours
on the dial-plate of a watch, the hour-hand to the
sun, and the minute-hand to the moon, moving in
the ecliptic, the one always overtaking the other at
a place forwarder than it did at their last conjunction
before. On this I contrived and finished a scheme
on paper for showing the motions and places of the
sun and moon in the ecliptic on each day of the year
perpetually; and consequently, the days of all the
new and full moons.

To this I wanted to add a method for showing the
eclipses of the sun and moon; of which I knew the
cause long before, by having observed that the moon
was for one half of her period on the north side of
the ecliptic, and for the other half on the south.
But not having observed her course long enough
among the stars by my above-mentioned thread, so
as to delineate her path on my celestial map, in order
to find the two opposite points of the ecliptic in
which her orbit crosses it, I was altogether at a loss
how and where in the ecliptic, in my scheme, to
place these intersecting points: this was in the year

1739-

At last I recollected, that when I was with Squire
Grant of Auchoynaney, in the year 1730, I had read,
that on the 1st of January, 1690, the moon's ascend-
ing node was in the tenth minute of the first degree
of Aries ; and that her nodes moved backward
through the whole ecliptic in iS years and 224 days,
which was at the rate of 3 minutes 11 seconds every
24 hours. But as I scarce knew in the year 1730
what the moon's nodes meant, I took no farther
notice of it at that time.

However, in the year 1739, I set to work at Inver-
ness; and after a tedious calculation of the slow
motion of the nodes from January, 1690, to January,
1740, it appeared to me that (if I was sure I had
remembered right) the moon's ascending node must
be in 23 degrees 25 minutes of Cancer at the be-
ginning of the year 1740. And so I added the
eclipse part to my scheme, and called it the Astro-
nomical Rotula.

When I had finished it I showed it to the Rev.

12

TAMES FERGUSON.

Mr. Alexander Macbean, one of the ministers at
Inverness; who told me he had a set of almanacs by
him for several years past, and would examine it by
the eclipses mentioned in them. We examined it
together, and found that it agreed throughout with
the days of all the new and full moons and eclipses
mentioned in these almanacs; which made me think
I had constructed it upon true astronomical prin-
ciples. On this Mr Macbean desired me to write to
Mr. Maclaurin, professor of mathematics at Edin-
burgh, and give him an account of the methods by
which I had formed my plan, requesting him to
correct it where it was wrong. He returned me a
most polite and friendly answer, although I had
never seen him during my stay at Edinburgh, and
informed me that I had only mistaken the radical
mean place of the ascending node by a quarter of a
degree; and that if I would send the drawing of my
rotula to him, he would examine it, and endeavour
to procure me a subscription to defray the charges
of engraving it on copperplates, if I chose to pub-
lish it. I then made a new and correct drawing of
it, and sent it to him: who soon got me a very hand-
some subscription, by setting the example himself,
and sending subscription papers to others.

I then returned to Edinburgh, and had the rotula
plates engraved there by Mr. Cooper.* It has gone
through several impressions, and always sold very
well till the year 1752, when the style was changed,
which rendered it quite useless. Mr. Maclaurin
received me with the greatest civility when I first
went to see him at Edinburgh. He then became an
exceeding good friend to me, and continued so till
his death.

One day I requested him to show me his orrerj',
which he immediately did; I was greatly delighted
with the motions of the earth and moon in it, and
would gladly have seen the wheel- work, which was
concealed in a brass box, and the box and planets
above it were surrounded by an armillary sphere.
But he told me that he never had opened it; and I
could easily perceive that it could not be opened but
by the hand of some ingenious clock-maker, and not
without a great deal of time and trouble.

After a good deal of thinking and calculation, I
found that I could contrive the wheel-work for turn-
ing the planets in such a machine, and giving them
their progressive motions; but should be very well
satisfied if I could make an orrery to show the mo-
tions of the earth and moon, and of the sun round
its axis. I then employed a turner to make me a
sufficient number of wheels and axles, according to
patterns which I gave him in drawing; and after
having cut the teeth in the wheels by a knife, and
put the whole together, I found that it answered all
my expectations. It showed the sun's motion round
its axis, the diurnal and annual motions of the earth
on its inclined axis, which kept its parallelism in its
whole course round the sun; the motions and phases
of the moon, with the retrograde motion of the nodes
of her orbit; and consequently, all the variety of
seasons, the different lengths of days and nights, the
days of the new and full moons, and eclipses.

When it was all completed except the box that
covers the wheels, I showed it to .Mr. Maclaurin,
who commended it in presence of a great many young
gentlemen who attended his lectures. He desired
me to read them a lecture on it, which I did without
any hesitation, seeing I had no reason to he afraid of
speaking before a great and good man who was my
friend. Soon after that I sent it in a present to the

1 Cooper was master to the justly celebrated Sir Robert
Strange, who was at that time his apprentice.

reverend and ingenious Mr. Alexander Irvine, one
of the ministers at Elgin, in Scotland.

I then made a smaller and neater orrer)-, of ^^ hich
all the wheels were of ivorj', and I cut the teeth in
them with a file. This was done in the beginning
of the year 1743; and in May that year I brought it
with me to London, where it was soon after bought
by Sir Dudley Rider. I have made six orreries since
that time, and there are not any two of them in which
the wheel-work is alike, for I could never bear to
copy one thing of that kind from another, because I
still saw there was great room for improvements.

I had a letter of recommendation from Mr. Baron
Eldin at Edinburgh, to the Right Honourable Stephen
Poyntz, Esq., at St. James's, who had been pre-
ceptor to his royal highness the late Duke of Cum-
berland, and was well known to be possessed of all
the good qualities that can adorn a human mind.
To me his goodness was really beyond my power of
expression; and I had not been a month in London
till he informed me that he had written to an eminent
professor of mathematics to take me into his house,
and give me board and lodging, with all proper in-
structions to qualify me for teaching a mathematical
school he (^Ir. Poyntz) had in view for me, and
would get me settled in it. This I should have liked
very well, especially as I began to be tired of draw-
ing pictures; in which, I confess, I never strove to
excel, because my mind was still pursuing things
more agreeable. He soon after told me he had just
received an answer from the mathematical master,
desiring I might be sent immediately to him. On
hearing this I told Mr. Poyntz that I did not know
how to maintain my wife during the time I must be
under the master's tuition. "What!" says he, "are
you a married man ?" I told him I had been so ever
since May in the year 1739. He said he was sorry
for it, because it quite defeated his scheme, as the
master of the school he had in view for me must
be a bachelor.

He then asked me what business I intended to
follow? I answered that I knew of none besides
that of drawing pictures. On this he desired me to
draw the pictures of his lady and children, that he
might show them, in order to recommend me to
others, and told me that when I was out of business
I should come to him and he would find me as much
as he could; and I soon found as much as 1 could
execute; but he died in a few years after, to my in-
expressible grief

Soon afterward it appeared to me, that although
the moon goes round the earth, and that the sun is
far on the outside of the moon's orbit, yet the moon's
motion must be in a line, that is, always concave
toward the sun; and upon making a delineation re-
presenting her absolute path in the heavens, I found
it to be really so. I then made a simple machine
for delineating both her path and the earth's on a
long paper laid on the floor. I carried the machine
and delineation to the late ]\Iartin Folkes, Esq.,
president of the Royal Society, on a Thursday after-
noon. He expressed great satisfaction at seeing it,
as it was a new discovery, and took me that evening
with him to the Royal Society, where I showed tlie
delineation, and the method of doing it.

When the business of the society was over, one
of the members desired me to dine with him next
Saturday at Hackney, telling me that his name was
Ellicott, and that he was a watchmaker.

I accordingly went to Hackney, and was kindly
received by Air. John Ellicott, who then showed me
the very same kind of delineation, and part of the
machine by which he had done it; telling me that
he had thought of it twenty years before. I could

JAMES FERGUSON.

13

easily see by the colour of the paper, and of the ink
lines upon it, that it must have been done many
years before I saw it. He then told me what was
very certain, that he had neither stolen the thought
from me, nor had I from him. And from that time
till his death Mr. EUicott was one of my best friends.
The figure of this machine and delineation is in the
seventh plate of my book of Astronomy.

Soon after the style was changed I had my rotula
new engraved; but have neglected it too much, by
not fitting it up and advertising it. After this I
drew out a scheme, and had it engraved, for showing
all the problems of the rotula except the eclipses;
and in place of that it shows the times of rising and
setting of the sun, moon, and stars; and the positions
of the stars for any time of the night.

In the year 1747 I published a dissertation on the
phenomena of the har^-est-moon, with the description
of a new orrer}', in which there are only four wheels.
But having never had grammatical education, nor
time to study the rules of just composition, I acknow-
ledge that I was afraid to put it to the press; and for
the same cause I ought to have the same fears still.
But having the pleasure to find that this my first
work was not ill received, I was emboldened to go
on in publishing my Astronomy, Mechanical Lectures,
tables and tracts relative to several arts and sciences,
the Young Gentleman and Lad^s Astro>iomy, a small
treatise on electricity, and the following sheets.

In the year 1748 I ventured to read lectures on
the eclipse of the sun that fell on the 14th of July in
that year. Afterwards I began to read astronomical
lectures on an orrery which I made, and of which
the figures of all the wheel-work are contained in the
sixth and seventh plates of this book. I next began
to make an apparatus for lectures on mechanics, and
gradually increased the apparatus for other parts of
experimental philosophy, buying from others what I
could not make for myself, till I brought it to its
present state. I then entirely left off drawing pic-
tures, and employed myself in the much pleasanter
business of reading lectures on mechanics, hydro-
statics, hydraulics, pneumatics, electricity, and astro-
nomy, in all which my encouragement has been
greater than I could have expected.

The best machine I ever contrived is the eclip-
sareon, of which there is a figure in the thirteenth
plate of my Astrono/ny. It shows the time, quantity,
duration, and progress of solar eclipses at all parts of
the earth. My next best contrivance is the universal
dialing cylinder, of which there is a figure in the
eighth plate of the supplement to my Mechanical
Lectures.

It is now thirty years since I came to London, and
during all that time I have met with the highest
instances of friendship from all ranks of people, both
in town and country, which I do here acknowledge
with the utmost respect and gratitude, and particu-
larly the goodness of our present gracious sovereign,
who, out of his privy purse, allows me £^^0 a year,
which is regularly paid without any deduction.

To this narrative we shall add the few particulars
which are necessary to complete the view of Fergu-
son's life and character. ^

1 The following is a succinct list of his published works: —
I. Astro7iomical Tables, and Precepts for Calculating t)ie
True Times of Ne-u and Full Moons, &c., 1763. — 2. Tables
and Tracts relative to Several Arts a>id Scienees, 1767. — 3.
An Easy Introduction to Astronomy, for Y&ung Gentlemen
and Ladies, 2d edit. 1769. — 4. Astronotny Explained upon
Sir Isaac Newton's Principles, ^\^ edit. 1772. — 5. Lectures
on Select Subjects in Mechanics, Hydrostatics, Pneumatics,
atid Optics, 4th edit. 1772. — 6. Select Mec/utnical Exercises,
with a Short Account of tlie Life of t/u Autlior, by Himself,
'ilTi- — 7- The Art of Drawing in Perspective Made Easy,
1775 — 8. An Introduction to Electricity, 1775. — 9. Two

Ferguson was honoured with the royal bounty,
which he himself mentions, through the mere zeal of
King George III. in behalf of science. His majesty
had attended some of the lectures of the ingenious
astronomer, and often sent for him, after his acces-
sion, to converse upon scientific and curious topics.
He had the extraordinary honour of being elected a
member of the Royal Society without paying either
the initiatory or the annual fees, which were dis-
pensed with in his case from a supposition of his
being too poor to pay them without inconvenience.
From the same idea many persons gave him very
handsome presents. But to the astonishment of all
who knew him, he died worth about _;^6ooo.

"Ferguson," says Charles Hutton in his Mathe-
matical Dictionary, "must be allowed to have been
a very uncommon genius, especially in mechanical
contrivances and inventions, for he constructed many
machines himself in a very neat manner. He had
also a good taste in astronomy as well as in natural
and experimental philosophy, and was possessed of
a happy manner of explaining himself in a clear, easy,
and familiar way. His general mathematical know-
ledge, however, was little or nothing. Of algebra
he understood but little more than the notation; and
he has often told me that he could never demonstrate
one proposition in Euclid's Elements, his constant
method being to satisfy himself as to the truth of any
problem with a measurement by scale and compasses."
He was a man of very clear judgment in anything
that he professed, and of unwearied application to
study: benevolent, meek, and innocent in his man-
ners as a child ; humble, courteous, and communi-
cative : instead of pedantr}', philosophy seemed to
produce in him only diffidence and urbanity — a love
for mankind and for his Maker. His whole life was
an example of resignation and Christian piety. He
might be called an enthusiast in his love of God, if
religion founded on such substantial and enlightened
grounds as his was could be like enthusiasm. After
a long and useful life, unhappy in his family connec-
tions, in a feeble and precarious state of health, worn
out with study, age, and infirmities, he died on the
1 6th of November, 1776.

"Ferguson's only daughter," says Mr. Nichols in
his life of Bowyer, "was lost in a ver>' singular
manner at about the age of eighteen. She was re-
markable for the elegance of her person, the agree-
ablenessand vivacity of her conversation, and in philo-
sophic genius and knowledge worthy of such a father.
His son, Mr. Murdoch Ferguson, was a surgeon, and
attempted to settle at Bury, stayed but a little while,
went to sea, was cast away, and lost his all, a little
before his father's death, but found himself in no bad
plight after that event. He had another son, who
studied at Marischal College, Aberdeen, from 1772
to 1777, and afterwards, it is believed, applied to
physic."

The astronomer has been thus elegantly noticed in
Eudosia, a Poem on the Universe, by Mr. Capel
Lloft: —

" Nor shall thy guidance but conduct our feet,
O honoured shepherd of our later days!
Thee from the flocks, while thy untutored soul,
Mature in childhood, traced the starr>- course,
Astronomy, enamoured, gently led
Through all the splendid labyrinths of heaven,
And taught thee her stupendous laws; and clothed
In all the light of fair simplicity,
Thy apt expression."

Letters to tlie Rev. Mr. John Kennedy, 1775.— 10. A Third
Letter to tlie Rev. Mr. John Kcntudy, 1775. He communi-
cated also several letters to the Royal Society, which are
printed in their Transactions. In 1805 a ver>- valuable edition
of his lectures was pubUshed at Edinburgh by Dr. Brewster,
in 2 vols. 8vo, with notes and an appendix, the whole adapted
to the present state of the arts and sciences.

u

ROBERT FERGUSSON.

FERGUSSON, Robert, an ingenious poet, like
his successor Bums, drew his descent from the coun-
try north of the Forth. His father, William Fergus-
son, after ser>ing an apprenticeship to a tradesman
in Aberdeen, and having married Elizabeth Forbes, ]
by whom he had three children, removed, in 1746, i
to Edinburgh, where he was employed as a clerk by }
several masters in succession. It appears that the '
father of the poet had himself in early life courted j
the Muses, and was at all f>eriods remarkable as a
man of taste and ingenuity. When acting as clerk to
Messrs. Wardrop and Peat, upholsterers m Camibber's
Close, he framed a very useful book of rates; and he
eventually attained the respectable situation of ac-
countant to the Briibh Linen Company, but whether
in its ultimate capacity of a bank has not been men- i
tioned. Previous to his arrival in Edinburgh he
had two sons and a daughter, bom in the following [
order: Henrj-, 17+2; Barbara,' 1744; John (who j
seems to have died young), 1 746. After remo\ing
thither he had at least two other children, Robert, I
born 1750, and Margaret,* 1753.

The subject of this memoir was born on the 17th |
of October,' 1750, and was an exceedingly delicate
child. Owing to the state of his health, he was not ,
sent to school till his sLvth year, though it is likely I
that his parents gave him a good deal of private in- [
struction before that time. What renders this the
more probable is, that he had not been six months
under his first teacher (a Mr. Philp in Niddrj-'s
W\-nd) when he was judged fit to be transferred to
the high-school, and entered in the first Latin class.
Here he went through the usual classical course of
four years, under a teacher named Gilchrist. What
degree of proficiency he might have attained under
ordinarj' circumstances it is impossible to determine;
but it is to be related to his credit, that, though fre-
quently absent for a considerable period in conse-
quence of bad health, he nevertheless kept fully
abreast of his companions, a temporary application
being sufficient to bring him up to any point which the
class had attained in his absence. At the same time
he acquired, in the leisure of confinement, a taste for
general reading, and it is stated that the Bible was
his favourite book. A remarkable instance of the
vi\-id impressions of which he was s\isceptible occurred
at an early period. In p>erusing the Proverbs of
Solomon one passage struck his infant mind with
peculiar force ; and hastening to his mother's apart-
ment in tears, he besought her to chastise him. Sur-
prised at a request so extraordinary.-, she inquired the
cause of it, when he exclaimed — " O mother I he that
spareth the rod hateth the child I" So ingenuous by
nature was the mind of this boy, and such the pure
source whence his youth drew instructions, which,
disregarded but not forgotten amid the gaieties of a
long course of dissipation, at last reasserted in a fear-
ful manner their influence over him.

Fergusson finished his elementary education at the
grammar-school of Dundee, which he attended for
two years. His parents had resolved to educate him
for the church, and with that \-iew removed him in
his thirteenth year to the university of St. Andrews,
which he entered with the advantage of a bursarj-,
endowed by a Mr. Fergusson, for the benefit of
young men of the same name. Here his abilities re-
commended him to the notice of Dr. Wilkie, author

• .Afterwords the wife of Mr. David Inverarir>-, joiner.

* After»'ards the wife of Mr. Alexander Duvsj, purser in the
navy.

*The date usually given is 3th September, which appears,
however, from a list by Mrs. Duval, to have been the birth-
day of the elder sister, Barbara. The above is the date given
by Mrs. DuvaL

of the Epi^^oniad, then professor of natural philo-
sophy, and it has even been said that learned person
made choice of him to read his lectures to his class
when sickness or other causes prevented his own
p)erformance of the duty. Dr. Irsnng ridicules the
idea of a youth of sixteen "mounting," as he expresses
it, "the professorial rostrum;'' and besides the in-
adequacy of years, Fergusson possessed none of that
gravity of demeanour which was calculated to secure
the respectful attention of his compeers. His classi-
cal attainments were respectable, but for the austerer
branches of scholastic and scientific knowledge he
alwaj-s expressed, with the petulance of a youth of
lively parts who did not wish to be subjected to the
labour of hard study, a decided contempt. Dr.
Wilkie's regards must therefore have been attracted
by other qualifications than those of the graver and
more solid cast — namely, by the sprightly humour and
uncommon powers of conversation for which Fergus-
son was already in a remarkable degree distinguished.
The story of his reading the lectures in public
arose from his ha\'ing been employed to transcribe
them. Professor VUant, in a letter to Mr. Inverarity
on this subject, says, "A youthful frolicsome exhi-
bition of your uncle first directed Dr. Wilkie's at-
tention to him, and he afterwards employed him one
summer and part of another in transcribing a fair
copy of his academical lectures." On the doctor's
death, in 1772, Fergusson showed his gratitude in
a poem dedicated to his memory. In this composi-
tion, which assumed the form of a Scottish eclogue,
Wilkie's success as an agTicult;iral improver was not
forgotten. He had cultivated, with a very remark-
able degree of skill, a farm in the vicinity of St.
Andrews; and we must go back to the time when
our fathers were contented to raise small patches of
stunted com here and there, on the uninclosed moor,
in order to appreciate fially the enterprise which
merited the youthfiil poet's compliment: —

*" Lang had the thristles and the dockans been
In use to wag their taps upo' the green
WTiare now his bonny rigs delight the view.
And thriving hedges drink the cauler dew."

Among his fellow-students Fergusson was distin-
guished for ^^vacity and humour, and his poetical
talents soon began to display themselves on subjects
of local and occasional interest, in such a way as to
attract the notice both of his companions and of their
teachers. We are warranted in concluding, that
the pieces to which he owed this celebrity were dis-
tinguished by passages of no ordinary merit, for pro-
fessors are not a set of men upon whom it is easy to
produce an impression. It is indeed said that the
youthful poet chose the ready instnmient of sarcasm
with which to move their calm collectedness; but if
this were true, the satire must have been of a playfiil
nature; for, from all that has appeared, these gentle-
men manifested nothing but kindly feelings towards
their pupil, and he a corresponding afi'ection and re-
spect for them. Besides the tribute which he paid
to the memory of Wilkie, he wrote an elegy on the
death of Mr. Gregory*, the professor of mathematics, ^
in which, though the prevailing tone is that of re- I
spectful regret, we probably have an example of the
length to which he ventured in his satirical effusions.
Bewailing the loss that the scientific world had sus-
tained by the decease of this learned person, and
enumerating various instances of his sagacity, he
says, with irrepressible waggery,

" By numbers, too, he could divine
That three times three just made up nine;
But now he's dead!

Another effusion of which the occasion may be re-
ferred to the time of Fergusson's attendance at college,

ROBERT FERGUSSOX.

15

is his elegy on John Hogg, porter to the university;
in this piece he alludes with some humour to the
unwillingness with which ha was wont to quit his
comfortable bed in a morning after some frolic,
when that functionary was sent to summon him be-
fore the college tribunal. The familiarity of the old
door-keeper, together with the denii- professorial
stram of his admonitions, is not unhappily portrayed
in the stanza —

" When I had been fu' laith to rise,
John then begude to moralize —
' fhe tither nap — the sluggard cries,

And turns him round;
Sae spak auld Solomon the wise,

Uivine profound !' "

If Fergusson thus remembered in a kindly manner
the species of intercourse wiiicli his exploits had ren-
dered necessary between him and the servants of the
university, they seem on their part to have cherished
a corresponding degree of partiality for him. Mr.
James Inverarity, a nephew of the poet, had the
curiosity to ask one of them if he recollected Robert
Fergusson. "Bob Fergusson !" exclaimed the man;
"that I do ! Many a time I've put him to the door
— ah, he was a tricky callant; but," he added, "a
fine laddie for a' that." He seemed to feel great
pleasure in the recollection of so lively and so amiable
a boy.

While at college the young poet used to put in
practice a frolic which marks the singular vivacity
of his character. Whenever he received a remittance
from his friends at Edinburgh, he hung out the
money in a little bag attached by a string to the end
of a pole fixed in his window; and there he would
let it dangle for a whole day in the wind. He is
supposed to have done this partly from puerile exul-
tation in the possession of his wealth, and partly by
way of making a bravado in the eyes of his com-
panions; among whom, no doubt, the slenderness of
their funds and the failure of supplies would be fre-
quent subjects of raillery.

His talents of mimicry were great, and his sportive
humour was ever too exuberant, and sometimes led
him to overstep the bounds of justifiable indulgence.
"An instance of this," says Mr. Tennant in the Edin-
burgh Literary yournal (No. 164), "was communi-
cated to me by the late Rev. Dr. James Brown, his
fellow-student at St. Andrews, who was also a poet,^
and who, from kindred delights and sympathies, en-
joyed much of Fergusson's society. On the afternoon
of a college holiday they took a walk together into
the country, and after perambulating many farms,
and tripping with fraternal glee over field and hil-
lock, they at last, being desirous of a little rest, be-
thought themselves of calling at a small farmhouse,
or pendicle, as it is named, on the king's muirs of
Denino. They approached the house and were
kindly invited to a seat by the rustic and honest-
hearted family. A frank and unceremonious con-
versation immediately took place, in the course
of which it was discovered that a young person, a
member of the family, was lying ill of fever. The
playful Fergusson instantly took it into his head to
profess himself a medical practitioner; — he started
to his feet, begged to be shown to the sick-bed; ap-
proached, and felt the pulse of the patient; assumed
a serious air; put the usual pathological interroga-
tories; and pronounced his opinion with a pomp and
dignity worthy of a true doctor of physic. In short,

^ " Dr. Brown, who was for thirty years rector of a consider-
able parish in the neighbourhood of London, was the author of a
pjem called Britain Preserved, written about 1793, in refer-
ence to, and commendation of, Mr. Pitt's plan of policy, then
adopted."

he personated his assumed cliaracter so perfectly,
that his frientl Brown, though somewhat vexed, was
confounded into silent admiration of his dexterity.
On leaving the house, however, Mr. Brown expostu-
lated with him on the indefensibility of practising so
boldly on the simplicity of an unsuspecting family,
and of misleading their conceptions as to the cure of
the distemper, by a stratagem, on which, however
witty, neither of them could congratulate themselves."

The impulse of the moment seems to have been
at all times irresistible with Fergusson, without any
dread or consideration of the consequences which
his levity might produce. His voice being good, he
was requested, oftener than was agreeable to him,
to officiate as precentor at prayers. His wicked wit
suggested a method of getting rid of the distasteful
employment, which he did not scruple to put in prac-
tice, though there was great danger that it would
incense the heads of the college against him. It is
customary in the Scottish churches for persons who
are considered to be in a dangerous state of illness
to request the prayers of the congregation, which it
is the duty of the precentor publicly to intimate.
One morning when Fergusson occupied the desk,
he rose up, and, with the solemnity of tone usual
upon such occasions, pronounced — "Remember in

prayer, , a young man (then present) of

whom, from the sudden effects of inebriety, there ap-
pears but small hope of recovery."

A proceeding so indecorous could not but be
frowned upon by the professors; and another inci-
dent, which it was still less in their power to over-
look, soon occurred. The circumstances attending
the expulsion of the poet from the university have
occasioned some controversy, and we therefore deem
it best to give the account drawn up in 1801 by Dr.
Hill, and attested by Professor Vilant, who was
unable from sickness to do more at that time than
affix his name to it. "Mr. Nicholas Vilant," says
this document, "professor of mathematics, the only
person now in the university who was then a mem-
ber of it, declares, that in the year 1767, as he re-
collects, at the first institution of the prizes given by
the Earl of Kinnoul, late chancellor of this univer-
sity, there was a meeting one night, after the deter-
mination of the prizes for that year, of the winners
in one room of the united college, and a meeting of
the losers in another room at a small distance; that,
in consequence of some communication between the
winners and the losers, a scufile arose, which was
reported to the masters of the college, and that
Robert Fergusson and some others who had appeared
the most active were expelled; but that the next
day, or the day thereafter, they were all received
back into the college upon promises of good behav-
iour for the future." Dr. Wilkie's intercessions were
exerted on this occasion in behalf of the poet; nor
are we to suppose that the cordial co-operation of
others was wanting, for Mr. Inverarity assures us
that in Mr. Vilant, Fergusson had found a friend
and judicious director of his studies. On the whole,
this transaction affords a proof that Fergusson, what-
ever might be his indiscretions, had not, by refrac-
tory or disrespectful conduct, rendered himself ob-
noxious to the heads of the university, since, had
that been the case, it is to be presumed they would
have availed themselves of this infraction of aca-
demical discipline to make good his expulsion. If,
therefore, the first aspirations of his muse were em-
ployed in satirical effusions against his instructors,
it must have been with an absence of all bitterness,
and in a vein of pleasantry which was not meant to
be, and did not prove, offensive.

Of the progress made by Fergusson in his studies

i6

ROBERT FERGUSSON.

wc have no means of forming a very exact estimate.
"He performed," says Dr. Irving, "with a sufficient
share of applause, the various exercises which the
rules of his college prescribed. " '\'ct it is acknow-
ledged that he found more pleasure in the active
sports of youth, and in social enjoyment, than in
habits of recluse study. His time, however, does
not seem to have been spent without some plans of
more serious application. A book which belonged
to him, entitled A Dc-fence of the Church Goz'eriiinent,
Faith, Heirship, and Spirit of the Presbyterians, is pre-
served; the blank leaves of this volume were de-
voted by him to the somewhat incongruous purpose
of receiving scraps of speeches, evidently the germs
of a play which he meditated writing. Another
dramatic scheme of his assumed a more decided
shape; he finished two acts of a tragedy, founded on
the achievements and fate of Sir William Wallace,
but abandoned the undertaking, having seen another
play on the same subject, and being afraid that his
own might be considered a plagiarism. Probably
both productions were of a commonplace descrip-
tion; and the poet, perceiving the flatness of that
of which he was not the author, and conscious of the
similarity of his own, relinquished an undertaking to
which his abilities certainly were not equal. It has
been observed, that the choice of the subject affords
an evidence of Fergusson's judgment; inasmuch as
the fate of the illustrious Scottish hero, together with
his disinterested patriotism and braver)', supply a
much more eligible theme for the tragical muse, than
the deaths of Macbeth, Richard III., Pizarro, or any
other tyrant of ancient or modern times, whose ca-
tastrophes, being nothing more than the vengeance
due to their crimes, cannot e.xcite those sympathetic
feelings that arise only from the contemplation of
suffering virtue. This would be very justly said
if it were true that the success of a dramatic author
depends upon his enlisting the approbation of the
audience in behalf of his hero. But the case is
widely different. A view of human nature under
the influence of some powerful emotion, with which
mankind in general are not familiar, seems to be
what is mainly required. All men are not acquainted
with the workings of an ambitious and wicked heart;
and hence, when the tyrant is exhibited before them,
they learn something that is new and surprising, and
the skill of the poet meets with its proportionate
meed of applause. But there are few, indeed, who
have not considered from their youth up the char-
acter of a great patriot like Wallace; their admira-
tion and pity have been bestowed upon him from
their tenderest years, and there is nothing left for
poetry to effect. Nor was the genius of Fergusson
fitted for the delineation of a majestic character.
He had a fund of humour, an agreeable gaiety, but
not much reach of passion or of feeling. In his Eng-
lish blank verses there is no stately flow nor eleva-
tion of sentiment. His mind, moreover, did not
possess strength sufficient to accom]jlish more than
can be done in a series of occasional verses; he had
not as much resolution to carry him through the
succession of efforts necessary for the completion of
a dramatic poem; and, on the whole, we see no occa-
sion either for surprise or regret that he never per-
fected his third act.

What were the reasons for Fergusson abandoning
his academical career is nowhere mentioned. Pro-
bably he had no great heart for the profession to
which he had been destined, and was prevented by
want of pecuniary means from pursuing his studies
with a view to any other. When the term of his
bursary expired, which was at the end of four years,
he quitted St. Andrews, and returned to Edinburgh,

to his mother's house, his father having died two '
years before. Here, if his prospects were not gloomy,
his plans were unsettled, and never took any decided
aim for his settlement in life. The profession of a
teacher has been resorted to by many who have
acquired some learning, but whose narrow circum-
stances did not allow them to aspire to more pleas-
ant and profitable employments; and, even after
qualifying themselves for superior offices, numbers
of young men, failing to obtain the reward of their
labours, fall back upon that humbler means of ob-
taining a subsistence. But for the patient duties of
a schoolmaster Fergusson's ardent temperament
completely disqualified him, and probably he never
thought of the alternative. The study of medicine
was suggested to him; but this was no less distaste-
ful, for to such vivid nervous excitement was he
liable, that he could not read the description of a
disease without imagining that his own frame felt
its symptoms.

After some time spent in vain hope that some
opening would present itself, he paid a visit to Mr.
John Forbes, a maternal uncle, near Aberdeen, who,
being in easy circumstances, was expected to do
something for his nephew. That gentleman, accord-
ing to the usual account, entertained him for some
time, hoping, perhaps, that after a reasonable stay,
such as the hospitality of an uncle's roof might war-
rant, he would take his leave and give him no farther
trouble. But time slipped on, and Fergusson still
continued his guest. At last the habiliments of the
dependent relative began to grow somewhat shabby,
and an intimation was conveyed to him that he was
no longer fit to appear at Mr. Forbes's table. The
indignant poet immediately retired to an ale-house
in the neighbourhood, where he penned a letter full
of resentment of the usage he had received. This
remonstrance produced some little efifect, for his
uncle sent him, by a messenger, a few shillings to
bear his charges to Edinburgh. He performed the
journey on foot, and returned to his mother's house
so worn out with fatigue, and ovenvhelmed with
mortification, that he fell into a serious illness. In
a few days his strength of body revived, and he re-
gained sufficient composure of mind to express his
vexation in a poem, entitled The Decay of Friendship,
and his grounds for philosophic resignation in another.
Against Repining at Fortune. These pieces exhibit
some fluency of versification, but do not breathe any
poetic fire. In the first he bewails the ingratitude
of man, and, according to ancient usage, determines
to resort to some solitary shore, there to disclose
his griefs to the murmuring surge, and teach the
hollow caverns to resound his woes. In the second k
he declares that he was able to contemplate the I
gorgeous vanity of state with a cool disdain, and J
after reasoning the matter on the inadequacy of wealth
to procure happiness, concludes that virtue is the
sacred source of permanent and heart-felt satisfaction
— a fact, the truth of which is so very generally ac-
knowledged, that the statement and elucidation of
it is no longer considered to constitute poetry.

The behaviour of Mr. Forbes in the matter just
related has been reprobated as ungenerous in the
extreme. But it seems questionable whether the
censure be merited in its full extent. Every man is,
no doubt, bound to assist his fellow-men, and more
particularly those who are connected with his own
family, or have other claims to his patronage, as far
as lies in his power. But it is difficult to fix the
limits to which his exertions ought, in any particular
case, to be carried. It may seem very clear to every
one at the present day that Fergusson was a man of
genius, and ought to have been promoted to some

ROBERT FERGUSSON.

17

office which might have conferred independence, at
the same time that it left him leisure for the cultiva-
tion of his literary talents. This was, however, by
no means so apparent at the period to which we refer,
nor perhaps at any future period during the poet's
lifetime. He presented himself in his uncle's house
an expectant of favour; but his expectations might
not, to any ordinary-minded person, appear very rea-
sonable. He was a young man that had addicted
himself to the profitless occupation of rhyming (who
could tell he was to render himself eminent by it?) ;
he could not submit his mind to common business,
and had aversions, that did not appear to rest on very
feasible foundations, to certain employments which
were proposed to him : and when we consider to
how close a scrutiny it is reasonable that those who
solicit patronage should be prepared to submit, it
does not seem wonderful that he should have been
regarded as a young man who was disposed to re-
main idle, and that his friends should have been dis-
couraged from using their influence in behalf of one
who did not seem willing to do what he could for
himself. We know few of the circumstances that
took place during Fergusson's residence with his
uncle, and it is unjust to deal out reproaches so much
at random.

Some time after his return to Edinburgh, Fergus-
son obtained employment as a copyist of legal papers,
in the office of the commissary clerk of Edinburgh;
a situation miserably inferior to his talents, but
which his straitened circumstances and his total want
of an aim in life compelled him to accept. With
the exception of some months devoted to similar
duties at the sheriff-clerk's office, he spent, in this
humble employment, the remainder of his brief and
unhappy life. The change from the one office to
the other seems to have been dictated purely by that
desire of an alternation of misery, which caused the
soldier who suffered under flagellation to cry first
"strike high," and then "strike low." Having ex-
perienced some trouble from the fretful temper of the
deputy commissary clerk, Mr. Abercromby, under
whom he performed his drudgery, he sought relief
in the other office ; but finding worse evils there in
the painful nature of the sheriff's duties as an enforcer
of executions, he speedily solicited re-admission to
his former place, and was glad to obtain it. It is
generally supposed that Fergusson's employment
involved the study of law, and that in that lay the
unpleasantness of his situation. But in reality, the
study of law, allowing it to be as dry as several of
Fergusson's biographers have represented it, and as
unsuitable as they have supposed to the mercurial
genius of a poet, would have been absolutely a daily
delight of the highest kind, compared to the monoto-
nous duties of perpetual transcription, which formed
in reality the extent of the poet's professional la-
bours.

This wretched drudgery, however, was relieved
in two ways. Fergusson, during the whole period
of his residence in Edinburgh as a clerk or copyist,
wrote more or less poetry almost every day. At the
same time he spent a part of almost every evening
in those convivial regalements with which the citizens
of Edinburgh of all classes were then accustomed to
solace themselves after the drudgery of the day.

The mind of the poet was partly directed to Eng-
lish classical models: he wrote pastorals and dia-
logues, in the manner of Pope, Shenstone, and
Somerville; but these are mere exhibitions of lan-
guage, totally uninspired by the least force or origi-
nality of ideas, and would now weary even the most
patient antiquary in the perusal. Fortunately he
also adventured upon the course lately left vacant by

VOL. 11.

Ramsay, and there found themes for which his genius
was better adapted. The humours and peculiarities
of social life in the ancient city of Edinburgh attracted
his attention, and became in his hands the materials
of various specimens of Scottish poetry, which far
surpassed the similar poems of Ramsay, and are but
little inferior to those of Burns. In his Lcith Races,
The Rising and Sitting of the Session, Caiiler Oysters,
and The King's Birth-Jay, there is a power of hum-
orous description which at once stamps him as a
poet of superior genius, even if the nervous sense of
his Braid Claith, Caulcr Jlater, and other poems
upon general subjects, and the homely grace of his
Farmer's Ingle, which describes in the most vivid
and genuine colours a scene worthy of the highest
effiarts of the muse, had not placed him still more
unequivocally in that rank. The language employed
by Fergusson is much more purely Scottish than
that of Bums, and he uses it with a readiness and
ease in the highest degree pleasing. He has not the
firm and vigorous tone of Burns, but more softness
and polish, such as might have been expected from
his gentler and perhaps more instructed mind. The
poet chiefly wrote these effusions for a periodical
work, entitled Ruddiman' s Weekly Magazine, where
they attracted a considerable share of public atten-
tion, not only in Edinburgh but throughout the
country.

The convivialities of Fergusson have been generally
described as bordering on excess, and as characteriz-
ing himself in particular, amidst a population gene-
rally sober. The real truth is, that the poor poet
indulged exactly in the same way, and in general to
the same extent, as other young men of that day.
The want of public amusements, the less general
taste for reading, and the limited accommodations
of private houses in those days, led partly to a
practice which, as already mentioned, prevailed
among all orders of people in Edinburgh of frequent-
ing taverns in the evening for the sake of relaxation
and exercise of the intellect. The favourite haunt of
Robert Fergusson, and many other persons of his
own standing, was Lucky Middlemass's tavern in the
Cowgate, which he celebrates in his poem on Caiiler
Oysters. One of the individuals who almost nightly
enjoyed his company there, communicated to the
present writer, in 1827, the following particulars re-
specting the extent and nature of their convivi-
alities : —

"The entertainment almost invariably consisted
of a few boards of raw oysters, porter, gin, and
occasionally a rizzared [dried] haddock, which was
neither more nor less than what formed the evening
enjoyments of most of the citizens of Edinburgh.
The best gin was then sold at about five shillings a
gallon, and accordingly the gill at Lucky Middle-
mass's cost only threepence. The whole debauch of
the young men seldom came to more than sixpence

or sevenpence. Mr. S distinctly recollects that

Fergusson always seemed unwilling to spend any
more. They generally met at eight o'clock, and
rose to depart at ten ; but Fergusson was sometimes
prevailed upon to outsit his friends, by other persons
who came in later, and, for the sake of his company,
entreated him to join them in further potations.
The humour of his conversation, which was in itself
the highest treat, frequently turned upon the odd
and obnoxious characters who then abounded in the
town. In the case, however, of the latter, he never
permitted his satire to become in the least rancorous.
He generally contented himself with conceiving
them in ludicrous or awkward situations, such, for
instance, as their going home .at night, and having
their clothes bleached by an impure ablution from

37

i8

ROBERT FERGUSSON.

the garrets — a very common occurrence at that time,
and the mention of which was sufficient to awaken
the sympathies of all present."

The personal appearance of the poet is thus de-
scribed by the same informant: — "In stature Fergus-
son was about five feet nine, slender and handsome.
His face never exhibited the least trace of red, but
was perfectly and uniformly pale, or rather yellow.
He had all the appearance of a person in delicate

health ; and Mr. S remembers that, at last, he

could not eat raw oysters, but was compelled by the
weakness of his stomach to ask for them pickled.
His forehead was elevated, and his whole countenance
open and pleasing. He wore his own fair brown
hair, with a long massive curl along each side of the
head, and terminating in a queue, dressed with a
black silk riband. His dress was never very good,
but often much faded, and the white thread stockings
■which he generally wore in preference to the more
common kind of gray worsted, he often permitted
to become considerably soiled before changing them."

The following anecdote has been related for the
purpose of showing the irksomeness of the poet
under his usual avocations. In copying out the
extract of a deed, one forenoon, he blundered it two
different times, and was at length obliged to abandon
the task without completing it. On returning in
the evening he found that the extract had been
much wanted, and he accordingly sat down with
great reluctance to attempt it a third time. He had
not, however, half accomplished his task, when he
cried out to his office companion that a thought had
just struck him, which he would instantly put into
verse, and carry to RudJiinaii^s Magazine (on the eve
of publication), but that he would instantly return and
complete the extract. He immediately scrawled
out the following stanza on one Thomas Lancashire,
who, after acting the gravedigger in Hamlet, and
other such characters, on the Edinburgh stage, had
set up a public-house, in which he died : —

"Alas, poor Tom! how oft, with merry heart,
Have we beheld thee play the sexton's part !
Each comic heart must now be grieved to see
The sexton's dreary part performed on thee."

On his return towards the office he called at the
shop of his friend Sommers, paintseller and glazier,
in the Parliament Close, where he found a boy read-
ing a poem on creation. This circumstance furnished
him with the point of another epigram, which he
immediately scribbled down, and left for Mr. Som-
mers's perusal. These proceedings occupied him
about twenty minutes, and he then returned to his
drudgery.

Uniform tradition, and every other testimony,
ascribe to Fergusson an excellent voice, and a most
captivating manner of singing the simple melodies
of his native country. His Birks of Invermay long
survived in the recollection of his associates as a
musical gem of the first lustre. The following anec-
dote, communicated by his biographer Sommers, at
once proves his vocal powers and reflects a light
upon his character. "In one of his convivial frolics
he laid a wager with some of his associates that, if
they would furnish him with a certain number of
printed ballads (no matter what kind), he would
undertake to dispose of them as a street singer in the
course of two hours. The bet was laid, and next
evening, being in the month of November, a large
bundle of ballads were procured for him. He
wrapped himself in a shabby greatcoat, put on an
old scratch wig, and in this disguised form commenced
his adventure at the weigh-house, head of the West
]5ow. In his going, down the Lawnmarket and
High Street, he had the address to collect great

multitudes around him, while he amused them with
a variety of favourite Scottish songs, by no means
such as he had ballads for, and gained the wager by
disposing of the whole collection. He waited on
his companions by eight o'clock that evening, and
spent with them in mirthful glee the produce of his
street adventure."

Fergusson's disposition led him into many frolics;
of which the following instances are recounted. His
landlord happened to be a man very much given to
intemperance, at the same time that he aspired to
all the honours of a saint. One night he attempted
to perform family worship in a state of complete in-
toxication, when, to his inconceivable horror, every
sentence of his prayer was echoed Ijy some unseen
being at no great distance. Confounded with drunken
terror, he ordered his family to retire, and tak aiua
the bulks. It was Fergusson who thus alarmed him
from a neighbouring closet. Afterwards the poor
man gave his family an impressive lecture on the
necessity of their improving their ways, as he felt
certain that something serious was about to befall
them. He even unbosomed his own conscience to
the waggish cause of all his terrors, and received,
with marks of extreme contrition, the absolution
which Fergusson administered to him in considera-
tion of his repentance. On another occasion Fer-
gusson went, with some companions, to the door of
a similar zealot, and began to whine forth a psalm in
burlesque of the hypocritical habits (as he considered
them) of those within. With even less justifiable
thoughtlessness, he once threw into the open window
of a Glassite meeting-house a paper, on which he
had inscribed some lines in imitation of the manner
in which they were pleased to perform their devotions.
A more innocent frolic was as follows: having procured
a sailor's dress, he dressed himself in it, assumed a
huge stick, and sallying out, paid a round of visits to
his acquaintances. He was so effectually disguised
that few or none of them knew him; and by throwing
forth hints of some of their former indiscretions, he
so much surprised them that they imputed his know-
ledge to divination. By this means he procured from
many of them such a fund of information as enabled
him to give them a greater surprise when he resumed
the genuine character of Robby Fergusson. For in
the sailor's habit he informed them of many frailties
and failings, which they imagined it impossible for
any one of his appearance to know ; and in the
habit of Robby Fergusson he divulged many things
which they believed none but the ragged sailor was
acquainted with. Fergusson's power of mimicry
was indeed admirable, and he displayed a consider-
able turn for acting in general. Towards the end
of his life he was the very life and soul of a particu-
lar spouting club to which he attached himself.

In the circle of his acquaintance, though it ex-
tended through nearly all ranks of society, he had
few more respectable friends than Mr. Woods, a
distinguished player long established in Edinburgh.
Woods was a man of w-it, taste, and good sense, to
which good qualities he added a prudence of con-
duct, in which it is to be wished that the poet had
uniformly imitated him. Through the influence of
Mr. Woods, and in consideration perhaps of occa-
sional poetical ser\'ices, he enjoyed a free admission
to the theatre, of which he took not unfrequent
advantage. To quote a memorandum which has
been supplied to us on this subject : — "He always
sat in the central box, denominated the Shakspeare
box ; and his mode of expressing approbation in
comic performances was very singular. Instead of
clapping his hands, or using any exclamations, he
used to show how much he was delighted by raising

ROBERT FERGUSSON.

19

liis riglit hand clenclied above his head, and bringing
it down emphatically on the front of the box, with
a sweeping blow."

His brotiier Henry, who was eight years older
than himself, had before this period been obliged by
some youthful indiscretions to go to sea. Henry
was a youth of considerable acquirements and in-
genuity, and in particular had an extraordinary taste
for fencing. Some letters are extant which the
young sailor addressed to his mother and brother,
and they certainly display powers of mind and habits
of reflection which, if discovered on shipboard, must
have astonished his superiors. Apparently quite
tired of the hopeless drudgery of his office, and per-
haps impelled by more pressing considerations,
Robert Fergusson at one time contemplated the
course of life now pursued by his brother, the wild
dangers of which might harve some charm to a poet's
breast. He thus humorously alludes to his design
in an epigram: —

" Fortune and Bob, e'er since his birth,
Could never yet agree;
She fairly kicked him from the earth.
To try his fate at sea."

He was not destined, however, to execute this resolu-
tion.

In 1773 Fergusson's poems were collected from
the IFcv/c/}' Magazine into one volume; but it does
not appear that the poet reaped any pecuniary benefit
from the publication. It is probable, indeed, that
this admired son of genius never realized a single
shilling by his writings.

For a brief number of years Fergusson led the
aimless life which we have endeavoured to describe,
obtaining the means of a scanty subsistence by a ser-
vile and unworthy drudgery, and cheering his leisure
moments with mingled intellectual exertion and con-
vivial dissipation. To many persons he was recom-
mended by his fascinating conversation, his modesty,
and his gentle and affectionate character. Of these,
however, with but one exception, there were none
who either felt called upon, or had it in their power,
to advance his worldly fortunes. That exception
was a Mr. Burnet, who, becoming much attached to
the poet at Edinburgh, was afterwards enabled to
send him a draught for a hundred pounds from
India, with an invitation to come thither, in order
to experience still more solid and lasting proofs of
his friendship. Even of this single ray of kindness
from his fellowmen the poor poet was destined to
reap no advantage, being dead before the money and
the invitation arrived. The unhappy youth con-
tinued, so long as his mind was sensible of anything,
to feel that, with powers which elevated him above
most of his fellows, and were likely to make him be
remembered when all of them were forgotten, he yet
ate every day a bitterer and a scantier meal, and
moiled on and on in hopeless poverty, at once the
instrument and the victim of their pleasures.

Early in the year 1774, when his frame was pe-
culiarly exposed by the effects of a certain medicine
to cold, he was induced to accompany some gentle-
men, who were interested in an election business, to
one of the eastern counties of Scotland. It is no
imcommon thing for cold, contracted under such
circumstances, to produce mental derangement; and
such was the melancholy destiny of Fergusson ! Be-
ing involved in the riotous scenes of the election,
he easily caught the baneful distemper, the effects
of which were quite as much mental as physical.
While in this disordered state he happened one day
to wander into the churchyard, where he was soon
after accosted by the venerable John Brown, author

of many well-known works in divinity, and who
exercised the humble but respectable functions of a
dissenting clergyman in the town. After a few
trivial remarks had passed between them, Mr. Brown
was led by the nature of the scene to advert to the
mortality of man, observing that in a short time they
would soon be laid in the dust, and that therefore it
was wise to prepare for eternity. To Mr. Brown
the conversation seemed the most casual and unim-
portant that could well be. But such were not its
effects. In the present state of the poet's mind his
early religious impressions were fast reviving, and
while the penalties of folly wrung his nerves, his
thoughts wandered back over his misspent and un-
prosperous life. Upon a mind so prepared the acci-
dental remarks of the divine (who did not even know
who he was) sunk as deep as if they had been im-
printed in characters of fire. He returned home an
altered and despairing man.

One of his intimate friends, who met him in
March, 1774, a short time after this event, found
him somewhat tranquillized, but still in a very pre-
carious state. The poor bard gave an account of the
excesses which had lately produced such dreadful
effects, and spoke with terror of what would be
unavoidable in the event of a relapse — confinement
in the common asylum for insane persons. He also
introduced the subject of religion, and conversed
with much earnestness on some of its fundamental
doctrines. " Upon a particular occasion, which he
specified, he said a Mr. Ferrier, at or near St. An-
drews, had alarmed and rather displeased him by
maintaining what are usually denominated the ortho-
dox tenets of our Scottish creeds : and Fergusson
appeared to differ, in a very considerable degree,
from the commonly received notions on these sub-
jects. He did not seem to be satisfied of the ne-
cessity of the fall of man, and of a mediatorial sac-
rifice for human iniquity; and he questioned, with
considerable boldness, the consistency of such doc-
trines with the attributes of divine wisdom and good-
ness. At the same time, however, he confessed the
imperfect nature of the human intellect, and the un-
fathomable depth of all such inquiries. This is the
only gleam of infidelity which ever seems to have
diminished the fearful gloom of superstitious terror:
no consoling rays of genuine religion charmed his
bosom; no sounds of peace gladdened his heart, and
enabled him to sustain, with fortitude and calmness,
the sorrows which oppressed him. He anticipated
' the last peal of the thunder of heaven ' as the voice
of eternal vengeance speaking in wrath, and con-
signing him to irremediable perdition."'

After having partially recovered from his disorder,
his mind is said to have received another shock from
the following incident : —

"In the room adjoining to tliat in which he slept
was a starling, which being seized one night by a cat
that had found its way down the chimney, awakened
Mr. Fergusson by the most alarming screams.
Having learned the cause of the alarm, he began
seriously to reflect how often he, an accountable
and immortal being, had in the hour of intemperance
set death at defiance, though it was thus terrible, in
reality, to an unaccountable and sinless creature.
This brought to his recollection the conversation of
the clergyman, which, aided by the solemnity of
midnight, wrought his mind up to a pitch of remorse
that almost bordered on frantic despair. Sleep now
forsook his eyelids; and he rose in the morning, not
as he had formerly done, to mix again with the

1 VcicrVm's Li/e 0/ Fergitsson, prefixed to London edition

of his poems, 1807.

20

ROBERT FERGUSSON.

social and the gay, but to be a recluse from society,
and to allow the remembrance of his past follies to
prey upon his vitals. All his vivacity now forsook
him; those lips which were formed to give delight
were closed as by the hand of death, and on his
countenance sat horror plumed!"'

It is probably to this period that we are to refer
two anecdotes which have been related as giving
the first proofs of a decided cra2e in his understand-
ing. Mr. Tennant, in an article which has been
already quoted, says: — "It is difficult, even in sane
persons, to determine where wit ends and temporary
reeling of the imagination begins; and in the case of
Fergusson, whose conceptions were ever so vivid,
and whose wit was so fantastical and irregular, it
was difficult for his friends to discriminate between
his wit and his madness — to set a boundary-line be-
tween those of his days that were but frolicsome and
funny, and those that were desperately and invariably
delirious. The first occurrence that startled his
comrades, and put them in alarm for the safety of
his understanding, took place one day in the High

Street of Edinburgh, when Mr. B , one of his

friends (who, I believe, is still alive), was standing
engaged in conversation with a knot of acquain-
tances. Fergusson came running up, apparently in
a state of high perturbation ; and, accosting them
familiarly, as he was wont, acquainted them that,
confused and perturbed as he was, it was a mar\-el
that they saw him alive that day at all. On ques-
tioning him, with a desire that he should explain
himself, he informed them that on the night before
he had met with some Irish students in the street,
with whom he had an altercation that led to a
quarrel; that they scuffled and buffeted each other
furiously ; that the combat deepened to deadly
ferocity, when one of them, the bloodiest homicide
of the troop, at last drew out a cutlass, with which
he smote off his head at one blow; that his head
ran down the strand trembling and streaming blood
for many paces; that had it not been for his presence
of mind he must infallibly have been a dead man ;
but that, running instantly after the head, decapitated
as he was, he snatched it up, and replaced it so
nicely on its former position, that the parts coalesced,
and no man could discover any vestiges of decapita-
tion. This story was told with such wild looks and
extravagant gesticulation as impressed the hearers
with the suspicion that his mind had shifted from its
wonted 'form and pressure;' a suspicion that was
afterwards fully confirmed by other more decided
and unfortunate indications."

The other anecdote, which indicates a more ad-
vanced stage of insanity, is as follows: — Mr. Woods,
of the Theatre Royal, one day met him at the bottom
of St. Anne Street, under the North Bridge (a street
which does not now exist), and found him in a very
disordered state. "I have just," said Fergusson in
a confidential tone, "made a most important dis-
covery." On Mr. Woods inquiring what it was, he
answered, "I have found out one of the reprobates
who crucified our Saviour; and in order to bring
him to proper punishment I am going to lodge an
information against him with Lord Kames." He
then walked off towards the residence of that dis-
tinguished philosopher and judge.

Even from this second shock his reason was be-
ginning to recover, when all was thrown into tenfold
disorder by a fall which he met with one evening in
descending a stair. Having cut his head severely,
he lost a great deal of blood, and was carried home

' y^^^^y ^''■- loi'erarity, in Gleig's Supplement to t/te En-
cj/clopaata Britannka.

to his mother's house in a state of delirium, and
totally insensible of his deplorable condition. His
reason seemed to be now in a great measure de-
stroyed. He passed nights and days in total abstin-
ence from food, sometimes muttering dolefully to
himself, and at other times so outrageous that it
required the strength of several men to keep him in
his bed. Occasionally he sang his favourite melodies,
but in a style of pathos and tenderness such as he
had never before reached. In particular, he chanted
The Birks of Invermay with such exquisite melody,
that those who heard his notes could never forget the
sound. While in this state, probably anticipating
that miserable catastrophe which soon after happened,
he burned all his manuscripts, remarking, when the
task was done, "I am satisfied; I feel some consola-
tion in never having written anything against re-
ligion." Like Collins hfe now used but one book,
but he probably felt, with that unfortunate bard,
"that it was the best." It is needless to mention
that this sole companion of his moody hours was the
Bible.

The circumstances of his widowed mother were
not, unfortunately, of such a kind as to enable her to
keep her son, and procure for him the attendance
necessar)' for his malady in her own house. She
was, therefore, compelled to make arrangements for
consigning him to a very ■wretched public asylum,
which, before the erection of an elegant building at
Momingside, was the only place in connection with
the Scottish capital where such accommodations
could be obtained. This house was situated within
a gloomy nook of the old city wall, with another large
building closing it up in front, as if it had been
thought necessary to select for the insane a scene as
sombre and wretched as their own mental condition.
To this horrid mansion it was found necessary to con-
vey Fergusson by a kind of stratagem, for he was too
well aware of what was contemplated, and too much
alive to the horrors of the place, to have either gone
willingly himself, or to have been conveyed thither
w^ithout some indecent exposure. Two friends, there-
fore, were instructed to pay him a visit about night-
fall, as if for the purpose of inquiring after his wel-
fare. He met them with easy confidence, and after
some conversation, in which he took part like a sane
man, they proposed that he should accompany them
on a visit to a friend at another part of the town.
To this he cheerfully consented, and was accordingly
placed in a sedan which they had in readiness at the
bottom of the stair. The unhappy youth then per-
mitted himself to be conveyed peaceably along the
streets till he arrived at the place which he had all
along feared would be his final abode. The chair
was conveyed into the hall, and it was only when
Fergusson stepped out that he perceived the decep-
tion which had been practised upon him. One wild
halloo — the heart-burst of despair — broke from him,
and was immediately echoed from the tenants of the
surrounding cells. Thrilled with horror, his friends
departed, and left the wretched Fergusson to his
fate.

"During the first night of his confinement," says
Mr. Sommers, "he slept none; and when the keeper
visited him in the morning, he found him walking
along the stone floor of his cell, with his arms folded,
and in sullen sadness, uttering not a word. After
some minutes' silence, he clapped his right hand on
his forehead, and complained much of pain. He
asked the keeper who brought him there? He
answered, 'Friends.' 'Yes, friends, indeed,' re-
plied Robert; 'they think I am too wicked to live,
but you will soon see me a burning arid a shining
light' 'Vou have been so already,' observed the

ROBERT FERGUSSON.

keeper, alluding to his poems. 'You mistake me,'
said the poet: 'I mean, you shall see and hear of
me as a bright minister of the gospel.'"

P'ergusson continued about two months to occupy
a cell in this gloomy mansion. Occasionally, when
the comparative tramjuiliity of his mind permitted it,
his friends were allowed to visit him. A few days
before his dissolution his mother and sister found
him lying on his straw bed calm and collected. The
evening was chill and damp: he requested his mother
to gather the bed-clothes about him, and sit on his
feet, for he said they were so very cold as to be
almost insensible to the touch. She did so, and his
sister took her seat by the bedside. lie then looked
wistfully in the face of his affectionate parent, and
said, "Oh, mother, this is kind indeed." Then ad-
dressing his sister, he said, "Might you not come
frequently and sit beside me; you cannot imagine
how comfortable it would be; you might fetch your
seam, and sew beside me." To this no answer was
returned: an interval of silence was filled up by sobs
and tears. "What ails ye?" inquired the dying poet;
"wherefore sorrow for me, sirs? I am very well
cared for here — I do assure you, I want for nothing
— but it is cold — it is very cold. You know I told
you it would come to this at last — yes, I told you so.
Oh, do not go yet, mother — I hope to be soon — oh,
do not go yet — do not leave me!" The keeper,
however, whispered that it was time to depart, and
this was the last time that Fergusson saw these
beloved relatives.

Mr. Sommers thus describes his last interview with
the poet, which took place in company with Dr.
John Aitken, another friend of the unfortunate
maniac: — "We.got immediate access to the cell, and
found Robert lying with his clothes on, stretched
upon a bed of loose uncovered straw. The moment
he heard my voice he arose, got me in his arms, and
wept. The doctor felt his pulse, and declared it to
be favourable. I asked the keeper to allow him to
accompany us into an adjoining back-court, by way
of taking the air. He consented. Robert took hold
of me by the arm, placing me on his right, and the
doctor on his left, and in this form we walked back-
ward and forward along the court, conversing for
nearly an hour, in the course of which many ques-
tions were asked both by the doctor and myself, to
which he returned most satisfactory answers; but he
seemed very anxious to obtain his liberty. Having
passed two hours with him on this visit, we found it
necessary to take our leave, the doctor assuring him
that he would soon be restored to his friends, and
that I would visit him again in a day or two. He
calmly and without a murmur walked with us to the
cell, and, upon parting, reminded the doctor of his
promise to get him soon at liberty, and of mine to
see him next day. Neither of us, however, had an
opportunity of accomplishing our promise, for in a
few days thereafter I received an intimation from the
keeper that Robert Fergusson had breathed his last."
Before this period Mrs. Fergusson had been en-
abled, by a remittance from her son Henry, to make
some preparations for receiving the poor maniac back
into her own house, where superior accommodations,
and the tenderness of a mother's and a sister's love,
might have been expected to produce some favourable
effect. But it came too late : misery had already
secured her victim. "In the solitude of his cell,"
says Mr. Peterkin, "amid the terrors of the night,
'without a hand to help or an eye to pity,' the poet
expired. His dying couch was a mat of straw; the
last sounds that pealed upon his ear were the bowl-
ings of insanity. No tongue whispered peace; and
even a consoling tear of sympathy mingled not with

those of contrition and hope, which, in charity I
trust, illumined his closing eye."

Robert Fergusson died on the iGtli of October,
1774, aged one day less than twenty-four years. His
body was interred in the Canongatc Churchyard,
where his grave remained quite undistinguished, until
his successor, and (as he was pleased to acknowledge)
his imitator, Robert Burns, appeared in Edinburgh.
WHen Burns came to the grave of Fergusson he
uncovered his head, and, with his characteristic en-
thusiasm, kneeling down, embraced the venerated
clay. He afterwards ol)tained permission from the
magistrates to erect a monument to Fergusson, which
he inscribed with the following stanza : — •

"No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay,
' No storied urn, nor animated bust;'
This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way
To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust."

On the reverse of the monument, which is literally
a "simple stone," is the following honourable inscrip-
tion: "By special grant of the managers to Robert
Burns, who erected this stone, this burial-place is
ever to remain sacred to the memory of Robert Fer-
gusson." In more than one of his effusions in prose
and poetry the Ayrshire poet has bewailed the fate
of Fergusson; but perhaps the following little elegy,
which he inscribed on a copy of the works of that
poet which he presented to a young lady (March 19,
1787), is less generally known than the rest : —

' ' Curse on ungrateful man, that can be pleased
And yet can starve the author of his pleasure!
Oh thou, my elder brother in misfortune,
By far my elder brother in the muses,
With tears I pity thy unhappy fate!
Why is the bard unfitted for the world,
Yet has so keen a relish of its pleasures!"

Whatever may be thought of the philosophy of this
stanza, its feeling has an irresistible appeal.

The external appearance of Fergusson, so far as
it is left undelineated in the sketch already quoted,
was as follows:' His countenance was somewhat
effeminate, but redeemed by the animation imparted
to it by his large black eyes. Mingled with the
penetrative glance of an acute and active mind was
that modesty which gives to superior intellect its
greatest charm. Unfortunately there is no authentic
portrait in existence, though it may be worth while
to mention that his grand-niece, the late Miss Inver-
arity, the actress, bore so strong a resemblance to
him as to have struck the mind of an individual who
remembered the appearance of Fergusson, and who
had learned neither the name of the young lady nor
her relation to the poet. Fergusson's manners were
always accommodated to the moment: he was gay,
serious, set the table in a roar, charmed with his
powers of song, or bore with becoming dignity his
part in learned or philosophical disquisition. "In
short, he had united in him," says Mr. Alexander
Campbell, "the sprightliness and innocence of a
child, with the knowledge of a profound and judicious
thinker." "Gentleness and humanity of disposition,"
says Dr. Irving, "he possessed in an eminent degree.
The impulse of benevolence frequently led him to
bestow his last farthing on those who solicited his
charity. His surviving relations retain a pleasing
remembrance of his dutiful behaviour towards his
parents; and the tender regard with which his memory
is still cherished by his numerous acquaintance fully
demonstrates his value as a friend." It may be
added that, to this day, there prevails but one uni-
versal impression in favour of Fergusson. Cut off in

> According to another individual who recollects seeing him,
"he was very smally and delicate, a little in-kneed, and
■waigkd a good deal in walking."

JAMES FREDERICK FERRIER.

the preenest of his clays, he still lives in the feeling
of the world exactly what he really was in life — a
gentle and youthful being, of whom no one could
think any ill, and who was the friend and brother of
everybody.

FERRIER, James Frkdf.rick, professor of
morals and political economy in the university of
St. Andrews. This profound metaphysician and elo-
quent writer in general literature, was born at Kdin-
burgh in November, iSoS. He was the nephew
of Miss Ferrier, the talented and popular authoress
of Murriiis^cr and 7'/ie Inheritance, of whom a memoir
will appear in our pages. He became a student in
the university of Edinburgh when a new impulse had
been given to the study of ethics and metaphysics
by Dugald Stewart and Professor Brown, which was
continued by the enthusiastic eloquence of John
Wilson, afterwards the father-in-law of Ferrier — and
under such influences, an acute active mind could
scarcely be idle or undistinguished. Accordingly,
in the class of moral philosophy James Ferrier dis-
])layed those intellectual powers which augured well
for his future career; and a class poem which he
produced during that year carried off the prize, and
was long after remembered for its superiority to such
class productions as have been successful in a gene-
ral competition. This acknowledged superiority,
so often the close of a student's career, was with
Ferrier only the starting-point, and from the univer-
sity of Edinburgh he passed to that of Oxford, where
his studies were alternated with classics and philo-
sophy until the latter secured his undivided attention,
but not until he had become a ripe classical scholar.
There also he graduated in arts, and passed the usual
examinations with distinction. Desirous to enlarge
his knowledge in general learning and metaphysics,
he afterwards became a student in one of the German
universities, and the mastery of the German language
which he there acquired enabled him to advance into
those profound speculations which as yet were little
known in the colleges of Britain. The literature of
Germany, and especially its poetry, occupied much
of his study; and from his knowledge in this depart-
ment, as well as his acquaintance with the niceties of
the German language, he was enabled to aid the
studies of those who were employed in a similar
field. In this way he was of such service in inter-
preting the poetry of Goethe and Schiller, that Sir
iiuKver Lytton in his translation of the latter poet
dedicated the publication to Ferrier.

In 1832 James Ferrier was admitted to the Scot-
tish bar. With a person of such a cast of mind, and
so educated, the dry study of the law and oratory
of the bar could have little congeniality, and his
choice of such a profession might excite our wonder
mixed with not a little astonishment. That he had
no purpose, however, to involve himself in the occu-
pations of a Scottish advocate, was evitlent from his
neither attaining nor yet seeking such distinction.
The charms of literature and peaceful contemplation
had more attractions for him than the active stir of
litigation and the prospect of a silk gown, while
BlackwooJ^s ]\Iagazine supplied a sufficient outlet
for his first attemiUs in authorship. Aiul to the
pages of this distinguished periodical, now at the
height of its reputation, the contributions of Ferrier
were always welcome; for besides his Tory principles,
he wrote with a vigour, eloquence, wit, and learning
that recalled to memory the early articles of Wilson,
Lockhart, and other distinguished founders of the
magazine. For a series of years his contributions
were continued; and wliile they were remarkable for
their freshness of style and originality of thought,

they excited the attention of the reflective, among
other subjects, to the Berkleian jihilosophy, and the
cITects of German thought upon the writings of Cole-
ritlge.

With all this acknowledged excellence, Ferrier
was worthy of a more permanent field of action,
and this was opened to him in 1845 ^ly his appoint-
ment to the professorship of moral philosophy and
political economy in the university of St. Andrews.
Into this important charge he brought an earnestness
and eloquence, and an amount of scholarship not
often exhibited in the chairs of that ancient seat of
learning; and their effect was shown in the new in-
tellectual impulse which he imparted to his students,
and the devotedness with which they loved their
distinguished teacher. The professorship of moral
philosophy in the university of Edinburgh having
become vacant by the retirement of John Wilson,
his father-in-law, Ferrier became a candidate for the
chair, but was unsuccessful. That the failure, how-
ever, was owing to no lack of qualification for the
office was proved two years afterwards, when he
published his Theory 0/ A'tiincntig and Being, a work
of great power, but upon a doubtful and debatable
subject. His attempts to solve the great metaphy-
sical problem, of course, found as many opponents
as advocates, but all were at one in their opinion of
the originality and ingenuity of many of its accessory
ideas, and the brilliant eloquence with which the
work was pervaded. In 1854 he was again a com-
petitor for an Edinburgh chair, in consequence of the
death of Sir William Hamilton, by which the pro-
fessorship of logic and metaphysics was left vacant
in the university of the northern capital. Ferrier
was one of the candidates, the competition was a
keen one, and to a pamphlet written in favour of the
successful candidate he published a stinging answer,
under the title of Scottish Philosophy: the Old and the
N'ew. Once more defeated in his attempts to estab-
lish himself in the university of Edinburgh, Ferrier
resumed his duties in St. Andrews with undiminished
zeal and success, until his failing health warned him
that evening was at hand when his day was little
more than half ended. That mysterious and fatal
disease so prevalent in our own period, to which
people of ardent temperament and active brain are
so peculiarly subject — commonly called disease of
the heart — had manifested itself in repeated attacks
of angina pectoris, and so unfitted him for his public
duties, that he was obliged to devolve the charge
of his class into other hands. Recovery from such
a malady was hopeless, however the end might be
delayed, and he died at St. Andrews on the iith of
June, 1864.

To this brief account of Professor Ferrier we sub-
join a sketch of his character contained in a short
memoir inserted in the Edinburgh Evening Cow-ant,
from which the foregoing statements have been taken.
In a life otherwise so uneventful such a portrait is ne-
cessary, in order to sec him more effectually both in
his public and ]irivate relationships; and this, it is
hoped, will justify the length and fulness of the
quotation: —

"In jirivate life the professor added to those solid
([ualities which are universally resjiected, a pleasant-
ness and refinement of manner not always found in
the occupants of our Scottish chairs. The visitor
who entered his house at St. Andrews found there
not hospitality only, but a certain empresseinent of
politeness wdiich recalled the old school, and which
was so far from being stiff that it contributed by its
grace to the charm of his fresh and lively conversa-
tion. He was not a philosopher alone, but a man
of letters, and took an interest in the beautiful and

SUSAN EDMONSTON FERRIER.

23

the humorous — in poetry and anecdotes of life and
ciiaracter — as well as in those severer studies to which
he owed his fame. The worthy admirer of Berkeley
was also the worthy friend of SVilson ; and you felt
yourself, when with him in his social hour, connected
by a living link with those eminent Scotsmen of an
older day whose great attraction was that they were
learned without pedantry, and polished without
priggishness.

"His death leaves a vacancy in the front rank of
Scottish thinkers and men of letters which will not
easily be filled up. Beloved by all his students, en-
deared to a large circle of friends by his generous
character, his great accomplishments, his philoso-
phical power, and his stores of wit and humour,
Mr. Ferrier's death will be felt as another blank in
the brilliant group of literary men of whom Wilson
and Lockhart were the acknowledged chiefs, and
whose congenial organ ^^•as Blackwood's Magazine.
Tory as he was, he will leave few generous Scots-
men, of whatever party, unregretful of his premature
decease ; while scholars of whatever degree, and
philosophers of whatever school, will join in mourn-
ing the loss of one whose literary sympathies were
as wide as they were discriminating, and whose
philosophy perhaps fell short of conclusiveness by
its too ardent efforts after catholicity."

FEPvRIEE, Susan Edmonston. Of this highly
talented novelist, whose works created such a popu-
lar sensation in their favour, little is known beyond
the fact that she was the authoress of three highly
popular novels, and that their sterling merits have
secured for them a durability seldom accorded to
works of this nature. Miss Ferrier was born in
Edinburgh in 1 782, and was the aunt of the learned
professor whom we have previously recorded. Her
father, James Ferrier, a writer to the signet, was
one of the principal clerks of the Court of Session,
and colleague in that office of Sir Walter Scott. Of
the early years and educational training of Miss
Ferrier we have no account ; but the society of the
eminent literary characters with which Edinburgh
at that time abounded, and with whom her father
lived in daily intimacy, is enough to prove that
she had superior opportunities for the development
of her intellectual powers, while her writings show
that she had turned these opportunities to the best
account. The society of such men, and especially
of Sir W^alter Scott, could not be enjoyed by a
mind like that of our authoress without the im-
provement which mere reading would fail to impart;
and the result was such as Sir Walter himself has
recorded in his private diary. Speaking of Miss
Ferrier, he describes her as "a gifted personage,
having, besides her great talents, conversation the
least exigeante of any author, female at least, whom
I have ever seen, among the long list I have en-
countered; simple, full of humour, and exceedingly
ready at repartee; and all this without the least affec-
tation of the blue-stocking."

With all this intellectual vivacity and humour, and
great conversational powers. Miss Ferrier could
combine a tact which nothing but the most delicate
benevolence could inspire. Of this a striking instance
is given in Lockhart's Life of Sir Wa'lter Scott.
When the great poet and novelist was in the decline
both of his health and intellect, but still as eager for
intellectual work and as industrious as ever, it was
the aim of his family in his occasional visits to them
from the study, to render these visits as long and
frequent as possible, and for this purpose they invited
his friend Miss Ferrier to Abbotsford. "Her com-
ing," adds the biographer, "was serviceable; for she

knew and loved him well, and she had seen enough
of affliction akin to his to be well skilled in dealing
with it. She could not be an hour in his company
without observing what fdled his children with more
sorrow than all the rest of the case. He would begin
a story as gaily as ever, and go on, in spite of the
hesitation in his speech, to tell it with highly pic-
turesque effect; but before he reached the point, it
would seem as if some internal spring had given way:
he paused, and gazed round him with the blank
anxiety of look that a blind man has when he has
dropped his staff Unthinking friends sometimes
pained him sadly by giving him the catch-word
abruptly. I noticed the delicacy of Miss Ferrier on
such occasions. Her sight was bad, and she took
care not to use her glasses when he was speaking;
and she affected to be also troubled with deafness,
and would say, 'Well, I am getting as dull as a post;
I have not heard a word since you said so and so,'
being sure to mention a circumstance behind that at
which he had really halted. He then took up the
thread with his habitual smile of courtesy, as if for-
getting his case entirely in the consideration of the
lady's infirmity."

From these brief glimpses, which reveal Miss
Ferrier's character — and which so amiably reveal it
that we are compelled to regret that they are so few
— we pass to her literary productions. Her first
work, entitled Alarriage, was published in the year
1818, when she had attained the ripe age of thirty-
six, and therefore, although her first production, the
novel indicated a mind completely matured. As
such, J\Iarriage at once became popular, even al-
though the " Great Unknown" was in the field, and
occupying it without a rival; and the author of
Waverley sanctioned this public judgment with his
heartiest approbation. In the conclusion of his Tales
of My Landlord, he welcomed his "sister shadow,"
the author of ' ' the very lively work entitled Marriage,
as one of the labourers capable of gathering in the
large harvest of Scottish character and fiction." The
great merit of the work, indeed, and that which dis-
tinguished her subsequent productions, was the force
and fidelity of her Scottish portraits, in which depart-
ment none perhaps but Sir W^ alter himself was her
superior; and on this account her novels have still an
intrinsic charm which keeps them alive after so much
in the literary world of fiction has passed away. The
publishing of her first work was therefore the open-
ing of a picture-gallery, and the public who crowded
in could not sufficiently admire the life-like sketches
of Mrs. Violet Macshake, the grim, sarcastic, but
really affectionate lady of ninety, a glorious relic of
the old Scotch school, who pronounced everything
new a folly and an abomination — and Lady Mac-
lauchlan, shrewd, short, and snappish — and the three
old spinster sisters. Miss Jacky, Miss Grizzy, and
Miss Nicky — each having her separate originality,
but all tugging at the same oar. But while excelling
in female portraits, Miss Ferrier showed that she
could also hit off male characters with almost equal
power, whether by single touches or elaborate de-
scriptions, and produce a narrative by which her
readers would be spell-bound without going beyond
the limits of ever)--day life. Her next novel, The
Inheritatice, with equal originality, was of a still
more elaborate and finished description, and the
religious element with which it is mixed is so judi-
ciously introduced, as to throw an attractive sunshine
over the whole tale. While the Inha-itance also
dealt with a higher sphere of life, and more im-
portant objects than Marriage, the comic, in which
Miss Ferrier excelled, was not neglected; and her
descriptions of the pompous old earl, of Uncle

JAMES FILLANS.

Adam, and Miss Pratt, arc among the choicest of
her many delineations of the kind. Her last tale,
entitled Datiny; or, the Chiefs Daus;hUr, ajipeared
in 183I; but as the characters, incidents, manners,
and scenery are Hitjhiand, it does not possess the
same variety and attractiveness as her former works,
and this production was on the whole a failure.
After this she laid aside her pen, to the regret of
those whom her writings had so greatly charmed,
and retired into private life. Her death occurred
near the close of 1S54; but the particular date of it
we are unable to ascertain.

FILLANS, James. This excellent sculptor was
the s )n of John Thomson Fillans, who had served
as sailor in the Spiwiy under Lord Cochrane, but
after^vards found employment in the ironworks of
Carnwath. He was born at Wilsontown in Lanark-
shire, on the 27th of March, 1808, and was the
third but eldest surviving son of a family of thirteen
children. Inconsequence of his father's misfortunes
in trade, he was only a short time at school; but he
had already chosen his future occupation, and com-
menced a course of self- training for its work, so that
when a boy his chief delight was to mould the figures
of men and animals from no better material than
snow. From his eighth to his twelfth year, his regu-
lar occupation was to herd cattle at Busby in the
Mearns, where he had ample opportunity of study-
ing the beauty of nature; after which he removed
with the members of his family to Paisley, and was
there set to learn weaving as his future craft. In
spite, however, of his dull employment at the loom
— perhaps even invited by its dulness and monotony
— his artistic bias became more intense; and he be-
took himself to fashioning in clay, such models of
the animal form as astonished his companions, and
even excited the admiration of more critical judges.
While following this favourite bent, obstacles did
not deter him; and on one occasion, when he was
ambitious to model a helmet such as Sir William
Wallace was supposed to wear, he kneaded his clay
into proper ductility, and afterwards clapped it, for
•want of a block, upon his younger brother's head,
where it remained until he had fashioned it into the
likeness of a warlike and highly ornamented head-
piece.

As weaving was not congenial to such a spirit, he
quitted it in less than a twelvemonth, and with an
eye to the practice of sculpture and the use of its
tools, became apprentice to a stone-mason. lie had
now greater scope for the study of his favourite art,
and while he continued to execute models in clay
which were always advancing in improvement, his
range of ideas was enlarged, and his perception of
the grand and beautiful refined by reading works of
history and biography. As a workman, also, those
tasks were consigned to him which reqviircd a superior
exertion of professional skill. His ai^prenticeship
being finished while still in his minority, he con-
tinueil to work as a journeyman, and in Paisley and
Lireenock carvings are still pointed out which were
executed by his chisel. Over the door of a house at
Lanend, that was once a smithy, is the figure of a
horse which young Fillans copied from a living
animal in the neighl^ourhood; and with this spirited
figure the smith for whom it was made was so well
pleased, that he rewarded the artist with two pounds
for his trouble— the first professional fee which as
yet he had touched. In 1828, when he had reached
his twentieth year, Fillans was employed to carve
some of the ornamental parts of the Glasgow Royal
Exchange, then in the course of erection. The
splendid Corinthian capitals in the interior of the

building, which were especially his workmanship,
and his enthusiasm for Grecian art, were so con-
spicuous among his fellow-workmen, that they dubbed
him, as a mark of honourable distinction, with the
title of "\'oung Athens."

Although he had now acquired the character of a
first-rate mason, this was but a step to the oliject of
his ambition, and being encouraged by his friend
Motherwell, who at tiiis time was editor of the
Paisley Aiii'eriiser, Fillans set up his studio as a
statuary in the manufacturing town of Paisley, where
his productions soon became popular, and commis-
sions continued to flow upon him. Besides executing
the busts of some of the principal citizens, he pro-
duced several ideal figures in groups, the fame of
which quickly extended to Glasgow, and made its
citizens desirous of securing the services of the
young rising artist. In compliance with their invita-
tions, he removed to this great city of the west,
and opened his studio in Miller Street, where his
professional engagements were so numerous, that he
employed two of his brothers to assist in the mecha-
nical operations of his art. He was now a thriving
man; he had been married between two and three
years to the object of his warmest affections; and
everything seemed to promise that at last he had
found his right home, and would select it as his per-
manent abode. But nothing short of perfection as
a sculptor would satisfy him, and this could not be
effected without the instructions that could only be
obtained by travel. He accordingly commenced his
professional pilgrimage in October, 1835, and after
visiting Dublin and London, he arrived on the fol-
lowing month in Paris. After studying the master-
pieces contained in the Louvre, Fillans returned after
an absence of only three months, the shortness of
his tour being occasioned by scanty funds and the
exigencies of a growing family. He now resolved
to settle in London as the most congenial home for
an artist, and best mart for his productions, and in
the capital he accordingly established his residence,
first in South Bank, Regent's Park, and afterwards
in Baker Street, Portman Square. To bring him-
self into notice in the wide world of London, it was
necessary that his claims should be publicly exhibited,
and accordingly he had no fewer than seven busts in
marble in the exhibition of the Royal Academy in
Trafalgar Square. One of these was a likeness of
his friend Allan Cunningham, which not only excited
general attention, but obtained the approbation of
Chantrey himself Still, however, his principal
orders came from Scotland, among the chief of which
was a bust of Mr. Hastie, M.P. for Paisley; and
the model of a jug illustrative of the tale of Tatit
O' Shanter, in the style of Cellini. Other commis-
sions succeeded so numerously that his life was spent
alternately in London and Scotland, greatly to the
interruption of his professional studies, although such
calls were but the consequence of his acknowledged
excellence. He naturally exulted, however, in these
warm tokens of his increasing celebrity, while his
friends, who triumphed in his success, exclaimed,
"You have now the ball at your foot; keep it rolling !"
A bust of Richard Oswald, Esq., of Auchincruive,
which he was commissioned to execute, occasioned,
in 1841, his journey to Florence, where that gentle-
man resided. It was a delightful tour; it was also
a profitable one in an artistic point of view, as it af-
fortled him am])le leisure to study the rich collections
of art in the city of Florence. When the bust was
finished and brought home, his constituents, the
Oswald committee, were loud and unanimous in their
approbation; the local journals confirmed their suf-
frage; and when it was placed in the Assembly Rooms

\

JAMES FILLANS.

2S

of Ayr, it was universally acknowledged, that as a
work of art nothing equal to it had ever been seen in
that city.

Having been thus far so successful, Fillans did
not relapse into idleness, and allow the ball at his
foot to remain at rest; so that the various commis-
sions which he was engaged to execute kept him in
almost perpetual transition between England and
Scotland. Of the works he accomplished at this time,
nothing so highly excited the general applause as his
group of statuary entitled "The Blind Teaching the
Blind.'.' It was an original and poetical idea, while
the style of its execution was as happy as the concep-
tion. The followii>g account of it is from one of the
journals of the period: — -"Mr. Fillans has not only
the merit of being the first to depict the blind in this
interesting light, but he has done so in a manner
which seems to defy any attempt to surpass it. In-
deed, we cannot imagine the subject treated differ-
ently and so well. The group is exquisitely simple.
A young girl, with beautifully rounded features, is
sitting upon a low seat with the Scriptures in raised
letters open upon her knee, and her fingers resting
on the inspiretl words; while another female, some-
what older and taller, but still young, is kneeling by
her side, her head resting affectionately on that of
her pupil, and one hand gently touching her heart,
as if to impress the lesson upon her with greater
earnestness. The former is the principal figure, and
concentrates within itself the sentiment of the piece.
If it be the highest effort of art to depict, not the
mere outward forms of nature, but the invisible
essence of mind which surrounds these like a fra-
grance, Mr. Fillans has been eminently successful.
The whole figure of the learner is a visible embodi-
ment of the ideal. The acute sense of touch almost
apparent in the action of the hand, the half-parted
lips — nay, the very sightless orbs uplifted, not in
vain, to heaven, are instinct with awakening thoughts,
and indicative of a radiance within, which burns only
the more brightly from the daylight being quite shut
out. Indeed the darkness which veils her eyes
seems but the shadow of the illumined spirit en-
shrined in the perishable clay; and we can almost
fancy, as we gaze upon her sainted and beaming as-
pect, that her eyes are closed only that she may re-
ceive the words of truth through some diviner sense,
and, undisturbed by earthly visions, commune in
secret with the angels. The draping is simple and
appropriate, and the outline and general effect of the
grouping is sweet, expressive, and beautiful." To
this critique we may add the following incident, as
related by the artist's biographer: — "Two of the
best-looking inmates of the Blind Asylum .were se-
lected by Mr. Fillans to sit for the model. Delicate
as beautiful, neither of them seems to have been
capable of resisting those scourges of the sensitive
and lovely — consumption and small-pox. The one
died, and the other cannot now be recognized as one
of the originals in this divine group. A friend who
accompanied the sculptor to see the bust of Mr.
Alston, saw this girl under very interesting circum-
stances. She was walking with a companion in front
of the asylum, when Mr. Fillans asked if the gover-
ness was at home. Knowing his voice she sprang
towards him, throwing up her arms with an exclama-
tion of joy; but, instantly recollecting herself, stopped
short, hung down her head, and answered his ques-
tion in a subdued and tremulous voice. Nothing
could more forcibly illustrate the impression produced
on the mind of the blind and desolate girl at the
recollection of the kindness and affability of the
warm-hearted and generous sculptor, who seemed
much affected at the sight of her altered appear-

ance, and the death of her still more beautiful com-
panion."

In consequence of his high reputation, Fillans was
now the sculptor generally employed on the busts
and statues of eminent Scotsmen clcsigned as public
monuments. They are too numerous to particu-
larize, so tliat we can only mention the monument
at Beith to Captain Wilson, who fell in the Kyber
Pass, Afghanistan; the statue of Sir James Shaw for
Kilmarnock; and the bust of Professor Wilson for
the coffee-room of Paisley. Scotland had now be-
come proud of her favourite sculptor; public bodies
united in their admiration of his excellence; and two
public dinners were given in his honour; one at
Paisley, the other at Burns' cottage, Ayrshire, and
at both, the laudations heaped upon the artist, how-
ever ample, as post-prandial compliments are wont
to be, could only have been called forth by an ex-
traordinary amount of merit. Surely, then, he was
securing an ample fortune as the natural fruit of suth
public distinction ! But numerous and well-paid
though his productions were, he still continued to
be comparatively poor — and for this the nature of
his occupations will account. Although his home
was in London, his commissions for the greater part
came from Scotland, so that his constant journeys
thither were a serious drawback upon his funds. He
was also liberal perhaps to a fault, so that he be-
stowed not merely his money but also his art in
deeds of benevolence, giving statues or groups as
contributions to the funds of charitable institutions.
To add to his difficulties, an accident while employed
upon a scaffold at Glasgow, by which his knee was
sprained, laid him aside from work for a considerable
period. On his recovery and return to London, he
set himself in earnest to model a series of bas-reliefs
under the title of "Taming the Wild Horse," and to
represent the animal in its principal attitudes, and
the mode of its capture as practised in the pampas
of Southern America. The study of the horse was
new to him; but the citizens of Glasgow were already
talking of an equestrian statue to commemorate the
queen's visit to their city, and the friends of Fillans
were hopeful that he would be commissioned to
execute it. Upon this new attempt, therefore, he
laboured night and day in his studio in London;
and as the apartment was damp, it is believed that
there, and at this time, he laid the foundation of his
future ill health. When this splendid series of bas-
reliefs was finished, his next work was to model the
Flying Dutchman, a celebrated race-horse belonging
to the Earl of Eglinton. But the equestrian statue
for Glasgow was not consigned to his workmanship
after all, but to a foreign artist. This and other
professional disappointments damped his spirit, while
the failure of occupation induced him to break up his
costly establishment in London, and take up his
permanent abode in Glasgow. He accordingly re-
moved to that city in December, 185 1; but the
change was made too late. The sprain of his knee
and the effects of his damp London studio settled
into a confirmed rheumatism, which gradually as-
cended from his limbs to the neighbourhood of the
heart, and he died in Glasgow on the 27th of Sep-
tember, 1852, aged about forty-four years, leaving
behind him a widow and eight young children.
Among the many proofs of the affection and esteem
in which Fillans was held, the f(jllowing was of too
amiable a character to be omitted. Immediately
after his funeral a meeting of the friends of the de-
ceased was called, a committee was formed, and such
steps were adopted in raising a fund for the relief of
the widow and family as placed them above imme-
diate want. And, in the subsequent exhibition of

26

JOHN FLEMING.

the West of Scotland Academy of Artists, where
numerous productions of tlie deceased were exhibiteil,
the academicians exerted themselves in their sale^
that Mrs. FilLms and h^-r children might reap the
benefit.

Fillans mit;ht be called an artist in the widest
acceptation of the term: his whole heart was per-
vaded with a love of the beautiful, and his emotions
expressed themselves not merely in statuary, but in
painting and poetry, in each of which he might have
attained distinction had he not been so highly de-
voted to his first love. It was therefore as a sculptor
that his fame will descend to posterity, and of all
liis productions, those will be most admired where
the subject was of his own choosing, and in the
handling of which he was allowed to follow the bent
of his own genius. Of this his "Blind Teaching the
Blind," "Boy and Fawn," colossal statue of Sir
James Shaw, and bust of Professor Wilson, not to
mention others, are sufficient evidence.

FLEMING, Rev. John, D.D., F.R.S.E., pro-
fessor of natural science. New College, Edinburgh.
This eminent naturalist was the son of Mr. Alexander
Fleming, a small farmer in Linlithgowshire, and was
bom at Kirkroads, near Bathgate, in 1785. Like
his father, he might have been destined to the occupa-
tion of a hard-working peasant, had he not in early
life evinced talents that were worthy of a better con-
dition; and this was aided by the wish of his mother,
who, above all things, desired that her son John
should be trained for the ministry. Accordingly,
after his preliminary education was finished, he, at
the age of seventeen, became a student at the uni-
versity of Edinburgh. But the particular direction
of his studies had been already fixed, as from his
earliest youth he had shown an exclusive predilection
for natural science; and before he went to college he
was no ordinary proficient in zoology, botany, and
geology. In bis researches connected with these de-
partments of science he had made several important
discoveries, in consequence of which he had hoped to
render the same service to his native Linlithgow-
shire which White had done for Selborne. Al-
though his intention was frustrated by his lot being
cast in a different locality, he partly accomplished
it by diffusing the result of his explorations in the
Outline of the Flora of Linlitlis;inusliire, a paper read
to the Wernerian Society in 1809, and several other
scientific communications.

While Fleming was a student, the university of
Edinburgh was distinguished by the eminence of its
professors in natural science, ami of such an oppor-
tunity he so carefully availed himself, that when little
more than twenty years old he was already distin-
guished by the maturity of his attainments. In con-
sequence of this, when he had been licensed as a
preacher, he was commissioned by Sir John Sinclair,
in 1807, to undertake a survey of the economical mine-
ralogy of the northern isles. This he willingly did,
and while employed in the task it unexpectedly pro-
cured for him a church living. That of the parish
of Bressay having become vacant, and the patron
failing within the sjiccified time to exercise his right
of presentation, the right devolved, by the ecclesiastical
law of .Scotland, upon the presbytery of Lerwick; and
its members having been won by the rare attainments
and agreeable manners lof the young preacher and
naturalist who resided among them, unanimously
elected him minister of the parish. Soon after his
ordination, and before he had completed his twenty-
third year, Fleming drew up for publication The
licouomii-al Mlneralo^iy of the Orkney and Zetland
Islands, which is thus characterized by his biographer:

"There are evidences in it of great descriptive power,
readiness in the application of the nomenclature of
the science, correctness of eye, and such a quick ap-
preciation of the economical value of the rocks de-
scribed, as would not discredit the ablest mineralogist
at the present time." This also was but a portion of
his scientific writings in his island seclusion of Bressay,
as in the same month in which his mineralogical
report was published, he communicated to the Wer-
nerian Society a paper O71 the IVar-wal or Sea-unieorn.
At the close of the same year he also sent to the Wer-
nerian Society several papers, entitled Contributions
to the British Fauna.

It was fortunate for Fleming as well as for science
that he was not long doomed to waste his energies
among the listless solitudes of Shetland. In i8io
he was transferred to the parish of Flisk, Fifeshire,
where, amidst a wide field for scientific investigation,
and numerous associates in such pursuits, he had for
his next neighbour Dr. Chalmers, who at that time
was minister of the adjacent parish of Kilmany. In
Fifeshire Mr. Fleming prosecuted his favourite studies
with renewed ardour, and a reputation always increas-
ing; and while faithfully discharginghis clerical duties,
his eye was continually on the watch for such pro-
ductions as might enlarge the boundaries of natural
science, or throw additional light upon former dis-
coveries. On this account his communications were
frequent both in letters to his scientific friends and
in papers to the Wernerian Society. In these com-
munications also he occasionally gives scope to that
dry sarcastic spirit which had been one of his charac-
teristics from boyhood, and which the theories of the
day would not allow to slumber. But this causticity
was especially reserved for those theorists who did
not trouble themselves about facts, or who concluded
from insufficient data. To him the book of nature
was a sacred gospel, and woe be to the heretic who
misinterpreted or perverted it ! While he thus in-
tently prosecuted his investigations in chemistry and
mineralogy, in geology, botany, and zoology, he was
so fortunate as to find a fit helpmate in Miss Melville
Christie, second daughter of Andrew Christie, Esq.,
banker, Cupar, whom he married in March, 181 3,
and who entered into his pursuits with a zeal almost
equal to his own. Having also artistic skill in a very
high degree, she was able to assist him with her pen-
cil, and the plates of his Philosophy of Zoology' were
taken from drawings which she had executed for the
purpose. While such a blessing was added both
to the comforts of his fireside and the requirements
of his study, the honours which his philosophical
achievements had merited were not withheld. He
was already a member of the Antiquarian Society;
in 1813 the university of St. Andrews conferred upon
him the degree of Doctor in Divinity; and in January,
1814, he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society
of Edinburgh.

Although minister of Flisk, the stipend was not
more than ^150 per annum, and Dr. Fleming, if he
could have found a favourable opportunity, was willing
to make the study of science the sole business of his
life, instead of a divided occupation. An opportunity
for this change seemed to occur in 1815 by the estab-
lishment of the Cork Institution, and its advertise-
ment for a lecturer in natural history, which was in-
serted in the Edinburgh newspapers. He hoped also
that in addition to the salary of ;^ 1 00 per annum which
was attached to the lectureship, he might have private
classes, the fees of which might more than remunerate
him for the sacrifice of his parish stipend. On second
thoughts, however, the abandonment of such a cer-
tainty as Flisk appeared so hazardous, that he re-
solved to proceed without committing himself, and

JOHN TLEMIXG.

27

with this view offered to the Cork Institution to de-
liver one course of lectures by way of experimental
trial. He accordingly repaired to Ireland in the
spring of 1816, and delivered eighteen lectures on
botany, his pulpit of P'lisk during his absence being
supplied by his brethren of the presbytery. Finding,
however, no adequate inducement to accept the lec-
tureship, he, greatly to the satisfaction of his friends,
returned to his clerical charge in Fifeshire. After
his return from Ireland he published an outline en-
titled Observations on the JMineralogy of the iVeigh-
bour hood of Cork, and soon after read a paper to the
Royal Society of Obscti'ations on the function of the
Fresh Hater of Rivers and the Salt Water of the Sea.
At this time the increasing expense of living, and the
smallness of his income, made it impossible for him
to further his studies by the resources of a library and
costly apparatus, or even the aids of travelling. All
was to be accomplished by his own personal obser-
vation, and within the limited sphere of his own dis-
trict. Writing to a friend he says, "It is my inten-
tion to collect facts patiently, to read nature more
than books, and trust to Providence more than to
politicians." In 1819 Dr. Fleming wrote the article
"Ichthyology" for the Edinburgh Encyclopaedia, by
which his scientific reputation was considerably in-
creased. In producing this elaborate article, its
author neglected no opportunity of perfecting his
knowledge on the subject, having consulted the
writings of twenty-four authors, and examined eight-
een systems for the purpose.

Having finished the article on ichthyology. Dr.
Fleming resumed his studies, which were directed to
the construction of his great work. The Philosophy of
Zoology. In this way the year 1820 was a busy
period, as he communicated several zoological articles
to the Wernerian Society, the Edinburgh Philosophical
Journal, the Edinburgh Revieiv, and the Edinburgh
Encyclopedia. For the last-mentioned work he
wrote two elaborate articles on Insecta and Hebnin-
thology. The importance of these patient researches,
devoted to such insignificant creatures as insects and
worms, he thus vindicated, in treating of the despised
worm : — "Dew-worms, though in appearance a small
and despicable link in the chain of nature, yet, if lost,
might make a lamentable chasm. For, to say nothing
of half the birds and some quadrupeds which are
almost entirely supported by them, worms seem to be
the great promoters of vegetation (which would pro-
ceed but ill without them), by boring, perforating,
and loosening the soil, and rendering it pervious to
rains and the fibres of plants; by drawing straws and
stalks of leaves and twigs into it; and, most of all, by
throwing up such infinite numbers of lumps called
worm-casts, which form a fine manure for grain and
grass. Worms probably provide new soil for hills
and slopes when the rain washes the earth away;
and they affect slopes, probably to avoid being flooded. "
In this philosophic way he broke ground upon a sub-
ject which at that time was comparatively new and little
understood, but which has now become so greatly
amplified and improved. After communicating papers
to the Wernerian Society on "Dew-like Drops on
Leaves of Corn," "The Water-rail," "Sertularia,"
"New Species of Vorticella," &c. ; to the Edinburgh
Philosophical Journal articles on "The Arctic and
Skua Gulls," "Sertularia Gelatinosa," "Changes of
Colour in the Feathers of Birds," &c., when these
exertions made relaxation and change desirable. Dr.
Fleming accompanied Robert Stevenson, his friend,
the superintendent of Northern Lighthouses in one
of his periodical craises along the western coast in
the government lighthouse yacht, and on arriving
at Campbeltown the distinguished pair were compli-

mented by the magistrates with the freedom of the
town. But in this otherwise delightful trip we find
the doctor sighing for the want of a dredge on board,
with which he might have fished up the zoophytes of
the western sea, and congratulating himself that he
had found an Asterias jiiger new to liritain, and a
Terebratula different from that of Zetland.

On returning fnMii his cruise among the northern
lighthouses. Dr. I'leming resumed his clerical and
philosophical labours with fresh vigour, and during
that and the following year wrote three papers, entitled
"Gleanings of Natural History during a Voyage in
1 82 1," for tiie Edinburgh Philosophical Journal ; and
a notice of a submarine forest in tiie Firth of Tay, for
the Royal Society. But it was in 1S23 that Dr.
Fleming's great work, Tlie Philosophy of Zoology,
appeared. It was upon this that he had been em-
ployed for years, and in which the most important
of his discoveries and observations were contained.
Its reception by the scientific world was gratifying in
the highest degree. Baron Cuvier wrote to its author
eulogizing its merits ; it was translated into Italian
by Zendrini, the accomplished professor of mineralogy
and zoology at Pavia; and Dr. Turton, the celebrated
conchologist, in writing to Dr. Fleming, thus expresses
himself on his Philosophy of Zoology : "Thirty years
and more have I been an anxious inquirer into the
progress of natural science, and can safely say that,
except from the works of Linne, I have never been
so fully gratified. It is just what this department of
science wanted: a brief but sufficiently comprehensive
display of this attractive department of human know-
ledge. Lamark is too diffuse; Stewart is too con-
fined. Your work ranks you not only among the
scriptores feliciores, but among Xhefundatoj-es." Flem-
ing was now indeed regarded by many competent
judges as the first naturalist of the age. In the midst
of all this well-merited laudation, instead of reposing
under the shade of his own laurels, he was still
busy, and still prosecuting his inquiries into the many
departments of his beloved sciences; and soon after
the publication of his great work, he transmitted se-
veral papers to Professor Jameson's philosophical
journal. Among these were "The Influence of Society
in the Distribution of British Animals," "Remarks
on Modem Strata," and "The Geological Deluge,
as interpreted by Baron Cuvier and Professor Buck-
land, inconsistent with the Testimony of Moses and
the Phenomena of Nature. "

The next separate work of Dr. Fleming, after The
Philosophy of Zoology, was 77ie British Animals,
]iublished in 1828. It was a subject upon which he
had cogitated from his boyhood, and in his matured
age the work was written as a handbook for students,
to whom such a help was still wanting. "To this
task," writes his biographer, "he had brought rare
attainments in the knowledge of the literature of the
sciences, and of the habits and habitats of the ani-
mals described, as well as of extinct species. It is
not saying too much to aver that few, if any, recent
British systematic naturalists have not been obliged
to it. This is evident from the references to it in
almost every monograph in different departments of
zoology and ])alceontology. The pala:ontological part
of the volume was a new feature in a work of
this kind. . . . It is in every sense a history of
British animals; and the strong antiquarian tastes
which characterized its author enabled him to bring
illustrations from many remote sources." The work
was welcomed by the most eminent naturalists of the
day. It is true, indeed, tliat in the progress of natural
science many additions have been made to the species
there mentioned, and such modifications been effected
in systems of classification, that Fleming's work is

28

JOHN FLEMING.

now nearly useless to mere beginners in the study;
but to those who took from it their early lessons,
and who have used it as a manual and book of refer-
ence, it is still invaluable.

In 1S29 Dr. Fleming wrote a paper for the Edin-
burgh A'eiu Philosophual Journal on "The Insuf-
ficiency of the lividence of the Supposed Change of
Climate of the Arctic Regions;" and in proof of his
position he had referred, among other instances, to
ruminating animals. "Observation," he said, "had
discovereil many animals with cloven hoofs which
ruminate; but in such circumstances would it be safe
to infer that all cloven -hoofed animals ruminate?"
"Conceive ourselves," he added, "contemplating
the footmarks of a sheep and sow. Under the guid-
ance of Cuvier's declarations we would conclude that
both ruminated — an inference true in the one case,
and false in the other." This attack upon a favour-
ite theory of the day excited the indignation of the
Rev. W. Conybeare, author of the Geology of Eng-
land and WaUs, and a keen controversy between the
reverend philosophers was the result, conducted with
a severity of language at which the laity might well
have been astonished. The debate at last was nar-
rowed to such limits, that it mainly rested upon what
Fleming had alleged concerning the sow; and from
this circumstance it came to be termed the "pig's-
foot controversy." Mr. Conybeare, who lived in the
country, and, like other country parsons, kept pork-
ers, thought he had triumphantly settled the question
by the following declaration: "Now, my pigs are
not bisulcous, but wear four distinct toes on their feet,
although the middle ones, being most elongated, and
armed with large hoofs, certainly produce an e.\ternal
resemblance to cloven-footed animals, which has oc-
casioned their being classed in the Levitical law
(which purports not to be a philosophical arrange-
ment) as dividing the hoof, though chewing not the
cud. The impression of their feet in walking may,
if carefully examined, as Cuvier says, be distinguished
from the genuine bisulca." Here was a question for
the Scottish naturalists to settle. Are Scottish pigs
bisulcous, or actually four-toed ? The facts might
be ascertained by watching their footsteps ; but
these sages had not been wont so to study pigs'
feet. In this new dilemma the Wernerians of Edin-
burgh assembled, but being unable to decide, they
referred the matter to a committee, who were to ex-
periment, and report to the next meeting. The com-
mittee reported accordingly, and among other things
stated, "That with some difficulty they caused the
pigs to walk across a board spread over with soft
clay — that the impressions were in some places
bisulcated — that in others, besides the bisulcous
marks, there were those of two posterior toes — that
owing to the unruly nature of the animals they could
not make them walk along the board when placed
as an inclined plane, and that they had to j)lace it
horizontally," &c. It was a strange and humbling
accident that had reduced the settlement of such an
important theory to a question of pettitoes. The
inquirers awoke from their philosophical reverie —
roused, no doubt, by the laughter that surrounded
them — while Dr. Fleming, leaving them to settle
the question as they might, jiroceeded to the more
serious branches of the argument.

Notwithstanding his many discoveries in natural
science, and the distinction they had acquired not
only for himself but his country, Dr. Fleming
still remained in the obscure parish of Flisk. In
writing of this to his friend, Mr. Neil, he says, "But
I have no choice. I have been cast by Providence
in a secluded situation, with a stinted income, and
exposed to the malevolence of those who fancied that

I might interfere with their interests. In this way
the best of my life has been lost to the public, but
the accompanying discipline has not, I hope, been
lost upon myself." Even the results of his geologi-
cal researches, which he honestly and fearlessly an-
nounced, had subjected him to suspicions of being
unsound in the faith; and because he demurred at
the Mosaic account of the creation, as interpreted
by the old-world divines, he was suspected of the
wish to remove the foundation-stone of the whole
structure of revelation. Alluding to this in the same
letter, he says, "If you mean to say that I am
thought heterodox, I can only reply that it is not in-
tentional if I be so; and I have reason to believe,
aye, good reason, that I am not thought so by those
who have the best opportunities of judging." It was
no wonder that he was desirous of change, or that
the desire became so strong that sometimes he
thought of emigrating to some of our colonies. The
prospect of removal to a more eligible locality at
length occurred by a vacancy in the parish church of
Auchtermuchty, and 400 of the parishioners — every
member of the church except one — signed a petition
for his appointment as their minister. Although the
patron did not assent to their desire, Fleming was
gratified at what he justly termed "a unanimous
call from the parish — the most complete even a wor-
shipper of popularity could desire." It was not
long, however, until his wishes for a removal from
Flisk were gratified by a presentation to the parish
of Clackmannan. This occurred in 1832, and al-
though the removal was from the charge of a parish
of less than 300 to one of more than 3000 souls,
while much of the zeal and ardour of youth had de-
parted from him, he addressed himself to the duties
of his new charge with renewed diligence. Even
here, however, he was not long to remain, as a still
more congenial field of occupation awaited him. It
had long been felt that a university was his proper
sphere; and in 1834 a vacancy occurred in the natural
philosophy chair of King's College, Aberdeen. The
scnatus of the college, who were patrons of the
charge, offered it to Dr. Fleming, and by him it was
gratefully accepted.

Occupying so congenial a position. Dr. Fleming
entered heartily into its duties, and while instructing
his class he continued those studies by which natural
science might be improved, and new discoveries
made in it. In this manner he quietly continued
his course from year to year, and although the life
of an Aberdonian professor is seldom abundant in
incident, his investigations continued to enlarge the
boundaries of knowledge, and add to his reputation.
This was manifested in 1840, when Agassiz and
Buckland visited him at Aberdeen: on this occasion
the celebrated Swiss naturalist acknowledged that Dr.
Fleming had the merit of being the first who had dis-
covered the traces of fossil fishes in the old red sand-
stone. This important scientific discovery, which he
had started in earlier life, and prosecuted step by step
with increasing conviction, while each fresh convic-
tion had been made the subject of a public announce-
ment, was finally confirmed beyond question by the
remains of a fish which he found connected with a
bed of coal in Clackmannan. I lis account of the
discovery is interesting, as it shows the patient watch-
fulness with which he regarded these phenomena of
nature, and the caution with which he advanced to a
conclusion. Writing of the process and its result to
Professor Jameson, he says: — "When this organism
was first exhibited to me, I was at no loss to recog-
nize the resemblance between the plates or scales
with which it was invested, and which occur in
natural juxtaposition, and objects of a similar form

JOHN FLEMING.

«9

and structure, though detached or unconnected,
which twenty years before I had procured in the
county of Fife, from a bed covering the marine or
mountain limestone on whicli the coal-formation of
that district rests as its fundamental rock. As the
consideration of the form, structure, and composition
of the organisms from Fife had induced me to con-
sider them as the scales of a fish, I was led, under the
influence of this opinion, and observing the scales
of the Clackmannan pertrifaction occupying both
sides of the specimen, to seek for traces of the ap-
pearance of the vertebral column, and I soon satisfied
myself as to the indications of its existence at both
extremities of the mass. In this conviction I de-
spatched the example to Edinburgh, with directions
to the lapidary for making a section confirmatory of
the views of its nature which I entertained. When
in the hands of the lapidary it was inspected by
several members of the Royal Society of Edinburgh,
whose zeal in the study of organic remains had re-
ceived a fresh impulse from the numerous specimens
which had been found in the limestone of Burdie
House. In the opinion of more than one member of
the society, labouring at the time under saurian or
sauroid prejudices, my specimen was pronounced to
\>i. the fragment of a reptile, not of a fish."

In 1840, the Aberdeen Philosophical Society having
been formed. Professor Fleming felt much interest in
its progress, and at its first meeting, on the 7th of
February, read to it a paper "On a Vein of Animal
Origin occurring on a Reef of Rocks called Skerry
Vore, on the West Coast of Scotland." In 1841 he
communicated to the Edinburgh Philosophical your-
nal a paper on a more important subject, which was
the "Description of a Species of Skate new to the
British Fauna." The next subject that occupied the
mind of Dr. Fleming was a proposal in which natural
science was to be made subservient to the interests
of humanity. While residing at Aberdeen he be-
came aware of the yearly loss of life that occurred on
the east coast, from the want of safe harbours for
vessels overtaken by a storm. In this case he com-
municated in an extended form, to the Edinburgh
New Philosophical Journal, a paper which he had pre-
viously read to the Aberdeen Philosophical Society,
"On the Expediency of forming Harbours of Refuge
on the East Coast of Scotland, between the Moray
Frith and the Frith of Forth." In this communi-
cation his geological knowledge was employed both
in pointing out the localities which should be chosen
and those that were to be avoided, while his patriot-
ism was indignant, and his causticity called forth by
the indifference of our government authorities to an
evil that had so long invoked the remedy. "That
no public inquiry," he said, "should have been insti-
tuted respecting the exposed state of the east coast
of Scotland, with a view to the formation of harbours
of refuge, when it was granted elsewhere, may seem
inexplicable, unless we bear in mind that lamentable
apathy exhibited by our representatives in parliament
whenever Scottish interests of a general character are
concerned. " Attention, although tardily, was directed
to the subject, and it is hoped that the appeal will
not finally be in vain.

Although Dr. Fleming was so devoted a follower
of science, he had never been neglectful of the duties
of his clerical office; and this was attested by the
affection with which his parishioners of Bressay,
Flisk, and Clackmannan had successively regarded
him, and the regret they had shown in parting with
him. Even when he became a professor, also, he
never ceased to remember that he had been a min-
ister, or to be indifferent about the welfare of the
church. And now that the church was in difficulties

from which a disruption was inevitable, he was pre-
pared to show, by his sacrifice both of position and
emolument, how deeply he had felt upon the ques-
tion at issue. It is tme, indeed, that while the ten
years' conflict was going on he had continued his
studies as before, and only raised his head at inter-
vals to ascertain the movements of the parties: but
it must be remembered that he had neither talent nor
liking for controversies of ecclesiastical polity, and
he saw that the field was occupied by those who were
better fitted for such contests. He therefore con-
tinued to find "sermons in stones," and not only
sermons, but profound scientific truths, and calmly
to announce them to the world while the battle was
raging around him. When the time approached he
was resolved to join the retiring party, and not abide
by his professorship until he should be thrust out of
it by those who had won the victory. But must he
therefore abandon his beloved pursuits, in which he
had hitherto been so successful, and commence life
anew ? Even this kind of martyrdom he was resolved
to endure for what he considered the cause of con-
science, and the inalienable rights of the church.
Writing to Dr. Chalmers in 1843, soon after the
Disruption had occurred, and announcing the likeli-
hood of his departure from King's College, he thus
expresses himself in regard to his prospects for the
future: — "Now it becomes a measure of necessity to
look the evil in the face and provide against it,
especially after what has taken place in the House
of Lords. ... I might recommence preaching,
and, although an old razor and rather rusty, I might
yet get a call and be usefully employed. But while
I labour under the conviction that in such a station
I could not do much good to the Free Church, I have
strong bodily and mental objections to such a course,
as you may easily conceive, after having been nine
years absent from a parish charge." He then sug-
gests the mode in which he might be employed more
profitably to the cause and the interests of religion
at large. "Were a Free Church College started in
Edinburgh, I could, in the chair of natural history,
bring an amount of influence in that department, in
which I formerly published a good deal, likely to be
highly useful to the institution. Were a chair of
natural theology attached to the Divinity Hall, I
think I could occupy it with considerable advantage
to the Free Church." He then gives his views of a
course of this kind extending over three years, of
which the first year should comprise the inorganic
kingdom; the second biology and phytology, or the
structure, functions, and distribution of plants; and
the third, zoology. After mentioning the subjects
that should be treated under each head of the three
years' course, he proceeds to state the advantages
that would result from it. "Such a course would
qualify for conversing with farmers, miners, fisher-
men, &c. , not merely by a knowledge of facts, but
by an acquaintance with the philosophy of the sub-
ject, and, viewed in this light, it would give a certain
amount of authority, as you are well aware, to a
parish minister. But to a missionary what a power
would be acquired ! . . . I need not expatiate
to you on the influence which such a course would
exercise on the minds of the students of the Free
Church, or the power of pulpit illustration which it
would furnish. Multitudes do not see God in hjs
works because they are not qualified to read the book
of nature. They have not studied the subject suffi-
ciently in its details to philosophize safely. Now,
were the facts sufficiently numerous and varied in
their character, the conclusions would be useful and
stable. Such a course would supply to the divinity
student the place of classes of mineralogy and geo-

JOHN FLEMING ROBERT FLEMING.

logy, phytology and zoology, and constitute a theo-
logical commentary on tiie earth, its contents and
inhabitants." After this enthusiastic but not over-
strained description of the benefits which such a
course would imjjart to the future teachers of religion.
Dr. Fleming disinterestedly adds, "I beg of you, in
judging of this scheme of a natural theology chair,
to keep me out of view, and to determine respecting
it wholly as a new branch of e<iucatii)nal prepara-
tion exclusively (»// its oion merits." To Dr. Chalmers
such an application could not be made in vain. From
the taste which had sprung up among the highest
intellects for the study of geology and zoology, he
saw that the church must keep ahead, or at least
abreast, of such a scientific movement, in which the
interests of religion were so deeply implicated, and
that unless theological students were accomplished
in such knowledge, they could no longer be the au-
thoritative teachers and guides of the people. He
therefore cordially received the proposal, and entered
into it with his wonted enthusiasm. It was sub-
mitted to the founders and heads of the contemplated
F'ree Church College, who regarded it with equal
partiality. By their desire a new plan was drawn
out by Dr. P'leming, in which a single year's course
was substituted for one of tiiree, and various modifi-
cations introduced into the details, to suit the wants
of the age and the difficulties of a newly constructed
church. The chair of natural science being estab-
lished in the Free Church College, there was but
one opinion as to the man best fitted to occupy it;
and accordingly, in 1845, at the General Assembly
of the Free Church held at Inverness, Dr. P'leming
was unanimously appointed to the professorship.

After this the life of the venerable professor was
spent partly in the duties of his charge, and partly
in communicating through the press the discoveries
he was still continuing to prosecute; and, in the latter
case, his chief medium was the North British Revinv,
established chielly by Free Church influence, and
placed under the editorship of Dr. Welsh. Old age,
without abating the intellectual energy and activity,
or blunting the wit of Dr. Fleming, which always
had a keen edge, only mellowed his temper and re-
pressed his pugnacity, so that he was not only at
peace with the world at large, but in close friendship
with his former rivals and antagonists in science, who
now could only wonder why they had quarrelled with
him. But to the last his chief intellectual character-
istic, and one so necessary for a guide in the investi-
gations of natural science, abode with him — to wit,
his love of facts, and contempt for mere hypotheses.
What he examined with his own senses, or received
from testimony that could not be impeached, he ad-
mitted into his system — but theories he despised,
and to the theorist he turned a deaf ear let him
theorize never so wisely. Among the many incidents
illustrative of this scrupulous allegiance to the hard
requirements of science with which he startled and
sometimes amused his stutlents, was one which oc-
curred while he was professor in the Free Church
College. On a scientific excursion with his class
he was explaining to them the boulder-clay, and the
order of the successive strata that lay beneath it, when
a dapper young student, impatient to chip the earth's
shell and get to the bottom of things, abruptly asked,
"But, doctor, what is at the centre of all?" "I don't
know, sir," replied the professor, "for I never was
tliere."

After he had held his professorship in the Free
Church College for twelve years. Dr. Fleming died
after a short illness; and it was characteristic of his
love of science and indefatigable industry, that he
was withdrawn while in the midst of active occupa-

tion. He had written his last work. The Lithology
of Ediuhiirgh, and had passed the whole of it through
the press, with the exception of the last half-sheet,
when his final brief sickness suqjrised him. But he
scarcely could be said to be surprised who had been
living in readiness to die ; and he departed in the
consciousness that he was removing to a sphere of
clearer vision, and a more intimate knowledge of the
Creator. His death occurred on the 18th of Novem-
ber, 1857, and his best epitaph is the following
notice from the minutes of the Royal Physical So-
ciety:— "In his capacity as professor of natural science
in the New College, it is believed that Dr. Fleming
has been eminently successful in imparting much of
his own healthy s]:)irit to the many students who
have listened to his prelections, while his own full
testimony to the compatibility of a sincere belief in
revealed truth with the acceptance of the facts and
views of modern science, must have helped not a
little to stem the torrent of speculative infidelity
which threatened not long ago to break forth in our
land."

FLEMING, Robert, an eminent divine and
theological writer, was the son of the Rev. Robert
Fleming, a clergyman, first at Cambuslang, and
afterwards at Rotterdam, and author of a well-known
work, entitled The Fulfilling of the Scriptures. The
subject of this memoir received his education partly
in his native country, and partly in the universities
of Leyden and Utrecht. He first officiated as a
clergyman to the English congregation at Leyden,
and afterwards he succeeded to the church at Rotter-
dam, where his father died in 1694. In the year
1698 he removed to London to settle as pastor of
the Scottish congregation in Lothbury, not only at
the earnest invitation of the people, but by the desire
of King William, with whom he had formed an inti-
macy in Holland. This monarch used frequently to
send for Fleming, to consult with him upon Scottish
affairs; an intercourse conducted, at the desire of the
divine, with the greatest secrecy.

Fleming, though a dissenter from the Church of
.Scotland as now established, was an admirer of her
fundamental and original institution. It was not in-
consistent with this profession that he zealously up-
held hereditary monarchy as a principle in govern-
ment. Popery in the church, and tyranny in the
state, were what he most detested. In personal
character Fleming was a pious, mild, and affable man.
In learning he stood very high, being conversant not
only with the fathers and councils, and the ecclesias-
tical and civil historians, but with the oriental lan-
guages, the works of the Jewish rabbis, and the whole
circle of polite authors, ancient and modern. On
account of his amiable manners and extensive
knowledge, he was held in great esteem both by the
foreign universities and by the most learned persons
at home. The Archbishop of Canterbury, and many
other eminent dignitaries of the English church,
extended their friendship to him. By the dissenting
clergymen of the city, though connected with a dif-
ferent national church, he was chosen one of the
preacher of the merchants' Tuesday lecture at Salters'
Hall. Lord Carmichael, the secretary of state for
Scotland, offered him the office of principal of the
university of Glasgow, which he declined, from con-
scientious scruples.

Fleming published various works in divinity; but
the most remarkable was a discourse, printed in
1 70 1, on The Rise and Fall of the Papacy. Like
many other sincerely pious men of that age, he was
deeply affected by the position in which the Protes-
tant religion stood in respect of the Papacy, threat-

ROBERT FLEMING

eneJ as Great Britain was, by the power of France,
and the designs of a Catholic claimant of the throne.
Proceeding upon the mysteries of the Apocalypse
and other data, he made some calculations of a very
striking nature, and which were strangely verified.
On the subject of the pouring out of the fourth vial,
he says: — "There is ground to hope that, about
the beginning of another such century, things may
again alter for the better, for I cannot but hope that
some new mortification of the chief supporters of
antichrist will then happen; and perhaps the French
monarchy may begin to be considerably humbled
about that time : that, whereas the present French
king takes for his motto A'tr plunbits impar, he
may at length, or rather his successors, and the
monarchy itself (at least before the year 1794), be
forced to acknowledge, that, in respect to neighbour-
ing potentates, he is even singulis impar.

"But as to the expiration of this vial," he con-
tinues, "I do fear it will not be until the year 1794.
The reason of which conjecture is this — that I find
the pope got a new foundation of exaltation when
Justinian, upon his conquest of Italy, left it in a
great measure to the pope's management, being
willing to eclipse his own authority to advance that
of this haughty prelate. Now, this being in the
year 552, this, by the addition of 1260, reaches down
to the year 181 1, which, according to prophetical
account, is the year 1794. And then I do suppose
the fourth vial will end, and the fifth commence, by
a new mortification of the Papacy, after this vial has
lasted 148 years; which indeed is long in comparison
with the former vials; but if it be considered in rela-
tion to the fourth, fifth, and sixth trumpets, it is but
short, seeing the fourth lasted 190 years, the fifth
302, and the sixth 393."

It is important to observe, that Fleming imme-
dately subjoins, that he gave "his speculations of
what is future no higher character than guesses."
He adds: "therefore, in the fourth and last place,
we may justly suppose that the French monarchy,
after it has scorched others, will itself consume by
doing so; its fire and that which is the fuel that
maintains it, resting insensibly till towards the end
of this century, as the Spanish monarchy did before,
towards the end of the sixteenth age."

In the month of January, 1793, when Louis XVI.
was about to suffer on the scaffold, the apparent
predictions of Fleming came into notice in the
British newspapers. Again, in 1848, the attempt
to liberate Italy, and the temporary flight of the
pope, attracted attention to Fleming's very re-
markable calculation as to the time of the pouring
out of the fifth vial. "This judgment," says he,
"will probably begin about the year 1794, and ex-
pire about the year 1848; ... for I do suppose
that, seeing the pope received the title of supreme
bishop no sooner than the year 606, he cannot be
supposed to have any vial poured out upon his seat
immediately (so as to ruin his authority so signally
as this judgment must be supposed to do) until the
year 1848, which is the date of the 1260 years in
prophetical account, when they are reckoned from
the year 606."

The anxiety of this worthy man respecting the
fate of Protestantism and the Hanover succession,
at length brought on a disease which obstructed his
usefulness, and threatened his life. Though he re-
covered from it, and lived some years, his feeble
constitution finally sank under his grief for the loss of
some dear friends, the death of some noble patriots,
the divisions amongst Protestants, and the con-
federacy of France and Rome to bind Europe in
chains. He died May 24, 17 16.

ANDREW FLETCHER.

31

FLETCHER, Andrew, so much celebrated for

his ])atriotism and political knowledge, was the sou
of Sir Robert Fletcher of Salton antl Innerpeffer,
by Catharine Bruce, daughter of Sir Henry Bruce
of Clackmannan, and was born in the year 1653.
His descent was truly noble, his father being the
fifth in a direct line from Sir Bernard Fletcher of
the county of York, and his mother of the noble
race of Bruce ; the patriarch of the family of Clack-
mannan having been the third son of Robert de
Bruce, Lord of Aimandale, grandfather of Robert de
Bruce, King of Scots. The subject of this memoir
had the misfortune to lose his father in early youth;
but he was, by that parent, on his death-bed, con-
signed to the care of Gilbert Burnet, then minister
of Salton, and afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, who
carefully instructed him in literature and religion, as
well as in the principles of free government, of which
Fletcher became afterwards such an eminent advo-
cate. After completing his course of education
under his excellent preceptor, he went upon his
travels, and spent several years in sun-eying the
manners and examining the institutions of the prin-
cipal continental states. His first appearance as a
public character was in -the parliament held by
James, Duke of York, as royal commissioner in the
year 1681. In this parliament Fletcher sat as com-
missioner for the shire of East Lothian, and mani-
fested the most determined opposition to the arbitrary
and tyrannical measures of the court. In a short
time he found it necessary to withdraw himself, first
into England, to consult with his reverend preceptor,
Dr. Burnet, and after\vards, by his advice, to
Holland. For his opposition to the test, and to the
general spirit of the government, he was, not long
after, summoned to appear before the lords of his
majesty's privy-council at Edinburgh. Of the spirit
of this court, the most abominable that has disgraced
the annals of Great Britain, Fletcher was too well
aware to put himself in its power; and for his non-
appearance he was outlawed and his estate confis-
cated. Holland was at this time the resort of many
of the best men of both kingdoms who had been
obliged to expatriate themselves to escape the fury
of an infatuated government, and with these Fletcher
formed the closest intimacy. In the year 1683 he
accompanied Baillie of Jerviswood to England, in
order to concert measures with the friends of liberty
there, and was admitted into the secrets of Lord
Russell's council of six. This assembly consisted of
the Duke of Monmouth, the Lords Russell, Essex,
and Howard, Algernon Sydney, and John Hampden,
grandson to the immortal patriot of that name.
Tyranny was, however, at thia- time triumphant.
Monmouth was obliged to abscond ; Russell was
apprehended, tried, and executed, principally through
the evidence of his associate, the unprincipled Lord
Howard. Essex was imprisoned, and either cut his
own throat, or had it cut by assassins — historj- has
never determined which. Sydney was executed,
and Howard subjected to a fine of _;^40,ooo sterling.
Many other persons of inferior note were executed
for this plot. Jerviswood fell into the hands of
the Scottish administration, and was most illegally
and iniquitously put to death. Fletcher too was
eagerly sought after, and, had he been apprehended,
would certainly have shared the same fate. He,
however, escaped again to the Continent, where he
devoted his time to the study of public law, and
for some time seems to have had little correspondence
with his native country.

In the beginning of the year 1685, when James
VII. acceded to the throne of Britain, Fletcher came
to the Hague, where were assembled Monmouth,

32

ANDREW FLETCHER.

Ar^'le, Melville, Polworth, Tonvoodlie, Mr. James
Stuart, Lord Stair, and many other gentlemen, both
Scottish and English, when the unfortunate expedi-
tions of Argyle and Monmouth were concerted. It
does not appear, however, that Fletcher was a leader
among these gentlemen. His temper was of the
most stern and unaccommodating character, and he
was bent upon setting up a commonwealth in Scot-
land, or at least a monarchy so limited as to bear
very little re^^blaince to a kingdom. He had
drunk deep of t^ spirit ofancient Greece, with which
the greater part of his associates, patriots though they
were, had no great acquaintance; and he had a
consciousness of his own superiority that could not
go well down with those feudal chieftains who sup-
posed that their birth alone entitled them to prece-
dency in council, as well as to command in the field.
His own country was certainly dearer to him than
any other, and in it he was likely to put forth his
energies with the greatest effect; yet from his dis-
satisfaction with their plans of operation, he did not
embark with his countrymen but with the Duke of
Monmouth, in whom, if successful, he expected less
obstiiiction to his republican views. Fletcher was
certainly at the outset warmly attached to Monmouth's
scheme of landing in England, though he subse-
quently wished it to be laid aside; and he afterwards
told Burnet that Monmouth, though a weak young
man, was sensible of the imprudence of his adven-
ture, but that he was pushed on to it against his
own sense and reason, and was piqued upon the
point of honour in hazarding his person with his
friends. He accordingly landed at Lynn, in Dorset-
shire, on the iith of June, 1685, with about 100
followers, of whom the subject of this memoir was
one of the most distinguished. Crowds of people
soon flocked to join the standard of Monmouth, and
had he been qualified for such an enterprise as that
he had now undertaken the Revolution of 16S8 might
perhaps have been anticipated. He, however, pos-
sessed no such qualifications, nor did those on whom
he had principally depended. Lord Gray, to whom
he had given the command of the horse, was sent
out with a small party to disperse a detachment of
militia that had been assembled to oppose him. The
militia retreated before the troops of Monmouth,
who stood firm; but Gray their general fled, carry-
ing back to his camp the news of a defeat, which
was in a short time contradicted by the return of the
troops in good order. Monmouth had intended to
join Fletcher along with Gray in the command of his
cavalry, and the Scottish patriot certainly would not
have fled, so long as one man stood by him; but
unfortunately, at the very time when Gray was out
on the service in which he so completely disgraced
his character, Fletcher was sent out in another direc-
tion, in which he was scarcely less unfortunate,
having, in a personal quarrel about a horse which
he had too hastily laid hold of for his own use, killed
the mayor of Lynn, who had newly come in to join
the insurgent army, in consequence of which he was
under the necessity of leaving the camp immediately.
The melancholy fate of Monmouth is generally
known.

Though there cannot be a doubt that the shooting
of the mayor of Lynn was the real cause of P^letcher's
abandoning the enterprise so early, he himself never
admitted it. He had joined, he said, the Duke of
Monmouth on the footing of his manifestations,
which promised to provide for the permanent security
of civil liberty and the Protestant religion, by the
callmg of a general congress of delegates from the
people at large, to form a free constitution of govern-
ment, in which no claim to the throne was to be ad-

mitted, but with the free choice of the representatives
of the people. From the proclaiming of Monmouth
king, which was done at Taunton, he saw, he said,
that he had been deceived, and resolved to proceed
no further, every step from that moment being trea-
son against the just rights of the nation, and deep
treachery on the part of Monmouth. At any rate,
finding that he could be no longer useful, he left
Taunton, and embarked aboard a vessel for Spain,
where he no sooner arrived, than he was thrown
into prison, and, on the application of the British
ambassacipr, was ordered to be delivered up and
transmitted to London in a Spanish ship fitted up for
that purpose. In this hopeless situation, looking
one morning through the bars of his dungeon, he
was accosted by a person who made signs that he
wished to speak with him. Looking around him
Fletcher perceived an open door, at which he was
met by his deliverer, with wliom he passed unmolested
through three different military guards, all of whom
seemed to be fast asleep, and without being permitted
to return thanks to his guide, made good his escape,
with the assistance of one who evidently had been
sent for the express purpose, but of whom he never
obtained the smallest information. Travelling in
disguise, he proceeded through Spain, and consider-
ing himself out of danger, made a leisurely pilgrim-
age through the country, amusing himself in the
libraries of the convents, where he had the good
fortune to find many rare and curious books, some
of which he was enabled to purchase and bring along
with him, to the enriching of the excellent library
he had already formed at his seat of Salton, in East
Lothian. In the course of his peregrinations he
made several very narrow escapes, among which the
following is remarkable, as having apparently fur-
nished the hint for a similar incident in a well-known
fiction. He was proceeding to a town where he in-
tended to have passed the night; but in the skirts
of a wood, a few miles from thence, upon entering
a road to the right, he was warned by a woman of
respectable appearance to take the left-hand road,
as there would be danger in the other direction.
Upon his arrival he found the citizens alarmed by
the news of a robbery and murder, which had taken
place on the road against which he had been cau-
tioned, and in which he would have certainly been
implicated, through an absurd Spanish law, even
although not seen to commit any crime. After leav-
ing Spain he proceeded into Hungar)', where he
entered as a volunteer into the army, and distin-
guished himself by his gallantry and military talents.
From this distant scene of activity, however, he was
soon recalled by the efforts that at length were making
to break the yoke of tyranny and the staff of the
oppressor that had so long lain heavy on the king-
dom of Britain. Coming to the Hague he found
there his old friends, Stair, Melville, Polworth, Car-
dross, Stuart of Coltness, Stuart of Goodtrees, Dr. M
Burnet, and Mr. Cunningham, who still thought his I
principles high and extravagant, though they asso-
ciated with him, and were happy to have the in-
fluence of his name and the weight of his talents to
aid them on so momentous an occasion. Though
not permitted to be a leader in the great work of the
Revolution — for which, indeed, his principles, which -J
were so different from those of the men who effected
it, disqualified him — he came home in the train of,
his countrymen, who by that great event were re- j
stored to their country and to their rightful posses-
sions; and, according to the statement of the Earl of I
Buchan,* made a noble appearance in the convention]

^ Li/e 0/ Fletcher 0/ Salton.

ANDREW FLETCHER.

33

which met in Scotland after the Revohition for settling
the new government. Lockhart of Carnwath, who
was no friend to the new government, nor of the
principles upon which it was founded, takes no notice
of this portion of the life of Fletcher, though he is
copious upon his speeches, and indeed every part of
his conduct, when he afterwards became a violent
oppositionist.

In the year 1692, when every effort to bring about
a counter revolution was made, Fletcher, though
strongly, and perhaps justly, disgusted with King
William, renouncing every selfish principle, and
anxious only to promote the welfare of the country,
exerted himself to the utmost to preserve what had
been already attained in the way of a free govern-
ment, though it came far short of what he wished,
and what he fondly, too fondly, hoped the nation
had been ripe to bear. In all that regarded the
public welfare he was indeed indefatigable, and that
without any appearance of interested motives. He
was the first friend and patron of that extraordinary
man William Paterson, to whom the honour of the
formation of the Bank of England ought, in justice,
to be ascribed, and who projected the Darien Com-
pany, the most splendid idea of colonization that
was ever attempted to be put in practice. "Pater-
son," says Sir John Dalrymple, "on his return to
London, formed a friendship with Mr. Fletcher of
Salton, whose mind was inflamed with the love of
public good, and all of whose ideas to procure it had
a sublimity in them. Fletcher disliked England,
merely because he loved Scotland to excess, and
therefore the report common in Scotland is probably
true, that he was the person who persuaded Paterson
to trust the fate of his project to his own countrymen
alone, and to let them have the sole benefit, glory,
and danger in it, for in its danger Fletcher deemed
some of its glory to consist. Although Fletcher had
nothing to hope for, and nothing to fear, because
he had a good estate and no children, and though
he was of the country party, yet, in all his schemes
for the public good, he was in use to go as readily
to the king's ministers as to his own friends, being
indifferent who had the honour of doing good, pro-
vided it was done. His house of Salton, in East
Lothian, was near to that of the Marquis of Tweed-
dale, then minister for Scotland, and they were often
together. Fletcher brought Paterson down to Scot-
land with him, presented him to the marquis, and
then, with that power which a vehement spirit always
possesses over a diffident one, persuaded the states-
man, by arguments of public good, and of the
honour that would redound to his administration,
to adopt the project. Lord Stair and Mr. Johnston,
the two secretaries of state, patronized those abilities
in Paterson which they possessed in themselves, and
the lord-advocate. Sir James Stewart, the same man
who had adjusted the Prince of Orange's declaration
at the Revolution, and whose son was married to a
daughter of Lord Stair, went naturally along with
his connections." From the above it appears that
Fletcher, next to the projector Paterson, who was,
like himself, an ardent lover of liberty, had the prin-
cipal hand in forwarding the colonization of Darien,
and to his ardent and expansive mind we have no
doubt that the plan owed some, at least, of its ex-
cellencies, and also perhaps the greatest of its de-
fects. "From this period," remarks Lord Buchan,
"till the meeting of the union parliament, Fletcher
was uniform and indefatigable in his parliamentary
conduct, continually attentive to the rights of the
people, and jealous, as every friend of his country
ought to be, of their invasion by the king and his
■ministers ; for it is as much of the nature of kings
VOL. II.

and ministers to invade and destroy the rights of the
lieojile, as it is of foxes and weasels to ritle a poultry-
yard, and destroy the poultry. All of them, there-
fore," continues his lordship, "ought to be tnuzzled."
Among other things that Fletcher judged necessary
for the preservation of puljlic liberty, was that of
national militia. In a discourse ujion this subject
he says, "A good and effective militia is of such im-
portance to a nation, that it is the chief part of the
constitution of any free government. For though,
as to other things, the constitution be never so slight,
a good militia will always preserve the public liberty;
but in the best constitution that ever was, as to all
other parts of government, if the milifiabe not upon
a right footing, the liberty of that people must
perish."

Scotland, ever since the union of crowns, had been
stripped of all her importance in a national point of
view, and the great object at this time was to exclude
English influence from her councils, and to restore
her to her original state of independence — a thing
which could never be accomplished so long as the
King of Scotland was the King of England. James
VL, when he succeeded to the English crown, wiser
than any of his statesmen, saw this difficulty, and
proposed to obviate it by the only possible means, a
union of the two kingdoms; but, owing to the in-
veterate prejudices of so many ages, neither of the
kingdoms could at that time be brought to submit
to the judicious proposal. Fletcher and his com-
patriots saw what had been the miserable evils, but
they saw not the proper remedy; hence they pursued
a plan that, but for the superior wisdom of the Eng-
lish, would have separated the crowns, brought on
hostilities, and the entire subjection of the country
by force of arms. In all the measures which had
for their object the annihilating of English influence,
Fletcher had the principal hand, and there were
some of them of singular boldness. In case of
the crowns of the two kingdoms continuing to be
worn by one person, the following, after pointing
out in strong terms the evils that had accrued to
Scotland from this unfortunate association, were the
limitations proposed by Fletcher: — "ist. That elec-
tions shall be made at every Michaelmas head court,
for a new parliament every year, to sit the 1st of
November next following, and adjourn themselves
from time to time till next Michaelmas — that they
choose their own president — and that everj-thing
shall be determined by balloting, in place of voting.
2d, That so many lesser barons shall be added to
the parliament, as there have been noblemen created
since the last augmentation of the number of the
barons; and that in all time coming, for every noble-
man that shall be created, there shall be a baron
added to the parliament. 3d, That no man have
a vote in parliament but a nobleman or elected
members. 4th, That the kings shall give the sanc-
tion to all laws offered by the estates, and that
the president of the parliament be empowered by
his majesty to give the sanction in his absence, and
have ten pounds sterling a day of salary. 5th, That
a committee of one-and-thirty members, of which nine
to be a quorum, chosen out of their own number by
every parliament, shall, during the intervals of par-
liament, under the king, have the administration of
the government, be his council, and accountable to
the next parliament, with power on extraordinary
occasions to call the parliament together, and that,
in said council, all things be determined by balloting
in place of voting. 6th, That the king, without
consent of parliament, shall not have the power of
making peace and war, or that of concluding any
treaty with any other state or potentate. 7th, That

33

34

ANDREW FLETCHER.

all places and offices, both civil and military, and all
pensions, formerly conferred by our kinj^s, shall ever
after be given by parliament. 8th, That no regiment
or company of horse, foot, or dragoons, be kept on
foot in peace or war but by consent of parliament.
9th, Th.at all the fencible men of the nation betwixt
sixty and sixteen, be with all diligence jwssible armed
with bayonets and firelocks all of a calibre, and con-
tinue always provided in such arms, with ammuni-
tion suitable. loth, That no general indemnity nor
pardon for any transgression against the public shall
be valid without consent of parliament, nth, That
the fifteen senators of the college of justice shall be
incapable of being members of parliament, or of any
other office or pension, but the salary that belongs to
their place to be increased as the parliament shall
think fit; that the office of president shall be in three
of their number, to be named by parliament; and
that there be no extraordinary lords. And also,
that the lords of the justice court shall be distinct
from that of the session, and under the same restric-
tions. 1 2th, That if any king break in upon any of
these conditions of government, he shall, by the
estates, be declared to have forfeited the crown."
The above limitations did not pass the house, though
they met with very general support; yet, something
little short of them was really i)assed, and received
the royal assent. The so much applauded Act of
Security made many provisions respecting the mode
of proceeding in parliament in case of the queen's
death, with the conditions under which the successor
to the crown of England was to be allowed to suc-
ceed to that of Scotland, which were to be "at least,
freedom of navigation, free communication of trade
and liberty of the plantations to the kingdom and
subjects of Scotland, established by the parliament
of England." It also provideil, "that the whole
Protestant heritors, with all the burghs of the king-
dom, should forthwith provide themselves with fire-
arms for all the fencible men who were Protestants
within their respective bounds; and they were further
ordained and appointed to exercise the said fencible
men once a month, at least." The same parliament
passed an act anent peace and war, which provided,
among other things, that after her majesty's death,
and failing heirs of her body, no person, at the same
time King or Queen of Scotland and England, shall
have sole power of making war with any prince,
state, or potentate whatsoever, without consent of
parliament. A proposal made at this time for
settling the succession, as the English parliament
had done, in the house of Hanover, was treated with
the utmost contempt, some proposing to burn it, and
others insisting that the member who proposed it
should be sent to the castle; and it was at last thrown
out by a majority of fifty-seven voices. Another
limitation proposed by Fletcher was, that all places,
offices, and jjensions, which had been formerly given
by our king, should after her majesty and heirs of
her body, be conferred only by parliament so long as
the crowns remained united. "Without this limita-
tion," he continues, "our poverty and subjection to
the court of England will every day increase, and
the question we have now before us is, whether we
will be free men, or slaves for ever? whether we will
continue to defend or break the yoke of our indepen-
dence? and whether we will choose to live poor and
miserable, or rich, free, and happy? Let no man
think to object that this limitation takes away the
whole power of tlie prince; for the same condition
of government is found in one of the most absolute
monarchies of the world, China." Quoting the autho-
rity of Sir William Temple for this fact, he continues,
"and if, under the greatest absolute monarchy of

the world, in a countiy where the prince actually re-
sides— if among heathens this be accounted a neces-
sary part of government for the encouragement of
virtue, shall it be denied to Christians living under a
prince who resides in another nation ? Shall it be
denied to people who have a right to liberty, and
yet are not capable of any, in their present circum-
stances, without this limitation?" We cannot re-
frain copying the following sentences on the benefits
he anticipated from the measure: — "This limitation
will undoubtedly enrich the nation by stopping that
perpetual issue of money to England, which has re-
duced this country to extreme poverty. This limita-
tion does not flatter us with the hopes of riches, by
an uncertain project — does not require so much as
the condition of our own industiy; but by saving
great sums to the country, will every year furnish a
stock sufficient to carry on a considerable trade, or to
establish some useful manufacture at home with the
highest probability of success: because our ministers,
by this rule of government, would be freed from the
influence of English councils, and our trade be entirely
inourown hands, and notunderthe power of the court,
as it was in the affair of Darien. If we do not attain
this limitation, ourattendanceat London will continue
to drain this nation of all those sums which should be
a stock for trade. Besides, by frequenting that court,
we not only spend our money, but learn the expensive
modes and ways of living of a rich and luxurious
nation; we lay out, yearly, great sums in furniture and
equipage, to the unspeakable prejudice of the trade
and manufactures of our own country. Not that I
think it amiss to travel into England, in order to see
and learn their industry in trade and husbandly; but at
court what can we learn, except a horrid corruption
of manners and an expensive way of living, that we
may for ever after be both poor and profligate? This
limitation will secure to us our freedom and indepen-
dence. It has been often said in this house, that
our princes are captives in England, and, indeed, one
would not wonder if, when our interest happens to
be different from that of England, our kings, who
must be supported by the riches and power of that
nation in all their undertakings, should prefer an
English interest before that of this country; it is yet
less strange that English ministers should advise
and procure the advancement of such persons to the
ministry of Scotland, as will comply with their
measures and the king's orders, and to surmount the
difficulties they may meet with from a true Scottish
interest, that places and pensions should be bestowed
upon parliament men and others. I say, these things
are so far from wonder, that they are inevitable in
the present state of our affairs; but I hope they like-
wise show us that we ought not to continue any
longer in this condition. Now, this limitation is ad-
vantageous to all. The prince will no more be put
upon the hardship of deciding between an English
and a Scottish interest, or the difficulty of reconcil-
ing what he owes to each nation in consequence of
his coronation oath. Even English ministers will
no longer lie under the temptation of meddling in
Scottish affairs, nor the ministers of this kingdom,
together with all those who have places and pensions,
be any more subject to the worst of all slavery. But
if the influences I mentioned before still continue,
what will any other limitation avail us? What shall
we be the better for our act concerning the power
of war and peace, since by the force of an English
interest and influence, we cannot fail of being en-
gaged in every war and neglected in every peace ?
By this limitation our parliament will become the
most uncornipted senate of all Europe. No man
will be tempted to vote against the interest of his

ANDREW FLETCHER.

35

countr)', when his country shall have all the bribes
in her own hands — offices, places, and pensions. It
will be no longer necessary to lose one half of the
customs, that parliament men may be made collec-
tors; we will not desire to exclude the officers of
state from sitting in this house, when the country
shall have the nomination of them; and our parlia-
ment, free from corruption, cannot fail to redress all
our grievances. We shall then have no cause to fear
a refusal of the royal assent to our acts, for we shall
have no evil counsellor nor enemy of his country to
advise it. W'hen this condition of government shall
take place, the royal assent will be the ornament of
the prince, and never be refused to the desires of the
people ; a general unanimity will be found in this
house, in every part of the government, and among
all ranks and conditions of men. The distinctions
of court and country party shall no more be heard in
this nation, nor shall the prince and people any
longer have a different interest. Rewards and pun-
ishments will be in the hands of those who live
among us, and consequently best know the merit of
men, by which means virtue will be recompensed
and vice discouraged, and the reign and government
of the prince will flourish in peace and justice. I
should never make an end if I should prosecute all
the gi-eat advantages of this limitation, which, like
a divine influence, turns all to good, as the want of
it has hitherto poisoned everything, and brought all
to ruin."

If Fletcher really believed the one half of what he
ascribes in this speech to his favourite limitation, he
was an enthusiast of no common order. We suspect,
however, that his design was in the first place to
render the king insignificant, and then to dismiss him
altogether, it being one of his favourite maxims,
that the trappings of a monarchy and a great aris-
tocracy would patch up a very clever little common-
wealth. The high-flying Tories of that day, how-
ever, or, in other words, the Jacobites, in the heat
of their rage and the bitterness of their disappoint-
ment, clung to him as their last hope, supporting
even his most deadly attacks upon the royal preroga-
tive, from the desperate pleasure of seeing the kingly
office, since they could not preserve it for their own
idol, rendered useless, ridiculous, or intolerable to
any one else who should enjoy it. By this means
there was a seeming consistency in those ebullitions
of national independence, and a strength and vigour
which they really did not possess, but which alarmed
the English ministry; and the union of the kingdoms,
which good sense and good feeling ought to have ac-
complished at least one century earlier, was effected
at last as a work of political necessity fully as much
as of mercy. In every stage of this important busi-
ness Fletcher was its most determined opponent, in
which he was, as usual, seconded by the whole
strength of the Jacobites. Happily, however, through
the prudence of the English ministry, the richness of
her treasurj', and the imbecility of the Duke of
Hamilton, the leader of the Jacobites, he was unsuc-
cessful, and retired from public life under the melan-
choly idea that he had outlived not only his country's
glory, but her very existence, having witnessed, as he
thought, the last glimmering of hope, and heard the
last sounds of freedom that were ever to make glad
the hearts of her unfortunate children. He died at
London in 1 716.

The character of Fletcher has been the subject
of almost universal and unlimited panegyric. "He
was," says the Earl of Buchan, "by far the most
nervous and correct speaker in the parliament of
Scotland, for he drew his style from the pure models
of antiquity, and not from the grosser practical ora-

tory of his contemporaries; so that his speeches will
bear a comparison with the best speeches of the
reign of Queen Anne, the Augustan age of (ireat
Britain." Lockhart says, "He was always an admirer
of both ancient and modem republics, but that he
showed a sincere and honest inclination towards the
honour and interest of his country. The idea of
England's domineering over Scotland was what his
generous soul could not endure. The indignities
and oppression Scotland lay under galled him to the
heart, so that, in his learned and elaborate discourses,
he exposed them with undaunted courage and pa-
thetic eloquence. He was blessed with a soul that
hated and despised whatever was mean and unbe-
coming a gentleman, and was so steadfast to what
he thought right, that no hazard nor advantage — not
the universal empire, nor the gold of America — could
tempt him to yield or desert it. And I may affirm
that in all his life he never once pursued a measure
with the least prospect of anything by end to himself,
nor farther than he judged it for the common benefit
and advantage of his country. He was master of the
English, Latin, Greek, P'rench, and Italian languages,
and well versed in history, the civil law, and all kinds
of learning. He was a strict and nice observer of
all the points of honour, and had some experience of
the art of war, having been some time a volunteer
in both the land and sea service. He was in his
private conversation affable to his friends (but could
not endure to converse with those he thought
enemies to their country), and free of all manner of
vice. He had a penetrating, clear, and lively ap-
prehension, but so exceedingly wedded to his own
opinions, that there were few (and these too must
be his beloved friends, and of whom he had a good
opinion) he could endure to reason against him, and
did for the most part so closely and unalterably
adhere to what he advanced, which ■was frequently
very singular, that he'd break with his party before
he'd alter the least jot of his scheme and maxims;
and therefore it was impossible for any set of men,
that did not give up themselves to be absolutely
directed by him, to please him, so as to carry him
along in all points : and thence it came to pass, that
he often in parliament acted a part by himself,
though in the main he stuck close to the country
party, and was their Cicero. He was no doubt an
enemy to all monarchical governments ; but I do
very well believe, his aversion to the English and
the union was so great, that in revenge to them he'd
have sided with the royal family. But as that was
a subject not fit to be entered on with him, this is
only a conjecture from some inuendoes I have heard
him make. So far is certain, he liked, commended,
and conversed with high-flying Tories more than any
other set of men, acknowledging them to be the best
countrj'men, and of most honour and integrity. To
sum up all, he was a learned, gallant, honest, and
every other way well accomplished gentleman; and
if ever a man proposes to serve and merit well of his
country, let him place his courage, zeal, and con-
stancy as a pattern before him, and think himself
sufficiently applauded and rewarded by obtaining the
character of being like Andrew Fletcher of Salton."
— Of the general truth of these descriptions we have
no doubt; but they are strongly coloured through a
national prejudice that was a principal defect in
Fletcher's own character. That he was an ardent
lover of liberty and of his country his whole life
bore witness; but he was of a temper so fiery and
ungovernable, and besides so excessively dogmatic,
that he was of little service as a coadjutor in carry-
ing on public aflairs. His shooting the mayor of
Lynn on a trifling dispute, and his collaring Lord

36

ANDREW FLETCHER

Stair in the j)arliament house for a word wluch he
thou,;j;ht rcflcctcil ujion him, showed a mind nut suffi-
ciently disciplined for the business of life; and his
national partialities clouded his otherwise perspica-
cious faculties, contracted his views, and rendered
his most philosophical speculations, and his most
ardent personal exertions, of little utility. Upon the
whole, he was a man, we think, rather to be admired
than imitated; and, like many other popular charac-
ters, owes his reputation to the defects, rather than
to the excellencies, of his character.

FLETCHER, Andrew, a distinguished judge,
under the designation of Lord Milton, and for many
years sous miiiistre of Scotland, under Archibald
Duke of Argyle, was a nephew of the subject of the
preceding memoir. His father, Henry Fletcher of
Salton, was the immediate younger brother of the
patriot, but, distinguished by none of the public spirit
of that individual, was only known as a good country
gentleman. The genius of Lord Milton appeared to
have been derived from his mother, who was a
daughter of Sir David Carnegy of Pitarrow, and
granddaughter of David Earl of Southesk. During
the troubles in which the family were involved, in
consequence of their liberal principles, this lady went
to Holland, taking with her a weaver and a mill-
wright, both men of genius and enterprise in their
respective departments, and by their means she
secretly obtained the art of weaving and dressing
the fine linen called HoUand, of which she established
the manufacture at Salton. Andrew, the son of this
extraordinary woman, was born in 1692, and edu-
cated for the bar. He was admitted advocate in
171 7, one of the lords of session in 1724, when only
thirty-two years of age, and lord justice-clerk, or
president of the criminal court, in 1735) which office,
on being appointed keeper of the signet in 1748, he
relinquished.

The acuteness of Lord Milton's understanding,
his judgment and address, and his intimate know-
ledge of the laws, customs, and temper of Scotland,
recommended him early to the notice and confidence
of Lord Hay, afterwards Duke of Argyle, who, under
Sir Robert Walpole and subsequent ministers, was
intrusted with the chief management of Scottish
affairs. As Lord Hay resided chiefly at the court,
he required a confidential agent in Scotland, who
might give him all necessary information, and act as
his guide in the dispensation of the government
patronage. In this capacity Lord Milton served for
a considerable number of years ; during which his
house was, in its way, r. kind of court, and himself
looked up to as a jierson little short of a king. It is
universally allowed that nothing could exceed the
discretion with which his lordship managed his deli-
cate and difficult duties; especially during the civil
war of 1745. Even the Jacobites admitted that they
owed many obligations to the humanity and good
sense of Lord Milton.

In February, 1746, when the Highland army had
retired to the north, and the Duke of Cumberland
arrived at Edinburgh to put himself at the head of
the forces in Scotland, he was indebted to Lord
Milton for the advice which induced him to march
northward in pursuit; without which proceeding the
war would probably have been protracted a con-
siderable time. After the suppression of the insur-
rection, Milton applied himself with immense zeal to
the grand design which he had chiefly at heart— the
promotion of commerce, manufactures, and agricul-
ture in his native country ; and it would be difficult
to estimate exactly the gratitude due to his memory
for his exertions towards that noble object. After a

-ALEXANDER FORBES.

truly useful and meritorious life of seventy- four years,
his lordship expired at his house of Brunstane, near
Musselburgh, on the 13th of December, 1766.

FORBES, Ai.KXANDER, Lord Pitsligo, was the
only son of Alexander, third Lord Pitsligo, and
Lady Sophia Erskine, daughter of John, ninth Earl
of Marr. He was born on the 22d of May, 1678,
and succeeded his father in his titles and estates in
1691, while yet a minor. He soon after went to
France ; and during his residence in that country,
embraced the opinions of Madame Guion, to whom
he had been introduced by Fenelon. On his return
to Scotland he took the oaths and his seat in par-
liament, and commenced his political career as an
oppositionist to the court party. He joined the
Duke of Athole in opposing the union; but on the
extension of the oath of abjuration to Scotland,
he withdrew from public business. A Jacobite in
principle, he took an active part in the rebellion of
1 71 5; but escaped attainder, though he found it
expedient to withdraw for a time to the Continent,
after the suppression of that ill-judged attempt. In
1720 he returned to his native country, and devoted
himself to the study of literature and the mystical
writings of the Quietists, at his castle of Pitsligo, in
Aberdeenshire. His age and infirmities, as well as
experience, might have prevailed upon him to abide
in silence the result of Prince Charles' enterprise in
1745; but, actuated by a sense of duty, he joined
that enterprise, and was the means, by his example,
of drawing many of the gentlemen of Aberdeenshire
into the tide of insurrection ; no one thinking he
could be wrong in taking the same course with a
man of so much prudence and sagacity. Lord
Pitsligo arrived at Holyrood House some time after
the battle of Prestonpans, and was appointed by
Prince Charles to command a troop of horse, chiefly
raised out of the Aberdeenshire gentry, and which
was called Pitsligo's regiment. He accompanied
the army through all its subsequent adventures, and
having survived the disastrous affair of Culloden,
was attainted by the government, and eagerly sought
for by its truculent emissaries. The subsequent life
of this unfortunate nobleman was a very extraordi-
nary one, as will appear from the following anec-
dotes, which we extract from a memoir of his lord-
ship published in connection with his Thoughts on
Midi's Condition, Edinburgh, 1829: —

"After the battle of Culloden, Lord Pitsligo con-
cealed himself for some time in the mountainous dis-
trict of the country, and a second time experienced
the kindly dispositions of the country people, even
the lowest, to misfortune. The country had been
much exhausted for the supply of the prince's army,
and the people who gave him shelter and protection
were extremely poor, yet they freely shared their
humble and scanty fare with the unknown stranger.
This fare was what is called -watcr-brose, that is, oat-
meal moistened with hot water, on which he chiefly
subsisted for some time; and when, on one occasion,
he remarked that its taste would be much improved
by a little salt, the reply was, 'Ay, man, but sa't's
touchy,' meaning it was too expensive an indulgence
for them. However, he was not always in such bad
quarters; for he was concealed for some days at the
house ofNewmiln, near Elgin, along with his friends,
Mr. Cummine of Pitullie, Mr. Irvine of Drum, and
Mr. Mercer of Aberdeen, where Mrs. King, Pitullie's
sister, herself made their beds, and waited upon
them.

"It was known in London that about the end of
April, 1 746, he was lurking about the coast of Buchan,
as it was supposed, with the view of finding an oppor-

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ALEXANDER FORBES.

37

tunity of making his escape to France; and it required
the utmost caution on his part to elude the search
tliat was made for him. To such an extremity was
he reduced, that he was actually obliged on one oc-
casion to conceal himself in a hollow place in the
earth, under the arch of a small bridge at Craigmaud,
upon his own estate, about nine miles up into the
country from Fraserburgh, and about two and a half
from where New Pitsligo now is, which was scarcely
large enough to contain him; and this most uncom-
fortable place seems to have been selected for his re-
treat just because there was little chance of detection,
as no one could conceive it possible that a human
being could be concealed in it. At this time he lay
sometimes in the daytime concealed in the mosses
near Craigmaud, and was much annoyed by the lap-
wings flying about the place, lest they should attract
notice to the spot, and direct those who were in
search of him in their pursuit.

"As yet, the estate of Pitsligo was not taken posses-
sion of by government, and Lady Pitsligo continued
to reside at the castle. Lord Pitsligo occasionally
paid secret visits to it in disguise. The disguise that
he assumed was that of a mendicant, and Lady Pit-
sligo's maid was employed to provide him with two
bags to put under his arms, after the fashion of the
Edie Ochiltrees of those days. He sat beside her
while she made them, and she long related with
wonder how cheerful he was while thus superintend-
ing this work which betokened the ruin of his fortune
and the forfeiture of his life.

"When walking out in his disguise one day, he
was suddenly overtaken by a party of dragoons
scouring the countrj' in pursuit of him. The increased
exertion, from his desire to elude them, brought on
a fit of asthmatic coughing which completely over-
powered him. He could proceed no further, and
was obliged to sit down by the road-side, where he
calmly waited their approach. The idea suggested
by his disguise and infirmity was acted upon, and, in
his character of a mendicant, he begged alms of the
dragoons who came to apprehend him. His calmness
and resignation did not forsake him, no perturbation
betrayed him, and one of the dragoons stopped, and,
with great kindness of heart, actually bestowed a
mite on the venerable old man, condoling with him
at the same time on the severity of his cough.

"On another occasion Lord Pitsligo had sought
and obtained shelter in a shoemaker's house, and
shortly after a party of dragoons were seen approach-
ing. Their errand was not doubtful; and the shoe-
maker, who had recognized the stranger, was in the
greatest trepidation, and advised him to put on one
of the workmen's aprons and some more of his clothes,
and to sit down on one of the stools and pretend to
be mending a shoe. The party came into the shop in
the course of their search; and the shoemaker, observ-
ing that the soldiers looked as if they thought the
hands of this workman were not very like those of
a practised son of King Crispin, and fearing that a
narrower inspection would betray him, with great
presence of mind gave orders to Lord Pitsligo, as if
he had been one of his workmen, to go to the door
and hold one of the horses, which he did accordingly.
His own composure and entire absence of hurry
allayed suspicion, and he escaped this danger. He
used afterwards jocularly to say, 'he had been at one
time a Buchan cobbler.'

"One of the narrowest escapes which he made
from discovery, when met in his mendicant's dress by
those who were in search of him, was attended with
circumstances which made the adventure singularly
romantic and interesting. At that time there lived
in that district of the country a fool called Sandy An-

nand, a well-known character. The kindly feelings
of the peasantry of Scotland to persons of weak in-
tellect are well known, and are strongly marked by
the name of 'the innocent,' which is given to them.
They are generally harmless creatures, contented
with the enjoyment of the sun and air as their highest
luxuries, and privileged to the hospitality of every
house, so far as their humble wants require. There
is often, too, a mixture of shrewdness with their folly,
and they are always singularly attached to those who
are kind to them. Lord Pitsligo, disguised as usual,
had gone into a house where the fool happened to be
at the time. He immediately recognized him, and
did not restrain his feelings as others did in the same
situation, but was busily employed in showing his
respect for his lordship in his own peculiar and gro-
tesque manner, expressing his great grief at seeing
him in such a fallen state, when a party entered the
house to search for him. They asked the fool who
was the person that he was lamenting thus? What a
moment of intense anxiety both to Lord Pitsligo and
the inmates of the house ! It was impossible to ex-
pect any other answer from the poor weak creature
but one which would betray the unfortunate noble-
man. Sandy, however, with that shrewdness which
men of his intellect often exhibit on the most trying
occasions, said, ' He kent him aince a muckle farmer,
but his sheep a' dee'd in the '40.' It was looked
upon as a special interposition of Providence which
put such an answer into the mouth of the fool.

"In March, 1756, and, of course, long after all
apprehension of a search had ceased, information
having been given to the commanding officer at Fraser-
burgh that Lord Pitsligo was at that moment in the
house of Auchiries, it was acted upon with so much
promptness and secrecy, that the search must have
proved successful but for a very singular occurrence.
Mrs. Sophia Donaldson, a lady who lived much with
the family, repeatedly dreamed on that particular night
that the house was surrounded by soldiers. Her mind
became so haunted with the idea, that she got out of
bed, and was walking through the room in hopes of
giving a different current to her thoughts before she
lay down again, when, day beginning to dawn, she
accidentally looked out at the window as she passed
it in traversing the room, and was astonished at ac-
tually observing the figures of soldiers among some
trees near the house. So completely had all idea of
a search been by that time laid asleep, that she sup-
posed they had come to steal poultrj' — ^Jacobite poultry
yards affording a safe object of pillage for the English
soldiers in those days. Under this impression Mrs.
Sophia was proceeding to rouse the servants, when
her sister having awakened, and inquired what was
the matter, and being told of soldiers near the house,
exclaimed in great alarm that she feared they wanted
something more than hens. She begged Mrs. So-
phia to look out at a window on the other side of the
house, when not only soldiers were seen in that
direction, but also an officer giving instructions by
signals, and frequently putting his fingers on his lips,
as if enjoining silence. There was now no time to
be lost in rousing the family; and all the haste that
could be made was scarcely sufficient to hurry the
venerable man from his bed into a small recess
behind the wainscot of an adjoining room, which
was concealed by a bed, in which a lady. Miss Gor-
don of Towie, who was there on a visit, lay before
the soldiers obtained admission. A most minute
search took place. The room in which Lord Pit-
sligo was concealed did not escape. Miss Gordon's
bed was carefully examined, and she was obliged to
suffer the rude scrutiny of one of the party by feeling
her chin, to ascertain that it was not a man in a

38

DUNCAN FORBES.

lady's night-dress. Before the soldiers had finished
their examination in this room, the confinement and
anxiety increased Lord Pitsligo's asthma so much,
and his breathing became so loud, that it cost
Miss Gordon, lying in bed, much and violent cough-
ing, which she counterfeited in order to prevent the
high breathings behind the wainscot from being
heard. It may easily be conceived what agony she
would sufTer, lest, by overdoing her part, she should
increase suspicion and in fact lead to a discovery.
The ruse was fortunately successful. On the search
through the house being given over. Lord Pitsligo
was hastily taken from his confined situation, and
again placed in bed; and as soon as he was able to
speak, his accustomed kindness of heart made him
say to his servant, 'James, go and see that these
poor fellows get some breakfast, and a drink of warm
ale, for this is a cold morning; they are only doing
their duty, and cannot bear me any ill will.' When
the family were felicitating each other on his escape,
he pleasantly observed, 'A poor prize, had they ob-
tained it — an old dying man.'"

After this he resided constantly at Auchiries, over-
looked, or at least unmolested, by the government,
till the 2ist of December, 1762, when he breathed
his last in peace, in the eighty-fifth year of his age.
He left behind him a work entitled. Thoughts con-
cerning Man^s Condition and Duties in this Life, and
his Hopes in the World to Come, the production evi-
dently of a calm and highly devotional mind, but
nowise remarkable in other respects.

FORBES, Duncan, a man whose memory is
justly entitled to the veneration of his country, was
born at Bunchrew, in the neighbourhood of Inverness,
on the loth of November, 1685. His great-grand-
father, Duncan Forbes, was of the family of Lord
Forbes, through that of Tolquhoun, and purchased
the barony of CuUoden from the laird of Mackintosh
in 1625. His great-grandmother was Janet Forbes,
of the family of Corsindy, also descended from Lord
Forbes. But this early patriot was not more dis-
tinguished for honourable descent, than for public
spirit and nobility of conduct during the struggle
for religion and liberty that marked the reign of
Charles I. , in which he took a decided part against
the court; and, being a member of parliament, and
lord-provost of Inverness, must have been a partisan
of no small consequence. He died in 1654, leaving
his estate to his eldest son, John, who inherited his
offices as well as his principles. Having acted in
concert with the Marquis of Argyle, he was, upon
the Restoration, excepted from the act of indemnity,
and had a large share of the barbarous inflictions
which disgraced the reign of the restored despot.
He somehow, however, contrived . to accumulate
money, and about the year 1670 doubled his landed
estate by jiurchasing the Ijarony of Ferintosh and the
estate of Bunchrew. He die<l a little before the
Revolution, leaving, by his wife, Ann Dunbar, a
(laughter of Dunbar of Ilemprigs, in the county of
Moray, a large family, and was succeeded by his
eldest son, Duncan, who had received a liberal edu-
cation on the Continent, by which he was eminently
qualified for performing a conspicuous part in that
most auspicious of modern transactions. He was a
member of the convention parliament, a decitled
Presbyterian, and strongly condemned those tem-
porizing measures which clogged the wheels of
government at the time, and in consequence of which
many of the national grievances remained afterwards
unredressed. He was, of course, highly obnoxious
to the Jacobites, who, under Buchan and Cannon, in
1689, ravaged his estates of Culloden and Ferintosh;

destroying, particularly in the latter district, where
distillation was even then carried on upon an exten-
sive scale, property to the amount of ;^54,ooo Scots.
In consequence of this immense loss, the Scottish
parliament granted him a peq^etual license to distil,
duty free, the whole grain that might be raised in
the barony of Ferintosh, a valuable privilege, by
which Ferintosh very soon became the most popu-
lous and wealthy district in the north of Scotland.
He died in 1704, leaving, by his wife, Mary Innes,
daughter to the laird of Innes, two sons: John, who
succeeded him in his estates; and Duncan, the sub-
ject of this memoir; besides several daughters.

Of the early habits or studies of Duncan Forbes,
afterwards lord-president, little has been recorded.
The military profession is said to have been the
object of his first choice, influenced by the example
of his uncle John Forbes, who was a lieutenant-
colonel in the army. He had also an uncle eminent
in the law, Sir David Forbes of Newhall, and,
whether influenced by his example or not, we find
that he entered upon the study of that science at
Edinburgh, in the chambers of Professor Spottiswood,
in the year that his father died, 1704. The univer-
sity of Edinburgh had as yet attained nothing of that
celebrity by which it is now distinguished, its teachers
being few in number, and by no means remarkable
for acquirements; of course, all young Scotsmen of
fortune, especially for the study of law, were sent to
the Continent. Bourges had long been famous for
this species of learning, and at that university Scots-
men had been accustomed to study. Leyden, how-
ever, had now eclipsed it, and at that famous seat of
learning Duncan Forbes took up his residence in
1705. Here he pursued his studies for two years
with the most unremitting diligence; having, besides
the science of law, made no inconsiderable progress
in the Hebrew and several other oriental languages.
He returned to Scotland in 1707, where he continued
the study of Scottish law till the summer of 1709,
when he was, upon the 26th of July, admitted an
advocate, being in the twenty-fourth year of his age.

The closest friendship had all along subsisted be-
tween the families of Argyle and Culloden; and the
former, being at this time in the zenith of power,
displayed its fidelity by bestowing upon Mr. Forbes,
as soon as he had taken his place at the bar, the
respectable appointment of sheriff of Mid-Lothian.
The duke and his brother the Earl of Hay, from the
very outset of his career, intioisted him with the
management of their Scottish estates, which he is
said frankly to have undertaken, though, from pro-
fessional delicacy, he declined receiving anything in
the shape of fee or reward, for services which ought
to have brought him some hundreds a year.

Mr. Forbes, from his first appearance at the bar,
was distinguished for the depth of his judgment, the
strength of his eloquence, and the extent of his prac-
tice, which was such as must have precluded him
from performing anything like the duties of a mere
factor, which the above statement evidently supposes.
That he gave his opinion generally, when asked,
upon the modes that ought to be adopted for im-
proving the value of his grace's property, and the
comfort of his vassals in the Highlands, there can be
no doubt; for he continued to do this, not only to
the duke, but to his neighbours generally, even after
the highest duties of the judge had devolved upon
him; and this was probably the utmost extent of his
concern with the Argyle estate at any period of his
life. That he was in a high degree generous, there
cannot be a doubt; but we see no reason for suppos-
ing that he was in the habit of employing his legal
talents gratuitously. He was but a younger brother,

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DUNXAN FORBES.

39

and is said to have lost the greater part of his little
patrimony by an unguarded or an unfortunate specu-
lation; yet it is certain that he lived in a splendid and
rather expensive manner, the first wits and the highest
noblemen of the age finding their enjoyments height-
ened by his company; and it is equally certain that
the fruits of his professional toil were all that he
could depend upon for supporting a spirit that
breathed nothing but honour, and a state that knew
nothing but the most stubborn independence. His
business, however, rapidly rose with his rising re-
putation, and his fortune probably kept pace with
his fame, and he very soon added to his domestic
felicity, by forming a matrimonial connection with
Mary Rose, daughter to the laird of Kilravock, to
whom he had been warmly attached almost from her
earliest infancy.' She was a lady of great beauty,
and highly accomplished; but she died not long after
th-'ir marriage, leaving him an only son, John, who
eventually succeeded to the estate of Culloden. The
early demise of this lady, for whom Mr. Forbes
seems to have had more than an ordinary passion,
deeply affected him, and he never again entered into
the married state.

Domestic calamity, operating upon a keen sensi-
bility, has often withered minds of great promise,
and cut off the fairest prospects of future usefulness.
Happily, however, Mr. Forbes did not resign him-
self to solitude and the indulgence of unavailing
sorrow. The circumstances of his family, and of his
country, in both of which he felt a deep interest, did
not indeed allow him to do so, had he been willing.
The violence of party had been very great ever since
the Revolution: it had latterly been heightened by
the Union, and had reached nearly its acme at this
time, when the unexpected death of the queen opened
the way for the peaceable accession of the new
dynasty.

With a very few exceptions, such as the Grants,
the Monroes, and the Rosses, who had been gained
over by the Forbeses of Culloden, the Highland
clans were engaged to devote their lives and fortunes
in behalf of the expatriated house of Stuart; and only
waited for an opportunity of asserting the cause of
the Pretender. The loyal clans, and gentlemen, and
particularly Forbes of Culloden, were of course
highly obnoxious to the Jacobite clans; and, for their
own preservation, were obliged to be continually on
the watch, and frequently saw the brooding of the
storm, when others apprehended no danger. This
was eminently the case in the year after the accession
of the house of Brunswick; and, accordingly, so early
as the month of February, we find Monro of Fowlis
writing to Culloden: — "I find the Jacobites are werie
uppish, both in Edinburgh and in England, so that,
if ye go to the parliament, as I hope ye will, you will
recommend to some trusty, faithful friend, to take
care of your house of Culloden, and leave orders
with your people at Ferintosh, to receive directions
from me, or from your cousin George (my son), as
you are pleased to call him, which you may be sure
will be calculate to the support of your interest, in
subordination to the public cause;" — and he adds, in
a postscript to the same letter, — " The vanity, in-
solence, arrogance, and madness of the Jacobites
is beyond all measure insupportable. I believe they
must be let blood. They still have the trick of pre-
suming upon the lenity of a moderate government.
It seems God either destines them for destruction,
or infatuates others to allow them to be pricks in our
sides and thorns in our eyes. I have accounts from

' Her husband is said to have composed, in her honour, the
beautiful Scottish song, Ah, ClilorU.

very good hands from Edinburgh, that, to their cer-
tain knowledge, saddles were making in that city for
dragoons to serve the Pretender, and that all the
Popish lords, and very many Popish and Jacobite
gentlemen, are assembled there now; so that all
iriends and loyal subjects to his present majesty are
advised to be upon their guard from thence against
an invasion or an insurrection, which is suddenly
expected, which the Jacobites expect will interrupt
the meeting of the parliament." In the month of
March, the same year, Culloden, writing to his
brother, the subject of this memoir, has the fol-
lowing observation: — " Vou say you have no news;
but we abound with them in this country. The
Pretender is expected ever)' moment, and his friends
all ready; but since our statesmen take no notice of
this, I let it alone, and wish they may not repent
it when they cannot help it. " Culloden was returned
a member of parliament, and went up the following
month (April) to London, whence he again writes
to his brother as follows: — "As for your Highland
neighbours, their trusts and meetings, I know not
what to say; I wish we be not too secure: I can
assure you the Tories here were never higher in their
looks and hopes, which they found upon a speedy
invasion. ^Vhatever be in the matter, let things be
so ordered, that my house be not surprised."

Had those who were intrusted with the government
been equally sharp-sighted, much of the evil that
ensued might undoubtedly have been prevented; but
they were so intent upon their places, and the pursuit
of little, low intrigues, that they were caught by the
insurrection, in Scotland at least, as if it had been
a clap of thunder in a clear day. John Forbes's
direction, however, must have been attended to; for,
when his house was surrounded by the insurgents,
under Mackenzie of Coul, and Macintosh, with their
retainers, his wife refused all accommodation with
them, saying, with the spirit of an ancient Roman,
"She had received the keys of the house, and the
charge of all that was in it, from her husband, and
she would deliver them up to no one but himself."
In the absence of his brother, Duncan Forbes dis-
played, along with Hugh Rose of Kilravock, the
most indefatigable zeal, and great judgment in the
disposal of the men they could command, who were
chiefly the retainers of Culloden, Kilravock, Culcairn,
and the Grants, and by the assistance of Lord Lovat
and the Erasers finally triumphed over the insurgents
in that quarter. Nothing, indeed, could excel the
spirit displayed by the two brothers of Culloden, the
eldest of whom, John, spent on the occasion upwards
of ;i^3ooo sterling out of his own pocket for the
public service ; of which, to the disgrace of the
British government, he never received in repayment
one single farthing.

Though they were ardent for the cause of religion
and liberty, and zealous in the hour of danger, yet,
when that was over, the two brothers strongly felt
the impropriety of tarnishing the triumphs of order
and liberality by a violent and vindictive inquisition
into the conduct of persons, for whom so many cir-
cumstances conspired to jjlead, if not for mercy, at
least for a candid construction of their motives. As
a Scotsman and lawyer, Duncan Forbes was averse
to the project of carrying the prisoners out of the
country to be tried by juries of foreigners, and he
wrote to Lord Hay, when he heard of a design to
appoint him lord-advocate, in order to carrv' on these
prosecutions, that he was determined to refuse that
employment. He also wrote to his brother in be-
half of a contribution for the poor prisoners who had
been carried to Carlisle, and were there waiting for
trial. "It is certainly Christian," says he, "and by

4p

DUNCAN FORBES.

no means disloyal, to sustain them in their indigent
state until they are found guilty. The law has
brought them to England to be tried by foreign
juries — so far it is well — but no law can hinder a
Scotsman to wish that his countrymen, not hitherto
condemned, should not be a derision to strangers,
or perish for want of necessary defence or sustenance
out of their own country." To the forfeitures he
was also decidedly hostile, and some of his reasons
for this hostility threw a particular light upon the
state of Scotland at that period. "There are," he
says, "none of the rebels who have not friends
among the king's faithful subjects, and it is not easy
to guess how far a security of this kind, unnecessarily
pushed, may alienate the affections even of these
from the government. But in particular, as this
relates to Scotland, the difficulty will be insurmount-
able. I may venture to say, there are not two hun-
dred gentlemen in the whole kingdom who are not
very nearly related to some one or other of the rebels.
Is it possible that a man can see his daughter, his
grandchildren, his nephews, or cousins, reduced to
beggary and starving unnecessarily by a government,
without thinking very ill of it? and where this is the
case of a whole nation, I tremble to think what dis-
satisfactions it will produce against a settlement so
necessary for the happiness of Britain. If all the
rebels, with their wives and children and immediate
dependants, could be at once rooted out of the earth,
the shock would be astonishing ; but time would
commit it to oblivion, and the danger would be less
to the constitution than when thousands of innocents,
punished with misery and want for the offences of
their friends, are suffered to wander about the country
sighing out their complaints to Heaven, and drawing
at once the compassion and moving the indignation
of every human creature." "To satisfy," he adds,
"any person that the forfeitures in Scotland will
scarce defray the charges of the commission, if the
saving clause in favour of the creditors takes place,
I offer but two considerations that, upon inquiry,
will be found incontestable. First, it is certain, that
of all the gentlemen who launched out into the
late rebellion, the tenth man was not easy in his
circumstances, and if you abate a dozen of gentlemen,
the remainder, upon paying their debts, could not
produce much money clear; nor was there anything
more open to observation, than that the men of
estates, however disaffected in their principles, kept
themselves within the law, when at the same time
men supposed loyal, in hopes of bettering their low
fortunes, broke loose. Besides, it is known that the
titles by which almost all the estates in Scotland are
possessed are diligences upon debts affecting those
estates purchased in the proprietors' own name or
in that of some trustee: now, it is certain, that when
the commissioners of inquiry begin to seize such
estates, besides the debts truly due to real creditors,
such a number of latent debts will be trumped up,
not distinguishable from the true ones by any else
than the proprietors, as will make the inquiry fruit-
less and the commission a charge upon the treasury,
as well as a nuisance to the nation.

Such were the arguments, drawn from expediency
and the state of the country, by which forbearance
on the part of the government was recommended by
this excellent man, though it appears that they had
little effect but to excite a suspicion of his own loyalty.
In spite of all this, his character made him too
powerful to be resisted. In 1716 he was rewarded
for his services by the office of advocate-depute; that
is, he became one of the inferior prosecutors for the
crown. On the 20th of March he is found writing
thus to his principal, the lord-advocate: — "Yester-

day I was qualified, the Lord knows how, as your
depute. The justice-clerk shows a grim sort of
civility towards me, because he finds me plagitey
stubborn. I waited upon him, however, and on the
other lords, to the end they might fix on a dyet for
the tryall of the Episcopall clergy. The justice-clerk
does not smile on their prosecution, because it is not ^
his own contrivance; and declared it could not come
on sooner than the first of June; but I told him that
if, as I understood was designed, the May circuit were
suspended this year by act of parliament, I would
require his lordship to assign a dyet sooner." In
1722, with the acquiescence of the ministry, he was
returned to sit in parliament for the Inverness district
of burghs; and in 1725 he obtained the high and
responsible appointment of lord-advocate. As the
office of secretary of state for Scotland was at this
time discontinued, it became part of his duty to
carry on with his majesty's ministers, the correspon-
dence regarding the improvements necessary to be
made in her civil establishments, which he did in a
manner highly creditable to himself, and with the
happiest effect for his country. The year in which
he was appointed lord-advocate was marked by the
introduction of the malt-tax into Scotland, and the
mob at Glasgow, known by the name of Shawfield's
rabble, by which its introduction was attended.
This was a riot of a very scandalous character (the
magistrates of the city being deeply implicated in
fomenting it), in which nine persons were killed out-
right, and the soldiers, who had been brought from
Edinburgh for its suppression, were chased out of the
city, and were glad to take refuge in Dumbarton
Castle. General Wade, who was in Edinburgh at
the time, on his way to the Highlands, was imme-
diately ordered to Glasgow with all the troops he
could muster, and he was accompanied by the lord-
advocate in person, who first committed the whole
of the magistrates to their own tolbooth, and after-
wards, under a strong guard, sent them to Edinburgh,
where they were thrown into the common jail, and
it was certainly intended to proceed against them
before the justiciary court. Doubts, however, were
entertained of the legality of the proceedings, and
whether the lord-advocate had not exceeded his
powers in committing the whole magistracy of a city,
upon the warrant of a justice of peace, to their own
jail; public feeling at the same time recovering
strongly in their favour, they were by the justiciary
admitted to bail, nor was their case ever again
called.

In 1734 he lost his brother, John Forbes, in con-
sequence of whose death he fell heir to the extensive
and valuable estate of Culloden. In 1 736 a disgrace-
ful affair, termed the Porteous mob, occurred in
Edinburgh, in consequence of which it was resolved
to deprive the city of her privileges. Mr. Forbes,
on this occasion, exerted himself to the utmost in
behalf of the city, and was successful in procuring
many modifications to be made upon the bill before
it passed the two houses of parliament. When we
contemplate the condition of Scotland in those days,
we scarcely know whether to wonder most at the
good which Forbes was able to achieve, or the means
by which he accomplished it. The period might
properly be called the dark age of Scottish history,
though it contained, at the same time, the germs of
all the good that has since sprung up in the land.
The pretensions of the house of Stuart were univer-
sally received, either with favour from direct affection
to their cause, or at least without disfavour, the re-
sult of a justifiable disgust at the political status into
which the country had been thrown by the union,
and the unpopularity of the two first Brunswick

DUNCAN FORBES.

41

princes. The commencement of a strict system of
general taxation was new; while the miserable poverty
of the country rendered it unproductive and unpopu-
lar. The great families still lorded it over their de-
pendants, and exercised legal jurisdiction within their
own domains, by which the general police of the
kingdom was crippled, and the grossest local oppres-
sion practised. The remedy adopted for all these
evils, which was to abate nothing and to enforce
everything, under the direction of English counsels
and of Englishmen, completed the national wretched-
ness, and infused its bitterest ingredient into the brim-
ful cup. How Forbes got his views or his character
amidst such a scene, from the very heart of the very
worst part of which he came, it is difficult to conceive;
for with only one or two occasional exceptions, his
papers prove that he had scarcely an associate, either
in his patriotic toils or enjoyments.^ However, it is
sometimes true in the political, as it generally is in
the commercial world, that supply is created by de-
mand; and the very degradation of the country held
out an immense reward to the man who should raise
it up. No man, especially the hired servant of a
disputed monarchy, could have achieved this work,
except one whose heart was as amiable as his judg-
ment was sound, and whose patriotism was as pure
as it was strong. Forbes cultivated all these quali-
ties, and not only directed the spirit of the nation,
but conciliated its discordant members with a degree
of skill that was truly astonishing.

The leading objects of his official and parliamentary
life were suggested to him by the necessities of the
country, and they are thus ably summed up in the
work just quoted: —

1. To extinguish the embers of rebellion, by gain-
ing over the Jacobites. He did not try to win them,
however, in the ordinary way in which alleged rebels
are won; but by showing them what he called the

folly of their designs, by seeking their society, by ex-
cluding them from no place for which their talents
or characters gave them a fair claim, and, above all,
by protecting them from proscription. It is delight-
ful to perceive how much this policy, equally the
dictate of his heart and of his head, made him be
consulted and revered even by his enemies; and how
purely he kept his private affections open to good
men, and especially to old friends, in spite of all
political acrimony or alienation. He derived from
this habit one satisfaction, which seems to have
greatly diverted him, that of being occasionally abused
by both sides, and sometimes suspected of secret
Jacobitism by his own party.

2. Having thus, by commanding universal esteem
as an upright and liberal man, enabled himself to do
something for the country at large, his next object
seems to have been, to habituate the people to the
equal and regular control of the laws. It may ap-
pear at first sight unnecessary or inglorious to have
Ijcen reduced to labour for an end so essential and
obvious in all communities as this. But the state
of Scotland must be recollected. The provincial
despotism of the barons was common and horrid.
Old Lovat, for example, more than once writes to
him, as lord-advocate, not to trouble himself about
certain acts of violence done in his neighbourhood,
because he was very soon to take vengeance with his
own hands.

Nor was this insubordination confined to indivi-
duals or to the provinces, for it seems to have ex-
tended to the capital, and to have touched the seats

' We here pursue a train of remarks in the Edinburgh
Review of the CuUoden papers, an ample collection of the
letters, &c., of the lord-president, published in 1816,

of justice. There is a letter from Forbes to Mr.
Scroope, in the year 1732, in which he complains
"that it would surely provoke any man living, as it
did me, to see the last day of our term in exchequer.
The effect of every verdict we recovered from the
crown, stopped upon the triflingest pretences that
false popularity and want of sense could suggest.
If some remedy be not found for this evil we must
shut up shop. It's a pity, that when we have argued
the juries out of their mistaken notices of popularity,
the behaviour of the court should give any handle to
their relapsing." He persevered to prevent this by
argument, and by endeavouring to get the laws, es-
pecially those concerning the revenue, altered, so as
to be less unacceptable to the people.

It is chiefly on account of his adherence to this
principle, that it is important to notice this subject
as a distinct part of his system. If he had been dis-
posed to govern, as is usual in turbulent times, by
mere force, he had pretences enough to have made
scarlet uniforms deform every hamlet in the kingdom
— but, except when rebellion or riot was raging, we
cannot discover from his papers that he ever, on
any one occasion, required any other assistance ex-
cept the ordinary authority of which law is always
possessed, when administered fairly. He rigidly in-
vestigated, though he did not severely punish, popu-
lar outrages; but he was unsparing in his prosecution
of the provincial injustice by which the people were
generally oppressed. The consequence of this was,
that he not only introduced a comparative state of
good order, but made his name a sanction that what-
ever he proposed was right, and that in him the
injured was sure to find a friend. When Thomas
Rawlinson, an Englishman who was engaged in a
mining concern in Glengarry (and who by-the-bye
is said to have been the first person who introduced
the philibeg into the Highlands), had two of his ser-
vants murdered by the natives there, the lord-advo-
cate was the only individual to whom it ever occurred
to him to apply for protection. But his power in
thus taming the people can only be fairly estimated
by perceiving how universally he was feared by the
higher ranks, as the certain foe of all sorts of partial,
sinister, unfair, or illiberal projects. Few men ever
wrote, or were written to, with less idea of publica-
tion than he. His correspondence has only come
accidentally to light about seventy years after his
death. Yet we have not been able to detect a single
one of his advices or proceedings, by the exposure
of which even a private gentleman of the most
delicate honour and the most reasonable views,
would have cause to feel a moment's uneasiness.
On the contrary, though living in ferocious times —
in public life — the avowed organ of a party — and
obliged to sway his country by managing its greatest
and greediest families, he uniformly maintains that
native gentleness and fairness of mind with which it
is probable that most of the men who are afterwards
hardened into corruption, begin, and resolve to con-
tinue their career. How many other public men are
there, of whose general correspondence above 500
letters could be published indiscriminately, without
alarming themselves if they were alive, or their friends
if they were dead?

Having thus freed himself from the shackles of
party, and impressed all ranks with a conviction of
the necessity of sinking their subordinate contests in
a common respect for the law, his next great view
seems to have been, to turn this state of security to
its proper account, in improving the trade and agri-
culture of the kingdom. Of these two sources of
national wealth, the last seems to have engaged the
smallest portion of his attention; and it was perhaps

42

DUN'CAN FORBES.

natural that it should do so. For, though agricul-
ture precedes manufactures in the order of things,
yet, for this very reason, that the cultivation of the
land has gone on for ages, it is only in a more ad-
vanced era of refinement that the attention of legis-
lators is called to tlie resources it supplies and the
virtues it inspires. Uut projectors are immediately
attracted towards improvements in manufactures,
which are directly convenient by employing industry,
and highly captivating, because their commencement
and growth can be distinctly traced ; so that they
appear more the result of preparation and design
than agriculture does; as to which, one generation
seems only to follow the example of another, in
passively taking what the scarcely assisted powers
of nature give. Several efforts at trade had been
made by Scotland before Forbes appeared; but it
was both the cause and the evidence of the national
poverty, that, slender as they were, they had failed,
and that their failure almost extinguished the com-
mercial hopes of the people. He was no sooner
called into public life, than he saw what trade, chiefly
internal, could do, by giving employment to the
hordes of idlers who infested the country, by in-
teresting proprietors in the improvement of their
estates, and by furnishing the means both of pay-
ing and of levying taxes, and thereby consolidat-
ing the whole island into one compact body, in-
stead of keeping the northern part a burden on the
southern.

His exertions in prosecution of this great object
were long and unceasing. We cannot enter here
into any details ; and therefore we shall only state,
in general, that he appears to have made himself
master of the nature and history of almost every
manufacture, and to have corresponded largely both
with the statesmen, the philosophers, and the mer-
chants of his day, about the means of introducing
them into Scotland. The result was that he not
only planted the roots of those establishments which
are now flourishing all over the country, but had the
pleasure (as he states in a memorial to government)
of seeing "a commendable spirit of launching into
new branches " excited. He was so successful in
this way, that the manufactures of Scotland are
called, by more than one of his correspondents, "his
ain bairns ;" — an expression which he himself uses in
one of his letters to Mr. Scroope, in which he says
that one of his jMoposals "was disliked by certain
chiefs, from its being a child of mine. "

Notwithstanding the immense good which he thus
accomplished, and the great judgment and forbear-
ance he evinced in furthering his improvements, it is
amusing to observe the errors into which he fell
with respect to what are now some of the clearest
principles of taxation and of political economy.
These, in general, were the common errors of too
much regulation, errors which it requires the firmest
hold of the latest discoveries in these sciences to re-
sist, and which were peculiarly liable to beset a man
who had been obliged to do so much himself in the
way of direction and planning. One example may
suffice, being the strongest we have been able to
find. In order to encourage agriculture by promot-
ing the use of malt, he presented to government a
long detailed scheme for preventing, or rather punish-
ing, the use of tea.

"The cause," says he, "of the mischief we com-
plain of is evidently the excessive use of tea; which
is now become so common, that the meanest families,
even of labouring people, particularly in boroughs,
make their morning's meal of it, and thereby wholly
disuse the ale which heretofore was their accustomed
drink: and the same drug supplies all the labouring

women with their afternoon's entertainments, to the
exclusion of the twopenny."

The remedy for this is, to impose a prohibitory
duty on tea, and a penalty on those who shall use
this seducing poison, "if they belong to that class of
mankind in this country whose circumstances do
not permit them to come at tea that pays the duty."
The obvious difficulty attending this scheme strikes
him at once, and he removes it by a series of provi-
sions calculated to describe those who are within the
tea line, and those who are beyond it. The essence
of the system is, that when any person is suspected,
"the o)ins probandi of the extent of his yearly income
may be laid on him;" and that his own oath may
be demanded, and that of the prosecutor taken.
"These provisions," the worthy author acknowledges,
"are pretty severe;" and most of his readers may be
inclined to think them pretty absurd. But it must
be recollected that he is not the only person (espe-
cially about his own time, when the first duty of a
statesman was to promote the malt-tax) who has
been eloquent and vituperative on the subject of this
famous plant. Its progress, on the contrary, has been
something like the progress of truth: suspected at
first, though very palatable to those who had cour-
age to taste it; resisted as it encroached; abused as
its popularity seemed to spread; and establishing its
triumph at last, in cheering the whole land, from the
palace to the cottage, only by the slow and resistless
efforts of time and its own virtues. Nor are the pro-
visions for enforcing his scheme so extraordinary as
may at first sight appear. The object of one half of
our existing commercial regulations is to insure the
use of our own produce and the encouragement of
our own industry; and his personal restrictions, and
domiciliary visits, are utterly harmless when com-
pared with many excise regulations of the present
day; and still more so when contrasted with certain
parts of the earlier system for levying the tax upon
property. We have noticed this example chiefly for
the sake of showing that Forbes's views were as
sound upon these subjects as those of the persons by
whom he has been succeeded, and that if we could
oftener withdraw our eyes from the objects of their
habitual contemplation we should oftener see the
folly of many things, which appear to us correct
merely because they are common.

Being appointed president of the Court of Session
in 1737, he applied himself with great zeal to a duty
which has conferred lasting service on his country,
that of improving the regulations of his court. Pre-
viously the chief judge, by having it in his power to
postpone a cause, or to call it at his pleasure, was
enabled sometimes to choose a particular time for its
decision, when certain judges whom he knew to have
made up their minds were absent. Forbes put an
end to this flagrant error in the constitution of the
court, by rendering it impossible for the judges to
take up a case except as it stood on the roll. He
also exerted himself to prevent any accumulation of
undetermined causes.

The character of the Highlanders, and the improve-
ment of the Highlands, had all along been objects
of the first magnitude with the lord-president, nor
did he lose sight of them when his elevation to the
first place in Scottish society brought him to be con-
versant with others equally important. Viewing the
aspect of the political horizon, and aware that the
clans, in such times as appeared to be approaching,
could scarcely fail to fall into the hands of political
agitators, he digested a plan (the very same for which
Chatham received so much applause for carrying into
effect) for embodying the most disaffected of them
into regiments, under colonels of tried loyalty, but

DUNCAN FORBES.

43

officered by their own chieftains, who would thus be
less liable to be tampered with by the emissaries of
the Stuarts, and be insensibly led to respect an order
of things which, it might be presumed, they disliked
chiefly because they did not comprehend it, and from
which, as yet, they did not suppose they had derived
any benefit. This proposal the lord-president com-
municated to the lord justice-clerk, ^Iilton, who re-
ported it to Lord Hay, by whom it was laid before
Sir Robert Walpole, who at once comprehended
and admired it. When, however, he laid it before
the council, recommending it to be carried into im-
mediate effect, the council declared unanimously
against it. "Were the plan of the Scottish judge,"
said they, "adopted, what would the patriots say?
Would they not exclaim. Sir Robert Walpole had
all along a design upon the constitution? lie has
already imposed upon us a standing army, in addi-
tion to which he is now raising an army of barba-
rians, for the sole purpose of enslaving the people of
England." Walpole was too well acquainted with
the temper of the patriots, as they called themselves,
not to feel the full force of this reasoning; and the
measure was given up, though he was fully convinced
that it was conceived in wisdom, and would have
been infallibly successful in its operation.

Though his advice was neglected, the event showed
that his suspicions were well founded. The disturbed
state of Europe encouraged the Jacobites, particularly
in the Highlands, to sign an association for the re-
storation of the Pretender, which was sent to him at
Rome, in the year 1742. During the following
years there was a perpetual passing and repassing
between the court of France, the Pretender, and the
association, without the knowledge of the most vigi-
lant observers on the part of the government. So
cautiously, indeed, did the Highland chieftains con-
duct themselves, that even the lord-president, who
was intimately acquainted with their characters and
propensities, seems to have been perfectly unaware
of any immediate rising, when he was acqiiainted by
a letter from Macleod of jNIacleod, that Charles was
actually arrived, and had by young Clanronald sum-
moned himself and Sir Alexander Macdonald to join
his standard. The truth was, both Macleod and
Macdonald had pledged themselves to Prince Charles;
but a French anny to accompany him, and military
stores, were positive parts of the engagement, which,
not being fulfilled, led them to hesitate, and they
were willing to fortify their hesitation by the advice
of the president; whom they had long found to be an
excellent counsellor, and whose views upon the sub-
ject they were probably anxious in a covert way to
ascertain. Macleod of course wrote to the president
that such a person was on the coast, with so many
Irish or French officers, stating them greatly beyond
the real number, and he adds, " His views, I need
not tell you, was to raise all the Highlands to assist
him. Sir Alexander Macdonald and I not only gave
no sort of countenance to these people, but we used
all the interest we had with our neighbours to follow
the same prudent method, and I am persuaded we
have done it with that success, that not a man north
of the Grampians will give any sort of assistance to
this mad rebellious attempt. As it can be of no use
to the public to know whence you have this informa-
tion, it is, I fancy, needless to mention either of us;
but this we leave in your own breast, as you are a
much better judge of what is or what is not proper
to be done. I have wrote to none other, and as our
friendship and confidence in you is without reserve,
so we doubt not of your supplying our defects pro-
perly. Sir Alexander is here and has seen this scrawl.
Young Clanronald has been here with us, and has

given us all possible assurances of his prudence."
The above letter was dated August 3d, 1745, ^^d
speaks of Charles as only on the coast, though he
had in reality landed, and the assurance of young
Clanronald's prudence was a perfect farce. It was
indeed, for obvious reasons, the aim of the rebels to
lull the friends of government in their fatal security,
and we have no doubt that Clanronald, acting upon
this principle, gave the assurance to Macleod and
Macdonald for the very purpose of being communi-
cated to the lord-president, and it has been supposed
that the misstatements in this letter laid the founda-
tion for that pernicious counsel which sent Sir John
Cope to the north, leaving the low country open to
Charles, in consequence of which he overcame at
once the most serious difficulties he had to contend
with — want of provisions and want of money, made
himself master of the capital of Scotland, and, to the
astonishment of himself as well as of all Europe,
penetrated into the very heart of England.

Being now certain that there was danger, though
its extent was cautiously concealed from him, the
lord-president, after pointing out to the Marquis of
Tweeddale, who at that time was a principal man-
ager in Scottish affairs, a few things necessary to be
done in order to give full effect to his exertions, has-
tened to the north, and arrived at Culloden House
on the 13th of August, six days before Charles un-
furled his standard in Glenfinnan, and while many
of his most devoted admirers were yet at a great loss
whether to come forward to his assistance, or to re-
main undeclared till circumstances should enable
them more accurately to calculate probabilities. To
all these nothing could have been more unwelcome
than the presence of the lord-president, to whom
they, almost to a man, were under personal obliga-
tions. Lovat waited upon and dined with his lord-
ship the very day after his arrival, and requested his
advice, assuring him that his wishes, as well as his
interest, still led him to support the present royal
family. Macleod of Macleod and Sir Alexander
Macdonald of Skye also wrote to him immediately
on his arrival, in a loyal strain, though their presence
was certainly expected at the unfurling of the insur-
gent standard at Glenfinnan, which was so soon to
take place. The letters are not so very explicit as
might have been wished, and, till the advice and the
presence of the lord-president encouraged them,
these gentlemen were undoubtedly not cordial for
the government. Lovat most certainly was not,
and had Charles, according to his advice, come east
by Inverness, he would no doubt have joined him
on the instant. But the clans having rushed down
into the Lowlands, while Sir John Cope, with the
whole regular troops that were in Scotland, came
north, added weight to the lord-president's remon-
strances, and for a time neutralized all who were
not previously committed, till the unfortunate affair
of Gladsmuir gave a new impulse to their hopes.
Sir Alexander Macdonald and Macleod of Macleod
were assured by a special messenger, that their past
conduct was not imputed to any want of zeal for
the cause or want of affection to the person of
Charles, who considered their sers'ices to be now
more useful to him than ever, and was ready to
receive them as his best friends. Lovat had a
message of the same kind, and, sure that now his
right master, as he called him, would prevail, set him-
self to forward the marching of his Erasers without
delay. Still he continued his correspondence with
the president, and laboured hard to keep up the
farce of loyalty, as did Macleod of Macleod, at the
very moment when he was pledging his faith to that
arch-hypocrite to send his Macleods to join the

44

DUNCAN FORBES.

Frasers, the Mackintoshes, and the Mackenzies at
Corrj'arrack, within a given number of days. Happily
for Macleod, he was greatly under the influence of
Sir Alexander Macdonald, whose judgment the lord-
president had completely opened upon the subject,
and he not only did not fulfd his engagement with
Lovat, but actually raised and headed his men to
fight on the opposite side.

The Frasers, in the meantime, formed a scheme
for seizing upon the house of Culloden, and either
killing or making the president a prisoner. The
execution of this plot was intrusted to the laird of
Foyers, who made the attempt on the night of Tues-
day, the 15th of October, the day when the clans
were engaged upon honour to assemble at the pass
of Corryarrack, for the purpose of reinforcing the
army of Charles at Edinburgh. The president,
however, who, had arms been his profession, would
probably have been as celebrated a soldier as he was
a lawyer, knew his situation, and the men he lived
among, better than to suffer himself to be so surprised.
The castle itself was naturally strong; several pieces
of cannon were planted upon its rampart; and it was
occupied by a garrison able and willing to defend
it; so that, leaving behind them one of their number
wounded, the assailants were obliged to content
themselves with carrying off some sheep and cattle,
and robbing the gardener and the house of an honest
weaver, who, it w'ould appear, lived under the pro-
tection of the president. Like all other projectors
of wicked things which fail in the execution, Lovat
seems to have been very much ashamed of this affair,
and he was probably the more so, that the Macleods,
the Macdonalds, &c., who, that same day, were to
have joined his clan at Corryarrack, had not only
not kept their word, but were actually on the road
tj take their orders from the president, which com-
pelled him once more to send, in place of troops, an
apology to Charles, with an abundance of fair pro-
mises, in which he was at all times sufficiently liberal.
The president had assured him that, by killing and
eating his sheep in broad daylight, the men who
had made the attack upon his house were all known,
but that if they did no more harm he forgave them;
only he wished they would send back the poor gar-
dener and weaver their things, and if they sent not
back the tenant his cattle, they knew he must pay for
them. Lovat, with well-affected concern and high
eulogiums upon his lordship's goodness, declares the
actors in this villanous attempt to have been ruffians
without the fear of God or man, and that he has
ordered his son, and Gortuleghis kinsman and factor,
to send back all the plunder, particularly his lord-
ship's sheep, which he was ready to give double value
for, rather than that his lordship should want them,
and, in case they should not be found, offered to
divide with him one hundred fat wedders, seeing
that he was under greater obligations to him and his
family than all the sheep, oxen, cows, and horses
he ever possessed were worth. "And I beg, my
lord," he adds, "that you may not be in the least
apprehensive that any of those rogues, or any in my
country, go and disturb your tenants, for I solemnly
swore to Gortuleg that if any villain or rascal of my
country durst presume to hurt or disturb any of your
lordship's tenants, I would go personally, though
carried in a litter, and see Hum seized and haui^ed.
So, my dear lord, I beg you may have no apprehen-
sion that any of your tenants will meet with disturb-
ance so long as I live in this country; and I hope
that my son that represents me will follow my ex-
ample: so let monarchies, government, and common-
wealths take up fits of revolutions and wars, for
God's sake, my dear lord, let us live in good friend-

ship and peace together." It was but a short
time when, after the retreat from England, Charles
was met at Glasgow by a messenger from Lovat, re-
questing him to send north a party to seize Inverness,
and if possible secure the lord-president, who, he
affirmed, had done him more harm than any man
living, having by his influence prevented more than
10,000 men from joining him. Circumstances of
another kind than Lovat's advice or request brought
Charles to Inverness, and the lord-president, along
with Lord Loudon, was under the necessity of taking
refuge in the Islantl of Skye, where he remained till
after the battle of Culloden, when he returned to
reap, as many other good men have done, neglect
and ingratitude for all his services. Of these services
and of this neglect the reader will not be displeased
to find the following graphic description from his
own pen. It is a letter to Mr. George Ross, then
at London, inclosing letters on the same subject to
Mr. Pelham, Mr. Scroope, and the Duke of New-
castle, date Inverness, May 13th, 1746.

"Dear George, my peregrinations are now over.
Some account of my adventures you surely have had
from different hands ; to give an exact one is the
work of more time than I can at present afford. The
difficulties I had to struggle with were many ; the
issue, on the main, has been favourable; and, upon
a strict review, I am satisfied with my own conduct.
I neither know nor care what critics, who have en-
joyed ease in safety, may think. The commissions
for the independent companies I disposed of in the
way that, to me, seemed the most frugal and profit-
able to the public; the use they have already been of
to the public is very great; preventing any accession
of strength to the rebels, before they marched into
England, was no small service; the like prevention,
in some degree, and the distraction of their forces
when the duke was advancing, was of considerable
use; and now they are, by the duke, employed, under
the command of E. Loudon, in Glengarry, and must
be the hands by which the rebels are to be hunted
in their recesses. My other letter of this date gives
the reason why the returns of the officers' names,
&c. , was not sooner made. I hope the certificate
will be sufficient to put them upon the establishment,
and to procure the issuing of money for them. The
returns of the several companies in the military way
E. Loudon will take care of \Vhat distressed us
most in this country, and was the real cause why the
rebels came to head after their flight from Stirling,
was the want of arms and money, which, God knows,
had been enough called for and expected. Had
these come in time, we could have armed a force
sufficient to have prevented them looking at us on
this side Drumachter. The men were prepared,
several hundreds assembled in their own counties,
and some hundreds actually on the march; but un-
luckily the ship that brought the few arms that were
sent, and the sum of money that came, did not ar-
rive in our road sooner than the very day on which
the rebels made themselves master of the barrack of
Ruthven. It was then too late to fetch unarmed
men from distances, it was even unsafe to land the
arms and the money ; so we were forced to suffer
them remain on board and to retreat with the force
we had, to preserve them for the further annoyance
of the enemy. Another ill consequence the scrimp-
ing us of money had, was that — as there were a
great many contingent services absolutely necessary,
and as all the money that could be raised upon Lord
Loudon's credit and mine was not sufficient to an-
swer these extraordinary services — we were obliged
to make free with the cash remitted for the subsist-
ence of the companies. This at the long run will

DUNCAN FORBES.

45

come out as broad as it is long when accounts
are made up and allowances made for the con-
tingent expense ; but in the meantime it saddles
us with the trouble of settling and passing an
account.

"If any one will reflect on the situation I was in,
and consider what I had to do, he will soon be con-
vinced that the expense I laid out could not be small.
So far as I could command money of my own, you
will easily believe it was employed without hesita-
tion ; and of that I say nothing at present. But
when the expedient proposed by the Marquis of
Tweeddale of taking bills to be drawn on Mr. Pel-
ham failed, I had no resource but to take up money
where I could find it, from well-disposed persons,
on my own proper notes. That money so picked
up was at the time of great service ; and now that
peace is restored, the gentlemen with great reason
expect to be repaid. You can guess how ill I like
a dun, and I should hope now that the confusions
are over, there can be no great difficulty in procuring
me a remittance, or leave to draw upon Mr Pelham
or some other proper person, to the extent of the
sum thus borrowed, which does not exceed ;^i5oo
sterling. ... I am heartily tired of this erratic
course I have been in, but as the prevention of
any future disturbance is a matter of great moment,
and which requires much deliberation and some
skill, if those on whom it lies to frame the scheme
for that purpose imagine I can be of any use to
them, I should not grudge the additional fatigue
of another journey; but it is not improbable their
resolutions may be already taken," &c. There is
in this letter an honest feeling, and a frankly ex-
pressed conviction of the value of his services; and
though possessed with a prophetic anticipation of
their being latterly to be overlooked, an equally open
and straightfor\vardly expressed determination to
continue them as long as they should be useful to his
country, strongly indicative of that high-minded de-
votion to the best interests of his species, which
peculiarly characterized this great man. At the same
time, there is manifested the most delicate feeling
with regard to the money part of the transaction.
What portion, and that was a large one, had been
advanced from his own treasury he makes for the
present no account of; but he pleads in the most
gentlemanly manner in behalf of those who had
assisted him at the time, and could scarcely be ex-
pected to have the same disinterested regard to the
public service, and the same degree of philosophic
patience. They expect with reason, he remarks, to
be paid, and he interposes in the most delicate man-
ner his own repugnance to be dunned, as the most
pressing of all arguments in their favour. Surely
never was so small a request, and so exceedingly
well founded, so modestly prepared, yet never per-
haps did a reasonable one meet with a more careless
reception. Upwards of a month elapsed before he
had an answer from George Ross, with a bill for
;i{'500, which perhaps was not for his own use. It
has been generally said that he never received one
farthing, and to his generous spirit, if he received
only this small portion, which we dare not affirm he
did, taken in connection with the manner in which
he did receive it, it must have been nearly, if not
more mortifying than if he had not. His grace of
Newcastle took no notice of his letter till he was
under the necessity of writing to him upon another
subject, two months afterwards, and then in the most
cold and formal manner imaginable. Of any reply
from Pelham and Scroope we have not found a ves-
tige, and would fondly hope that, courtiers as they
were, they had so much grace remaining as to be

unable to put pen to paper upon a business so dis-
graceful.

To a mind so pure and so gentle as was that of
President Forbes, this ingratitude on the part of the
government must have been exceedingly painful; but
we do not believe that it was the only or the prin-
cipal thing that weighed down his spirit. To the
morality of courts and the gratitude of courtiers he
was, in theory at least, no stranger, and as a prudent
and practical man, must have been in some measure
prepared to grapple with them; but for the base
duplicity and the ingratitude of his friends and neigh-
bours, many of whom had betrayed his confidence
in the grossest manner, he could scarcely be prepared,
and they must have affected him deeply. These,
while they wrung his heart with the most pungent
feelings of sorrow, furnished to the ignorant, the
suspicious, and the envious, fruitful topics of detrac-
tion and misrepresentation, against which, he must
have been aware, the best intentions and the most
upright actions have too often been found to afford
no protection. The care of the Highlands had been
imposed upon him for many years, he had been a
father and a friend to almost every principal family
they contained, and, with few exceptions, these
families had in return made the strongest professions
of loyalty to the government, and of friendship and
affection to himself This they had done too with
such apparent sincerity, as induced him to report
them perfectly loyal at the very moment they were
signing associations, purchasing arms, and ready to
appear in the field against the government. How
must he have felt to see the very men he had saved
from total destruction, procured them the favourable
notice of the government, and even high and honour-
able situations, rushing, from mistaken views of their
own or their country's interests, upon the ruin of both!
It was this, we have no doubt, gave the secret but
incurable wound, which, though he continued to per-
form the duties of his station with inflexible firmness,
and with imperturbable patience, brought him by
slow degrees to an untimely grave.

Though the lord-president continued to discharge
his office with his usual fidelity and diligence, and
though he uttered no complaints, it had long been
matter of grief to his friends to observe his health
rapidly declining, and in the month of November
it was judged necessary to send for his son from Eng-
land, who arrived only in time to receive his last ad-
vice and blessing. He died on the loth day of De-
cember, 1747, in the sixty-second year of his age.
The same day he died the following memorandum
was made by his son: — "My father entered into the
everlasting life of God, trusting, hoping, and be-
lieving through the blood of Christ, eternal life and
happiness. \Vhen I first saw my father upon the
bed of death, his blessing and prayer to me was —
' My dear John, you have just come in time to see
me die. Alay the great God of heaven and earth
bless and preserve you ! You have come to a very
poor fortune, partly through my own extravagance,
and partly through the oppression of power. I am
sure you will forgive me, because what I did was
with a good intention. I know you to be an honest-
hearted lad. Andrew Mitchell loves you affection-
ately ; he will advise you, and do what he can for
you. I depend upon Scroope, too, which you may
let him know. I will advise you never to think of
coming into parliament. I left some notes with the
two William Forbeses in case I had not seen you.
They are two affectionate lads, and will be able to
help you in some affairs better than you would have
done yourself John Hossack will help you in your
affairs in the north. My heart bleeds for poor John

48

PATRICK FORBES.

come so powerful an organ for the diffusion of sound
medical information, was in its earliest state so ably
conducted by Dr. Forbes, that in literary power
alone it was as able and distinguished as the highest
quarterly reviews of the day. In its management it
mainly owed its rise to the assiduity of Forbes, who
introduced into it articles written by the most emi-
nent anil ingenious medical writers of the period —
and to his independent spirit, which would admit
nothing inferior into its pages, however influentially
patronized. But this very disinterestedness and in-
dependence of spirit not only created umbnage, but
occasioned him pecuniary loss, and he retired from
the editorship of the British and Fureii^n Medical
Quarterly before he could reap the fruits of its success.
lie was not allowed, however, to depart into ob-
scurity, or remain unrewarded. In 1S40 he removed
to London, where his well-established professional
reputation had preceded his arrival, and he was ap-
pointed physician in ordinary to her majesty's house-
ii(dd, and physician extraordinary to his royal high-
ness I'rince Albert. He was early elected a fellow
of the Royal Society, and had the degree of Doctor of
Laws conferred upon him by the university of Oxford.
The last years in the life of Sir John Forbes were
crowned with the honours he had merited, and
passed in activity and usefulness. His love of litera-
ture abode with him to the last, and this he indulged
by writing works of a lighter description than those
in which he had hitherto been engaged. In 1849 he
published A Physiciaii's Holiday, or a Afoiith in S^oit-
zerland, containing an interesting account of the
principal localities in that romantic country. In
1852 he published an account of a tour he made in
Ireland, under the title of Memoranda made in Ire-
land in the Autumn of 1852; and in 1 856 the notice
of another tour, under the title of Sightseeing in Ger-
vtany and the Tyrol, in the Auttunn of 1855. Re-
verting again more immediately to his profession and
past studies, he published in 1857 his treatise on
Nature and Art in the Cure of Disease, which may
be regarded as a confession of his medical creed ;
with this his public labours may be said to have
terminated. He had already been subject to vertigo,
from the sudden attacks of which he sometimes fell
to the ground; his memory was impaired, so that he
had but a dim recollection of objects and places ;
and he had a tendency to turn to the right side.
Under such circumstances it was necessary to re-
linquish his practice, and this he did three years be-
fore he died, presenting at the same time his large
and valuable library to Marischal College, Aber-
deen, where he had first been educated. In the same
spirit of benevolence and mindfulness of early bene-
fits, he had two years before that period, in conjunc-
tion with Sir James Clark, established a library at
Fordyce, where he had received his education as a
school-boy. Sir John died at Whitchurch, Oxford-
shire, on the 13th of November, 1861, aged seventy-
four years.

FORBES, Patrick, an eminent prelate, was by
])irlh laird of Corse and O'Neil, in Aberdeenshire,
and descended from Sir Patrick Forbes (third son of
James, second Lord Forbes) armour-bearer to King
James II., from whom in 1482 he got a charter of
the barony of O'Neil. From the same branch of
the noble family of Forbes are descended the Forbeses
baronets of Craigievar, and the P'orbeses earls of
Granard in Ireland. The subject of this memoir
was born in 1564, and received the rudiments of his
education under Thomas Buchanan (nephew of the
author of The History of Scotland), who was then
schoolmaster of Stirling. He next studied philosophy

under Andrew Melville at Glasgow; and when that
eminent reformer and learned man was removed to
be principal of .St. Andrews, Forbes followed him
thither, and was his pupil in Hebrew and theology.
Such was the progress he made in these studies, and
such his gravity, wisdom, and blamelessness of life,
that at an uncommonly early age he was solicited to
become a professor in the college. His father, how-
ever, suddenly recalled his son, in order that he might
settle in life as a country gentleman; and he soon after
married Lucretia Spens, daughter of David Spens of
Wormiston, in Fife. He lived for some time in rural
retirement near Montrose, where his learning and
piety attracted a great concourse of visitors, especially
of the clergy. At the death of his father he removed
to the family seat of Corse, where, to use the quaint
phrase of his Latin biographer. Garden, he at once
cultivated his books and his fields, regularly perform-
ing the duties of a clergyman every Sunday before
his domestics.

At the time when Patrick Forbes entered into
public life, the reformed Church of Scotland had not
settled down into any regular system of ecclesiastical
polity, and sometimes things were allowed to be
done which would now be considered as at least ec-
centric, if not indecent. At the same time, the pro-
fession of a clergj'man, though holding forth little
pecuniary advantage, was invested with so much
popular power as to be highly inviting. We hence
find, in the instances of Erskine of Dun, Bruce of
Kinnaird, and others, that it had temptations even
for gentlemen of good estates. It appears that, in
the loose system of polity then acted upon, the laird
of Corse, merely because he was a devout man, and
possessed of some territorial influence, \vas repeatedly
entreated to perform the duties of a clergyman, as if
it had been supposed that any little deficiency in
point of clerical ordination that could be urged
against him would be fully compensated by his weight
as the laird of Corse. He accordingly did act tem-
porarily as a minister during the time when the
clergymen who had attended the proscribed General
Assembly at Aberdeen in 1605 were suffering exile
from their parishes. Instead of this exciting episcopal
interference, we are told that Patrick Blackburn,
Bishop of Aberdeen, no sooner heard of the excellent
ministrations of the laird of Corse than he, in con-
currence with the synod of his diocese, entreated him
to take ordination, and become the minister of his
own parish. Although this request was made oftener
than once, Forbes steadily resisted it, alleging as a
reason his sense of the weight of the priestly duties,
and of the difficulty of the times. These things,
however, being conveyed by some malevolent per-
son to the ear of the primate (Gladstones, Archbishop
of St. Andrews), that dignitary sent an order pro-
hibiting Corse from preaching any more until he
should take ordination. Having no alternative, the
laird returned to his former practice of family wor-
ship, attending the church every Sunday as a private
individual, and afterwards exercising upon a portion
of the Scriptures before his servants. He went on
thus for seven years, and was so far from exciting
schism by his well-meant exertions, that no one in
the neighbourhood was a more regular or respectful
attendant upon parochial ordinances. At length the
neighbouring gentlemen, and even the clergy, fre-
quented the family worship at Corse, where they
heard most able elucidations of the epistles of St.
Paul, and also those commentaries on the Revela-
tions of which an abridgment was afterwards pub-
lished.

At the end of the period alluded to the minister
of Keith, though a pious and worthy man, fell into a

I 1

HecrT' fioDinsoii .

DLLQAM FOUB

OF PITSLTGO.

■,AKr Alii/ ''I.AJiT{i:)l,v

i^ATRICK FORBES

fit of melancholy, and, after suffering for some time,
made an attempt upon his own life. He had hardly
inflicted the fatal wound when he was overtaken by
deep remorse, and, having sent for the laird of Corse,
was immediately attended by that devout man, who
proceeded to reason with him in so earnest a manner
as to open his soul fully to a sense of spiritual in-
fluences. The unfortunate man with his dying
breath renewed the request which had so often been
proffered to Forbes, that he would consent to
undertake the pastoral charge of the parish; which
request, taking place under such impressive circum-
stances, and enforced at the same time by the elo-
quence of the neighbouring clerg>'men and gentrv,
at length prevailed, and the laird of Corse imme-
diately became minister of Keith. He was at this
time forty-eight years of age.

In i6i8 Forbes was appointed Bishop of Aber-
deen, with the sincere approbation of all classes of
the people. Attached from principle to the Episcopal
form of church government, he concurred in the
five articles of Perth, which were that year imposed
upon the Scottish church. It does not appear, how-
ever, that Bishop Forbes used any severe means to
carry these articles into practice, for we are informed
by Burnet {Life of Bedell) that, by his remarkable
prudence, he "greatly allayed, and almost conquered,
not only the distempered judgments, but the per^'erse
and turbulent humours, of divers in his diocese." In
his whole conduct as a bishop he appears to have been
uniformly influenced by an honest and conscientious
regard to the obligations of the character which he
had assumed, and what he conceived to be the best
means of promoting the interests of piety and virtue.
He was not only careful to fix worthy clerg}-men in
his diocese, but to make proper provision for their
support and that of their successors. He succeeded
in recovering many of the revenues which, in the
tumults of the reforming period, had been lost or
neglected; and he used all proper methods with heri-
tors and titulars of teinds and others to make aug-
mentation of stipends, which he had no sooner effected
in some cases than he dissolved the pernicious union
of parishes, and established a clerg)Tnan in each.
Even from his o\vti income, limited as it must have
been, he bestowed much upon the poorer clergy.
He was very strict in examining those who applied
for ordination, and thus secured for future times a
superior body of clergj'. He was also indefatigable
in visiting and inspecting the clergj-men of his dio-
cese— a duty which he generally performed in a some-
what singular manner. "It was his custom," says
Burnet, "to go without pomp or noise, attended only
by one servant, that he might the more easily be in-
formed of what belonged to his cure. When he was
told of the weakness or negligence of any of his
clergy, he would go and lodge near his church on
Saturday, in the evening, without making himself
known, and the next day, when he was in the pulpit,
he would go and hear him, that by this he might be
able to judge what his common sermons were; and
as they appeared to him, he encouraged or admon-
ished him."

Sometime after his promotion to the bishopric
he was appointed chancellor of King's College,
Aberdeen, which institution he raised from a state
of utter desolation and neglect, to be one of the most
flourishing in the kingdom. He fully repaired the
buildings; he increased the library, revived the pro-
fessorships of divinity, canon law, and physic; and
procured the addition of a new professorship in
divinity. At length, finding himself drawing near
his latter end, he sent for all the clergy of Aberdeen
to receive the sacrament along with him, and two

VOL. II.

SIR WILLIAM FORBES.

4^

days after, March 28th, 1635, breathed his last, with
the most pious expressions of hope, and full of re-
ligious consolation. At his funeral, which took place
in the cathedral church of Aberdeen, Dr. Barron
preached an appropriate sermon to a numerous
auditor)', which was afterwards published.'

This great ornament of the Episcopal church in
Scotland is characterized, in the manner of the time,
as a man of singularly clear genius, solid judgment,
the highest prudence, piety, and integrity, of much
authority in counsel, and invincible fortitude and
constancy of mind. Bishop Burnet informs us that
he "scarce ever suffered any man of merit to ask
anything at his hands, but anticipated them; while
those whose characters would not bear a severe
scrutiny never dared to solicit him. He had a quick
eye and sprightly countenance, which proved an
additional ornament to his expressions, which were
grave and majestic, and of peculiar insinuation and
grace. In parliament he was elected one of the
lords of the articles, and his judgment there and ia
council was considered as an oracle."

FORBES, Sir William, of Pitsligo, an eminent
banker and citizen, was bom at Edinburgh on the
5th of April, 1739. He was descended, by the
father's side, from a younger branch of the ancient
and respectable family of Forbes of Monmusk, the
proprietors, at the close of the seventeenth century,
of the noble barony of that name on the banks of
the Don, in Aberdeenshire ; and by his paternal
grandmother, from the still older and more dignified
family of the Lords Pitsligo, in the same county.
His mother was also a branch of the family of Forbes
of Monmusk, one of the first families in Scotland
who were invested with the badge of Nova Scotia
baronets, which still is worn by their descendants.
His father, who was bred to the bar, and was rising
into eminence in that profession, died when he was
only four years of age, leaving his mother, then a
young woman, with two infant sons, and ver)' slender
means of support.. She lived at first at Milne of
Forgue, on the estate of Bogny in Aberdeenshire,
with the proprietor of which territory' she was con-
nected through her mother, and afterwards fixed her
residence at Aberdeen with her two sons, where she
remained for several years, superintending their edu-
cation. While there the younger son, who is repre-
sented as having been a most engaging boy, died,
leaving her remaining hopes to centre on Sir William,
then her only child.

Though reared in straitened circumstances. Sir
William had not only the benefit of an excellent
education, but was under the immediate care and
superintendence of the most respectable gentlemen
in Aberdeenshire. His guardians were Lord Forbes,
his uncle Lord Pitsligo, his maternal uncle Mr.
Morrison of Bogny, and his aunt's husband Mr.
Urquhart of Meldrum, who were not only most
attentive to the duties of their trust, but habituated
him from his earliest years to the habits and ideas of
good society, and laid the foundation of that highly
honourable and gentlemanlike character which so
remarkably distinguished him in after-life. It has
been often observed, that the source of ever)thing
which is pure and upright in subsequent years, is to
be found in the lessons instilled into the infant mind
by maternal love; and of this truth the character of
Sir William Forbes affords a signal example. He

' The only works of Bishop Forbes which have been pub-
lished, are his Commentary on the Re-jelation, printed at
London in 1613 republished in Ladn after his death by his
son ; and a treatise entitled Exercitationes <U I'erbo Dei, et
DUsertatio de Versionibus V'emaculis.

S9

5^

SIR WILLIAM FORBES.

himself uniformly declared, and solemnly repeated
on his death-bed, that he owed everything to the
upright character, pious habits, and sedulous care of
his mother. She belonged to a class formerly well
known in this country, who, though descended from
ancient and honourable families, and intimate with
the best society in Scotland, lived in privacy, and
what would now be deemed poverty, solely engaged
in the care of their children and the discharge of
their social and religious duties. Both Sir William's
father and his mother were members of the Scottish
Episcojial church — a religious body which, although
exposed to many vexations and disabilities since the
Revolution in l6SS, continued to number among its
members many of the most respectable and con-
scientious inhabitants of the country. To this com-
munion Sir William continued ever after to belong,
and to his humane and beneficent exertions its pre-
sent comparatively prosperous and enlarged state
may be in a great measure ascribed.

As soon as the education of her son was so far
advanced as to permit of his entering upon some
profession, his mother, Lady Forbes, removed to
Edinburgh in October, 1753, where an esteemed and
excellent friend, Mr. Farquharson of Haughton,
prevailed on the Messrs. Coutts soon after to receive
him a> an apprentice into their highly respectable
banking-house — among the earliest establishments
of the kind in Edinburgh. The mother and son did
not, in the first instance, keep house for themselves,
but boarded with a respectable widow lady; and it
is worthy of being recorded as a proof of the differ-
ence in the style of living and the value of money
between that time and the present, that the sum paid
for the board of the two was only ;,^40 a year. At
Whitsunday, 1 754, as .Sir William was bound an
apprentice to the banking-house, she removed to a
small house in P'orrester's Wynd, consisting only of
a single floor. Even in these humble premises she
was visited by persons of the very first distinction in
.Scotland, and frequently entertained them at tea
parties in the afternoon — a mode of seeing society
which, although alm<3st gone into disuse with the
increasing wealth and luxury of modern manners,
was then very prevalent. At that period also,
when dinner or supper parties were given by ladies
of rank or opulence, which was sometimes though
seldom the case, their drawing-rooms were fre-
quented in the afternoon by the young and the
old of both sexes, and opportunities afforded for
the acquisition of elegance of manner, and a taste
for polite and superior conversation, of which Sir
William did not fail to profit in the very highest
degree.

It was an early impression of Sir William's, that
one of his principal duties in life consisted in restor-
ing his ancient but now dilapidated family; and it
was under this feeling of duty that he engaged in
the mercantile profession. His apprenticeship lasted
seven years, during which he continued to live with
Lady Forbes in the same frugal and retired manner,
but in the enjoyment of the same dignified and ex-
cellent society which they had cultivated upon their
first coming to Edinburgh. After its expiry he acted
for two years as clerk in the establishment, during
which time his increasing emoluments enabled him
to make a considerable addition to the comforts of
his mother. In 1761 his excellent abilities and ap-
plication to business induced the Messrs. Coutts to
admit him as a partner, with a small share in the
banking-house, and he ever after ascribed his good
fortune in life to the fortunate connection thus formed
with that great mercantile family. But without
being insensible to the benefits arising from such a

connection, it is perhaps more just to ascribe it to
his own undeviating ])urity and integrity of character,
which enabled him to turn to the best advantage
those fortunate incidents which at one time or other
occur to all in life, but which so many suffer to escape
from negligence, instability, or a mistaken exercise
of their talents.

In 1763 one of the Messrs. Coutts died; another
retired from business through ill health, and the two
others were settled in London. A new company
was therefore formed, consisting of .Sir William
Forbes, Sir James Hunter Blair, and .Sir Robert
Herries; and although none of the Messrs. Coutts
retained any connection with the firm, their name
was retained out of respect to the eminent gentlemen
of that name who had preceded them. The business
was conducted on this footing till 1773, when the
name of the firm was changed to that of Forbes,
Hunter, & Co., which it has ever since retained; Sir
Robert Herries having formed a separate establish-
ment in St. James Street, London. Of the new firm
Sir William Forbes continued to be the head from
that time till the period of his death; and to his sound
judgment and practical sagacity in business, much
of its subsequent prosperity was owing. His first
care was to withdraw the concern altogether from
the alluring but dangerous speculations in corn in
which all the private bankers of Scotland were at
that period so much engaged, and to restrict their
transactions to the proper business of banking. They
commenced issuing notes in 1783, and rapidly rose,
from the respect and esteem entertained for all the
members of the firm, as well as the prudence and
judgment with which their business was conducted,
to a degree of public confidence and prosperity almost
unprecedented in this countiy. In 1770 he married
Miss Elizabeth Hay, eldest daughter of Dr. (after-
wards Sir James) Hay — a union productive of un-
broken happiness to his future life. This event
obliged him to separate from his mother, as her habits
of privacy and retirement were inconsistent with the
more extended circle of society in which he was now
to engage. Blessed with a serene and contented
disposition, enjoying the kindness, and gratified by
the rising prosperity and high character which her
son had obtained; and fortunate in seeing the for-
tunes of her own and her husband's family rapidly
reviving under his successful exertions, she lived
happy and contented to an extreme old age, until
she died on the 26th December, 1789.

The benevolence of Sir William Forbes' character,
his unwearied charity and activity of disposition,
naturally led to his taking a very prominent share
in the numerous public charities of Edinburgh. The
first public duty of this kind which he undertook,
was that of a manager of the charity workhouse, to
which he was appointed in 1771. At this period the
expenditure of that useful establishment was greater
than its income, and it was necessary for the managers
to communicate for several years after with the magis-
trates and other public bodies, as to providing for
the deficits, and the state and management of the
poor. Sir William P'orbes was one of the sub-
committee appointed by the managers to arrange
this important matter, and upon him was devolved
the duty of drawing up the reports and memorials
res]iecting that charity, ^^■hich, during the years 1 772
and 1773, were printed and circulated to induce the
public to come forward and aid the establishment —
a duty which he performed with equal ability and
success. The means of improving this institution,
in which he ever through life took the warmest in-
terest, occupied about this period a very large share
of his thoughts, and in 1777 he embodied them in

SIR WILLIAM FORBES.

51

tlie form of a pamphlet, which he published in re-
ference to the subject, abounding both in practical
knowledge and enlightened benevolence.

Another most important institution about the same
period was deeply indebted to his activity and per-
severance for the successful termination of its diffi-
culties. The high-school having become ruinous,
and unfit for the increasing number of scholars who
attended it, a few public-spirited individuals formed
a committee in conjunction with the magistrates of
the city, to build a new one. Of this committee .Sir
William Forbes was chairman; and besides con-
triljuting largely himself, it was to his activity and
perseverance that the success of the undertaking was
mainly to be ascribed. The amount subscribed was
£22,00, a very large sum in those days, but still in-
sufficient to meet the expenses of the work. By his
exertions the debt of £1 100 was gradually liquidated,
and he had the satisfaction of laying the foundation-
stone of the edifice destined to be the scene of the
early efforts of .Sir Walter .Scott, and many of the
greatest men whom Scotland has produced.

He was admitted a member of the Orphan Hos-
pital directory on the 8th of August, 1774) ^-nd acted
as manager from 1783 to 1788, and from 1797 to
1801. He always took a warm interest in the con-
cerns of that excellent charity, and devoted a consi-
derable part of his time to the care and education of
the infants who were thus brought under his super-
intendence. He became a member of the Merchant
Company in 1784, and in 1786 was elected master — •
an office which, though held only for a year, was
repeatedly conferred upon him during the remainder
of his life. He always took an active share in the
management of that great company, and was the
promoter of a plan adopted long after, of rendering
the annuities to widows belonging to it a matter of
right, and not of favour or solicitation. The same
situation made him a leading member of the com-
mittee of merchants, appointed in 1772, to confer
with Sir James Montgomery, then lord-advocate, on
the new bankrupt act introduced in that year, and
many of its most valuable clauses were suggested by
his experience. In that character he took a leading
part in the affairs of the Merchant Maidens' Hospital,
which is governed by the officers of the Merchant
Company, and was elected governor of that charity
in 1786. The same causes made him governor of
Watson's Hospital during the year that he was pre-
sident or as.sistant of the Merchant Company; and
president of the governors of Gillespie's Hospital,
when that charity was opened in 1802. He faith-
fully and assiduously discharged the duties connected
with the management of these hospitals during all
the time that he was at their head, and devoted to
these truly benevolent objects a degree of time
which, considering his multifarious engagements in
business, is truly surprising, and affords the best
proof how much may be done, even by those most
engaged, by a proper economy in that important
particular.

From the first institution of the .Society of Anti-
quaries, and the Royal Society in 1783, he was a
constituted member of both, and took an active share
in their formation and management. From 1785
downwards he was constantly a manager of the
Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh, and was indefatigable
in his endeavours to ameliorate the situation and
assuage the sufferings of the unfortunate inmates of
that admirable establishment. At his death he left
;i^20O to the institution, to be applied to the fund for
the benefit of patients.

In 1787 he was appointed one of the trustees for
the encouragement of manufactures and fisheries, of

which his friend Mr. Arbuthnot was secretary, and
he continued for the remainder of his life to be one of
its most active and efficient members.

One of the greatest improvements which Edinburgh
received was the formation of the .South Bridge in
1784, under the auspices and direction of his friend
Sir James Hunter Blair. In the management and
guidance of this great work that enterprising citizen
was mainly guided by the advice of his friend .Sir
William Forbes, and he was afterwards one of the
most active and zealous trustees who, under the 25
Geo. HI. c. 28, carried into full execution after his
death that great public undertaking. In selecting
the plan to be adopted, the more plain design which
afforded the accommodation required was preferred
to the costly and magnificent one furnished by the
Messrs. Adams: and with such judgment and wisdom
was the work carried into effect, that it was com-
pleted not only without any loss, but with a large
surplus to the public. Of tliis surplus ;i^3000 was
applied to another very great improvement, the
draining of the Meadows, while the ten per cent,
addition to the land-tax, which had been levied under
authority of the act as a guarantee fund, and not being
required for the purposes of the trust, was paid over
to the city of Edinburgh for the use of the com-
munity. When these results are contrasted with
those of similar undertakings of the present age, the
sagacity of the subject of this memoir and his partner,
Sir James Hunter Blair, receives a new lustre far
above what was reflected upon them even at the time
when the benefits of their exertions were more im-
mediately felt.

In 1785 he was prevailed on to accept the situation
of chairman of the sub-committee of delegates from
the Highland counties for obtaining an alteration of
the law passed the year before in regard to small stills
within the Highland line. Nearly the whole labour
connected with this most important subject, and all
the correspondence with the gentlemen who were to
support the desired alteration in parliament, fell upon
Sir William Forbes. By his indefatigable efforts,
however, aided by those of the Duke of Athol, the
object was at length attained, and by the 25 Geo.
HI. this important matter was put upon an improved
footing.

Ever alive to the call of humanity and the suffer-
ings of the afflicted, he early directed his attention
to the formation of a lunatic asylum in Edinburgh
— an institution the want of which was at that time
severely felt by all, but especially the poorer classes
of society. Having collected the printed accounts
of similar institutions in other places, he drew up a
sketch of the intended establishment, and an ad-
vertisement for its support, in March, 17S8. Though
a sufficient sum could not be collected to set the de-
sign on foot at that time, a foundation was laid, on
which, under the auspices of his son. Sir William,
and other benevolent and public-spirited individuals,
the present excellent structure at Morningside was
ultimately reared.

The benevolent Dr. Johnston of I.eith having
formed in 1792 a plan for the establishment of a
blind asylum in Edinburgh, Sir William Forbes,
both by liberal subscription and active exertion,
greatly contributed to the success of the undertaking.
He was the chairman of the committee appointed by
the subscribers to draw up regulations for the estab-
lishment, and when the committee of management
was appointed, he was nominated vice-president,
which situation he continued to hold till the time of
his death. Without descending farther into detail,
it is sufficient to obser\'e that, for the last thirty
years of his life, Sir William was either at the head.

52

SIR WILLIAM FORBES.

or actively engaged in the management, of all the
charitable establishments of Edinburgh, and that
many of the most valuable of them owed their exist-
ence or success to his exertions.

Nor was it only to his native city that his beneficent
exertions were confined. The family estate of Pit-
sligo having been forfeited to the crown in 1746, was
brought to sale in 1758, and bought by Mr. Forbes,
Lord Pitsligo's only son. His embarrassments,
however, soon compelled him to bring the lower
barony of Pitsligo to sale, and it was bought by Mr.
Garden of Troup : Sir William Forbes being the
nearest heir of the family, soon after purchased seventy
acres of the upper barony, including the old mansion
of Pitsligo, now roofless and deserted. By the death
of Mr. Forbes in 17S1 Sir William succeeded to the
lower barony, with which he had now connected the
old mansion house, and thus saw realized his early
and favourite wish of restoring to his ancient family
their paternal inheritance.

The acquisition of this property, which, though
extensive, was, from the embarrassments of the
family, in a most neglected state, opened a boundless
field for Sir William's active benevolence of disposi-
tion. In his character of landlord he was most
anxious for the improvement and happiness of the
people on his estates, and spared neither time nor
expense to effect it. He early commenced their im-
provement on a most liberal scale, and bent his at-
tention in an especial manner to the cultivation of a
large tract of moss which still remained in a state of
nature. With this view he laid out in 1 783 the vil-
lage of New Pitsligo, and gave every assistance, by
lending money, and forbearance in the exaction
of rent, to the incipient exertions of the feuars.
Numbers of poor cottars were established by his care
on the most uncultivated parts of the estate, most of
whom not only paid no rent for the land they occu-
pied, but were pensioners on his bounty — a mode of
proceeding which, although it brought only burdens
on the estate at first, has since been productive of the
greatest benefit by the continual application of that
greatest of all improvements to a barren soil — the
labour of the human hand. The value of this pro-
perty, and the means of improvement to the tenantry,
were further increased by the judicious purchase in
1787 of the contiguous estates of Pittullie and Pitten-
drum, which, by their situation on the sea-shore, af-
forded the means of obtaining in great abundance
sea-ware for the lands. The liberal encouragement
which he afforded soon brought settlers from all
quarters ; the great improvements which he made
himself scrv'ed both as a model and an incitement to
his tenantry; the formation of the great road from
Peterhead to Banff, which passed through the village
of New Pitsligo, and to which he largely contributed,
connected the new feuars with those thriving sea-
ports; and before his death he had the satisfaction of
seeing assembled on a spot which, at his acquisition
of the estate, was a barren waste, a thriving popula-
tion of 300 souls, and several thousand acres smiling
with cultivation which were formerly the abode only
of the moor-fowl or the curlew.

In order to encourage industry on his estate, he
established a spinning-school at New Pitsligo, intro-
duced the linen manufacture, and erected a bleach-
field — undertakings which have since been attended
with the greatest success. At the same time, to pro-
mote the education of the young, he built a school-
house, where the Society for the Propagation of
Christian Knowledge established a teacher ; and in
order to afford to persons of all persuasions the means
of attending that species of worship to which they
were inclined, he built and endowed not only a chapel

of ease, with a manse for the minister, connected
with the Established Church, but a chapel, with a
dwelling-house for an Episcopal clergj'man, for the
benefit of those who belonged to that persuasion.
Admirable acts of beneficence, hardly credible in one
who resided above two hundred miles from this scene
of his bounty, and was incessantly occupied in pro-
jects of improvements or charity in his own city !

To most men it would appear that such support
and attention to these multifarious oljjects of benevo-
lence, both in Edinburgh and on his Aberdeenshire
estates, would have absorbed the whole of both his
fortune and his time which could be devoted to ob-
jects of beneficence. But that was not Sir William
Forbes' character. Indefatigable in activity, un-
wearied in doing good, he was not less strenuous in
private than in public charity ; and no human eye
will ever know, no human ear ever learn, the exten-
sive and invaluable deeds of kindness and benevolence
which he performed, not merely to all the unfortunate
who fell within his own obser\'ation, but all who
were led by his character for beneficence to apply to
him for relief. Perhaps no person ever combined to
so great a degree the most unbounded pecuniary
generosity with delicacy in the bestowal of the gift,
and discrimination in the mode in which it was ap-
plied. Without giving way to the weakness of in-
discriminately relieving all who apply for charity,
which so soon surrounds those who indulge in it with
a mass of idle or profligate indigence, he made it a rule
to inquire personally, or by means of those he could
trust, into the character and circumstances of those
who were partakers of his bounty: and when he found
that it was really deserved, that virtue had been re-
duced by suffering, or industry blasted by misfortune,
he put no bounds to the splendid extent of his bene-
factions. To one class in particular, in whom the
sufferings of poverty are perhaps more severely felt
than by any other in society, the remnants of old and
respectable families who had survived their relations,
or been broken down by misfortune, his charity was
in a most signal manner exerted ; and numerous
aged and respectable individuals who had once known
better days would have been reduced by his death to
absolute ruin if they had not been fortunate enough
to find in his descendants the heirs not only of his
fortune, but of his virtue and generosity.

Both Sir William's father and mother were of
Episcopalian families, as most of those of the higher
class in Aberdeenshire at that period were; and he
was early and strictly educated in the tenets of that
persuasion. He attended Chief-baron Smith's chapel
in Blackfriars' Wynd, of which he was one of the
vestry, along with the esteemed Sir Adolphus Ough-
ton, then commander-in-chief in Scotland. In 177'
it was resolved to join this congregation with that of
two other chapels in Carruber's Close and Skinner's
Close, and build a more spacious and commodious
place of worship for them all united. In this under-
taking, as in most others of the sort, the labouring
oar fell to Sir William Forbes; and by his personal
exertions, and the liberal subscriptions of himself and
his friends, the Cowgate Chapel was at length com-
pleted, afterwards so well known as one of the most
popular places of worship in Edinburgh.

When the new bankrupt act, which had been en-
acted only for a limited time, expired in 1783, Sir
William Forbes was appointed convener of the mer-
cantile committee in Edinburgh, which corresponded
with the committees of Glasgow and Aberdeen, of
which Provost Colquhoun and Mr. Milne were re-
spectively conveners; and their united efforts and
intelligence produced the great improvement upon
the law which was effected by that act. By it the

SIR WILLIAM FORBES.

53

sequestration law, which under the old statute had
extended to all descriptions of debtors, was confined
to merchants, traders, and others properly falling
under its spirit; the well-known regulations for the
equalization of arrestments and poindings within
sixty days, were introduced; sequestrations, which
included at first only the personal estate, were ex-
tended to the whole property; and the greatest im-
provement of all was introduced, namely, the restric-
tion of what was formerly alternative to a system of
private trust, under judicial control. Sir William
Forbes, who corresponded with the London solicitor
who drew the bill, had the principal share in sug-
gesting these the great outlines of the system of
mercantile bankruptcy in this country; and accord-
ingly, when the convention of royal burghs, who paid
the expense attending it, voted thanks to the lord-
advocate for carrying it through parliament, they at
the same time (loth July, 1783) directed their preses
to "convey the thanks of the convention to Sir
William Forbes, Hay Campbell, Esq., solicitor-
general for Scotland, and Mr. Milne, for their great
and uncommon attention to the bill."

On the death of Mr. Forbes of Pitsligo, only son
of Lord Pitsligo, in 1782, whose estate and title
were forfeited for his accession to the rebellion in
1745, Sir William Forbes, as the nearest heir in the
female line of the eldest branch of the family of
Forbes, claimed and obtained from the lyon-court
the designation and arms of Pitsligo. He was the
heir of the peerage under the destination in the
patent, if it had not been forfeited.

Hitherto Sir William Forbes' character has been
considered merely as that of a public-spirited, active,
and benevolent gentleman, who, by great activity
and spotless integrity, had been eminently prosperous
in life, and devoted, in the true spirit of Christian
charity, a large portion of his ample means and
valuable time to the relief of his fellow- creatures, or
works of public utility and improvement ; but this
was not his only character — he was also a gentleman
of the highest breeding, and most dignified manners;
the life of every scene of innocent amusement or re-
creation, the head of the most cultivated and elegant
society in the capital; and a link between the old
Scottish aristocratical families, to which he belonged
by birth, and the rising commercial opulence with
which he was connected by profession, as well as
the literary circle with which he was intimate from
his acquirements. His intimate acquaintance with
the first literary characters of the day, and the exten-
sive correspondence which had fallen into his hands,
probably suggested to Sir William Forbes the idea
of writing the life of Dr. Beattie, one of his earliest
and most valued friends, and whose eminence was
not only such as to call for such an effort of bio-
graphy, but whose acquaintance with all the eminent
writers of the time, rendered his life the most favour-
able opportunity for portraying the constellation of
illustrious men who shed a glory over Scotland at
the close of the eighteenth century. He executed
this work accordingly, which appeared in 1805,
shortly before his death, in such a way as to give
the most favourable impression of the distinction
which he would have attained as an author, had his
path in general not lain in a more extended and pe-
culiar sphere of usefulness. It rapidly went through
a second edition, and is now deservedly ranked high
among the biographical and historical remains of
the last century.

One peculiar and most salutary species of benevo-
lence was practised by Sir William Forbes to the
greatest extent. His situation as head of a great
banking establishment led to his receiving frequent

applications in the way of business for assistance,
from young men not as yet possessed of capital. By
a happy combination of caution with liberality in
making these advances, by inquiring minutely into
the habits and moral character of the individuals as-
sisted, and proportioning the advance to their means
and circumstances, he was enabled, to an almost in-
credible extent, to assist the early efforts of industry,
without in the least endangering the funds committed
by others to his care. Hundreds in every rank in
Edinburgh were enabled, by his paternal assistance,
to commence life with advantage, who otherwise
could never have been established in the world ; and
numbers who afterwards rose to affluence and pro-
sperity, never ceased in after-years to acknowledge
with the warmest gratitude the timely assistance
which first gave the turn to their heretofore adverse
fortunes, and laid the foundation of all the success
which they after\vards attained.

The benevolence of his disposition and the warmth
of his heart seemed to expand with the advance of life
and the increase of his wealth. Unlike most other
men, he grew even more indulgent and humane, if
that were possible, in his older than his earlier years.
The intercourse of life, and the experience of a most
extensive business, had no effect in diminishing his
favourable opinion of mankind, or cooling his ardour
in the pursuit of beneficence. Viewing others in the
pure and unsullied mirror of his own mind, he im-
puted to them the warm and benevolent feelings
with which he himself was actuated; and thought
they were influenced by the same high springs of
conduct -which directed his own life. It was an
early rule with him to set aside every year a certain
portion of his income to works of charity, and this
proportion increasing with the growth of his fortune,
ultimately reached an almost incredible amount.
Unsatisfied even with the immense extent and grow-
ing weight of his public and private charities, he had,
for many years before his death, distributed large
sums annually to individuals on whom he could rely
to be the almoners of his bounty; and his revered
friend Bishop Jolly received in this way ;[^ioo a year,
to be distributed around the remote village of Fraser-
burgh, in Aberdeenshire. These sums were bestowed
under the most solemn promise of secrecy, and with-
out any one but the person charged with the bounty
being aware who the donor was. Numbers in this
way in every part of the country partook of his charity,
without then knowing whose was the hand which
blessed them; and it frequently happened that the
same persons who had been succoured by his al-
moners, afterwards applied to himself; but on such
occasions, he invariably relieved them if they really
seemed to require assistance; holding, as he himself
expressed it, that his public and private charities
were distinct ; and that his right hand should not know
what his left hand had given.

But the end of a life of so much dignity and use-
fulness, the pattern of benevolence, refinement, and
courtesy, was at length approaching. He had a long
and dangerous illness in 1791, from which, at the
time, he had no hopes of recovery; and which he
bore with the resignation and meekness which might
have been expected from his character. Though
that complaint yielded to the skill of his medical
friends, it left the seeds of a still more dangerous
malady, in a tendency to water in the chest. In
1802 he had the misfortune to lose Lady Forbes,
the loved and worthy partner of his virtues; which
sensibly affected his spirits, though he bore the be-
reavement with the firmness and hope which his
strong religious principles inspired. In May, 1S06,
shortly after his return from London, whither he

54

JOHN DE FORDUX DAVID FORDYCE.

had been summoned as a witness on Lord Melville's
trial, he began to feel symptoms of shortness of
breath; and the last house where he dined was that
of his son. Lord Medwyn, on occasion of the christ-
ening of one of his children, on the 2Sth of June,
1806. After that time he was constantly confined
to the house; the difficulty of breathing increased,
and his sufferings for many months were very severe.
During all this trying period not a complaint ever
escap^ his lips. He constantly prayed for assist-
ance to be enabled to bear whatever the Almighty
might send; and at length death closed his memor-
able career, on the 12th November, 1806, when
surrounded by his family, and supported by all the
hopes and consolations of religion, amidst the tears
of his relations, and the blessings of his country.

Sir William Forbes was succeeded in his title
and estates by his son. Sir William, a man of the
most amiable and upright character, who ha\-ing
been cut ofiF in the middle of his years and useful-
ness, was succeeded by his son, Sir John Stuart
Forbes. The subject of our memoir left two other
sons, Mr. John Hay Forbes {Lord Medwyn) ahd
Mr. George Forbes, and five daughters, four of whom
were married: Lady Wood, wife of Sir Alexander
Wood; Mrs. Macdonald of Glengarry-; Mrs. Skene
of Rubislaw; and Mrs. Mackenzie of Portmore. We
close this notice of Sir William Forbes, in the words
of Sir Walter Scott, who, in his notes to Marmion,
remarks of him, that he was "unequalled, perhaps,
in the degree of individual affection entertained for
him by his friends, as well as in the general esteem
and respect of Scotland at large;" and who, in that
noble poem, commemorates his virtues with equal
truth and tenderness: —

'■' Far may we search before we find
\ heart so manly and so kind! "

FORDUX, or DE FORDUN, John, the cele-
brated author of the Scotkhroiticon, was probably
born about the middle of the fourteenth century, and
at the village of Fordun, in Kincardineshire, from
which he seems to have taken his name. Walter
Bower, the continuator of his historv-, speaks of him
as a simple man, who never graduated in the schools.
It would appear, however, that he possessed sufficient
learning to fit him for the profession of a priest and
the composition of a Latin historv', as these two
various kinds of labour were then practised. He
was a priest of the diocese of St. Andrews, and a
canon of the church of Aberdeen, where he is said
to have resided at the time when he composed his
history. This great composition was in progress, as
he himself informs us, in the reign of Richard II. of
England, which extended between the years 1387
and 1399 ; and this, vague as it is, is one of the few
dates that can be supplied respecting the life of the
chronicler. The work produced by Fordun, though
deformed by the superstitious and incorrect ideas of
the age, is nevertheless a respiectable production,
fally qualified to bear comparison with the works of
the contemporary English historians. The merit of
the author is increased in no mean degree by the
motive which prompted him to undertake the com-
ptosition — a desire of supplying the want of those
historical monuments which Edward I. carried away
to England. To quote the quaint words of a
monkish writer :* " After the loss of these chronicles,
a venerable Scottish priest, by name John Fordun,
arose, and feeling his heart titillated and effer%escent
with patriotic zeal, he applied his hand boldly to

' .\s translated by Mr. P. F. Tytler, in his Lh-es of
Scottish Worthies, article "Fordun."

the work ; nor did he desist from the undertaking
until, by the most laborious study and perseverance,
traversing England and the adjacent provinces of
his own country, he had recovered so much of the
lost materials as enabled him to compose five vol-
umes of the delectable gests of the Scots, which he
drew up in a sufficiently chronicle-like style, as they
are to be found in the great volume entitled the
ScotichronUon. In this undertaking it is impossible
to refrain from bestowing great praise upon the in-
dustry of the author. For, adverting to the fact that
to commit all the records of past ages to the memory
is the attribute of God rather than man; he, upon
this consideration, travelled on foot, like an un-
wearied and investigating bee, through the flower)'
meadows of Britain, and into the oracular recesses
of Ireland ; taking his way through provinces and
towns, through universities and colleges, through
churches and monasteries, entering into conversa-
tion, and not unfrequently sharing at bed and board,
with historians and chronologists; turning over their
books, debating and disputing with them, and prick-
ing down, or intitulating in his descriptive tablets, all
that most pleased him; in this manner, and by pur-
suing indefatigable investigation, he became pos-
sessed of the knowledge which was before unknown
to him, and collecting it with studious care in the
revolving sinuosities of his parchment code, Hke
rich honeycombs in a historical hive, he, as I have
already premised, divided them into five books of
elegant composition, which brought down the history
to the death of the sainted King Da^id."

The result of Fordun's labours is, that we possess
an account of several ages of Scottish historj- which
otherwise would have been in a great measure blank.
The two first of the five books into which he
di\-ide5 his work may be laid aside as relating only
to the fabulous part of the narrative; the last re-
fers to the period between 1056 and 1153, and is a
valuable piece of histor)-. Posterior to the year last
mentioned Fordun has only written detached notes,
which, however, are themselves of no small value
for the facts which they contain. When the vener-
able canon found himself too infirm to continue his
labours, he committed the materials which he had
collected to Walter Bower, who, as noticed else-
where, became abbot of Inchcolm in 141 8, and by
whom the work was brought down to the year 1436.
The Scotkhronkon was afterwards copied in various
monasteries, and has accordingly been handed down
in several shapes, each slightly different from the
other, under the titles of the Book of Scone, the
Book of Paisley, and other denominations. Finally,
the earlier part formed a substructure for the ampli-
fied work of Hector Boece, and the elegant one of
Buchanan. The work itself has been twice printed,
first at Oxford, by Heame, in five vols. 8vo, and
afterwards at Edinburgh in one volume folio, \»ith a
preface by Goodal ; but a translation is still a desider-
atum in Scottish historical literature.

FORDYCE, D.A.VID, professor of philosophy in
the Marischal College, Aberdeen, and author of
several esteemed works, was one of the tvventy-one
children of Provost Fordyce of that city, and whose
wife was a sister of Alexander and Thomas Black-
well, whose lives have appeared previously in this
work. The father of the Blackwells was professor
of di\-inity, Dr. Thomas Blackwell became professor
of Greek, and his widow founded a chemical chair
in Marischal College, which has thus become identi-
fied with the history of both the Fordyces and the
Blackwells. Da%-id Fordyce was bom in 1711, and
was the second son of his parents. To quote the

GEORGE EORDYCE.

53

only accessible authority respecting him' — -After be-
ing educated at the grammar-school of his native
city, he was entered of Marischal College in 1724,
where he went through a course of philosophy under
Professor Daniel Jarden, and of mathematics under
Mr. John Stewart. He took his degree of A.M. in
1728, when he was but little more than seventeen
years old. Being intended for the church, his next
application was to the study of divinity, under the
professor of that branch, Mr. James Chalmers, a
man of great learning and piety, and ancestor of the
individuals who have so long carried on the Aber-
dan JourmiL newspaper. Mr. Fordyce studied
divinity with great ardour, and in time obtained a
license as a preacher of the gospel, though he was
not so fortunate as to procure a living. In 1742 he
was appointed professor of moral philosophy in
Marischal College, a chair which then demanded a
greater range of accomplishments than now. It was
the duty of Mr. Fordyce, not only to deliver the
usual philosophic lectures, but to give instructions
in a similar manner on natural history, chronology,
Greek and Roman antiquities, mechanics, optics,
and astronomy; and it is acknowledged that he ac-
quitted himself of this laborious task in a very respect-
able manner. The connection of some of his col-
leagues with the literary system of the metropolis
appears to have introduced Mr. Fordyce to the
celebrated Dodsley, by whom he was employed to
write the article "Moral Philosophy" for the Modern
Preceptor; a task which he performed in so creditable
a manner, that it was afterwards found necessary to
publish his work in an independent form, under the
title of lyie Elements of Moral Philosophy. It ap-
peared in 1754, and was undoubtedly the most ele-
gant and useful compendium of moral science which
had then been given to the public. Previously to
this, Mr. Fordyce had attracted some notice as an
author, though without his name, in Dialogues con-
cerning Education, the first volume of which was
published in 1745, and the second in 1748. It is
a work of very considerable merit, but somewhat
tinged by the fopperies of the school of Shaftesbury,
although entirely free from its more injurious notions.
He was engaged in other literary designs, and af-
forded the promise of rising to great eminence in the
world, when he was cut off by a premature death.
In 1750 he made a tour through France, Italy, and
other countries, with a particular view to visit Rome,
and was returning home in 1 751 when he unhappily
lost his life in the forty-first year of his age, by a
storm on the coast of Holland.' His death is pathe-
tically noticed by his brother Dr. James Fordyce,
in his Addresses to the Deity, and an epitaph from
the same pen, conceived in a somewhat bombastical
style, will be found in the Gentleman's Magazine for
1796.

FORDYCE, George, a distinguished physician
and lecturer on medicine, was born at Aberdeen,
November 18, 1736, and was the only and post-
humous child of Mr. George Fordyce, a brother of
the other three distinguished persons of the same
name recorded in the present work, and the pro-
prietor of a small landed estate, called Broadford,

1 An unpublished article of the Biographia Brilannica,
quoted in Chalmers' Getieral Biographical Dictionary.

* The posthumous works of this ingenious person were —
Tkeoiiorus, a Dialogtie concertiiiig the Art 0/ Preaching,
i2mo, which is a work of considerable uti'ity to young divines,
and has been repeatedly printed, along with his brother. Dr.
James Fordyce's sermon on The Eloquence of the Pulpit; and
Tlu Temple of I'irtue, a Dream, which was given to the
world in 1757, with some additions by the same distinguished
relative.

in the neighbourhood of that city. Ilis mother, not
long after, marrying again, he was taken from her,
when about two years old, and sent to Foveran, at
which place he received his school education. He
was removed thence to the university of Aberdeen,
where he was made M.A. when only fourteen years
of age. In his childhood he had taken great delight
in looking at vials of coloured liquids which were
placed at the windows of an apothecary's shop. To
this circumstance, and to his acquaintance with the
learned Alexander Garden, M.D., many years a phy-
sician in South Carolina, and latterly in London,
but then apprentice to a surgeon and apothecary in
Aberdeen, he used to attribute the resolution he
vei7 early formed to study medicine. He was in
consequence sent, when about fifteen years old, to
his uncle, Dr. John Fordyce, who, at that time,
practised medicine at Uppingham, in Northampton-
shire. With him he remained several years, and
then went to the university of Edinburgh, where,
after a residence of about three years, he received
the degree of M.D., in October, 1758. His inaugu-
ral dissertation was upon catarrh. While at Edin-
burgh, Dr. Cullen was so much pleased with his
diligence and ingenuity, that, besides showing him
many other marks of regard, he used frequently to
give him private assistance in his studies. The pupil
was ever after grateful for this kindness, and was
accustomed to speak of his preceptor in terms of the
highest respect, calling him often "his learned and
revered master." About the end of 1758 he came
to London, but went shortly after to Leyden, for the
purpose chiefly of studying anatomy under Albinus.
He returned in 1759 to London, where he soon de-
termined to fix himself as a teacher and practitioner
of medicine. When he made known this intention
to his relations, they highly disapproved of it, as the
whole of his patrimony had been expended upon his
education. Inspired, however, with that confidence
which frequently attends the conscious possession
of great talents, he persisted in his purpose, and,
before the end of 1 759, commenced a course of lec-
tures upon chemistry. This was attended by nine
pupils. In 1 764 he began to lecture also upon materia
Tuedica and the practice of physic. These three sub-
jects he continued to teach nearly thirty years, giving,
for the most part, three courses of lectures on each
of them every year. A course lasted nearly four
months ; and, during it, a lecture of nearly an hour
was delivered six times in the week. His time of
teaching commenced about seven o'clock in the morn-
ing, and ended at ten ; his lecture upon the three
above-mentioned subjects being given, one imme-
diately after the other. In 1765 he was admitted a
licentiate of the College of Physicians. In 1770 he
was chosen physician to St. Thomas's Hospital, after
a considerable contest with Sir William (then Dr.)
Watson ; the number of votes in his favour being
109, in that of Dr. Watson 106. In 1774 he became
a member of the Literary Club ; and in 1776 was
elected a fellow of the Royal Society. In 1787 he
was admitted a fellow of the College of Physicians.
No circumstance can demonstrate more strongly the
high opinion entertained of his abilities by the rest
of the profession in London, than his reception into
that body. He had been particularly active in the
dispute which had existed about twenty years before
between the fellows and licentiates, and had, for this
reason, it was thought, forfeited all title to be ad-
mitted into the fellowship through favour. But the
college, in 1787, were prejiaring a new edition of
their Pharmacopa-ia ; and there was confessedly no
one of their own number well acquainted with phar-
maceutical chemistry. They wisely, therefore, sup«

56

GEORGE FORDYCE JAMES FORDYCE.

pressed their resentment of his former conduct, and,
by admitting him into tiicir body, secured his assist-
ance in a work wliicli tliey were unaljle to perform
well themselves. In 1793 he assisted in forming a
small society of physicians and surgeons, which after-
wards published several volumes, under the title of
lih'dual and Chirurgical Transactions; and continued
to attend its meetings most punctually till within a
month or two of his death.

Having thus mentioned some of the principal
events of his literary life, we shall next give a list
of his various medical and philosophical works; and
first, of those which were published by himself: — I.
Elciiunts of AgriciiUure and I'egetalion. lie had
given a course of lectures on these subjects to
some young men of rank ; soon after the close of
which one of his hearers, Mr. Stuart Mackenzie,
presented him with a copy of them from notes he
had taken while they were delivered. Dr. Fordyce
corrected the copy, and afterwards published it under
the above-mentioned title. — 2. Elements of the Prac-
tice of Physic. This was used by him as a text-book
for a part of his course of lectures on that subject.
— 3. A Treatise on the Digestion of Food. It was ori-
ginally read before the College of Physicians as the
Guelstonian Lecture. — 4. Four Dissertations on Fever.
A fifth, which completes the subject, was left by him
in manuscript, and afterwards published. His other
works appeared in the Philosophical Transactions,
and \.\\ii. Medical ami Chirurgical Transactions. In
the former are eight papers by him, with the follow-
ing titles: — I. "Of the Light produced by Inflam-
mation." 2. "Examination of various Ores in the
Museum of Dr. W. Hunter." 3. "A New Method
of assaying Copper Ores." 4. "An Account of
some Experiments on the Loss of Weight in Bodies
on being Melted or Heated." 5. "An Account of
an Experiment on Heat." 6. "The Cronian Lec-
ture on Muscular Motion." 7. "On the Cause of
the Additional Weight which Metals acquire on
being Calcined." 8. "Account of a New Pendulum,
being the Bakerian Lecture." His papers in the
Medical and Chirnrgical Transactions are: — I. "Ob-
servations on the Small-pox, and Causes of Fever."
2. "An Attempt to improve the Evidence of Medi-
cine." 3. Some Observations upon the Composi-
tion of Medicines." He was, besides, the inventor
of the experiments in heated rooms, an account of
which was given to the Royal Society by Sir Charles
Bladgen; and was the author of many improvements
in various arts connected with chemistry, on which
he used frequently to be consulted by manufacturers.

Though the subject of this memoir had projected
various literary works in addition to those which
have been mentioned, nothing was left by him in
manuscript, except the Dissertations on /mv- already
spoken of, and two introductory lectures, one to his
course of materia tnedica, the other to that of the
practice of physic. This will not ajipear extraordin-
ary to those who knew what confidence he had in the
accuracy of his memory. He gave all his lectures
without notes, and perhaps never possessed any; he
took no memorandum in writing of the engagements
he formed, whether of business or pleasure, and was
always most punctual in observing them; and when
he composed his works for the public, even such as
describe successions of events bound together, as far
as we can perceive, by no necessary tie, his materials,
such at least as were his own, were altogether drawn
from stores in his memory, which had often been
laid up there many years before. In consequence
of this retentiveness of memory, and of great reading
and a most inventive mind, he was, perhaps, more
generally skilled in the sciences which are either

directly subser\'ient to medicine, or remotely con-
nected with it, than any other person of his time.
One fault in his character as an author ])robably
arose, either wholly or in part, from the very excel-
lence which has been mentioned. This was his de-
ficiency in the art of literary composition, the know-
ledge of which he might have insensibly acquired
to a much greater degree than was possessed by him,
had he felt the necessity in his youth of frequently
committing his thoughts to writing, for the purpose
of preserving them. But, whether this be just or
not, it must be confessed that, notwithstanding his
great learning, which embraced many subjects no
way allied to medicine, he seldom wrote elegantly,
often obscurely and inaccurately ; and that he fre-
quently erred with respect even to orthography. His
language, however, in conversation, which confirms
the preceding conjecture, was not less correct than
that of most other persons of good education. As
a lecturer, his delivery was slow and hesitating, and
frequently interrupted by pauses not required by his
subject. Sometimes, indeed, these continued so
long, that persons unaccustomed to his manner were
apt to fear that he was embarrassed. But these dis-
advantages did not prevent his having a considerable
number of pupils, actuated by the expectation of re-
ceiving from him more full and accurate instruction
than they could elsewhere obtain. His person is
said to have been handsome in his youth ; but his
countenance, from its fulness, must have been always
inexpressive of the great powers of his mind. His
manners too were less refined, and his dress in gene-
ral less studied, than what most p.ersons in this coun-
try regard as proper for a physician. From these
causes, and from his spending no more time with his
patients than what was sufficient for his forming a
just opinion of their ailments, he had for many years
but little private employment in his profession ; and
never, even in the latter part of his life, when his
reputation was at its height, enjoyed nearly so much
as many of his contemporaries. It is worthy of men-
tion, however, that the amount of his fees during
the year immediately preceding his decease, was
greater, notwithstanding his advanced age and infirm
health, than it had ever been before in the same
space of time. He had always been fond of the
pleasures of society ; and in his youth, to render the
enjoyment of them compatible with his pursuits after
knowledge, he used to sleep very little. He has
often, indeed, been known to lecture for three hours
in a morning without having undressed himself the
preceding night. The vigour of his constitution
enabled him to sustain, for a considerable time, with-
out apparent injury, this debilitating mode of life.
But at length he was attacked with gout, which
afterwards became irregular, and for many years
frequently affected him with excniciating pains in his
stomach and bowels. In the latter part of his life,
also, his feet and ancles were almost constantly
swollen; and, shortly before his death, he had symp-
toms of water in the chest. But these he disregarded,
and uniformly attributed his situation, which for
several weeks previous to his death he knew to be
hopeless, to the presence of the first-mentioned
disease. Death ultimately relieved him from his
sufferings. May 25, 1802, when he was in the sixty-
fourth year of his age. By his wife, who was the
(laughter of Charles Stuart, Esq., conservator of
Scots privileges in the United Netherlands, and
whom he had married in 1 762, he left four children
— two sons and two daughters.

FORDYCE, James, D.D., author of the Sermofis
to } 'otnig Women, was a younger brother of the sub-

JAMES FORDYCE.

57

jects of two separate articles, and the fourth son of
his parents. He was born at Aberdeen in 1720, and
received the education requisite for a minister of the
Scottish church at the Marischal College. In 1752
he was appointed minister of Brechin, but soon after
was removed to Alloa, where at first he had many
prejudices to encounter, though his popular manners
and captivating style of pulpit oratory enabled him
very speedily to overcome them. During his brief
residence in this parish he published three occasional
sermons, which attracted much notice; and in 1760
he increased his fame to a great degree by a discourse
On the Folly, lu/amy, and Muery of Unla'wful Plea-
sures, which he preached before the General Assembly,
and afterwards gave to the public. The novelty of
this sermon in a country where all the best sermons
were evangelical, and the elegance of its style and
sentiments, produced a great impression throughout
the country. The preacher soon after went to Lon-
don, and notwithstanding the difference between the
Scottish Confession of Faith and the tenets of the
English dissenters, offered himself on a vacancy at
the meeting in Carter Lane, but without success.
About this time he received the degree of D.D.
from the university of Glasgow, and was invited by
the meeting in Monkwell Street to be co-pastor with
Dr. Lawrence, then aged and infirm. This invita-
tion he accepted, and upon Dr. Lawrence's death,
which happened soon after, he became sole pastor,
and entered into the enjoyment of a very respectable
income. During his ministry in this place he ac-
quired a higher degree of popularity than probably
ever was attained by the same means. The strong
force of his eloquence drew men of all ranks and all
persuasions to hear him. His action and elocution
were original and peculiarly striking, being not a
little assisted by his figure, which was tall beyond
the common standard, and by a set of features which
in preaching displayed great variety of expression
and animation. Besides his regular attendants, who
subscribed to his support, his meeting was frequented
by men curious in eloquence; and it is said that the
celebrated David Garrick was more than once a
hearer, and spoke of Dr. Fordyce's skill in oratory
with great approbation. With respect to his theo-
logical sentiments, he appears to have possessed that
general liberality which is civil to all systems, with-
out being attached to any. From his printed works
it would be easier to prove that he belonged to no
sect, than that he held the principles of any. As to
the matter, morality appears to have been his chief
object ; and as to the manner, he ardently studied a
polish and a spirit which was then seldom met with
in English pulpits, although it had not been unusual
in those of France.

In 1771 Dr. Fordyce married Miss Henrietta Cum-
myngs; and in 1775 he was involved in an unhappy
dispute with his coadjutor, Mr. Toller, son-in-law
to Dr. Lawrence. This misunderstanding originated
in some omission of ceremonial politeness between
the two reverend gentlemen, and from the want of
inutual concession the breach widened, till reconcilia-
tion became impossible. Dr. Fordyce appears, in-
deed, to have been of an irritable temper, which led
him on this occasion to be guilty of an act which
ultimately he had reason deeply to regret, as it
proved most injurious to his own interest. For, on
undertaking to perform the whole duty of the chapel,
he possessed sufficient influence to have Mr. Toller
ejected from the pastoral charge. The consequence
was, that the congregation became dissatisfied, split
into parties, and gradually dispersed, when Dr. For-
dyce was obliged to resign the ministry. It is true
that bad health and the infirmities of old a<:e had

their share in constraining him to this ste]>, but the
congregation had previously almost entirely deserted
the chapel, which was soon after shut up. Findmg
himself no longer useful as a preacher. Dr. Fordyce,
in the year 1783, left London, and retired first to
Hampshire, and finally to Bath, where he continued
to reside until his death, which took place on the 1st
of October, 1796, in the seventy-sixth year of his
age. We have in the following letter from Mrs.
Fordyce a very interesting and instructing narrative
of this melancholy event, while it presents, at the
same time, a lively picture of Dr. Fordyce's piety
and of some of the more amiable traits of his char-
acter.

"My dear Sir, — Being now able to sit up, I can
only say, that had the state of my health when your
last soothing but affecting letter came to hand ad-
mitted of my writing at all, such a letter from a
favourite friend would have impelled me to give
it an immediate reply. Accept, dear sir, of my
gratitude for what it contained, especially for that
sympathy I so much stand in need of; it is the balm
of true friendship; and though it reaches me from
various quarters, still the wound bleeds, and will
continue to bleed till God shall heal it by that re-
union of souls which must take place ere long.

"Hardly two people accost each other without a
eulogium on his character, and a sigh for his death;
but death it was not. To all human appearance he
was translated. We spent a most agreeable evening
together in my dressing-room, in which he was fond
of sitting, on account of the fine air of the vale
behind and the prospect; for he still kept his relish
for all that was beautiful in nature. We were both
engrossed with William Cowper's sermon to the
Jews.

"I read the hymns and psalms in the little pam-
phlet. 'Ah!' said he, 'this carries me back to
Monkwell Street, where we sang it together with my
beloved flock; the strain shall be exalted when next
we sing it.' Then turning to me, he said, 'We
have read enough for to-night; before you call for
supper let us have some music' My niece is a very
fine performer; she immediately sat down to accom-
pany him in some of his favourite airs on the piano-
forte; and a very fine cadence she sung so delighted
him, that he made her do it over again, and turning
to me, he said, 'How many things have we to be
grateful for ! The musical ear is a gift peculiar to
some, withheld from others; there are many things
in life richly to be enjoyed; all that leads up to God
we may delight in, but whatever has no reference to
him we should avoid. There are books called reli-
gious offices, preparations for the sacrament, and
preparations for death, &c. ; but for my own part, I
never could think that such preparations consisted in
such times being set apart for offices, and then re-
turning to the world as having done with heaven for
the time being. A man is not truly prepared for
death unless by the tenor of his life he feels himself
so wholly given up to God that his mind is in heaven
before he goes hence; and he can only bring himself
to that by the perpetual silent reference in all his
words, thoughts, and actions to his Creator, which
I have so often mentioned to you.' I replied, 'That
indeed, doctor, is the test or criterion to judge himself
by, for a man dare have no reference or appeal for
his actions to God if his deeds condemn him to his
own conscience.' 'God be praised!' said he; 'if I
should leave you, I desire you may avail yourself of
them. In addition to religion and the Scri[>tures
there are books, friendships, and music : I would
name more, but these are sufficient ; cast yourself on
God through your Redeemer. He will care for you

58

JAMES FORDYCE JOHN FORDYCE.

and raise you up friends.' I aimed at changing; the
conversation, and said, ' But you are better, my dear. '
'I am certainly easier,' he replied, 'and have had less
pain and better symptoms for two or three weeks
past; and I assure you, my beloved, I am not tired
of life at all: for though the Almighty knows I have
been long ready for the summons, yet if it is his
pleasure to let the lamp of life burn on a little longer,
I am satisfied, and I am his.'

" He sat his usual time after supper, which he par-
took of in a moderate way, without any disrelish.
About eleven he rang for the servants, who with my
niece and myself attended him everj' night to his
bed-chamber. To my unspeakable joy it seemed to
cost him much less effort than common to mount the
stairs, which formerly was so painful a task, that at
every landing-place a chair was set for him to rest on
ere he could ascend to the ne.xt. He joined us all in
observing with gratitude and wonder that he should
gain more ease by living longer. He and I conversed
in a very pleasing style on various subjects till about
one o'clock, and then he urged my going to bed, lest
I should be hurt by such late hours. He also for-
bade me to get up in the night, as an.xiety about him
had often made me do, unless I should hear him call
me; he made me promise I would not, after which
we embraced. I left him very happy, comfortable,
and serene, I might add even cheerful. We both
slept in our different apartments, and mine had a
door of communication with his, so he could not stir
without my hearing. He awoke about two o'clock
and lighted a wa.x bougie at his lamp, one of which
stood on a dumb-waiter at his bed-side with his
medicines and cordials. He lighted it to take the
ethereal spirit; but forgetting to blow it out, it un-
luckily took fire in the bunch, the smell of which
awoke him perhaps in some alarm. He then called
to me, who was just in my first sleep, and springing
up eagerly in the dark I stumbled, and struck my
head against the door ; the blow for a kw minutes
stunned me, and made me reel in coming up to him.
I affected to be well that he might not be alarmed.
' I called to you, my love, lest the smell of fire which
the bougie occasioned might have frightened you.
You have paid dear for coming to me by this blow.'
Saying so he got up, and calling the women with a
firm voice three or four times, they and my niece
were all at once with us. I was praying him to re-
t irn to bed, but he refused until he should get me,
from their hands, some sal volatile. He then said,
'.\re you better?' I answered, 'O well, well.'
'God be praised,' said he, raising his hands, and
with the words in his mouth he fell in our arms
without a groan, a sigh, or so much as the rattle in
the throat. The spirit was instantly fled, and for
ever, to the God that gave it. He was taken from
my arms who will ever live in my heart, and I saw
him no more."

Dr. Fordyce's first literary attempt was made as
editor of the posthumous work of his brother, Mr.
David Fordyce, published in 1752, entitled The Art
of Preaching. But he is best known to the world by
the ingenious and elegant sermons which he addressed
to young women, and his addresses to young men.
He was author, however, of several other publica-
tions, ' and was remarkable for the energy and use-

' The following is a list of Dr. Fordyce's works: —

1. ''The Eloquence of the Pulpit, an Ordination Sermon,
to which is added a Charge," lamo, 1752.

2. "An Essay on the Action proper for the Pulpit," lamo.
Both these are published at the end of "Theodonis, a Dialogue
concerning the Art of Preaching, by David Fordyce," 3d
edition, ismo, 1755.

3. "The Method of Edification by Pub'ic Instruction," an
Ordination Sermon, to which is added a Charge, i2mo, 1754.

fulness of his pulpit instructions. His piivate char-
acter was amiable, his manners those of a gentleman
and Christian. He blended great cheerfulness with
sincere and ardent piety. He possessed a cultivated
understanding, a warm heart, and great liberality of
sentiment. He was a steady friend of civil and reli-
gious toleration— not from indifference, but from a
true spirit of Christian philanthropy.

FORDYCE, Colonel John, a brave and pious
officer, who fell in the Kaffir war in 185 1, was the
eldest son of Thomas J. Fordyce, Esq., of Ay ton,
Berwickshire, an extensive landed proprietor of
great worth and intelligence. Under the parental
roof he was trained from his earliest years in the
best lessons of a religious education. His accom-
plished and truly Christian mother, who "had no
greater joy than to see her children walking in the
truth," was her son's faithful instructress in that
knowledge which maketh wise unto salvation. A
portion of the .sacred volume was committed each
morning to memory, and around the family altar
prayer was offered daily to the Lord. At the age of
twelve the subject of this memoir had mastered
several of the higher Latin classics, and acquired a
tolerable knowledge of Greek. For the acquisition
of languages he discovered peculiar aptitude, analyz-
ing with much facility the passages of his favourite
authors. It was manifest, from the enthusiasm with
which he followed Caesar and Hannibal, and other
heroes of antiquity, through their respective fields
of conflict, that he was destined for a militarj' life.
The v.Titer of these observations has a vivid recol-
lection of the graphic skill with which, after rising
from the pages of Livy or Tacitus, he described the
successes or discomfitures of the combatants, and
pronounced on the equity or injustice of the causes
of warfare. Before leaving home for a private semi-
nary in England, he was thoroughly conversant with
the works of our best modem historians, travellers,
and poets. After his return, he completed his
literary curriculum in Edinburgh, and was resident
for some time with Doctor (now Bishop) Terrot,
enjoying under his able superintendence advantages
equivalent to those of an English university.

His first commission as an ensign in the 34th regi-
ment was dated in 1828. He served with that corps
(then in Nova Scotia) until 1832, when he obtained
an unattached lieutenancy. The same year, how-
ever, he returned to full pay, first in the 94th, and
soon after in the 21st. He served with the 21st
North British fusiliers until 1836, when he obtained
his company in the 35th regiment, from which he

These were delivered at the ordination of Mr. John Gibson,
minister of St. Ninians, May 9th, 1754.

4. "The Temple of Virtue," a Dream, i2mo, 1747. 2d
edition, much altered, 1755.

5. "The Folly, Infamy, and Misery of Unlawful Pleasures,"
a Sermon preached before the General Assembly of the Church
of Scotland, 25th May, 1760 — 8vo, 1760.

6. "A Sermon occasioned by the Death of the Rev. Dr.
Samuel Lawrence, who departed this Life ist October, 1760,
with an Address at his Interment," 8vo, 1760.

7. "Sermons to Young Women," 2 vols. i2mo, 1766.

8. "The Character and Conduct of the Female Sex, and the
Advantages to be derived by Young Men from the Society of
Virtuous Young Women;" a Discourse in three parts, delivered
in Monkwell Street Chapel, ist January, 1776; 8vo, 1776.

9. "Addresses to Young Men," 2 vols. i2mo, 1777.

10. "The Delusive and Persecuting Spirit of Popery:" a
.Sermon preached in the Monkwell Street Chapel on the loth
of February, being the day appointed for the General Fast,
8vo, 1779.

11. "Charge delivered in Monkwell Street Chapel, at the
Ordination of the Rev. James Lindsay," Svo, 1783. Printed
with the Sermon delivered by Dr. Hunter on that occasion.

12. "Addresses to the Deity," i2mo.

13. " Poems," i2mo, 17S6.

JOHN FORDYCE.

59

exchanged into the nth foot in 1S39. Having in
1844 obtained liis step as major in the latter regi-
ment, he exchanged the same year into the 74th
Highlanders. In 1846 he became lieutenant-colonel
and commanding officer of this regiment, in wiiich
important position he gained the esteem of the miH-
tai-y authorities, and the affection of all who served
under him. Though possessed of a good private
fortune, so strong was his esprit de corps, that in
March, 1S51, he embarked with his regiment for
the Cape of Good Hope, where, after months of
severe and harassing warfare, he fell at the head of
his beloved Highlanders, in the prime of manhood,
and with a name already one of renown.

Endowed with a masculine understanding, a capa-
cious and retentive memory, an indomitable perse-
verance, ample promise was afforded of literary dis-
tinction. Highly gifted as was his intellect, which,
as if by intuition, separated the accessories from the
essentials of any subject, his moral qualities com-
manded still higher admiration. His bosom was the
very home of honour and generosity. "Truth in
the inward parts, "manly independence in forming his
opinions, and unflinching courage in expressing them,
were united with the meekness of wisdom and an
unaffected modesty of demeanour which shrank with
sensitive aversion from all ostentatious display. In
personal appearance Colonel Fordyce was consider-
ably above the ordinaiy height, with a high mas-
sive forehead, and a countenance which revealed
profound thought, calm decision of purpose, and
delicate sensibility. There was frequently also a
look of pensive reflection, which indicated that he
had been no stranger to the afflictions and sorrows
of life. By a stranger, indeed, he might sometimes
appear chargeable with a degree of reserve, border-
ing even on haiitciir ; but those who knew him
thoroughly could best appreciate the depth and con-
stancy of his friendships, and his warm-hearted sym-
pathy with his fellow-men, both "of high and of
low degree."

Deprived in youth of his excellent parents, to
whom he was ever a dutiful and loving sort, he ful-
filled with unwearied fidelity and tenderness the
part of an elder brother towards all the other mem-
bers of the family.

In no feature of character was Colonel Fordyce
more remarkable than in his strict conscientiousness.
Every transaction, private or public, was conducted
with a sacred regard to the authority and the glory
of God. This profound sense of responsibility for his
stewardship distinguished him not only in the more
prominent departments of duty, but in the most
minute details of every-day life. As an officer who
had been called to occupy a high position in the
British army, he was ardently and indefatigably de-
voted to his professional avocations ; cheerfully ex-
pending time and strength and pecuniary resources
in promoting the temporal and spiritual welfare of
the regiment which he commanded. Whilst sta-
tioned in Glasgow, opportunities were incidentally
afforded for marking the solicitude which he evinced
in regard to the intellectual and moral improvement
of soldiers' children ; using all practicable means,
by week-day and Sabbath schools, that they might
be trained to a virtuous life.

The 74th, with their gallant colonel, were ordered
from Glasgow to Clonmel, Ireland. The following
n jtice from the Rev. Mr. Dill testifies to the estima-
tion in which he was held in that place : —

"Sir, — The death of Lieutenant-colonel Fordyce,
74th Highlanders, has been felt as a personal be-
reavement by all who knew him. Clonmel was the
last home-station of the 74th, where, after eight

months' residence, they received orders for foreign
service in November, 1850. To those even slightly
acquainted with the army it will not sound strange
to hear, in the published accounts from the Cape,
'that the whole colony deplores the loss of this noble
officer. Both men and officers feel his loss severely,
and at this juncture the loss the service has sustained
is incalculable.' But those who knew Colonel
Fordyce, not only as a soldier but as a man and a
Christian, can truly estimate his loss to his regiment
and his country. As chaplain to the 74th High-
landers I had frequent opportunity of meeting and
observing him. I can truly say that under God he
devoted himself to his regiment and the service.
Though not a member of the Presbyterian church, he
was never absent from his pew on the Lord's-day.
I continually found him superintending the regimental
Sabbath and week-day schools, and could trace his
kind advice and charity everj'where among the sick
in hospital, the families and recruits of his regiment.
On the evening before the 74th Highlanders left
Clonmel for the Cape of Good Hope he called, and
handed me ;^io for charitable purposes, requesting
that I should not give his name as the donor. Be-
sides this he had given, through my name, within
the three preceding months, ;^I5 to other charities.
What his other donations were I know not. From
what I have heard they must have been numerous,
as I am sure they w'ere unostentatious. The la-
mentable death of Colonel Fordyce affords me the
sad pleasure of acknowledging the benevolence and
worth which he would not permit to be made known
while he was alive. I feel his death as if it were a
personal bereavement, and I pray that our army may
be blessed by many such officers. — I remain, yours
truly, John Dill.

"Manse, Clonmel, loth Jan. 1852."

As evincing the Christian and philanthropic spirit
by which Colonel Fordyce was animated, one or two
extracts from his letters to the writer of these lines
may be given. The following was received after a
domestic bereavement : —

"My dear , — My having been sent from

Dublin with a flying column in pursuit of Smith
O'Brien and other rebels must be my apology for
not having written to acknowledge the receipt of the
announcement of the deprivation you have sustained,
and to assure you of my unfeigned sympathy. I may
express my hope that, sustained by the same consola-
tions which you have been so long the honoured
instalment of imparting to others, your own bodily
health and ability for active exertion may remain
unimpaired.

"I need not trespass upon you at this time with
any notice of the treasonable proceedings here. The
newspapers have given a full account of everjthing
that has occurred ; and so far as we (the column of
troops) are concerned, we have seen no enemy ex-
cepting the continual rain, which is, of course, a
very disagreeable one, as we have been marching
about and encamped since the 28th July. O'Brien
is, as you know, captured, and quietly lodged in
jail, and I have no doubt that all thought of open
armed rebellion is at an end for the present.

" However it may fare with this unfortunate
country, any one of common obsers'ation must see
that the whole European world is in an unprece-
dented state ; and that whatever may be our exact
place in the series of predicted events, some great
overwhelming change in the whole structure of
human society is impending. My reading of Elliot's
I/ora: Apocalyptia^ has been interrupted by my pres-
ent occupations, before I could get beyond the first
volume, or form any opinion as to his system of in-

6o

JOHN FORDYCE SIR WILLIAM FORDYCE.

terpretation of unfulfilled prophecy. Amidst all the
chanj^es, present and coming, upon this world, we
have individually many warnings to place our hopes
on a world where change and cares are alike un-
known,— considerations which it is superfluous in me
to suggest to your matured and practised mind, but
which rise naturally as the great subjects of the day
and hour. A tent does not afford a good writing-
table, and dani]) paper renders my writing more than

usually illegible. I trust that Mrs. is well; and

again assuring you of my good wishes, beg you to
believe me ever faithfully and sincerely yours,

"J. FORDYCE.

"Tipperary, nth August, 1 848."

The next extract is from a communication sent
after the death of General Sir John Buchan, Colonel
P'ordyce's uncle, and brother of the venerable Mr.
Buchan of Kelloe: —

" Although I take a Glasgow newspaper, the
Scottish Guardian, in which there is a full account
of the debates in your General Assembly, I have been
too much occupied with other matters to look at
them since my return, but I glanced at one speech
of Dr. Duff's regarding the Indian missions, which
appeared to be one of remarkable eloquence and
power. He must be indeed gifted with no common
energy of character, in addition to genius, eloquence,
and many acquirements, to be able to resist the de-
pressing lassitude of an oriental climate for so many
years, and now to electrify and command a critical
audience, as he appears to have done for hours during
the late meeting of the assembly."

A subsequent letter, of date Nov. 8, 1850, in-
closing a generous donation for the benefit of certain
Free Church students who were scantily provided,
contains the following remarks: — "I have read Dr.
Buchanan's book (the Ten Years' Conflict) with great
interest; and although I may confess to you that, as
to my personal taste, I prefer the liturgy and forms
of the Church of England, and cannot quite see that
principle required such a sacrifice as the disruption
of the Church of Scotland, I sincerely believe now
that the cause of the Free Church is in Scotland
the cause of Christianity, and that even persons
who have not the strong personal motives which I
have to look favourably upon its exertions, should,
with a cardinal at Westminster, sink all minor dif-
ferences in their support of Protestant Christianity."
"No one," writes his excellent brother. Major
Fordyce, who had shared along with him the toils
and perils of the disastrous struggle, "knew my
brother's state of mind better than I did; for I had
for a long time been constantly with him, and I knew
that he was a faithful follower of Christ, and he is
now where there is no more sorrow — no more pain.
What a great thing it is to have such consolation!
How much more dreadful would have been the sad
b.-reavement if we could not have felt the confidence
we do that he died a Christian, and that his removal
from this world was the end of all trial to him, and
the commencement of an eternity of joy!"

The following particulars of the death of this brave
ofTicer, who fell whilst fighting against the Kaffirs at
tlie Cape, are gleaned from letters which appear in
the Grahanistoion Journal, of 15th November: —

"Fort Beaufort, Tuesday. — After the publica-
tion of our extra, the following came to hand, and
contains an account of the melancholy fate of the
gallant Colonel Fordyce: —

"November 6. — This being the promised day, all
eyes were directed to the hills, which we knew to
have been planted with the instruments of thunder.
The clouds, however, lay piled in heaps long after
sunrise; but no sooner had the rays of his refulgence

escaped from the clouds which intercepted them,
than the curtain gradually rose, and by seven o'clock
the frequent report announced that another act of
the dull tragedy had commenced. Peal after peal
continued to reverberate among the steep acclivities
of the rocky eminences which rise above the dark
bush that conceals the enemy. Towards mid-day
the wind changed to the south-east, which wafted
the sounds from this direction. All were anxiously
awaiting the arrival of intelligence from the scene of
strife, as we had reason to believe that, from the
rapid reports, the conflict was maintained with
obstinacy and resolution. Hour succeeded hour,
until long after, when in broken accents it was re-
vealed that Colonel Fordyce had fallen. But as this
report rested upon the authority of a private letter
brought in by two mounted Fingoes, hopes were
entertained that, in the heat and bustle of the
moment, some mistake might have occurred. About
nine at night, however, the event was confirmed by
an eye-witness to the melancholy fact, from whom it
appears that the colonel was leading his men into
Waterkloof in column, when suddenly his march was
arrested by a rocky precipice which flanked him in
the form of a semicircle; here he found the rebels in
considerable force, who knew too well the rules of
military tactics to let so favourable an opportunity
escape for inflicting a penalty. The bayonets of our
brave countrymen in such a position were powerless;
they had therefore to contend against an enemy con-
cealed among inaccessible rocks, whom they could
not assail; and thus fell, while showing to his men
by example the first duties of a soldier, the good and
the gallant Fordyce. Thus fell the father of his
distinguished regiment, to the honour of which all
his impulses were directed. The soldier, the women
and children, to whose comforts he devoted himself
with parental solicitude, will long cherish his re-
membrance. It is to be regretted that so valuable
a life should have been sacrificed in so ignoble a
strife."

Extract from the leading article of the A'aval and
Milita)y Gazette, Februar)', 1852. . . . "And
here we may observe that there must have been
something singularly attractive in the noble soldier
who fell at the head of the 74th Highlanders, which,
in the short time (six months) he had been in the
colony, and in Grahamstown in particular, should
have so impressed and so endeared him to the in-
habitants that the journals of that town announcing
his death should be margined with black, and the
bell of their distant church has tolled his funeral
knell ; while the colours, half-mast high, floated
languidly in the air, in token of a hero's fall!"

FORDYCE, Sir William, F.R.S., a distin-
guished physician, was a younger brother of David
and James Fordyce, whose lives have already been
recorded, and was born in the year 1 724. Like his
brethren, he was educated at the Marischal College,
of which he died lord-rector. At the age of eighteen
he finished his academic studies, in which he had
distinguished himself particularly by his proficiency
in Greek and mathematics, the most solid as well as
the most ornamental parts of academic knowledge.
Having studied physic and surgery under a native
practitioner, he joined the army as a volunteer, and
afterwards served as surgeon to the brigade of guards
on the coast of France and in all the military trans-
actions which took place in Germany. The warm
support of his military friends co-operated with his
own merit in early recommending him to distinguished
practice in London. His publications, particularly
his treatise on fevers and ulcerated sore throat,

ROBERT FORREST

WILLIAM FORSYTH,

6t

greatly extended his fame ; and he was sent for to
greater distances, and received larger fees, than ahnost
any physician of his time. The wealth which he
thus acquired he liberally expended in benevolent
actions, and was thus the means of doing much good
as well as some harm. Having patronized his brother
Alexander, who was a banker in London, he enabled
that individual to enter upon an unusually extensive
series of transactions, which, though sound in them-
selves, exposed him to a malevolent combination of
his brethren in trade, and hence the great bankruptcy
of Fordyce & Co., which may be termed one of the
most important domestic events in Britain during the
latter part of the eighteenth century. Besides the
losses which Sir WiUiam Fordyce thus incurred, he
soon after became engaged for j{^io,C)00 more, which
was lost by his brother in the project of a manufacture
which totally failed ; and had it not been for the
generosity of the Messrs. Drummond, bankers, who
advanced him the necessary sum, he must have sub-
mitted to a loss of personal liberty. Notwithstand-
ing these severe shocks to his fortune, Sir William
continued to maintain two poor families whom he
had taken under his patronage, and who had no other
resource. It is also to be mentioned, to the honour
of this excellent man, that, besides his own losses by
Alexander, he repaid those incurred by his brother
James, amounting to several thousand pounds. The
benevolence of Sir William Fordyce was a kind of
enthusiasm. When he heard of a friend being ill,
he would run to give him his advice, and take no fee
for his trouble. His house was open to all kinds of
meritorious persons in distressed circumstances, and
he hardly ever wanted company of this kind. He
was also indefatigable in his good offices towards
young Scotsmen who had come to London in search of
employment. His address had much of the courtly
suavity of a past age, and his conversation, while
unassuming, was replete with elegant anecdote and
solid information. His eye beamed gentleness and
humanity, ennobled by penetration and spirit. Al-
though originally of a delicate constitution, by tem-
perance and exercise he preserved his health for
many years, but suffered at last a long and severe ill-
ness, which ended in his death, December 4, 1792.
Sir William, who had been knighted about 1787,
wrote a treatise on the Venereal Disease; another, as
already mentioned, on Fez'ers, and a third on Ulcer-
ated Sore Throat; besides which he published, im-
mediately before his death, a pamphlet on The Great
Importance and Proper Method 0/ cultivating Rhubarb
in Britain for Medicinal Uses.

FORREST, Robert. This self-taught sculptor
was born at Carluke, Lanarkshire, in 1790. He was
bred as a stone-mason in the quarries of Carluke;
but, having a spirit beyond his mechanical occupa-
tion, he employed his leisure hours in the higher
departments of stone-carving, imtil he obtained
notice and some distinction as a sculptor. This
recognition brought him occupation in the honour-
able profession he had adopted, and his first public
work was a statue of Sir William Wallace, executed
in 1 81 7, and which occupies a niche in the steeple
of Lanark parish church. After this he was com-
missioned to form the colossal statue, fourteen feet
in height, of the first Viscount Melville, which sur-
mounts the pillar copied from Trajan's Column at
Rome, and is erected in the centre of St. Andrew's
Square, Edinburgh. Another of his public works,
executed about the same time, was the statue of
John Knox which rears its commanding form in the
Necropolis of Glasgow, with an admonitory gesture
towards the ancient cathedral.

Stimulated by the public approbation which these
specimens produced, Robert Forrest opened in 1832
his public exhibition of statuary on the Calton Hill,
Edinburgh, with four equestrian statues, under the
patronage of a royal association of contributors to
the national monument. This was but the com-
mencement of a bold adventure, as thirty groups of
statues at last occupied his galler)-, all of them exe-
cuted by Forrest himself. In these not only the
remarkable industry, but the talent and genius, of
the artist are exhibited; the figures being exact in
their proportions, admirable in their attitudes, and
distinguished by their spirit and expressiveness. In
consequence of these merits F'orrest's exhibition on
the Calton Hill became a frequent resort of the in-
habitants of Edinburgh, and one of the lions of the
sight-seers who visited the metropolis. Besides these,
a statue from his chisel of the late Mr. Ferguson of
Raith, erected in 1843 at Haddington, is considered
as one of the best of his works. After an illness of
six weeks Robert Forrest died at Edinburgh, on the
29th of December, 1852, in the sixty-third year of
his age.

FORSYTH, William, distinguished in the science
of arboriculture, was born at Old Meldrum in Aber-
deenshire, in 1737. Having been bred to the busi-
ness of a gardener, he went to London in 1763, and
soon after became a pupil of the celebrated Philip
Miller, gardener to the company of apothecaries at
their physic-garden in Chelsea. In 1 771 he suc-
ceeded his master in this respectable situation, in
which he remained till 1 784, when he was appointed
by George III. chief superintendent of the royal
gardens at Kensington and St. James's, which em-
ployments he held till his death.

About the year 1768 Mr. Forsyth paid particular
attention to the cultivation of fruit and forest trees,
and turned his thoughts more especially to the dis-
covery of a composition to remedy the diseases and
injuries incident to them. After repeated trials he
at length succeeded in preparing one which fully an-
swered his expectations; and in the year 1789 the
success of his experiments attracted the notice of the
commissioners of the land revenue, upon whose re-
commendation a committee of both houses of parlia-
ment was appointed to report upon the merits of his
discovery. The result of their inquiries was a perfect
conviction of its utility, and in consequence an address
was voted by the House of Commons to his majesty,
praying that a reward might be granted to Mr. For-
syth upon his disclosing the secret of his composi-
tion to the public; which was accordingly done: and
in 1 79 1 Mr. Forsyth published his Obserz'ations on
the Diseases, Defects, and Injuries of Fruit and Forest
Trees, which also contains the correspondence between
the commissioners of the land revenue, the committee
of parliament, and himself. In 1802 he published
the final result of his labours in A Treatise on the
Culture and Management of Fruit Trees. In this
work, or in Fees^ Cyclopedia, article "Composition
for Trees," may be found a complete account of
Mr. Forsyth's discoveries and mode of treating in-
jured wood. It may be sufficient here to mention
that his composition or medicament was foiTned ac-
cording to the following receipt: "Take one bushel
of fresh cow-dung, half a bushel of lime-rubbish of
old buildings (that from the ceilings of rooms is pre-
ferable), half a bushel of wood-ashes, and a sixteenth
part of a bushel of pit or river sand; the three last
articles are to be sifted fine before they are mixed, then
work them well together with a spade, and aftenvards
with a wooden beater, until the stuff is verj- smooth,
like fine plaster used for the ceilings of rooms."

62

ROBERT AND ANDREW FOULIS.

Mr. Forsyth, who was a member of the Antiqua-
rian, Linnx-an, and other societies, died July 25,
1804. He enjoyed the honours paid to him for liis
useful invention with an unaffected modesty, which
gave them a higher grace; and his benevolence and
private worth were warmly attested by his friends.
A particular genus of plants has been named For-
sythia in honour of his name.

FOULIS, Robert and Andrew, emhient printers
in the eighteenth century, were natives of Glasgow,
and were born, the elder brother on the 20th of
April, 1707, and the younger on the 23d of Novem-
ber, 1 71 2. Their mother, who seems to have pos-
sessed shrewdness and intelligence beyond her station,
educated them at first under her own care, and had
not Robert's talents attracted attention they would
probably never have proceeded farther in the acqui-
sition of knowledge. At an early age Robert was
sent an apprentice to a barber; it would even seem that
he afterwards practised the art on his own account
for some time. While thus humbly employed, he
came under the notice of the celebrated Dr. Francis
Hutcheson, then professor of moral philosophy in
Glasgow university. This acute observer discovered
his talents, inflamed his desire for knowledge, and
suggested to him the idea of becoming a book-
seller and printer. Foulis did not, however, receive
a complete university education, although he attended
his patron's lectures for several years, and his name
is so enrolled in the matriculation book. Andrew,
who seems to have been designed for the church,
entered the university in 1727, and probably went
through a regular course of study.

For some years after they had determined to follow
a literary life the brothers were engaged in teaching
the languages during the winter, and in making
short tours into England and to the Continent in sum-
mer. These excursions were of great advantage to
them; they brought them into contact with eminent
men, enabled them to form connections in their busi-
ness, and extended their knowledge of books. On
some of these occasions they made considerable col-
lections, which they sold at home to good account.
Thus prepared, the elder brother began business in
Glasgow as a Vjookseller about the end of 1739, and
in the following year published several works. Three
years afterwards his connection with the university
commenced. In March, 1743, he was appointed
their printer, under condition, "that he shall not
use the designation of university printer without al-
lowance from the university meeting in any books
excepting those of ancient authors."' The fust pro-
ductions of his press, which were issued in 1742,
were almost exclusively of a religious nature, many
of them relating to the well-known George White-
field. In 1742 he published Demetrius Plialereus
de Elocutioiie, apparently the first Greek work printed
in Glasgow, although we are certain that there ex-
isted a fount of Greek letters there nearly a century
before. It would be tedious to notice each work as it
appeared: the immaculate edition of Horace, an
edition of Cicero's works in twenty volumes, Crcsar's
Commentaries in folio, Callimachus in tlje same size,
with engravings executed at their academy, form
but a small part of the splendid catalogue of their
classics.

The succcess which had attended their exertions
as printers induced the elder P'oulis to attem])t the
establishment of an academy for the cultivation of
the fine arts, a scheme for which Scotland was but

' The date . -It which Andrew joined him in business is some-
what uncertain.

ill prepared by the dissensions which had followed
the Union, and which had been succeeded by the re-
bellions of 1715 and 1745. In 1751 he went abroad,
partly with the view of extending his commercial
connections, but principally with the intention of
arranging for the establishment of this institution.
After remaining on the Continent for about two years,
and sending home several artists whom he had engaged
in his service, he returned to Scotland in 1753. His
design was considered romantic; many of his friends
exerted all their eloquence to persuade him to desist.
Hut Foulis, who possessed a degree of determination
which might perhaps not unjustly be termed obsti-
nacy, was fixed in his "high resolve," and although
he must have observed with mortification that {to
use his own expression) "there seemed to be a pretty
general emulation who should nin the scheme most
down," he established his academy in the course of
the same year. He soon found that he had embarked
in an undertaking of no common difficulty. From
a letter in the Scots Magazine for 1759 it appears
that the selection of proper teachers had cost him
much trouble and anxiety. He had to contend, be-
sides, with the national prejudices in favour of the
works of foreign artists; and after amassing a con-
siderable collection, he found it extremely difficult to
dispose of it to advantage. In the same year it was
proposed that such persons as were willing to support
the institution should advance certain sums yearly,
for which they should be entitled to select prints,
designs, paintings, &c., to the amount of their sub-
scriptions.

In the meantime, the operations of their press
went on with increasing vigour. If we may judge
from the catalogue of their books, the period between
1750 and 1757 seems to have been the most flourish-
ing era in their trade. During that time "proposals
for publishing^ by subscription the whole works of
Plato" were issued, and considerable progress made
in collating MSS. in the Vatican and national libra-
ries. But the embarrassments occasioned by the ill-
fated academy seem to have prevented the publica-
tion of this as well as many other works which might
have added much both to their fame and their wealth.
Yet while we condemn the obstinacy with which this
institution was carried on when it was a daily source
of anxiety and pecuniary difficulties, it should be re-
membered that it was the means of bringing forward
the "Scottish Hogarth" David Allan, and Tassie
the medallist. The latter of these, while a stone-
mason, acquired a relish for the arts in visiting the
academy on a holiday, when the pictures were gene-
rally exhibited gratis.

It would be foreign to the purpose of the present
work to notice the various books which issued from
the Foulis press at this and subsequent periods. It
may be sufficient to say, that in the latter part of
their history the brothers seem to have lost much of
their original energy, and the celebrity of their press
may be considered as expiring with their folio edition
of Milton, published in 1770. They continued, in-
deed, to print till the death of Andrew, which took
place suddenly on the 1 8th of September, I775> ''"'
many of the works published at that period were of
inferior workmanship.

We shall close the history of these remarkable but

* As a curious estimate of the expense of classical reading in
these days, we extract the first article in the proposals: — " I.
In nine volumes in quarto, of which the Greek in six volumes
and the Latin translation with the notes in three. The price
to subscribers, one penny sterling per sheet. The whole will
be contained in about 500 sheets, so the price will be about
£,1, IS. Stt. in quires, on a fair paper. A number will be
printed ou a fine large paper at twopence sterling per sheet."

LORD FOUNTAIXITALL

unfortunate men in a few words. After the death
of the younger brother it was determined to expose
the works belonging to the academy to public sale.
For this purpose Robert, accompanied by a confi-
dential workman, went to London about the month
of April, 1776. Contrary to the advice of the auc-
tioneer and at a period when the market was glutted
by yearly importations of pictures from Paris, his
collection was sold off — and, as the reader may have
anticipated, greatly under their supposed value. Ir-
ritated at the failure of this his last hope, and with
a constitution exhausted by calamities, he left London
and reached Edinburgh on his way homeward. On
the morning on which he intended setting out for
Glasgow he expired almost instantaneously, in the
sixty-ninth year of his age.

Robert Foulis was twice married. From his
second marriage, with a daughter of Mr. Boutcher, a
seedsman in Edinburgh, was descended Andrew
Foulis, who died at Edinburgh, in great poverty, in
1S29. lie had, besides, by his first marriage, with
Elizabeth Moor, a sister of the celebrated Grecian,
five daughters.

Of the Scottish works produced at the Foulis
press the greater number were ballads, some of them
original, and all of them since published in the col-
lections of Bishop Percy, Ritson, Cromek, &c. The
'■'■ Memorials and Letters Relating to the History of
Britain in the reigns of James I. and Charles I.,
published by Lord Hailes, principally from the
Denmylne ^ISS. in the Advocates' Library," were
also published at Glasgow. But the greatest service
that they could have performed for Scottish history
would have been the publication of Calderwood's
MS. history. This they undoubtedly had in view.
It appears from the records of the university of Glas-
gow that they got permission to borrow their MS.^
in September, 1768. They did not, however, accom-
plish their patriotic purpose, and this valuable work
remained unpublished until the task was fulfilled,
in 1845, by the Wodrow Society.

ROBERT ERASER.

63

FOUNTAINHALL, Lord. See Lauder, Sir
John.

ERASER, Ja:mes Baili.ie. This distinguished
traveller, popular writer, and accomplished country
gentleman belonged to a family of consequence in its
own locality, and was born in the county of Inver-
ness in 1784. In early life he was engaged in the
civil service of the East India Company, in which he
rose to distinction by his talents and activity. Upon
one occasion, while employed in a diplomatic mis-
sion of the East India Company to the Persian court,
he rode on horseback from Constantinople to Ispa-
han ; but the fatigues and hardships of such a jour-
ney were too much for even his Highland constitu-
tion, and gave it the first shock, which a further
residence in the East tended to confirm. When the
Persian princes visited England, Mr. Eraser, from
his position and accomplishments, and his knowledge
of Persia and its language, was requested by our
government to accompany them, and take charge of
them ; this task he satisfactorily accomplished, and
when the princes returned to their own country, he
accompanied them as far as Constantinople. As his
health had suffered from the eastern climate he
finally returned to England, and, abandoning the
toils of active public service, devoted the rest of
his life to the charms of literature, and the improve-
ment of his Highland estate of Reelick, in Inverness-
shire. These improvements were so effectual that
the property, considering its limited extent, was

1 It is not, however, the original MS,

scarcely to be equalled in the Highlands for its
magnificent woods and romantic scenery.

It was not, however, by such occupations alone that
the active mind of Eraser could be satisfied, and
having acquired much knowledge of the East by
personal experience, he was desirous to communicate
it to the world at large. Accordingly he wrote A
Toitr througli the Sno7oy Range of the I/iinalaya
Mountains, which was published in 1820; "y/ A'arra-
tivc of a Journey into Khorasan in the years 1821 and
1822, including an Account of the Countries to the
North-east of Persia," which was published in 1825;
and Travels and Adventures in the Persian Provinces,
published in 1826. Finding, however, that tlie pop-
ular taste for foreign lands, characters, and manners
preferred the medium of imaginative writing to that
of plain matter-of-fact narrative; and inspired by the
example of his friend Morier, who opened up Persia
and its people to the English public by a series of
fascinating novels, Mr. Eraser in 1828 produced The
Kuzzilbash, a Talc of Khorasan. This novel, which
was very attractive in its day, has shared the fate of
its contemporaries, notwithstanding the stirring ad-
ventures it recorded, and the terrible deeds of Nadir
Shah, its predominant personage ; and, like many
other interesting fictions of the period, we can only
say of the Kuzzilbash, that it lived its allotted hour
of sunshine, and then passed away. The next work
of Eraser was A Winter Journey f-orn Constantinople
to Teheran, with T?'avels tlirough Various Parts of
Persia, which appeared in 1838. His last work was
a memoir of the distinguished Colonel Skinner, who
had been the intimate friend of his brother William
Eraser. Like himself, William had entered the
civil service of the East India Company, where he
had risen to distinction, and been appointed com-
missioner at Delhi, but there he was assassinated by
a native prince in 1835.

In 1823 Mr. James Baillie Eraser married a
daughter of Lord Woodhouselee, and sister of Patrick
Eraser Tytler, author of the History of Scotland, &c.
In his retirement he was a deputy-lieutenant of the
county of Inverness. He died in the beginning of
1856, at the age of seventy-two.

FRASER, Robert. This poet, linguist, and
journalist, who was chiefly remarkable for his pur-
suit of knowledge under difficulties, was the son of a
mariner, and was born in the village of Pathhead,
parish of Dysart, Eifeshire, on the 24tli of June,
1 798. W'hen only four years old he commenced his
education in the village school, at which he continued
eighteen months ; afterwards he went to another
school, where he remained about four years ; and
finally was sent to the school of Pathhead, at which,
in 1809, he commenced the study of Latin. It was
that simple course of ordinary education without
which a young Scot at home can scarcely hold his
own, but with which, when abroad, he can start in
the career of life better equipped than his fellows,
and win his way to fame and fortune. In 1812
Robert Eraser was apprenticed to a wine and spirit
merchant in Kirkcaldy, in whose employ he continued
four years; but in I Si 3, being afflicted with an abscess
in his right arm, which confined him to the house
for several months, he betook himself to that course
of study in earnest which afterwards gave him a place
in literature. He matured his school-boy knowledge
of Latin, made considerable proficiency in Greek, and
to these added French and Italian, at a period when
the study of such languages was somewhat rare among
the common ranks in Scotland. In addition to these
studies he cultivated an acquaintanceship with general
literature. His apprenticeship in the meantime to

64

SIMON FRASER.

the wine and spirit merchant continued until 1817,
when, on its termination, he abandoned the trade
ahogether, and became clerk to a respectable iron-
monger in Kirkcaldy. In 1819 he commenced the
business of ironmonger in Kirkcaldy on his own ac-
count, in partnership with a Mr. James Robertson;
and in March, 1820, before he had completed his
twenty-second year, he married a lady whose name
was iNliss Ann Gumming. The cares of business and
domestic life did not, however, abate his love of
study, which was directed chiefly to general literature
and the acquirement of languages; and in 1825 he
commenced the study of the German tongue, to which
he afterwards added the Spanish, and of both of these
languages he acquired such mastery as to translate
from them various pieces of poetry, which, with some
original productions of his own, were published in
the pages of the Edinburgh Lilera>y Gazette, the
Edinburgh Literary Journal, and several newspapers
of the day.

It was while pursuing these honourable literary
recreations that Fraser's worldly concerns were be-
coming unprosperous. The first serious shock was
from a robbery, which no prudence could have pre-
vented. About six years after he had opened his
shop it was broken into during the night, and jewel-
lery to the value of jC200 was carried away, while no
trace could be obtained either of the property or the
thieves. In 1833, having dissolved partnership and
commenced business on his sole responsibility, he, in
1836, was so deeply involved in pecuniary difficulties
through the sudden death of a friend, that his health
succumbed, and, notwithstanding his stout-hearted
attempts to rally, the state of his affairs was so hope-
less that he was obliged in the following year to
compound with his creditors. Such is too often the
fate of a mind divided between the study and the
shop: the union is so uncongenial, that one or the
other occupation must go to the wall, and in such a
collision the desk, from its superior attractiveness, is
usually the conqueror of the counter. But Fraser's
character for honour and industry was so well estab-
lished, that the most respectable traffickers of the
town offered to become his securities for the com-
position.

Fraser having nothing left him but his talents and
reputation, soon found them an available capital, for
they obtained for him the editorship of the Ei/e
Herald, to which he was appointed in 1838. On
leaving Kirkcaldy a large party of its townsmen
showed their esteem for his worth by entertaining
him at a public dinner, and presenting him with a
copy of the seventh (at that time the latest) edition
of the Encyclopirdia Britaitniea. But it was only
for a very short time that he was able to discharge
his editorship of the Ei/e Herald, for his constitution
was already broken, so that he was obliged to employ
a literary friend as his substitute. His last acts were
in accordance with the tenor of his literary life: while
confined to bed, and during the intervals of acute
pain, he revised and arranged his poems for the press,
and a short time before he died he dictated to an
amanuensis his translations from certain Danish and
Norwegian writers. I lis death occurred on the 22d
of May, 1839. Such was his brief history — a history
of hundreds of his countrymen in lowly life, who,
with equal talents and worth, have passed away into
oblivion because there was no one to preserve their
memory. The Poetical Remai}is of Robert Fraser,
with a memoir of their author, were published soon
after his death by David Vedder.

FRASER, Simon, twelfth Lord Lovat, a per-
son too remarkable in history to be overlooked in

this work, though his want of public or private
virtue might otherwise have dictated his exclusion,
was the second son of Thomas Fraser of Beaufort,
by Sybilla Macleod, daughter of the laird of Mac-
leod, and was born at Beaufort, near Inverness,
in the year 1667. Of his early years we have no
very distinct account. He has himself asserted
that, at the age of thirteen, he was imprisoned for
his exertions in the royal cause, though we do not
well see how this could happen. That his elder
brother, however, was in the insurrection of the
Viscount Dundee, and himself, after the death of
Dundee, in that under General Buchan, is certain.
After all the pains his lordship has been at to set
forth his extreme zeal for the Stuarts, nothing can
be more evident than that, from his earhest days, the
sole puq^ose of his life was to promote his own power
by all feasible means, this end being the only object
of his solicitude. Agreeably to this view of his
character we find him, in the year 1694, while yet
a student at the university of Aberdeen, accepting
of a commission in the regiment of Lord Murray,
afterwards Earl of Tullibardine. This commission
had been procured for him by his cousin Hugh Lord
Lovat, who was brother-in-law to Lord Murray,
with the express view of bringing him "forward
most advantageously in the world ;" and though he
professed to have scruples in going against the in-
terest of King James, these were all laid asleep by
an assurance on the part of Lord Murray, that the
regiment, though ostensibly raised, and in the mean-
time to take the oaths to, and receive the pay of King
William, was really intended for King James, who
would not fail to be in the country to lay claim to
and revive his rights in the course of the succeeding
year. No sooner had young Beaufort received this
assurance than he led into the regiment a complete
company, almost entirely made up of the young
gentlemen of his clan. In the course of the succeed-
ing year Lord Murray was, by the favour of King
William, appointed secretary of state for Scotland,
and, in place of doing anything for King James, in-
forced upon every officer in his regiment the oath of
abjuration.

Being a young man, at liberty to follow out his
education, and in the regular receipt of his pay,
Beaufort, it might have been supposed, would have
found his situation comfortable, and been in some
measure content ; but his spirit seems to have been
naturally restless, and anything like an under part
in the drama of life did not square with his disposi-
tion. In the course of the year 1696, a company
of Lord Murray's regiment being stationed at the
castle of Edinburgh, where the earl-marischal. Lord
Drummond, and other of the Jacobite lords were
imprisoned, a visit from the Pretender being at the
time expected, Simon, the subject of this narrative,
entered into an engagement with the rebel lords to
seize upon the castle, and to hold it under the earl-
marischal for the French and King James. In this
project, which appears not to have been executed
only because the P'rench were unable to make the
promised demonstration, Beaufort was to have been
assisted by another captain of the same regiment,
who seems to have been equally faithless and equally
servile with himself.

B>ut while he was thus careful to watch the tides,
and to take advantage of every wind that might ruffle
the ocean of politics, his eye was steadily fixed upon
the estate of Lovat, which, as his cousin Hugh Lord
Lovat had but one child, a daughter, he had already
marked out as his own. For this end he seems to
have embraced every opportunity of ingratiating
himself with his cousin, who appears to have been a

SIMON FRASER.

man of a facile and vacillating disposition, and to
have been considerably under the influence of Lord
Murray, his brother-in-law. Of this influence Simon
of Beaufort was perfectly aware, and watched with
the utmost carefulness an opportunity to destroy it.
This opportunity Lord Murray himself afforded him
in the affair of the colonelcy of the regiment, which,
upon his appointment to the office of secretary, it
was e.xpected he would have given up to his brother-
in-law Lord Lovat. Nor is it at all unlikely that
such was originally his lordship's intention ; for in
the year 1696 he sent for him to London, apparently
with the intention of doing so after having presented
him to the king. Lovat unfortunately carried along
with him his cousin Simon, whose character must
by this time have been pretty well known to King
William, and whose companionship, of course, could
be no great recommendation to the royal favour.
Lovat was, however, presented to the royal presence,
most graciously received, and gratified with a pro-
mise of being provided for. As this was all that
Lovat expected, he took leave of his majesty, along
with Lord Murray, leaving no room for William to
suppose, for the present at least, that he either
wished or had any occasion for a further interview.
This his cousin Simon highly resented, telling him
that it was a contrivance of Lord Murray's to deprive
him of an opportunity of soliciting a regiment for him-
self, and he prevailed with him instantly to demand
of Lord Murray the reason for which he had brought
them at this time to London, at such an enormous
expense. Lord Murray frankly told him that it was
his design to have resigned to him the command of
his regiment, but that the king had positively en-
joined him to keep it till such time as the nmiours
of an invasion should subside, when he should cer-
tainly surrender it into his hands.

Had Lovat been left to himself this answer would
most probably have been altogether satisfactory; but
it did not satisfy Simon nor his friends Lord Tarbat
and Alexander Mackenzie, son to the Earl of Sea-
forth, both of whom were at that time in London,
and were of service to Beaufort in persuading Lord
Lovat that Lord Murray had been all along his
mortal enemy. By the advice of all three Lovat sent
back to Lord Murray two commissions, that of cap-
tain and lieutenant-colonel, which he held under
him, expressing at the same time in strong language
his resentment of his treachery, and his fixed resolu-
tion never more to see him nor any individual of his
family, excepting his own wife. At the same time
that the poor old man was thus eager in casting off
his old friends, he was equally warm in his attach-
ment to the new. "Impressed with the tender
affection of the laird of Beaufort, and the resolution
he manifested never to leave him, he declared that
he regarded him as his own son;" and as he had
executed at his marriage some papers which might
perhaps be prejudicial to the claims of this said
adopted son, he obliged him to send for an attorney,
and made a universal bequest to him of all his
estates, in case he died without male issue. This
affectionate conduct on the part of Lord Lovat
deeply, according to his own account of the matter,
affected our hero, who pretended "that he would
for ever consider him as his father." In consequence
of so much anxious business, so much chagrin and
disappointment, with a pretty reasonable attendance
on taverns. Lord Lovat fell sick; but after conva-
lescing a little, was brought on his way home as far
as Edinburgh by his affectionate Simon, where he
left him, proceeding by the way of Dunkeld to meet
with his wife. He had not been many days at
Dunkeld when he again fell sick, and retired to an

VOL. II.

inn at Perth, where he was again waited on by Simon
of Beaufort, and, in a state of distraction, died in his
arms the morning after his arrival.

Though, as we have seen, the subject of this
memoir had got a deed executed by a London attorney
under the direction of his cousin, the late Lord Lovat,
constituting him heir to the estate, it was judged by
him the more prudent method to put forward his
father as the nearest male heir to take possession of
the estate, with the honours, contenting himself with
the title of Master of Lovat. No sooner, however,
had he assumed this title than he was questioned on
the subject by his colonel, now Lord Tullibardine,
who made him the offer of a regiment with other
preferments, which should be to him an ample pro-
vision for life, provided he would execute a formal
sun-ender of his claim to that dignity. This produced
a violent altercation between them, which ended in
the master of Lovat throwing up his commission,
which he bade his lordship, if he pleased, bestow
upon his own footman. Through the friendship of
Sir Thomas Livingston, however, he received another
company in the regiment of Macgill, and his father
having taken possession of the estate and the honours
of Lovat without much apparent opposition, he must
have been, in some degree, satisfied with his good
fortune. In order, however, to secure it, and to
render his claims in every respect unexceptionable,
he made love to the heiress of his cousin, the late
Lord Lovat, and had succeeded in persuading her
to marry him without the knowledge of her friends,
when one of his agents betrayed trust, and she was
carried out of his way by the I^Iarquis of Athol after
the day of the marriage had actually been appointed.

The Marquis of Athol, late Lord Tullibardine,
probably aware that he had an adversary of no
common activity to deal with, lost no time in con-
cluding a match for the heiress with Lord Salton or
Eraser, whom he also took measures for having de,
clared head of the clan Eraser. The first part of his
plan was not difficult to have been executed; but the
latter part, for which the first was alone contemplated,
was not of so easy a character, being opposed to the
spirit of Highland clanship. A considerable time,
however, was spent in attempting to bring it to bear.
A few Erasers only could be tempted to engage in it;
whose treachery no sooner came to the ears of the
lord and the master of Lovat, than orders were
issued to apprehend and punish them according to
their deserts; and it was only by a timely and well-
concerted flight that they escaped being hanged. A
letter was at the same time sent to Lord Salton,
signed by the principal men of the clan, begging
him not to attempt forcing himself upon them, and
thus destroying their tranquillity and endangering
his own life. Salton returned a soft answer; but,
confident in the power of the Marquis of Athol, and
at any rate, in love with the consequence attached
to the fair estate of Lovat, whether he was in love
with the heiress or not, persevered in following out
his plan, and with a considerable train of retainers
came to Beaufort, at that time the residence of the
dowager of Lovat, whose son-in-law he intended to
be. Thomas Lord Lovat happened to be at this
time on the Stratherrick estate — a district which
stretches along the south bank of Loch Ness, and was
requested by his son Simon to cross the lake by the
nearest way to Lovat, which is only three miles from
Beaufort, in order to meet with Lord Salton, while
he himself hastened to the same place by the way of
Inverness. At Inverness the master learned that
Lord Salton, persevering in his original design, had
fully matured his plans at the house of the dowager
Lady Lovat, whence he intended next day to return

40

66

SIMON FRASER.

into his own countn', calling at Athol and manning;
the heiress of Lovat by the way, without waiting to
see either the lord or the master of Lovat. Irritated
as well as alarmed by this intelligence, he wrote by
a special messenger to Lord Salton, calling upon
him to adhere to his word " passed both to his father
and himself, and to meet him next day at two o'clock
in the afternoon, three miles from Beaufort, either
like a friend, or with sword and pistols, as he pleased. "
This letter Lord Salton received at six o'clock in the
evening, and returned for answer that he would meet
the master of Lovat at the time and place appointed
as his good friend and humble servant. In the
meantime it was concluded by him and his followers
to break up from their present quarters, and to pass
the bridge of Inverness before the master of Lovat
could have any suspicion of their being in motion,
and thus escape a meeting with him for the present.
The master, however, was too good a calculator of
probabilities in this sort of intercourse to be thus
taken in, especially as his messenger to Lord Salton,
from what he had observed at Beaufort, had strong
suspicions of what was intended. He was accord-
ingly at the road very early in the morning, attended
by six gentlemen and two servants, all well mounted
and armed, and meeting Lord Salton, Lord Mungo
Murray, and their followers, to the number of forty,
issuing from a defile in the wood of Bunchrive, about
five miles from Inverness, disarmed and dismounted
them; first Lord Mungo Murray, then Lord Salton,
and the rest singly as they came forward, without
stroke of sword or the firing of a single musket.
Though the party of the master of Lovat was so
inconsiderable at the outset, Lord Salton and his
party soon found themselves surrounded by some
hundreds of enraged enemies, by whom, under the
direction of the master, they were carried prisoners
to the castle of Fanellan, where they were closely
shut up under a certification that they should be all
hanged for their attempt to intrude themselves into
the inheritance, and to deprive the owner of his law-
ful and hereditary rights. Nor had they any assured
ground to consider this as a mere bravado: the
history of clan wars could easily furnish them with
numerous examples of such barbarous atrocity where
there was not greater provocation.

Having thus completely marred the marriage of
Lord Salton, the master of Lovat immediately set
about the celebration of his own. The heiress of
Lovat was safe in the hands of her friends at Athol;
but the dow.ager, her mother, was in the house of
Beaufort, every avenue to which he beset with his
followers, so that it was out of her power to inform
her friends of anything that was going on; then, en-
tering the house with a parson, whether Catholic or
Episcopal is unknown, he matle the lady go through
the form of marriage with himself, had her forcibly
undressed and put to bed, whither he as forcibly
followed her before witnesses, thus constituting it,
as he supposed, a lawful marriage. This is one of
the most atrocious of the many revolting actions in
the life of this prolligate nobleman, though one to
which he has given a fiat denial in the memoir which
he has written of himself. The truth is, it was as
foolish as it was wicked; and, after the purpose for
■which it was committed, viz. to remove the enmity
of the Athol family, had utterly failed, he himself
must have been heartily ashamed of it. There is
indeed a total falsehood in one reason that he insists
upon as proving its improbability. She was old
enough, he says, to have been his mother. Now she
was only four years older than himself, having died at
Perth in the year 1 743, in the eightieth year of her age.
She had been either so frightened by him, or so

cajoled, as to offer, if we may believe the Duke of
Argyle, writing to the Rev. Air. Carstairs, to give
her oath before the court of justiciary that all that
had passed between her and Lovat was voluntar}',
and as much her inclination as his; and she lived to
hear him deny his being at all concerned with her,
and to see him twice afterwards married.

But to return from this short digression. Having,
as he supposed, put himself in a fair way for being
acknowledged by the house of Athol, the master of
Lovat abandoned the idea of hanging so many of the
members and allies belonging to it as he had in
custody in his castle of Fanellan, contenting himself
with extorting a bond from Lord Salton for ;[^8ooo,
with four low-country barons as his sureties, if he
ever again interfered with the affairs of the estate of
Lovat, or if ever he or the Marquis of Athol pro-
secuted any one individual for anything that had been
transacted in this whole affair. This was only a little
more of the same folly which had guided him through
the whole business, and tended but to excite the
wonder of his friends and the hatred and contempt
of his enemies, the latter of whom, on a representa-
tion to the pri\7-council, had him intercommuned,
and letters of fire and sword issued out against him
and all his clan. This, though perfectly in the
natural order of human affairs, was altogether im-
expected by the master of Lovat, and seems to have
reduced him to great extremity. Besides the family
of Athol, which was much more powerful than his
own, troops were ready to pour in upon him from all
quarters, and even those upon whom he depended
for counsel and assistance seem at the time to have
declared against him. To the laird of Culloden
we find him writing from Beaufort in the month of
October, 1697. " Thir Lds. att Inverness, w*. ye
rest of my implacable enemies, does so confound my
wife, that she is uneasy till she see them. I am
afraid they are so mad with this disappointment,
that they will propose something to her that's dan-
gerous, her brother having such power with her; so
that really till things be perfectly accommodate, I do
not desire they should see her, and I know not how
to manage her. So I hope you will send all the
advice you can to your obliged, &c. &c. I hope
you will excuse me for not going your length, since
I have such a hard task at home." The advice given
him by Culloden has not been preserved; but that it
was not to his mind we learn from a letter written
by that gentleman from Inverlochy about ten or twelve
days after. "I am much concerned," says he, "that
your neighbour Beaufort hath played not the fool,
but the madman. If, by your persuasion, he cannot
be induced to deliver up the so much abused lady
upon assurance of pardon, in all probability he will
ruin both himself and his friends. 'Tis not long
since he was here and promised me other things;
but since he has run a quite contrary course, and
stands neither to his own nor the proposals of any
other, I have sent down 200 men," t\;c. &c. This
view of the matter is still further confirmed by an-
other letter from Lovat to Culloden, a few days
after the above, when he seems to have felt that he
was pretty much in the power of his enemies. "I
pray you receive the inclosed account of my business,
and see if your own conscience in the sight of God
do not convince you that it is literally true. I had
sent to you upon Saturday last, but you were not at
home; however, I sent it that day to the laird of
Calder, who, I hope, will not sit down upon me,
but transmit it to my best friends; and I beseech you,
sir, for God's sake, that you do the like. I know
the chancellor is a just man, notwithstanding his
friendship for TuUibardine. I forgive you for be-

SIMON FRASER.

C7

traying of me; but neither you nor I, nor, I hope,
God himself, will not forgive them that deceived
you, and caused you do it. I am very hopeful in
my dear wife's constancy if they do not put her to
death. Now I add no more, but leaves myself to
your discretion," &c. At the same time his father.
Lord Lovat, wrote to the Duke of Argyle an ex-
planatory letter upon the subject, signed by himself
and all the principal Frasers. The great benefit of
the marriage to the estate of Lovat is chiefly insisted
on in this letter, and represented as the sole cause of
the enmity of the Athol family, who, it states, wished
to appropriate that fair domain to themselves.
Argyle, on the receipt of this letter, wrote to Mr.
Carstairs, who was King William's principal adviser
in all that related to Scotland, and after a consider-
able length of time was gratified by receiving the
pardon he had solicited for all the treasons with
which his client had been charged, leaving the stoiy
of the rape for a subject of future investigation. For
this, also, had there been a little patience and prud-
ence exercised, there cannot be a doubt but he would
have obtained a full remission.

To be out of the way of this storm at its commence-
ment. Lord Lovat had taken shelter in the island of
Skye, with his brother-in-law the laird of Macleod,
where he died in the beginning of 1698. Simon,
who had defended himself in the best manner he
could, then assumed the title of Lord Lovat, but, to
escape the rage and superior strength of his enemies,
was also under the necessity of taking refuge in the
isles, where he remained till the following year,
when the Duke of Argyle, with the promise of a
pardon, brought him to London. Delays took place,
however, in procuring his remission to pass the Scot-
tish seals, till the king set out for the United Pro-
vinces, and Lovat took an excursion into France
for the purpose of lodging at the court of St. Ger-
mains a complaint against the Marquis of Athol,
and soliciting James' protection against the malignity
of his powerful family. Having obtained his request,
and been enjoined by the exiled monarch to ^vait on
and make his peace with King William, Lovat pro-
ceeded by the way of London to the court of that
sovereign at Loo, being favoured with a letter from
the Duke of Argyle to Mr. Carstairs, through whom
he received a remission, he himself says, of all crimes
that could be imputed to him, but restricted by Sea-
field in passing the Scottish seals, as has been above
stated. With this remission, such as it was, he ven-
tured to make his appearance in public, had a cita-
tion served upon the ^L'^rquis of Athol and his family
for falsely accusing him, and for devastating his
estates; and making a progress through the north,
returned to Edinburgh with 100 gentlemen as hon-
ourable as himself to support his charges, and bear
witness to the innocence and integrity of his character;
or rather to browbeat the authorities, and extort from
fear a decision which he well knew could never be
procured from the voice of truth and justice, find-
ing, however, that he had undertaken what would
fail him in the issue, he once more set out for London,
the day before the trial should have come on, and
was nonsuited in his absence; and thus, by his im-
prudent temerity, lost the opportunity of being fairly
instated in the estate and honours of Lovat, as he
would certainly have been, through the interest of
Arg)'le and his other friends, had he allowed them
to do their own work in their own way.

The restoration of King James was now Lovat's
sheet anchor; and, lest the Murrays, whom he
suspected of being warmer friends to James than he
was himself, should also be before him here, it was
necessary for him to be peculiarly forward. Accord-

ingly, on the death of King William in the early
part of the year 1702, he procured a commission
from several of the principal Scottish Jacobites to
the court of St. Germains, declaring their being ready
to take up arms and hazard their lives and fortunes
for the restoration of their lawful prince; as usual,
paying all manner of respect to the court of Versailles,
and requesting its assistance. With this he pro-
ceeded by the way of England and Holland, and
reached the court of St. Germains about the begin-
ning of September, 1702, just in time to be par-
ticularly useful in inflaming the contentions that
distracted the councils of James VHL, for the direc-
tion of whose affairs there was a most violent struggle
among his few followers. He had for his fellow-
traveller his cousin-german Sir John Maclean, well
known in the history of the intrigues of that time,
who, leaving him at Paris, was his precursor to the
court of St. Germains, whence in two days he
returned to conduct him into the presence of the
Duke of Perth, from whom he received private in-
structions how to conduct himself towards the queen.
The principal of these was to request of the queen that
she should not make known any part of what he
proposed to Lord Middleton, who, at the time, was
the rival of Lord Perth for the supreme direction
of their affairs, which might be said to lie chiefly in
sending out spies, fabricating reports, and soliciting
pensions. Nothing could be more agreeable to
Lovat, the very elements of whose being seemed to
be mystery, and with whom to intrigue was as natural
as to breathe. To work he went, exacted the
queen's promise to keep everything secret from
Middleton; and by the aid of the Marquis de Torcy,
the Marquis Callieres, and Cardinal Gualterio, the
pope's nuncio, fancied himself sole administrator of
the affairs of Scotland. The queen herself was so
much pleased with the opening scene, that she glad-
dened the heart of Lovat by telling him she had
sent her jewels to Paris to be sold in order to raise
the 20,000 crowns he had told her were necessary
for bringing forward his Highlanders in a properly
effective manner. But she was not long true to her
promise of secrecy; and Middleton at once depicted
Lovat as "the greatest traitor in the three kingdoms:"
nor did he treat his favourite Highlanders with any
more respect, representing them as mere banditti,
excellent at plundering the Lowlanders and carrying
off their cattle, but incapable of being formed into
a regular corps that would look a well-appointed
enemy in the face. From this day forward Lovat
seems to have fallen in the opinion of Mary d'Este,
who was a woman of rather superior talents, though
he seems to have gone on well with De Torcy, Cal-
lieres, and Gualterio, who found in him, as they
supposed, a very fit tool for their purpose of raising in
Scotland a civil war, without much caring whether
it really promoted the interests of James or not.
After much intriguing with Perth and Middleton,
as well as with the French ministry, Lovat obtained
a commission to visit Scotland in 1703, but rather
as an emissary of the French government than an
accredited agent for James. The object of the
French government was to have an immediate di-
version created in the Highlands, and they furnished
his lordship with 6000 francs (;({;250) to defray the
expenses of his journey, and a commission to be a
major-general, with power to raise troops and ap-
point officers, as he should find needful. At the
same time, to lie the witness of his behavour, they
joined with him John Murray of Abercairney, a
rrentleman who ought to have been ashamed of such
a companion as Lovat, and had the address to send
James Murray, brother to Murray of Stanhope, so

^8

SIMON FRASER.

as to be in Scotland at least a month before him,
where he told it openly that Lovat was on his way
as agent for the pope and the King of France, to
raise a civil war in Scotland, contrary to the positive
orders of the king and his mother the queen. Owing
to this and the well-known character of Lovat, many
of the Jacobites were shy of communicating with
him, though he certainly found a few willing to
depend upon his promises, and to enter into his pro-
jects. His principal object, however, most probably
was to see if there were yet any openings whereby
he might reconcile himself with the government,
and be allowed to take possession of the estate of
Lovat, the first and the last grand object of his
ambition. He accordingly threw himself in the way
of Queensberr}', to whom he betrayed all — perhaps
more than he knew respecting his old friend Lord
Murray, now, by the death of his brother and the
queen's favour, Duke of Athol, and his associate in
politics, the Duke of Hamilton ; but his best friend
the Duke of Argyle dying at this time, he appears
to have obtained nothing more than a free passport,
and perhaps some promises in case of further dis-
coveries; and with this he passed again into France.
Having, while in London, fallen in with, or rather
been introduced to, a well-known Jacobite, William
Keith, and the well-known framer of plots, Ferguson,
who was shortly after taken up, the whole of his
transaction took air before he had time to reach
Paris. The companion of his travels, too. Sir John
Maclean, coming to England about the same time,
surrendered himself prisoner, and, in consideration
of obtaining his liberty and a small pension, laid
open the whole of Lovat's proceedings from first
to last, so that he was discovered to both courts at
the same time. The reader, however, if he supposes
that Lovat felt any pain at these discoveries, is in
a great mistake. They were unquestionably the
very events he wished, and from which he expected
to rise in worldly estimation and in wealth, which
is too often the chief pillar upon which that esti-
mation is founded. There was at this period,
among all parties, a thirst for emolument which was
perfectly ravenous, and scrupled at no means by
which it might attain its gratification. Of this
fatal propensity the present affair is a remarkable
instance. Lovat had received from King James
the present of his picture, which, with a com-
mission for a regiment of infantry, he had in-
closed in a box made for the purpose. This, on
leaving Scotland, he committed to his friend Camp-
bell of Glendaruel, to keep for him, and his back
was scarcely turned when Glendaruel went to the
Duke of Athol, and offered him the box, with its
contents, provided he would give him a company
in a regiment that was held by Campbell of Finab,
and was worth about ;,^I70 a year, which he at
once obtained, and the box with its contents was
in a short time lodged in the hands of Queen
Anne. Lovat, in his memoirs, relates the transac-
tion, and exclaims against its treachery, though it
was wholly his own contrivance; the box being given
for the express purpose of procuring a pension for
his friend, and giving Anne and her ministers ocular
demonstration of his own importance.

On his arrival in France Lord Lovat found the
Earl of Middleton and the exiled queen as much
opposed to him and his projects as ever, but he con-
tinued his assiduities with the French courtiers, who
informed him that he miglit expect very soon to be
the first of the Scottish nobility, since he would be
called on to head the insurrection not only as a
general officer to King James, but as a general officer
in the army of France; everything necessary for the

success of the expedition — land forces, a squadron of
ships, arms, and ammunition — being already pre-
pared, and nothing remaining to be done but the form
of carrying it through the privy-council, which a day
or two would accomplish. In a day or two it was
proposed in the council, when the king himself de-
clared that, though he had the highest opinion of
the excellence of the proposed plan, the Queen of
England had positively refused to sign commissions
for her subjects to engage in it, and therefore, for
the present, it was necessarj' to lay it aside. This
was a sad blow to the hopes of Lovat; and being
always fond of letter-writing, he wrote a letter to
the queen, in which he told her that she had at one
blow overturned a project which he had sacrificed
his property and exposed his life to bring to perfec-
tion ; and he affirmed that, so long as her majesty
followed implicitly the advice of the people who
were at the head of the English parliament, Jesus
Christ would come in the clouds before her son
would be restored; and he concluded by saying,
that, for his own part, he would never draw a sword
for the royal cause so long as the regency was in her
majesty's hands.

In consequence of this letter Lord Lovat was, at
the queen's instance, imprisoned thirty-two days in a
dark dungeon, three years in the castle of Angouleme,
and seven years in the city of Saumur. In the mean-
time the project was not abandoned. Colonel Hooke
succeeded to the part that Lovat had played or
attempted to play. A large armament, under Ad-
miral Forbin, was fitted out in the year 1708, and
in which James himself embarked and had a sight
of the Scottish shore, when, meeting with Admiral
Byng, and afterwards encountering a violent storm,
the whole was driven back upon the French coast
with great loss. In this expedition the friends of
Lovat had requested James to employ him, and they
had received the most determined refusal, which
finally, with the failure of the expedition, cut off all
his hopes from that quarter. What added greatly to
the bitterness of his reflections, the heiress of Lovat
was now married to Mr. Alexander Mackenzie (son
of Lord Prestonhall), who had assumed the title of
Fraserdale, with the estate of Lovat settled on him
for life, with remainder to the heirs of the marriage,
who were to bear the name of Eraser, and of which
there were already more than one. Thus circum-
stanced, he confessed that he "would not merely
have enlisted himself in the party of the house of
Hanover, which was called to the crown of Scotland,
England, and Ireland by all the states of the king-
dom, but with any foreign prince in the universe
who would have assisted him in the attainment of
his just and laudable design of re-establishing his
family, and proclaiming to all Scotland the barbarous
cruelty of the court of St. Germains." In this state
of mind he formed the resolution of escaping from
Saumur, in company with some English prisoners,
and throwing himself at the feet of the Dukes of
Marlborough and Arg)-le, entreating them to inter-
pose in his favour with Queen Anne. This design
circumstances prevented him from executing, but he
transmitted on various occasions letters to the Duke
of Argyle and others of his friends upon whom he
supposed he could depend, stating the determination
he had come to, and requesting their good offices to
effect his reconciliation with the queen. Some of
these letters were returned to the court of St. Ger-
mains, shown to the court of France, and nearly oc-
casioned his being shut up in the Bastile for life.
He was very soon, however, engaged in forming
another plan for the invasion of Scotland, in which
he expected to be employed; but the terrible cam'

SIMON FRASER.

69

paigns of 17 10 and 171 1 put it out of the power of
the court of France to attend to anything beyond
domestic concerns; and the Marquis de la Fuziliere,
the principal friend he possessed at the French court,
dying at the same time, rendered all his prospects in
that country hopeless. The conclusion of peace, and
the appointment of the Duke of Hamilton to represent
Queen Anne at the court of Versailles, filled him
with still more gloomy apprehensions, from which
he was not delivered till he read in the public papers
the fatal duel that had been fought between that
nobleman and Lord Mohun, when he again took
courage, and applied once more to the French court
to be set at liberty. The person he employed, how-
ever, had no success; his character seemed to be los-
ing rather than gaining at that court, and he was ad-
vised to make his escape. Others, certain that the
king would be immediately restored by Anne and her
ministers, and was even now on the point of setting
out for Scotland to be at hand when wanted, assured
him that to depart for Scotland without his permis-
sion was only to rush upon inevitable destruction.
This seems to have filled him with great apprehen-
sion, and he laboured to be reconciled to the Pre-
tender with the greatest but the most fruitless industry,
till he was driven to utter despair by the death of
Queen Anne, and tidings that all the Jacobite clans
in the north were arming in behalf of James, who
had again and again declared that, without the con-
sent of the Duke of Athol, he would never hear of
his name. In this dilemma one of the Frasers arrived
to request his presence with the clan, and advising
him to join the party of Argj'le, who was their old
friend, and the only one that was likely to be able to
afford them protection. He had pre%aously to this
written to Argj-le, but does not seem to have had
any reply. He now despatched a trusty ser\-ant to
consult with him and Ilay, Culloden, Grant, Kil-
ravock, and other of his old friends, who stated, that
if he could make his way safely to London, the
business was done. This at once determined him to
set out for England, taking the best precautions he
could to avoid being arrested. On the 1st of No-
vember, 1 7 14, after an imprisonment of ten years,
he arrived at Dover, where, on account of extreme
fatigue, he rested for one night. He then by a jour-
ney of two days arrived safely in London.

Here his first care was to despatch his trusty friends
James and Alexander Eraser for the Earl of Ilay
and Brigadier-general Grant. The brigadier lost not
a moment in waiting on him, expressed great joy to
see him safe and well, and assured him of every good
office in his power. Ilay, on the contrary, expressed
considerable regret at his having quitted the provision
which, amid all the severe treatment he met with,
had been made for him in France, while in England
he had not even the security of his life; but he engaged
to bring his case before the king and the prince that
very night, and to let him know the result next day.
The circumstances in which Lovat had thus placed
himself were by no means pleasant. In Scotland
there was a sentence of death in full force against
him, and a price set upon his head, while he had
nothing to rely upon but a precarious promise from
a few friends, who, after all, might neither have the
will nor the power to protect him. He was, how-
ever, too deeply embarked to draw back, and he de-
termined, regardless of consequences, to throw him-
self upon the protection of the Duke of Arg}le and
the Earl of Ilay, to take no step in his affairs but by
their direction, and to live and die in their service.
How happy had it been for his lordship had he never
lost sight of this prudent determination ! Next day
Ilay informed him that he had spoken of his case

both to the king and the prince, who were well dis-
posed towards him, but, without some security for
his future loyalty, were not willing to grant him a
free pardon. It would therefore be necessary for
him to present an address to the king, signed by all
his friends who were well affected towards the
present government, and that, in this address, they
should enter into an engagement for his loyalty in
any sum the king pleased. Such an address as would
be proper Ilay promised to draw up, which he ac-
cordingly did two days after; and Lovat, by his trusty
friend James Eraser, immediately despatched it to
the north, with the following letter to his old friend
John Forbes of Culloden, who was at the time can-
vassing for the county of Inverness.

"Much honoured and dear Sir, — The real friend-
ship that I know you have for my person and family
makes me take the freedom to assure you of my kind
service, and to entreat of you to jo!n with my other
friends betwixt Spey and Ness to sign the address
the court requires in order to give me my remission.
Your cousin James, who has generously exposed him-
self to bring me out of chains, will inform you of all
the steps and circumstances of my affairs since he
saw me. I wish, dear sir, you were here; I am con-
fident you would speak to the Duke of Arg)-le and to
the Earl of Ilay to let "them know their own interest
and their reiterated promises to do for me. Perhaps
they may have sooner than they expect a most serious
occasion for my service. But it's needless now to
preach that doctrine to them, they think themselves
in ane infallible security. I wish they may not be
mistaken. However, I think it's the interest of all
those who love this government betwixt Spey and
Ness to see me at the head of my clan, ready to join
them, so that I believe none of them will refuse to
sign ane address to make me a Scotchman. I am
persuaded, dear sir, that you will be of good example
to them on that head. But secrecy, above all, must
be kept, without which all may go wrong. I hope
you will be stirring for the parliament, for I will not
be reconciled to you if you let Prestonhall outvote
you. Brigadier Grant, to whom I am infinitely
obliged, has written to Foyers to give you his vote,
and he is an ingrate villain if he refuses him. If I
was at home, the little pitiful barons of the Aird
durst not refuse you. But I am hopeful that the
news of my going to Britain will hinder Prestonhall
to go north, for I may meet him when he least thinks
of me. I am very impatient to see you, and to as-
sure you most sincerely how much I am, with love
and respect, right honourable," &c.

The above is a fair specimen of Lovat's manner
and address in complimenting those whom he had
an interest in standing well with. He had indeed
use for all his activity on this occasion. The secrecy
which he recommends was also very necessary, for
Fraserdale no sooner heard of his intention of coming
down to Scotland, which was only a few days after
this, than he applied to the lord-justice clerk for an
extract of the process and sentence against him, no
doubt with the intention of putting it in execution
before his friends should be able to interpose any
shield of legal authority in his defence. All his
friends, however, especially Culloden, were particu-
larly active. The address and bond of security to
the king was speedily signed by all the Whig gentle-
men of consequence in the north, and remitted to
Lord Ilay, who carried it to London in the month
of March, 1 715. Culloden, in the meantime, had,
through his brother Duncan Forbes, afterwards lord-
president, transmitted, to be presented by Lord Ilay,
a most loyal address to the king, signed by the
Fraseis, with a tender of their clan to Arg\le as their

SIMON FRASER.

chief. This was intended to counterbalance the ad-
dress of the Jacobites that had been transmitted to
the Earl of Marr, but which he durst not present,
and to strengthen the interest of Argyle, which the
other was calculated to weaken. Through the oppo-
sition of the Duke of Montrose, however, who had
been gained over by Prestonhall and the Duke of
Athol, Lovat's business was protracted till the month
of July, 1 715, when the news of the preparations of
the Pretender for an invasion of Great Britain, trans-
mitted by the Earl of Stair, then ambassador at Paris,
and the general ferment that prevailed through the
country had aroused the fears of tlie government.
Hay availed himself of these circumstances for turning
the attention of the English minister more particu-
larly to that too long delayed affair. The addresses
which had been obtained in his favour were then
given in to his majesty, whose gracious pardon he
obtained; and in October, making the best of his
way for the north, he was arrested by a loyal party
at Dumfries as a Jacobite. Referring for his char-
acter to the Marquis of Annandale, who happened
to be in the neighbourhood, and to whom he was
known, he was immediately set at liberty. Here he
volunteered his services to lead a party of the towns-
men in attacking the rebels in their quarters at Loch-
maben, but the attack, after it had been resolved on,
was abandoned through the prudent advice of the
Marquis of Annandale, who was afraid of the con-
sequences both to themselves and the good cause in
which they were engaged.

Leaving Dumfries, his lordship found his way into
the north, where tlie insurgents were nearly trium-
phant, being in possession of the whole country save
the shires of Sutherland, Ross, and Caithness, with
perhaps a detached castle or two in some of the
neighbouring counties. Among these was the castle
of Culloden. The Grants and the Munroes had also
been able in some measure to preserve their own ter-
ritories, but the rebels were everywhere around them
in great force. The first of Lovat's proceedings was
to hold a counsel with his general, as he long after
called him, Duncan Forbes, and his brother the
laird of Culloden, who was perhaps the most trust-
worthy man in the north, after which he went home,
where he was waited upon by a considerable number
of Erasers, with whom he marched for Stratherrick,
one of his estates, and by the way compelled the
clan Chattan to lay down their arms and disperse to
their homes. Macdonald of Keppoch, too, who had
300 men assembled on the braes of Abertarf, dis-
missed them the moment he was apprised of Lovat's
approach. At Stratherrick he was waited upon by
Eraser of Foyers and Eraser of Culduthill, with
their retainers; and to prevent the Macdonalds from
reaching the other side of Loch Ness, he himself
crossed over at Bonat, and with 200 picked men
marched, according to agreement, for Inverness by
Kinmayles. Colonel Grant, with a number of his
own, Elcheiz's, and Knockandow's men. Captain
Grant with 300 Grants, and all the other gentlemen
engaged in the enterprise, were at the same time ap-
proaching the nortiiern capital in order to rescue it
from the hands of the rebels. P^or this end it was
proposed that the gentlemen of Moray, in conjunction
with Lord Lovat and the Grants, should set upon it
from the south, while the Earl of Sutherland, Lord
Rae, the Munroes, and the Rosses should attack it
on the north. These latter gentlemen, however,
having some of tliem upwards of fifty miles to march,
besides ferries to cross, it was not thought advisable
to wait for them. Captain Arthur Rose, brother to
Kilravock, was therefore ordered to enter the town,
while those that were already come up proceeded to

invest it in the best manner they could. Lord Lovat,
with his detachment, was stationed on the west end
of the bridge; Captain Grant on the south side, to
enter by Castle Street; and the Moray lieutenants,
Kilravock, Letham, Brodie, Sir Archibald Campbell,
Dunphail, &c., were to attack the east part. The
a tack was led on with great spirit by Captain Arthur
Rose, who was unfortunately killed pressing on in
the front of his men; and Sir John Mackenzie, the
rebel governor, seeing himself about to be over-
powered, abandoned the place, escaping with his
men across the frith in a number of boats, which
but a few days before he had intended to destroy,
in order to cut off all communication by the ferry.
This was upon Saturday, the 12th of November,
tlie day before the battle of Sheriffmuir and the
surrender of Preston. Thus the rebels were com-
pletely broken in the north, and it was a triumph
obtained with very little loss. Much of the credit
of the achievement was given to Lovat, much more
indeed than was his due; but he was in want of
something to elevate his character, and his friends
were willing to give him all advantages. The im-
mediate consequence of the honour he acquired on
this day was the desertion of 300 Erasers, who,
under Eraserdale, were in Marr's camp at Perth ;
but now denying his authority to lead them, put
themselves under the charge of Lord Lovat at Inver-
ness, where they remained till the rebellion was
finally put down by the Earl of Argyle and General
Cadogan. But there was another consequence not
very remote and of far greater importance; it secured
him at once in the estate and all the honours of Lovat,
which it had been the great object of his whole life
to compass, but which, without some such strange
event, joined to the false step of his rival in joining the
rebel standard, was most certainly for ever beyond
his reach. Prestonhall had married the heiress of
Lovat, in whose person, by a decree of the Court of
Session, so far back as the year 1702, rested the
honours and dignity of Lovat. He had assumed in
consequence the name of Eraser and the title of
P'raserdale, and had a numerous offspring to inherit
as heirs of marriage the estate which he had so long
possessed, and had he maintained his loyalty, nothing
but a revolution, with singular folly on his own
part, could have dispossessed him of the property.
Most fortunately for Lovat, when he arrived in the
north, Eraserdale was with the Earl of Marr at
Perth, and there was nothing to prevent him from
executing his purpose of taking immediate possession
of his estates, which he did before proceeding to act
vigorously in behalf of the government, every mem-
ber of which knew that such was the reward he ex-
pected. The fortunate issue of this his first action
too called forth all the natural arrogancy and pre-
sumption of his character. We find him in the en-
suing March, only four short months after, writing
to Duncan Forbes in the following style: — "My dear
general, I send you the inclosed letter from the name
of RLacleod, which I hope you will make good use
of, for it's most certain I kept the Macleods at home,
which was considerable service done the government."
How had he kept the Macleods at home, when the
rebellion was at its height before it was so much as
known if ever he would be allowed to enter it? But
he goes on to speak of his own achievements still
more boastingly, and of the recalling of Argyle,
which, he says, has made him sick. "I hope, my
dear general, you will take a start to London to serve
his grace and do something for your poor old cor-
poral (meaning himself); and if you suffer Glengarry,
Eraserdale, or the Chisholm to be pardoned, I will
never carrj' a musket any more under your command,

SIMON FRASER.

7i

though I should be obliged to go to Afric. How-
ever, you know how obedient 1 am to my general's
orders; you forgot to give the order signed by you
and the other deputes to meddle with Fraserdale's
estate for the king's service. I entreat you send it

me, for is afraid to meddle without authority."

How his lordship wished Fraserdale to find no mercy
is obvious from what is above stated; but why should
Glengarry and the Chisholm find none for the very
same reason? Their estates lay contiguous to those
of Fraserdale; and if they could be all escheated to
the king, why might not Lovat for his own extraor-
dinary services have got all the three as well as one?
Fraserdale was escheated, and Lovat had only to
wait till the month of August, when a grant passed
his majesty's privy-seal of Scotland "for the many
brave and loyal services done and performed to his
majesty by Simon Lord Lovat, particularly for the
zeal and activity he showed in suppressing the late
unnatural rebellion in the north of Scotland, and for
his known affection to his majesty's person and
government, giving, granting, and disponing the
escheat of all goods, gear, debts, and sums of money,
jewels, gold, silver, coined or uncoined, utensils and
domecills, horse, nolt, sheep, corns, cattle, bonds,
obligations, contracts, decreets, sentences, compro-
mitts, and all other goods and gear escheatable,
which belonged to Alexander Mackenzie of Fraser-
dale, together with the said Alexander Mackenzie
his life-rent escheat of all lands, heritages, tenements,
annual rents, tacks, steadings, rooms, possessions,
as also ;^5oo of sterling money, fallen in the king's
hands by the said sentence," «S:c.

This was certainly an abundant reward, though
Lovat had been a much better man, and his services
more ample than they really were. It was nothing
more, however, than he expected, and it excited no
gratitude, nor did it yield anything like content.
Fraserdale's plate he had attempted to secure, but it
fell into the hands of General Wightman, who, it
was at the time remarked, had a happy knack of
keeping what he got. However, he engaged to re-
turn it, Lovat paying him the one half in money, the
whole being only valued at ;Ci50 sterling. In the
month of April he was, on his own request, allowed
to come to London, to look after all those great af-
fairs that were then going on; and his mode of writ-
ing about them gives a curious view of a worldly
man's morality: — "I want," he says to his friend
Duncan Forbes, "but a gift of the escheat to make
me easy. But if it does not do, you must find some
pretence or other that will give me a title to keep
possession, either by the tailie my lord provost has,
or by buying off some creditors; in short, you must
make a man of it one way or other." He was also
at this time on the eve of his marriage with Margaret
Grant, daughter of Ludovick Grant, of Grant; and
his moral feeling on this subject is equally interesting
to that which regarded the estate of Lovat : — "I spake
to the duke and my Lord Hay about my marriage,
and told them that one of my greatest motives to
the design, was to secure the joint interest of the
north. They are both fully for it, and Argyle is to
speak of it, and propose it to the king. But Hay
desired me to write to you, to know if there would
be any fear of a pursuit of adherence from the other
person (the dowager of Lovat), which is a chimerical
business, and tender fear for me in my dear Hay.
But when I told him that the lady denied before the
justice court that I had anything to do with her, and
that the pretended marriage had been declared null,
which Hay says should be done by the commissaries
only; yet when I told him that the minister and
witnesses were all dead, who had been at the pre-

tended marriage, he was satisfied they could make
nothing of it, though they would endeavour it.
However, I entreat you, write to me or Mr. Stewart
a line on this head, to satisfy my Lord Hay's scruple."
This puts an end to all doubt respecting the rape
charged upon his lordship, of which he had often
before, and did often again declare, that he was as
innocent as the child unborn. All was now, how-
ever, forgiven; the Duke of Argj-le wrote in his fa-
vour to the Grants, recommending the match, and
in the course of the next year he obtained the young
lady for his bride.

Lovat might now have been, if worldly success
could make any man so, a very happy man. He
had been, for many years, an exile and a prisoner,
proscribed at home and abroad, and alike odious to
both parties in the state, and both claimants of the
crown. He had ventured home at the hazard of his
life, had obtained the grace of the reigning prince,
the countenance of all his friends, possession of the
inheritance of his fathers, two honourable commis-
sions among his countrymen, a young and beautiful
wife, and a handsome pension ; yet he was the same
as before, querulous and discontented.

In the beginning of the year 1717 we find him re-
suming the subject of the grant, and he requests
Duncan Forbes to employ Sir Walter Pringle, and
any one else he pleases, and consult together of some
legal way for his keeping possession of his estate;
"for," says he, "I must either keep violent posses-
sion, which will return me my old misfortunes, or I
must abandon the kingdom and a young lady whom
my friends have engaged me to marrj'. So, my dear
general, I beg you may give me some prospect of
not being again forced to leave the kingdom, or to
fight against the king's forces. The one or the other
must be, if I do not find any legal pretence of pos-
sessing the estate but by this gift. " And all this was
because a Mr. Murray or a Lord Murray had made
a motion in the House of Commons for a redeem-
ing clause to be added in favour of Fraserdale's lady,
which occasioned a few hours' debate, and was im-
proved for making remarks on Lord Lovat's char-
acter and conduct, but at last came to nothing.
Perhaps he was also a little disturbed by the move-
ments of the Spanish court in favour of James, which
were still more contemptible than any party motion
that ever was made in the House of Commons.

For a number of years after this Lovat was fully
occupied with the legal campaigns which he carried
on under the direction of Duncan Forbes, for the
final settlement of the Lovat estate, during all which
time the affairs of the Pretender gave him no trouble;
nay, they seem to have been totally forgotten. After
the lapse of a number of years, however, when he
had got ever)'thing secured in his own way, we then
find him again treating with the Pretender for a
generalship and a dukedom, and all his old uneasi-
nesses returning upon him. Having no more to ex-
pect from his "dear general" the lord-president,
he ceased to correspond with him; and on the break-
ing up of the Black Watch, one of the companies of
which had belonged to him, he withdrew his affec-
tions entirely from the existing government, and
became ready once more to act for the exiled family
of Stuart.

The nation was now involved in war; and the
friends of the Pretender, stirred up by the emissaries
of the court of France, which protected him for no
other purpose than to make him a tool on such oc-
casions— began to bestir themselves. Lovat, whose
political views were very limited, never doubted but
that France had at all times the power to restore the
Pretender, if she had but the will; and now that her

72

SIMON FRASER.

promises were so magnificent, he fell at once into
the snare, and was the first to sign, in the year 1740,
that association which brought entire niin upon the
cause, antl nearly all that had connected themselves
with it. Still he acted upon the old principle : he
stipulated that he was to have a patent creating him
a duke, and a commission constituting him lieutenant
of all the Highlands, and of course elevating him
above even the great Argjle.

Though Lovat had now committed himself, and
was fairly in the way of "having all his old troubles
returned upon him," common sense, as in most cases,
did not forsake him all at once. He was employed
in making preparations for the new scenes of gran-
deur that to his heated fancy lay before him, but he
did not run the hazard of disappointment by any ridi-
culous parade, or any weak attempts prematurely
to realize them. When Prince Charles landed at
Boradale, accompanied, not, as had been agreed
upon with the association at the head of which
Lovat had unfortunately placed his name, by 13,000
men with all necessary equipments, but with seven
persons and a few domestics, his friends were per-
fectly astonished, and none of them more so than
Lovat. Accordingly, when he received Lochiel's
letter stating that Charles was come, and that he had
brought the papers stipulated upon, viz. the patent
for the dukedom and the general's commission,
Lovat returned a cold and general answer, that he
might rely upon what he had promised. Lochiel,
however, being led to take part in the enterprise,
drew in some of his neighbours, and when the
gathering had begun, who could tell where it would
end? It might be at last successful, and all who had
been backward at the outset might expect no mercy
in the end. Still Lovat was cautious. He only
sent one of his distant relations, "mad Tom of
Gortuleg," to meet Charles at Invergarry, and to
advise him to come by Stratherrick to Inverness,
and by the time he reached the latter place Sir
Alexander Macdonald and Macleod would have
time to come up; besides, he might expect to be
there joined by the Grants, the Mackenzies, and the
Mackintoshes. These were all engaged to come for-
ward as well as Lovat, who was now, from a num-
ber of circumstances, doubtful of their constancy,
and, while he preserved the character of a leader,
wished to see them all committed before he began
to play his part. All hh/i/icssc, however, was of no
avail. Charles took other advice. Sir Alexander
Macdonald, and his powerful neighbour Macleod,
stood entirely aloof; and to crown all, his "dear
general," the lord-president, to whom he owed all
that he possessed in the world, and to whose acute
powers of perception he was no stranger, became
his next-door neighbour, with the almost avowed
purpose of watching his every action. All these
circumstances reduced him to the necessity of acting
with the utmost caution, and at the same time sub-
jected him to the most tormenting anxiety. His
preparations for joining the Pretender he dared not
entirely suspend, lest some inferior neighbour might
rise to that pre-eminent place in the prince's favour,
which, in case he were successful, it was the dearest
wish of his soul to occupy, and he knew not how to
proceed, lest he might stand fairly committed, and
be compelled to abide by the consequences. He
did, however, what he could : he compelled his son
to leave his studies with a view to make him the
leader of his clan; and he employed, in an underhand
way, his dependants to bring all matters connected
with the expedition into a state of forwardness, while
he himself wrote letters to the lord-president, filled
with lamentations for his unhappy countrj', and his

more unhappy situation, as having to do with such
mad people, and such an untoward and ungrateful
son. After the brilliant affair at Gladsmuir, how-
ever, when he saw "that as sure as God was in the
heavens, the mad young man would prevail," he took
a little more courage, and sent to congratulate him
on the victory, and to say that, being an old man, he
could not come himself with 5000 men, as he had
originally intended, but that he would send his son,
which he hoped would be regarded the same as if
he had come himself. As the course of events seemed
to favour or frown upon the attempt, his lordship's
conduct 'continued to be more open, or more con-
cealed, till Lord Loudon found it to be his duty to
take him into custody. Still, as he appeared unde--
cided, and but few of his men had gone south, and
it was hoped he might still countermand them, his
confinement was only nominal. In an evil hour he
made his escape from Lord Loudon, and, when it
was utterly useless, threw the whole weight of his
influence into the rebellion. The master of Lovat
had a share in the affair of Falkirk, but was only
coming up with his reinforcements to join the army
of Charles, when he met it, totally routed, a few
miles from the fatal field of Culloden. On the
evening of that fatal day Lovat was petrified with
the first and the last sight he ever had of Charles.
This was at Gortuleg, where the unfortunate prince
arrived about sunset, a miserable fugitive, accom-
panied by his Irish counsellors, Sheridan, Sullivan,
O'Neil, and his secretary John Hay. Lovat, on be-
ing told of his approach in this forlorn condition,
poured forth against him the bitterest execrations,
as having brought utter ruin on the house of Lovat,
and on the entry of his unexpected visitant he is
said to have run about the house in a state of distrac-
tion, calling upon his domestics to chop off his aged
head. Charles, however, who possessed the art of
flattery in great perfection, soothed him by the pro-
mise of another and better day with the elector, ob-
serving, at the same time, that he had already had
two, while the elector had but one. That one, how-
ever, unluckily for him and Lovat, was better than
all the days either of them had seen, or were ever
again to see. But the joke satisfied the old man;
supper was hastily prepared, as hastily eaten, and
at ten o'clock Charles changed his dress, and bade
his entertainer an everlasting farewell.

Lovat had now abundance of leisure to reflect upon
his folly in rejecting the sound advice of his friend
the lord-president; but as he could have little hope
of being again pardoned, he studied to prolong his
liberty and life in the best manner he could, first by
proposing a mountain campaign, which was found
impracticable, and then by betaking himself to the
fastnesses of his country, with which he was well
acquainted. From one of these retreats he had the
misery of seeing his house of Castledownie laid in
ashes, and his estates everywhere plundered, the
cattle driven off, the shielings set on fire, and the
miserable inmates driven to the mountains. He had
also the misfortune to see it given over by commis-
sion from the Duke of Cumberland to James Fraser
of Castle Cullen for the behoof of the government,
which, considering what it had cost him, and the
value he set upon it, must have been worse than
many deaths. As he had been so long a conspicuous
character, and one of the most active movers of this
rebellion, the search after him was continued with
the utmost keenness and perseverance, and he was
at last found upon an island in Loch Morar, where
he was living comfortably with Macdonald of Morar,
the proprietor of the island, without any suspicion
of being found out, having carried all the boats

SIMON FRASER.

73

upon the loch into the island, and being at a con-
siderable distance from the sea. Information, how-
ever, having been obtained. Captain Ferguson, of
his majesty's ship Furnace, sailed round till directly-
opposite the island, when the men-of-war boats were
carried overland and launched into the loch. Most
of those that were upon the island fled l)y their
boats and escaped; but Lovat, being totally lame,
was unable to escape in this manner. He was,
however, carried upon his bed into the woods, and
was not found till after a search of three days.
Being in no condition to make any resistance, he
surrendered himself at once, delivered up his arms
and his strong box, was carried aboard Captain
Ferguson's ship, and brought round to Fort-William,
where he wrote a letter to the Duke of Cumberland
boasting of the extraordinary services he had per-
formed for his family, of the great kindnesses he
had then met with, and of the vast benefits he was
still capable of bestowing, should he be made a par-
ticipant of the royal mercy. Of this letter the duke
took no notice, but he treated him with much kind-
ness. A litter having been provided for him, he
was brought to Fort- Augustus on the 15th of June,
1746. On the 15th of July he was sent to Stirling
Castle, where he remained some days. P"rom
Stirling he was sent to Edinburgh, and thence by
Berwick to London, the journey being divided into
twenty stages, one only of which he was required to
travel in a day. In this easy way he reached Barnet
on the 14th of August, and on the 15th, the Friday
before the execution of the Lords Kilmarnock and
Balmerino, he arrived in London. On his way to
the Tower he passed the scaffold that had been
erected for the execution of those noblemen, which
he looked at with some emotion, exclaiming, " Ah !
is it come to this!" When brought to the Tower
he was received by General Williamson and con-
ducted to the apartment prepared for him, where,
as his trial did not come on till the beginning of
next year, he had abundance of leisure to contem-
plate the ruin he had brought upon himself and his
house by indulging a most insatiable avarice and a
ridiculous ambition. He, however, took possession
of his dreary habitation with a degree of fortitude
and an equanimity of mind worthy of a better man
and a better cause.

On the nth of December he was impeached of
high treason by the House of Commons, a committee
of which was appointed to draw up the articles and
prepare evidence. He was subsequently brought to
the bar of the House of Lords and the articles read
to him. On this occasion his lordship made a long
speech, in which he expressed the highest esteem
for his majesty and all the royal family, enumerating
at great length the many services he had performed
for them during the rebellion in 17 15, and singular
favours bestowed upon him in return by the late
king and his ministers. He then enlarged with great
eloquence upon his age and infirmities, particularly
his deafness, in consequence of which he said he had
not heard one word of the charges preferred against
him. They were of course read over to him again,
when he presented a petition praying that he might
have a copy of them, and that counsel and solicitors
might be assigned him. He also acquainted their
lordships that his estate had been taken forcible pos-
session of, in consequence of which he had nothing
either to support him or to bear the expenses of his
trial. Their lordships gave orders that he should
be allowed the income of the estate for his subsist-
ence. He also petitioned for his strong box, but
this was refused. On this day his lordship displayed
great ability and excited considerable sympathy.

On the 13th of January, 1747, his lordship was
again placed at the bar, and gave in an answer to
the articles of impeachment, every one of which he
denied. After making a very long speech, his trial
was fixed for February the 23d. He was this day
carried back to the Tower amid the hissings and
execrations of a vast mob that attended him. In
consequence of a petition from his lordship, his trial
was put off till the 5th, and on a second petition till
the 9th of March, on which day [Monday] it com-
menced, and was continued till Thursday the 19th,
when it was concluded, his lordship having been
found guilty by a unanimous vote of his peers, by
the lord-chancellor pronouncing upon him the awful
sentence of the law.

To give any particular account of this trial would
be to give a history of the rebellion. Suffice it to
say that on W^ednesday, the sixth day occupied by
his trial, his lordship read his defences, which were
drawn up with all that sarcastic shrewdness for
which he was remarkal)le, and displayed his talents
to very great advantage. After being sentenced
the old man made a short speech, begging their
lordships to recommend him to his majesty's mercy.
Turning to the commons at the same time, he said,
that he hoped the worthy managers, as they were
stout, would be merciful. Going from the bar he
added, "My lords and gentlemen, God Almighty
bless you all. I wish you an everlasting farewell,
for we shall never all meet again in one place."

Though he was sentenced on the 19th of March,
there were no orders issued respecting his execution
till the 3d of April, when it was fixed for the 9th
of that month. He had been in the meantime to
all appearance perfectly at his ease, and indifferent
alike to life or death. Being importuned to petition
his majesty for a pardon, he replied he was so old
and infii-m that his life was not worth asking. He
presented, however, a petition for the life of his son,
who was a prisoner in the castle of Edinburgh, and
who had been drawn into the rebellion solely by his
counsels. The notification of his death he received
with perfect composure, drank a glass of wine to
the health of the messenger who brought it, and en-
tertained him for a considerable time with a most
cheerful conversation, assuring him that he would
not change situations with any prince in Europe.
Next day he talked freely of his own affairs, and
took praise to himself for having been concerned in
all the schemes that had been formed in behalf of
the Stuarts since he was fifteen years of age, and
boasted that he never betrayed a private man nor a
public cause in his life. He added, perhaps with
more trath, that he never shed a drop of blood with
his own hand, nor ever struck a man except one
young nobleman [meaning, we suppose. Lord For-
trose in a public meeting at Inverness] whom he
caned for his impertinence and impiety. On the
Sabbath he talked of his family, and showed to his
attendants a letter he had written to his son in a
style affectionate and pious, breathing the resignation
of a martyr. Being asked this day some question
about his religion, he answered that he was a Roman
Catholic, and would die in that faith. Wednesday,
the day before his execution, he awoke early and
prayed for a considerable time with great fervency,
but was very merry during the day, talking generally
of public affairs, particularly of the bill that was
in its progress through parliament for abolishing
heritable jurisdictions, which he highly reprobated.
Thursdav, the day of his execution, he awoke about
three in the morning, and prayed with great fervour.
At five he rose, called as usual for a glass of wine
and water, and, being placed in his chair, sat and

SIMON FRASER JOHX FULTON.

read till seven, when he called for another such re-
freshment. The barber shortly after brought him
his wig, which he found fault with for not being
jviwdered so deeply as usual, saying that he went to
the block with pleasure, and if he had a suit of velvet,
would put it on for the occasion. He then ordered
a purse to put money in for the executioner, which,
when brought, was not to his taste, "yet he thought
no man could dislike it with ten guineas in it." At
nine he called for a plate of minced veal, of which
he ate heartily, and afterwards in wine and water
drank the healths of several of his friends. In the
meantime the crowd was collecting on Tower Hill,
where about ten o'clock the fall of a scaffold con-
verted many idle spectators into real mourners,
upwards of twenty persons being killed and a vast
number maimed. Lovat, it is said, made the remark
that "the more mischief the better sport." About
eleven the sheriff came to demand the body, and he
was conducted to a house near the scaffold, where
he delivered to his lordship a paper, saying he might
give the word of command when he pleased and he
would obey. He then said a short prayer, desired
that his clothes might be given to his friends along
with his body, took a little brandy and bitters, and
was conducted to the scaffold, in going up to which
he looked round him and exclaimed, "God save us!
why should there be such a bustle about taking off
an old gray head, that can't get up three steps with-
out two men to support it?" Observing one of his
friends very much dejected, his lordship clapped him
on the shoulder, saying, " Cheer up, man, I am not
afraid: why should you?" On the scaffold the first
object of his attention was the executioner, to whom
he gave his purse with ten guineas, bidding him do
his work well. He then felt the edge of the axe,
saying he believed it would do, looked at his coffin,
on which was written "Simon Uominus Fraser de
Lovat decollat. April 9, 1747, Jetat. suce 80," and
sitting down in a chair set for him, repeated from
Horace,

" Dulce et decorum est pro patrla mori,"

and from Ovid,

" Nam genus et proavos et quse non fecimus ipsi
Vix ea nostra voco."

He then said a short prayer, called for his solicitor,
\Yilliam Fraser, to whom he gave his gold-headed
cane and his hat, and refjuested him to see that the
executioner did not touch his clothes. Being un-
dressed he kneeled to the block, gave the signal in
half a minute, and the executioner at one blow
severed his head from his body.

Thus died Simon Lord Lovat, one of the most
extraordinary characters recorded in Scottish history.
He was possessed of good natural talents, which,
considering the age in which he lived, and the
troubled life he led, had been considerably cultivated,
but he was totally destitute of that which alone con-
stitutes true dignity of character — moral worth. His
private character, as may well be conceived from
what we have detailed of his public one, was vicious,
his appetites coarse, and his pleasures low and un-
scrupulous. He had, however, seen much of the
world, possessed great address, and when he had a
purpose to serve, could make himself peculiarly
agreeable. Few men have ever been so very for-
tunate, and as few have recklessly thrown their good
fortune from them. ' ' A protracted course of wicked-
ness," one writer has remarked, "seems at last to
have impaired his natural shrewdness; he digged a
pit into which he himself fell, spread a snare with
his own hands in which he was caught, and in the
just judgment of God his hoary hairs came to the
grave with blood."

Besides his early affair with the dowager of Lovat,
his lordship was twice married, first to Margaret,
daughter to the laird of Grant, and secondly to
Primrose, daughter to John Campbell of Mamore.
This latter marriage was singularly unfortunate, and
after the most unheard-of barbarities exercised upon
the lady, his lordship was under the necessity of
granting her a separate maintenance. By his first
wife he had three children, two sons and one
daughter; and by the second one son, who even-
tually succeeded to the estate of Lovat.

FULTON, George, the author of an improved
system of education, was born February 3, 1752-
He served an apprenticeship to a printer in Glasgow,
and afterwards worked as journeyman with Mr.
Willison of Edinburgh. He also practised his pro-
fession for a time at Dumfries. In early life he
married the daughter of Mr. Tod, a teacher in
Edinburgh. His first appearance as a teacher was
in a charity-school in Niddry's Wynd, which he
taught for twenty pounds a year. There an ingeni-
ous and original mind led him to attempt some im-
provements in what had long been a fixed, and, we
may add, sluggish art. Adopting his ideas partly
from the system of Mr. Sheridan, and partly from
his late profession, he initiated his pupils with great
care in a knowledge of the powers of the letters,
using movable characters pasted on pieces of wood
(which were kept in cases similar to those of a com-
positor in a printing-house), the result of which was,
a surprising proficiency generally manifested by his
scholars, both in the art of spelling and in that of
pronouncing and reading the English language.

Having thus given full proof of his qualifications
as an instructor of youth, Mr. Fulton was appointed
by the town-council one of the four teachers of
English under the patronage of the city corporation,
in which situation he continued till about the year
1790, when a dispute with the chief magistrate in-
duced him to resign it, and set up on his own ac-
count. He then removed from Jackson's Close in
the old town to more fashionable apartments in
Hanover Street, where he prospered exceedingly for
more than twenty years, being more especially
patronized by Thomas Tod, Esq., and Mr. Ramsay
of Bamton. In teaching grammar and elocution,
and in conveying to his pupils correct notions of
the analogies of our language, Mr. Fulton was quite
unrivalled in his day. Many teachers from other
quarters became his pupils, and were successful in
propagating his system; and he had the honour
to teach many of the most distinguished speakers of
the day, both in the pulpit and at the bar. During
the long course of his professional life he was in-
defatigable in his endeavours to improve his method
and simplify his notation ; and the result of his
studies was embodied in a pronouncing dictionary,
which was introduced into almost all the schools of
the kingdom.

Mr. Fulton was an eminent instance of the union
of talent with frugal and virtuous habits. Having
realized a considerable fortune by teaching, he re-
signed his school to his nephew Mr. Andrew
Knight, and for the last twenty years of his life
enjoyed othivi citm dif^iiitaU at a pleasant villa called
Summerfield (near Newhaven), which he purchased
in 1806. In the year 1820 Mr. Fulton married, for
the second wife. Miss Eliza Stalker, but had no
children by either connection. He died September
I, 1 83 1, in the eightieth year of his age.

FULTON", John. While the records of humble
life abound with the names of self-taught geniuses in

JOHN FULTON — SIR ARCHIBALD GALLOWAY,

75

poetr}', languages, and tlie fine arts, tlio list of those
who have distinguished themselves by their profici-
ency in the exact sciences and skill in their practical
application, is very limited. And for this the diffi-
culty of learning astronomy or mathematics not only
without instructors but without the necessary imple-
ments, will sufficiently account. Of the few, how-
ever, who contrived to surmount such obstacles, the
name of John Fulton may claim an honourable
place.

He was the eldest son of a shoemaker in the village
of Fenwick, Ayrshire, and was born there in 1800.
His education at the parish school was confined to
the ordinary acquirements of reading and writing,
after which he took his place upon the shoemaker's
stall, and followed the craft of his father. While
thus employed, however, his studies showed that he
was fit for something better than the mechanical oc-
cupation of making and cobbling shoes; and after a
course of self-teaching in astronomy and mechanics
he constructed a planetary machine, which was so
highly appreciated that it was purchased by the Phi-
losophical Society of Kilmarnock. At a later period
he took a principal part in the construction of a small
gaswork, and made a velocipede for a lame lad in
Fenwick. He also studied botany chiefly by way of
recreation, and made in it no mean proficiency. But
his principal study still continued to be the science
of astronomy, in which his chief aim w-as to con-
struct a complete orrery. To this laborious and
complicated task he addressed himself when scarcely
more than twenty-two years of age, with scanty
means and limited time and opportunity — and after
ten years of earnest application the task was accom-
plished. This orrery, a wonder of mechanical and
scientific genius coming from the hands of a village

shoemaker, was exhibited in the principal towns of
Scotland and England, and at Edinburgh the talents
of Fulton were acknowledged by the presentation to
him of the medal of the Society of Arts for Scotland,
of the value of ten sovereigns.

After this achievement the scientific mechanist was
to find a sphere and an occupation better suited to
his studies and pursuits; for he went to London and
entered into the employ of Mr. Bates, the mathema-
tical instrument maker to King William IV. In
this establishment he distinguished himself by his
ingenuity and skill in the more delicate parts of the
profession, especially in making balances for the
royal mint, and theodolites for the Pacha of Egypt.
But his restless inquiring mind did not confine itself
to the exact sciences, or the falirication of those in-
struments which their application demands: he was
also a self-taught student of languages, and made
himself an excellent Greek, French, Italian, and
German scholar, without the instructions of a master.
It was a love of learning for its own sake; and while
he was becoming so rij)e a scholar both in science
and literature, that the halls of a university might
have been proud to receive him, he was contented
with his present position, and also with his wages as
a workman, which ranged only from 25J. to 30^'. a
week. But this literary application, which would
have been enough for a man's entire time, instead of
his occasional hour of relaxation, began to tell upon
the health and brain of poor Fulton; and although
he had been of a robust constitution, he broke down
when he had only completed his fiftieth year. In
1 85 1 he had to be removed to St. Bartholomew's
Hospital, and there, after kind treatment, he was
able in the following year to return to his native
P'enwick, where he died in 1853.

G.

GALL, RlCH.\RD, a poet of considerable merit,
was the son of a notary in the neighbourhood of
Dunbar, where he was born in December, 1776.
He received a limited education at Haddington, and
at the age of eleven was apprenticed to his maternal
uncle, who was a house-carpenter and builder. A
decided repugnance to this mechanical art induced
him soon after to abandon it and enter the business
of a printer, which was only a degree more suitable
to his inclinations, from its connection with litera-
ture, to which he was already much attached. In
the course of an apprenticeship to Mr. David Ram-
say, the liberal and enlightened printer of the Edin-
burgh Evening Coiu-ant, he made great advances in
knowledge, and began at length to attempt the com-
position of poetry in the manner of Burns. At the
expiry of his time he had resolved to abandon even
this more agreeable profession, as affording him too
slight opportunities of cultivating his mind, when
fortunately he obtained the appointment of travelling
clerk to Mr. Ramsay, an employment which pro-
mised him much of that leisure for literary recreation
of which he was so desirous. He continued to act
in this capacity till his death by abscess in his breast,
May 10, 1 801, when he wanted still some months to
complete his twenty-fifth year.

In the course of his brief career Mr. Gall had se-
cured, by his genius and modest manners, the friend-
ship of various literary characters of considerable
eminence, in particular Mr. Alexander Murray, after-

wards professor of oriental languages; Mr. Thomas
Campbell, author of the Pleasures of Hope; and Mr.'
Hector Macneill, author of many admired poems in
the Scottish dialect. His own poetical remains were
published in 1819, in one small volume, and include
some pieces which have retained their place in the
body of our popular poetry, though in general they
are characterized by a tameness of thought and lan-
guage which will for ever prevent their author from
ranking in the same class with Fergusson, Ramsay,
and Bums.

GALLOWAY, Sir Archibald, K.C.B., an
approved soldier and excellent writer, was bom at
Perth in 1780, and was the son of Mr. James Gallo-
way of that city. Having chosen arms for his pro-
fession, and India for his destination, Archibald
Galloway was nominated a cadet in 1 799, and ap-
pointed to the 58th native infantry, of which he
finally became colonel in 1S36. During this long
period of military service in India, extending over
thirty-five years, he was present in several engage-
ments, as well as six sieges and seven storms, in four
of which he took a very active share. When Delhi,
defended by a handful of British troops, maintained
itself against a besieging army of 70,000 men and
130 pieces of cannon, Galloway was one of the brave
defenders, and fully shared in the honours of that
remarkable resistance. He was also present at the
siege of Bhurtpore, conducted by Lord Lake. Cap-

75

JOHN GALT.

lain Galloway's post on that occasion was especially
the post of danger, for it was that of the sappers —
a corps so constantly under the enemy's fire, and so
frequently employed in the most perilous operations
during the siege, that all its officers, and most of its
men, were either killed or wounded. On two occa-
sions he headed it in the attack as part of the forlorn
hope, and on the last he was dangerously wounded.
Besides active services, which are too numerous to
specify, and in which his share was that of a fearless,
indefatigable, and skilful inferior officer, he was em-
ployed on important commissions on the staff, and
for several years held high charges in India in the
military engineer department, the last of which was
that of member of the Military Board under its
new constitution, to which he was appointed by the
governor-general. Lord William Bentinck. In this
responsible office he so ably acquitted himself as to
be honoured, at his departure from India, with the
highest approval of the governor-general in council.
General Galloway's various ser\'ices, during his mili-
tary career, were also publicly acknowledged by
several of our Indian commanders-in-chief upon nine
different occasions — by the supreme government of
India on twenty-one, and by the court of directors and
superior authorities in England on eleven — making
an amount of distinction sufficient to show that he
only required a separate command, and an oppor-
tunity, to raise his name to the highest rank in the
annals of our Anglo-Indian warfare.

In authorship General Galloway also obtained a
distinction which will perhaps outlast the remem-
brance of his soldiership. At a time when such
knowledge was most needed by our military gover-
nors and civilians in the East, he wrote a commen-
tary on the Mahometan Law, and another on the
Lm.w, Constitution, and Goz'ernment of l7idia. He
also wrote a work on Indian Sieges, which was so
highly esteemed that it was reprinted by the court
of directors, and used as a te.\t-book in their mili-
tary college, as well as distributed for general use
throughout our Indian army. In addition to these
he was author of several military treatises. He was
nominated a Companion of the Bath in 1838, and a
Knight Commander in 1848; and besides these public
honours, he was elected a director of the East India
Company in 1846, and officiated as its chairman in
1849. His death, which was sudden, being after a
few hours' illness, occurred at his house, 18 Upper
Harley Street, on the 6th of April, 1850.

GALT, John*. This popular novelist and multi-
farious writer was bom at Irvine, in Ayrshire, on the
2d of May, 1779, and was the son of a sea-captain
who was employed in the West India trade. The
stay of young Gait in a district with which he after-
wards made the world so well acquainted was not
long-continued, as his parents removed to Greenock
when he was eleven years old. In this town of com-
mercial bustle and enterprise his education was soon
finished, as he was destined to follow the occupation
of a merchant ; and by way of acquiring a proper
knowledge of his future profession, he was, in the
first instance, employed as a clerk in the custom-
house of Greenock, and afterwards in a counting-
house in the same town. This was unfavourable
training for that life of authorship which he followed
with such ardour in after-periods; but his diligence
and perseverance in self-education during the hours
of leisure not only formed the groundwork, but
the incitement, of his future literary undertakings.
His first attempts, as is usual with young aspirants,
were in poetry; and one of these, a tragedy founded
on the historj- of Mary Queen of Scots, he sent to

Constable for publication, but had the MS. returned
unread. He was consoled, however, for this disap-
pointment by having his smaller lucubrations occa-
sionally published in the Greenock Advertiser and
one or two of the Scottish magazines. He thus saw
himself in print, and the consequences it is easy to
divine — his enthusiasm would expand into full-grown
authorship. Undismayed by the rejection of his
tragedy. Gait next attempted an epic, the title of
which was The Battle of Largs. It was written in
octo-syllabic rh)Tne, and he prided himself not a
little on the fact that, in this matter at least, he had
preceded Sir Walter Scott. This poem, written in
five cantos, was enabled partly to struggle into light
in consequence of detached portions of it having been
published in the Scots Magazine for 1803 and 1804.
It is as well that the world was not troubled with it
in toto, as the following invocation to Lok, which is
in "Ercles' vein," will sufficiently testify: —

"The hideous storm that dozing lay
Thick blanketed in clouds all day,
Behind sulphureous Hecla, we
Roused to this wrecking wrath for thee.
And sent hira raging round the world,
High in a thund'ring chariot hurl'd;
Whose steeds, exulting with their load.
As the grim fiend they drag abroad,
\Vhisk with their tails the turrets down
Of many a temple, tower, and town."

Or take the following description of Erie, one of the
Norse Eumenides, in which the sudden alternations
of rising and sinking can scarcely be paralleled even
by Sir Richard Blackmore : —

" Her looks sulphureous glow —
Her fumace-e)-es, that bum'd below
A dismal forehead, glaring wide.
Like caves by night in Hecla's side,
And what her fangs for staff did grasp,
'Twas fired iron — Hell's hatchway's hasp,

At length she stood.
And scowling o'er the weltering flood,
That louder rag'd, she stretch'd her hand,
Clutching the red Tartarean brand
Aloft, and as the black clouds sunder'd.
Dared the high heavens till they thunder'd."

It was in London that this poetical attempt was
made. He had gone to the metropolis in 1803 or

1804, and there a few months of leisure at his first
entrance had encouraged those desperate concep-
tions in Runic mythology which he extended through
five mortal cantos. It was not, however, by writing
epics that he could support himself in London. He
therefore commenced business in good earnest, and
entered into partnership with a young countn-man of
his own: but they soon disagreed; their affairs were
unsuccessful, and in about three years the concern
became bankrupt. This combination of poetr)- and
business was not sufficient for the versatile mind of
Gait; other subjects of study occupied his attention,
among which were astrolog}-, alchemy, histon,-, and
political economy. Was it wonderful then that his
name, before it figured in authorship, should have
found a place in the bankrupt list?

After this mercantile disaster Gait tried to re-
establish himself in business, along with a brother;
but this attempt also proved abortive. Sick of mer-
chandise, and impatient to trj' something else, he re-
solved to devote himself to the profession of law, and
for this purpose entered himself at Lincoln's Inn.
He was soon overtaken by a ner\-ous indisposition
that unfitted him for the dry studies of Coke upon
Littleton; and, by way of solace, until the malady
should pass away, he sat down to write a book.
The subject was ready to his hand ; for, in a walk
with some friends through the colleges of Oxford in

1805, he had felt indignant that Cardinal Wolsey,
the founder of Christ Church College, should have

JOHN GALT.

77

been allowed to bequeath such a boon without a
fitting commemoration from its learned disciples;
and since better might not be, he had resolved,
alien though he was, at some time or other to repair
the deficiency. That season had now arrived; and
accordingly, about the beginning of 1809, he com-
menced a life of Cardinal Wolsey, and finished it in
a very few months. The short time that he took
for the necessary reading and research, as well as
writing, which such a subject required, will give an
adequate conception of the natural impetuosity of his
intellect. But with this haste and hurry there was
curiously combined the grave methodical arrange-
ment of the counting-house: he transcribed upon one
part of his writing-paper the historical facts extracted
from Cavendish, Fiddes, and Hume, and wove round
them, upon the margin and between the interstices,
his own remarks and deductions, until a gay parti-
coloured web was the result, after which he systema-
tized the whole into a continuous narrative. "I was
desirous," he says of it, "to produce a work that
would deserve some attention." This work, which
he afterwards improved and extended, was not pub-
lished till three years afterwards. As his health did
not improve, he now resolved to try the effects of
travel before being called to the English bar; and in
1809 he left England for a tour, which extended over
three years. The result of this long journey was two
separate works at his return. The first was entitled
Voyages a?id Travels in the Years 1809, 1810, and
181 1, containing Statistical, Commercial, and AIiscel~
laneons Observations on Gibraltar, Sardittia, Sicily,
Malta, and Turkey; and the second, Letters from
the Levant, containing Viaus of the State of Society,
manners, Opinions, and Commerce in Greece and
Several of the Principal Lslands of the Afxhipelago.

These were not theonly works which Gait published
on his return to England. His poetical inspiration
still haunted him, but so much sobered down, that
during his tour he had been employing himself in
writing dramas on the plan of Alfieri, where the sim-
plicity of the plot and fewness of the characters were
to be compensated by the full force of nature and
poetic excellence. This was certainly a great sacrifice
in one whose imagination so revelled in plot, and was
so fertile in incident. The volume, which was pub-
lished in 1812, contained the tragedies of " Maddalen,"
"Agamemnon," "Lady Macbeth," "Antonia," and
'"Clytemnestra," and as only 250 copies were printed,
the work being published on his own account, it had
little chance of undergoing the test of public opinion.
Even as it was, however, it was roughly handled in
the Quarterly Reiiira) by an ironical criticism, in
which Gait was elevated to the rank of a second
Shakspeare. Soon after his return he married Eliza-
beth, daughter of Dr. Tilloch, editor of the Philoso-
phical Magazine, and proprietor of the Star, a news-
paper on which Gait had been for some time em-
ployed. In the same year also (181 2), so prolific in
his publishing adventures, he sent through tlie press
his Reflections on Political and Coni7nercial Subjects.

Having now abandoned all thoughts of devoting
himself to the bar. Gait was compelled to have re-
course to authorship until something more stable
should occur. He therefore wrote in the Monthly
Magazine and other periodicals of the day. He also
projected, with Mr. Colbum the publisher, aperiodical
which, under the title of the uVeiv British Theatre,
should publish the best of those dramatic productions
which the managers of the great play-houses had re-
jected. It was hoped that in this way deserving
talent would be rescued from oblivion, and "many
a gem of purest ray serene" be made to glitter in the
eye of a delighted world, instead of being trampled

among the dust of the green-room. It was a most
benevolent and hopeful speculation, of which Gait,
the proposer, was appointed editor. But little diil
he anticipate the flood-gates of mud which such a
proposal opened. There was an instant jail-delivery
of manuscript plays, enough to have converted the
country into a literary Botany Bay or Alsatia; and
Gait, amidst the heap of dramatic matter under which
he was well-nigh smothered, was obliged to confess
at last that the managers of theatres were not such
reckless or unjust rejectors as they had been called.
The work at its commencement was successful, but
soon aftersvards fell off, although the plan was im-
proved by the admission of plays that had been
written but not presented. Before it expired Gait
possessed and availed himself of the opportunity of
inserting some of his own dramatic productions,
among which was the tragedy of The Witness, after-
wards performed in several towns with altered titles.
After this his career for some years was one of
active business, combined with authorship. During
his travels he had conceived the idea of importing
British goods through Turkey, in spite of the conti-
nental blockade by which Napoleon endeavoured to
exclude our commerce; and upon this plan he em-
ployed himself diligently for some time both in Eng-
land and Scotland. But the conception appeared
too bold and hazardous to those traders who were
invited to the risk; and his efforts ended in disap-
pointment. Another occupation with which he was
commissioned was to superintend a bill through the
House of Commons intrusted to him by the Union
Canal Company. As enough of leisure was afforded
him in London during the suspense of this bill, he
wrote the Life and Studies of Bc7ija77ii7t West. He
also wrote a romance, of which the hero was the
Wandering Jew. Of this work two considerable
editions were sold, although it had never been re-
viewed. This neglect the author, who affectionately
clung to the remembrance of his Wandering Jew to
the last, regarded with some surprise. "How the
work," he says, "should have been so long unnoticed,
while others which treat of the same subject have
attracted considerable attention, I cannot say ; but
this I know, that many of my own far inferior pro-
ductions, in originality and beauty, have been much
applauded, and yet I doubt if they have sold so well."
We suspect that few of our readers have been among
the purchasers of this wonderful myth, or have even
heard its name till now.

Amidst all the toil and struggle of these literary
attempts, John Gait had not yet discovered where
his strength lay. History, biography, travels, epic
and dramatic poetry, romance— he had tried them
all, but attained success in none. His over-boiling
imagination and erratic fancy were too much even
for fiction, whether in prose or verse; and when he
attempted sober narrative, his love of originality was
ever leading him into some startling paradox which
the facts of history were unable to make good. The
eccentricity of his political opinions had also given
not a little offence to the still predominant party;
for although a Tory in theory, he seemed a very
Radical in practice, and had more than once run a
muck against the powers that be, when he found
them stopping up his way. On this account he had
also brought down upon his head the ire of the
Quarterly Rtinew, whose censure was enough to
blight the popularity of an authoramong Tory readers,
and throw him out upon neutral ground. Thus, up
to 1820, his attempts were a series of literary blunders,
and his production of that year. The Earthquake —
a stern sombre novel in three volumes, which has
shared the fate of his other productiorts written

78

JOHN GALT.

before this period, should, in ordinar}' circumstances,
have been his last attempt in authorship. But in his
long search in the dark he had hit upon the right
vein at last. It was not in the wild and wonderful
that he was to excel, but in the homely, the humorous,
and the caustic. "The hero's harp, the lover's lute,"
with which he had tried to enchant the world, but to
no purpose, were to be exchanged for the vulgar bag-
pipe and stock-and-horn. His first attempt in this
way was the Ayrshire /.^jnUes — a work which origin-
ated in mere accident. One of his enjoj-ments was
to "show the lions" to such strangers as were intro-
duced to him in London; and of these, as might be
expected, were many original characters from the far
north, whose sensations among the wonders of the
great metropolis were a rich feast to his keen observ-
ant eye and quick sense of the ludicrous. It soon
occurred to him that these peculiarities might be em-
bodied in particular personages, and illustrated by
correspondent adventures; the whole materials were
before him like those of a rich landscape, and only
needed artistic selection and combination to form a
ver>' choice picture. Upon this idea he set to work,
and without any formal plot for his story, scene after
scene grew upon his hand as it was needed, until the
Ayrshire Lej:;at,:es was the result. It was in this way
that Iliiviphrcy Clinker was produced — the best of
all Smollett's productions. As fast as the chapters
of Gait's new attempt were written, they were pub-
lished in BUukiuood^s Magazine of 1820 and 1821,
and their appearance excited universal attention,
while they continued to rise in popularity to the last:
so that, when finished, they were published separately,
and eagerly devoured by the novel-reading public.
It was a style of writing which had been so long dis-
used as to have all the charms of originality, while
the truthfulness of the different characters was such
as to impart to fiction all the charms of reality.
Gait found that he had succeeded at last, and fol-
lowed up his success with the Annals of the Parish,
which was published in 1821. This work, however,
although so late in its appearance, was, properly
speaking, the first of Gait's Scottish novels, as it had
been written in 1813, but laid aside, until the success
of the Ayrshire Legatees encouraged him to commit
it to the press. In this work also he had not
troubled himself about the construction of a regular
plot, and, like its predecessor, it was all the better
for the omission. Long before he commenced the
Annals his ambition had been to "write a book that
would be for Scotland what the 'Vicar of Wakefield is
for England;" and this was the result. He certainly
could not have adopted a better model.

No one can imagine that the pen of Gait, so in-
defatigable when success was against it, would now
relapse into idleness. In the Annals of the Parish
he had exhibited the progress of improvement in a
rural district of the west of Scotland; he was now
desirous of describing the same progress in a town.
Such was the origin of the Proz'ost, which was
jniljlished in 1822. He had now learned the true
secret of novel-writing, as is evident from the follow-
ing statement: "In the composition of the Prorost I
followed the same rule of art which seemed to me so
proper in the Annals of the Parish, namely, to bring
impressions on the memory harmoniously together;
indeed, I have adhered to the principle in all my
subsequent compositions, and sometimes I fancy that
the propriety of doing so may be justified by nature.
I think no ingenuity can make an entirely new thing.
Man can only imagine the old together; join legs,
and arms, and wings as he may, only the forms of
previously-created things can be imitated. The
.whole figure may be outre, and unlike anything in

the heavens, or the earth, or the waters under the
earth; but the imitations of the human hand in the
details will ever be evident. ... In my youth I
wrote a poem called the Legend of St. Anthotty,
which I undertook with the intention of depicting
comical phantasms; but I had not proceeded far till
I was induced to change my mind, by observing
that my most extravagant fancies were only things
of curious patchwork, and that the same defect might
be discerned in all those things in which the 'creative'
power of genius was said to be more indisputable.
... I therefore give up all pretension to belonging
to that class who deal in the wild and wonderful;
my wish is, to be estimated by the truth of whatever
I try to represent."

The next work of Gait was the Steam-boat, a
novel, published originally in Blactiuood, in which
he wished to give such an account of the coronation
of George IV. as an "abortive bailie" from Scotland
might be likely to do. This was followed by Sir
Andrezii IVyllie, in which he wished to exhibit the
rise and progress of a humble Scotchman in London.
In this tale, however, he gave way to his literary be-
setting sin, a fault of which he was afterwards fully
conscious; and he says of it very justly, "The inci-
dents are by far too romantic and uncommon to my
own taste, and are only redeemed from their extra-
vagance by the natural portraiture of the characters."

But, indeed, either accurate conception or finished
execution could scarcely be expected from Gait
in his writings at this period, when we remember
that the three last-mentioned works, viz. the Proi'ost,
the Steam-boat, and Sir Andre'LO Wyllie, were all
published in 1822. In the following year he pro-
duced his Gathering of the West, which was also
published in the first instance in Blackwood'' s Maga-
zine. The subject was the visit of George IV. to
Scotland — an event that appeared in so many
ludicrous aspects to the mirthful satirical mind of
Gait, that he could not repress his profane chuckling
at this great avatar, even when he endeavoured to
look the most composed. He therefore says of the
Gathering, and its kindred work the Steam-boat —
"Notwithstanding the deference for magnates and
magnificence under which these works were written,
the original sin may be detected here and there peep-
ing out, insomuch that those who consider Tor}dsm
as consisting of the enjoyment of at least pensions,
must be dreadfully shocked to think even a moderate
politician of any sort could be so far left to himself
as to speak so irreverently of things which concerned
the affairs of empires and burgh towns."

We have already alluded to Gait's exuberance in
the productions of 1822; but that of the following
year was still more excessive, so that it might well
be said of him, I'ij-es acqiii7-it cundo. Thus the
Entail, Ringan Gilhaize, and the Spaeivife — each a
three-volumed novel — were published during this
year of portentous abundance. The first of these
novels was founded upon an incident related by the
lord-provost of Glasgow to Gait. It was in this
way that he was accustomed to make the most of
everj'thing that he had heard or witnessed, by either
laying it down as the groundwork of a tale, or intro-
ducing it as an amusing episode; and in this faculty
of adaptation lay much of the excellence of his
popular works. Thus his vigorous and picturesque
description of the northern coast of Scotland in the
Entail, was expanded from an interesting account
of the locality given to him by a daughter of Sir
John Sinclair; while many of the grotesque events
and humorous jokes with which his other tales
abound had long previously enlivened the firesides
of the peasantry. In him, however, it was no small

JOHN GALT.

merit that he should have introduced them so happily,
and told them so well. As a proof of the accepta-
bility of his last-mentioned work, Gait tells us, in
his Literary Life and Miscellanies, that Sir Walter
Scott had read it thrice, and Lord Byron as often.
Of Ringan Gilhaizc he also tells us that it received
the unique and distinguished honour of being recom-
mended from the pulpit by one of the ministers of
Aberdeen. This tale, in which the narrator, a per-
secuted Covenanter, relates the history of his grand-
father, gives a sketch of the rise and progress of the
Reformation in Scotland, from the days of Knox
and Murray to the close of the reign of the Stuarts;
and for the purpose of collecting materials, and pre-
serving the accuracy of the narrative. Gait went to
Rinsory House to gather traditions, and collected
several relics of the battle of Killiecrankie. The
cause which incited him to write such a work was
indignation at the popularity of Old Mortality, in
which the Covenanters were held up to ridicule;
and he was animated with a chivalrous zeal to vindi-
cate the character of these heroic but much vilified
sufferers in the cause of conscience and religion.
But unfortunately Ringan Gilhaize was no match for
Balfour of Burley. In this tale Gait very rashly
abandoned his own field of broad reality and plain
everyday life, for one where nothing but history and
imagination could aid him; and therefore it exhibited
a marked deficiency both in execution and popular
interest. It was still worse, however, with the Spae-
ivife, where he went back from the Covenanting
periods, with which the Scottish public can still
sympathize, to the fifteenth century of Scottish history,
about which they know little and care still less; and
v/ith all his attempts at the sublime, which often
swelled into the turgid, he could not interest his
readers one jot in the Duke of Albany and his worth-
less brood, or even in James I., our heroic minstrel
king. It was certainly an over-ambitious attempt,
and as such it failed. At this period the empire of
historical romance belonged to Sir Walter Scott,
and to him alone, without peer or rival. But that
such an attempt was the opening of a safety-valve,
and that the work would have exploded in some
fashion or other, is manifest from the following state-
ment of the author: — "The fate of James I. of Scot-
land early seemed to me possessed of many dramatic
capabilities ; and in the dream of my youth, to
illustrate by tales, ballads, and dramas the ancient
history of my country, it obtained such a portion
of my attention that I have' actually made a play
on the subject. In riper life, many years after, I
wrote the novel ; and my knowledge of the age in
which the transactions lie enabled me to complete
the story in such a manner that, merely as an anti-
quarian essay, it merits consideration." To the
Sparuiife succeeded Rothelan, in which, not content
with going back so far as to the reign of Edward
III., Gait transferred the scene to England, where
his great yyri't' as a Scottish novelist had to be utterly
laid aside; and Rothelan was a failure. Among the
manifold aims of the author's ambition, that of
being a good musical composer happened to be
one; and in Rothelan Gait had not only written two
songs, but also set them to music. But it unfortu-
nately happened that the printer was smitten with
the same ambition, and not liking the tunes, he
substituted two of his own, which were printed
in the work. "At the time," says Gait, "I was
staying with a friend, and a copy of the book was
left for me in the morning. On going down stairs
I found it in the librar}', where we usually break-
fasted; and as pleased at the sight as a hen with
her egg, of which she cannot keckle enough to the

world about, I lifted the volumes, and turned to
the tunes. Courteous reader, sympathize! Instead
of my fine airs, with an original inflection that had
been much admired by a competent judge, I beheld
two that surely had been purchased at the easy
charge of a halfpenny a-piece from a street piper !
I looked aghast, and almost fainted. There was a
grand piano in the drawing-room. I rushed, book
in hand, upstairs in a whirlwind. It was of no use
— the piano too was a particeps criniinis, and would
only pronounce the Highland coronachs which stand
in the publication even to this day; and the worst of
it was, my friend, instead of taking out his handker-
chief and condoling becomingly, only gave vent to
'uncxtinguishable laughter,' and paid no attention to
my pathetic appeals at the figure I must cut, being
really no deacon among musicians, at the thought of
having two such horrid frights affiliated to me."

A change once more occurred in the life of Gait,
in which the active laborious author was to be trans-
fonned into the equally active and enterprising man
of business. Besides being reckoned only inferior to
Sir Walter Scott as a delineator of Scottish character
and manners, his reputation stood high as one well
acquainted with the principles and practice of com-
merce; and on this account the inhabitants of Canada
commissioned him as their agent to prosecute their
claims on the home government for the losses they
had sustained during the occupation of the province
by the army of the United States. During the ne-
gotiations which occurred in consequence, a proposal
to sell crown -lands in Upper Canada for the in-
demnification of the sufferers was made by Mr. Gait,
and adopted by government; and a Canada company
was incorporated in 1826 to purchase land and colo-
nize it. During the previous year he had been em-
ployed in valuing the lands that were to be exposed
to sale, after which he had returned to England; but
in the autumn of 1826 he went back to Canada,
where he was employed by the company as their
superintendent. His able and active management
soon secured the confidence of his constituents; new
settlements were founded, a village was called by
his name, and the township of Guelph was his entire
creation. But unfortunately Gait's activity was not
balanced by an equal amount of prudence, and in
the ardour of his proceedings he managed to involve
himself in quarrels with the colonial government, and
with Sir Peregrine Maitland, who was at its head.
Such is too often the folly and the fate of those who
go forth as the reformers of our colonies ; they enter
their new sphere of action with their heads filled
with magna charta and the rights of British citizen-
ship, forgetful all the while of the distance of these
colonies from the parent seat of government, and the
necessity of a more stringent rule than would be
tolerated in London or Edinburgh. This seems to
have been the error of Gait ; and in consequence of
the complaints that were sent home against him he
was superseded by the directors of the company.
But, whether in the bustle of action or the chagrin of
disappointment, his pen could not lie idle ; and
during this period he produced the Omen, a tale that
was favourably reviewed in Blackiuood's Magazine by
Sir Walter Scott, and the Last of the Lairds, a novel
which he meant to be the continuation of a class that
has the Annals of the Parish for its commencement.
For the encouragement of the drama in Quebec he
also wrote a farce, entitled Visitors, or a Tf-ip to
Quebec, which was acted with great success by an
amateur company. Another, which he wrote for
New York, to propitiate the Americans, who had
taken offence at his Visitors, was entitled An Aunt
in Virginia, and was after^vards published in Blacks

So

JOHN GALT FRANCIS G.\RDEX.

waatfs Afagasitu, with tbe scene txansfeTTed firom
New York to LcMidoii. He intended to write a third
for his own town of Goelph, where his dwelling-
house was to be conTerted into a theatre, and the
drama intzodnced into this inhnt settlement; bat his
des^ was suspended by more urgent demands, and
the necessitj of his speedj return to £i^;land.

This event ocamed in 1S29, after he had been
two years and a half in America. On his retom,
without a situation and ahnost penniless, Gait's
creditors became urgent, and he was obliged, in omd-
sequence, to avail himself of the insolvent dditots'
act. The world was to be commenced anew; but
the dasticitj of youth and the ardour of hope were
exhausted, and Gait, now at the age of fifty, had
already done mme than most men have achieved at
that period. And yet he must ocmtinue an author,
no loiter, however, from dhoice but necesaty; fix-
of an that he had possessed nothing but his pen re-
mained. And Ixavely he girded himsdf for the task,
and pnUished in succession Zaarrie Todd, SmtUun-
nan, and the Life of Lard Bjmm. They were
written with his wonted rapidity, being produced
in 1S29 and l8jO; but the spirit that formerly ani-
mated him had become languid, so that these works,
CTcePent though they are, will not stand compari-
son with his former nords that so hi^y interested
the Scottish public While he was occupied with
the Life of Lord Bjrort, a caustic production, in
whidi his lordship meets with somewhat rou|^ en-
tertainment; Gait accepted the editorship of the
Courier, a new^nper of hi^ Tory principles But
however well adapted in many wajs for sudh an
office, it is easy to guess that he could not omtiinie
long to hold it, and that the same indqiendence of
^irit which wrecked him in Canada would mar
hun as the Coryjdiens of any political partfwhateva-
in the journalism of London. ''The <mly kind of
scruple that I felt," he says, "if sndi it may be called,
was in thinkingthepoliricsof the journal a little fax)
ardent for the spirit ^the times; and, in ccnosequence,
my first object was to render them more suitaHe tc
what I ajyrehended was the wholesome state of
opinion, preparatory to introdncii^ occaaonally more
of disq[iaationinto theartides. . . . Accordingly,
without manifeting particular soliotnde to make
mysdf remarkable, I b^an by attemptii^ gradually
to aUeriate the ultra-toryism of the paper; by expLi-
nations of more liberality than the sentiments of an''
party." By such an honest procedure eitho' Xt':
jtsrwsfecpa ot the editor must go down; and G&l.
thus continues his narrative: "I had not been lor.
installed as editor tiD I percdved that the basinet .
would not suit me. In point of emolument it was
convenient; but as I have ebewheie shown, m<xa^
matters have ever been perhaps too sightly r^arded
by me, and my resignatitw, thoo^ it partook of that

Eromptitude of enunciation whidi all my decisions
ave uniformly manifested, was, however, the result
of very solemn reflection. To men who have juster
notions ol the value of mimey than I have ever en-
tertained— not firom persuasion but from halnt, if
not ccmstitntitmal carelessness — my resignation in
sudi a crisis of fortune will not be easily comprdien^
sible; but to those who think, as the old soi^ sings,
that there are thii^ *whidi gold can never buy,' no
pother explanation can be necesary."

About the same period Gait, while thus busied
with literature, attempted to Sxm a new American
land company, but was nnsnccessfol; and to a^ravate
his misfortunes, two attartg of paralysis warned him
that his day <^ enteqxise had ended — diat he was
now chained to the oar. He retired to his- native
jimiiliy there to await his tinK; so doubly imceitain;

and to dose his eyes, when his hocr came, amidst
the scenery and society which he had loved so wdL
Vet he still continued to linger on from year to year,
although repeated shocks of the malady inflicted at
each visitation the "bitterness <^ death;" and while
his memory was impaired and his mind enfeebled,
he was still oUiged to toO for the support of a life
that seemed scarcdy worth havii^. And yet he
could still be happy, far his was that healthfid
state of feding that looked habitually upon the
bright side of thirds, aitd could find itself occupation
as long as a angle &cnlty remained in exerdse.
With an ainaiwu^qg^^ or a chance fiiend to transcribe
from his dictation, he continued to pour forth volume
after volume, "to wrendi life from famine," as he
moumftilly expressed it; and althoi^h these produc-
tions could scarcdy bear oMnpariscHi with those of
his happia years; they still retained the impress d[
his former vivadty and inventiveness, as well as
much of his vigorous talent and readi of thought.
In this way he produced, among other puHicatJOTis,
the AtUobufgmf^ of John Gait, in two volumes Svo,
and die Lttentry Life and Bliscdhatia of Jokm Gait,
in three Tolumes izmo, from whidi the materials oi
the foregoing sketdi have been mainly derived. At
ler^th, after the fourteenth stroke of para^psis, he
died at Greenock, <m the lith of April, 1859.

The works of Gait were very immerous, compris-
ing about fifty Tohnnes ci novds, and more than a
score of dian^s, indqiendently of his iMographical
and misceHaneous wodcs. Of these, however, only
a tithe erf' his tales wiU continne to be read and valued,
not only for their intrinsic excellence, but as the
transciq>ts (hastate of society that is isqudly passing
away. In this d^iartment the name of John Gait
win be perpetuated as a naticmal rememlxance; and
his descriptions be prized ■wlien the livisff realitv K?s
d^tarted,

GAin)EN. 77 ■ -- - - ;,

tue 2.\-i or J vrn-a. 1 ~2 :

Alexander Garden o£ 1

Jsae. daug^bter of Sir

f the judges of th

. : ie Tsnal course

-jniveibity,

.-samembe:

benevialent irund ga.
hilarity: had he liv
have turned these c
but they suited will
became the prince
reached that period .
ings generally make :.
with bittemesson tz .
contented mind lo^ :
^aDg!a able to indu!
gences of others wi v.
same overflown^ c.
the body was disa'i
social cude. Mac
been preserved of h
his eaidy |xactice :-\
dnring the time w'~ :
in possession oi "L
im^^iain {afterwarci
preferred wine and

FRAN'CIS GARDEN.

8l

ing, that, when sent as a patrol by Sir John Cope
to watch the coast towards Musselburgh, instead of
proving a protection to the army, they were them-
selves taken prisoners, just when the feast was at its
highest, by a single individual, who happened to be
prowling in the neighbourhood. It must, however,
be allowed, that at that period there were not many
inducements to exertion held out to Scotsmen of the
higher rank. There were few men eminent for their
genius, or even for the more passive acquirements of
classical learning which distinguished the neighbour-
ing country. The bar was the only profession which,
from its respectability and emoluments, offered itself
as a resource to the younger sons of the landed pro-
prietors, then sufficiently poor; and while the learn-
ing and information at that time required by its
members in their professional capacity were not
great, the jealousy of England, just after the union,
allowed but to one family in Scotland the rational
prospect that time and labour might be well spent
in preparing for the duties of a statesman. The
state of the country and its political influence were
singularly discouraging to the upper classes, and
from many naturally active spirits being left unem-
ployed, they turned to indolence or unprofitable
amusements those talents which might have rendered
them the best ornaments of their country. The
nation had then, indeed, begun by degrees to shake
off its lethargy, and by the time the subject of this
memoir had advanced a little in life, he became one
of the most admired and beloved social members of
a circle of illustrious philosophers and historians,
whose names are dear to the memory of their coun-
trymen as those who first roused their slumbering
energies.

On the 14th of July, 1744, Mr. Garden was made
sheriff of Kincardineshire, and he soon after showed
the soundness of his perception and the liberality of
his mind, by stretching forth his hand to assist the
modest talent and elegant taste of the author of TJie
Minslrel. To those who may, from its lately extinct
remnants, have formed any idea of the stately cold-
ness preserved by the higher classes in Scotland
towards their inferiors in the middle of the eighteenth
century, it will operate as no small e\'idence of
the discernment and kindness of the judge, that
he began his acquaintance with the poet and philo-
sopher when that individual was only a cotter
boy sitting in a field writing with a pencil. In
August, 1759, Mr. Garden was chosen one of the
legal assessors of the to\^'n of Edinburgh; and as a
higher step in professional advancement, in April,
1761, accepted office in the latter days of Mr. Pitt's
administration, as joint solicitor-general of Scotland,
along with Mr. James Montgomery, afterwards lord
chief-baron. What were his professional attainments
as a la\v)-er it is at this distance of time difficult to
determine, as he has left behind him no professional
work, the only index which can lead to a knowledge
of his mere technical attainments as a barrister. As a
pleader, however, we know he was highly estimated
— as his connection with a renowned lawsuit, which
spread its fame over all Europe, and created in Scot-
land a ferment of disputation inferior only to the heat
of religious controversy, has well shown. The ap-
pearance made by Mr. Garden in the Douglas cause
rendered his name better known, and his talents
more appreciated, than generally falls to the lot of a
mere forensic pleader. He was early connected with
the proceedings of this great case, in the Toumelle
process in France, where he appeared as senior to
his future friend and literary associate, the classical
Burnet of Monboddo, and is generally reported to
have left behind him a high opinion of his learning,
VOL. II,

and the powers of his eloquence, even when clothed
in a foreign language. He became connected with
the case on its transference to England, but amidst
its multifarious changes he was raised to the bench
as successor to Lord Woodhall on the 3d of July,
1764, in time to act as a judge on the case, then very
different in its aspect and material from what it was
when he performed the part of a counsel.

In 1762 Mr. Garden had purchased the estate of
Johnston in Kincardineshire, and in 1765 he com-
menced those improvements on his estate which, if
not among the most brilliant acts of his life, are per-
haps among those which deserve to be longest and
best remembered. At the time when the estate of
Johnston was purchased, the village of Lawrencekirk,
if a village it could then be called, contained but
fifty-four inhabitants, living there, not because it was
a centre of commercial or industrial circulation, but
because chance had brought a few houses to be built
in each other's vicinity. Lord Gardenstone caused
a new line of street to be planned out on his own
property ; he gave extremely moderate leases of small
farms, and giound for building upon, to the last, for
the period of 100 years; he established a linen manu-
factory, built an inn, and with a singular attention
to the minute comforts and happiness of his rising
flock, seldom equalled by extensive projectors, he
founded a library for the use of the villagers. To assist
the progress of society in reducing men dispersed
over the country into the compact limits of a town,
is an easy, and generally a profitable process, but to
found to\\Tis or villages where there is no previous
spirit of influx, is working to a certain degree against
nature, and can only be accomplished by labour and
expense. Although the benevolent mind of Lord
Gardenstone produced a mutual understanding and
kindness betwixt himself and his tenants, which mere
commercial speculators fail in producing, yet many
of his best-formed plans for the prosperity of the
village proved unavailing, and he was frequently
subject to disappointment anc^ needless expense.
He seems, however, to have felt the pleasure of
being kind without profiting himself At much ex-
pense he supported a printfield and manufacture of
stockings, and purchased a royal charter erecting
Lawrencekirk into a burgh of barony, vdih. a regular
magistracy. He had the satisfaction before his death
to find the population increase to 5CX3 souls, and in
a letter to the inhabitants which he published late in
life, he says — "I have tried in some measure a variety
of the pleasures which mankind pursue; but never
relished anything so much as the pleasure arising
from the progress of my village."

In 1776 Lord Gardenstone, in addition to his
seat on the civil bench, was appointed to fill the
office of a lord-commissioner of justiciar)-, or ordinary
judge in the criminal court, as successor to Lord
Pitfour. Nine years afterwards, having succeeded,
by the death of his elder brother, to the extensive
estate of Troup, he relieved himself for ever from
some of his laborious judicial duties, and for a time
from them all, and resolved to attempt to recruit his
failing constitution, by making a pleasure tour
through the Continent. Accordingly, in 1786, he
passed into France by Dover, visiting Paris and
Lyons, remaining during part of the winter at Mar-
seilles. In the ensuing spring he passed to Geneva,
where he saw the ruined remnant of Voltaire's vil-
lage at Femey, from which he was able to draw a
comparison much in favour of his own, where the
people enjoyed permanent political rights, which
would render them independent of any future superior
who might not be disposed to imitate the beneficence
of the original patron. Lord Gardenstone spent the

41

82

FRANXIS GARDEN JAMES GARDINER.

remainder of his allotted time in traversing the
Netherlands, Germany, and Italy; making, in his
progress, a collection of natural curiosities, and com-
mitting to writing a number of cursory remarks on
the men and manners he encountered, and the works
of art he had seen on his tour, or met anywhere else,
part of which were submitted to the world in two
duodecimo volumes, denominated Travdliiig Alcmor-
aiiiiiDiis madcin a Tour upon the Continent of Europe
in the year 1792, and a remaining volume was pub-
lished after his death. About the same time he
published Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, a collec-
tion of petty productions which had given him amuse-
ment, either in composing or hearing, during his
earlier days. Perhaps without affectation, the gravity
of tlie judge might have restrained the man from
giving to the world a publication which could not
have raised the better part of his reputation. Lord
Gardenstone was either not a poet born, or his ima-
gination had not stood the ordeal of a profession
which deals in fact and reason. His serious verses
have all the stiffness of the French school, without
either the loftiness of Pope or the fire of Dryden.
The author had, to be sure, an ever-teeming mind,
which never emitted anything common or contempt-
ible, but it is to be feared that the merits his
verses possess are those of rhetoric rather than of
poetry; for, though constructed in the same work-
shop which formed words and ideas that thrilled
through the minds of a subdued audience, they are
certainly very flat and inelegant as poetical produc-
tions. The satirical pieces have a singular pungency
and acnteness, and are fine specimens of the early
natural powers of the author; but they are rather
destitute of the tact acquired by professed satirists.
A biographer who seems to have been intimate with
his lordship,* describes him as having expressed
great contempt for the affectation of those who ex-
pressed disgust at the indelicacies of Horace or Swift,
and it must certainly be allowed that, in his hum-
orous fragments, he has not departed from the spirit
of his precepts, or shown any respect for the feelings
of these weaker brethren. Lord Gardenstone spent
the latter days of his life, as he had done the earlier,
in an unrestricted benevolence and a social inter-
course with the world, indulging in the same prin-
ciples, which years had softened in their activity, but
had not diminished. He was still an ornament and
a useful assistant to the circle of great men which
raised the respectability of his country. He con-
tinued to use his then ample fortune, and his prac-
tised acuteness, in giving encouragement to letters,
and in useful public projects, the last of which ap-
pears to have been the erection of a building over
the mineral spring of St. Bernard's, in the romantic
vale of the water of Leith, a convenience which
seems to have been much more highly appreciated
formerly than now, and is always mentioned as one
of the chief incidents of the judge's life. He died at
Morningside, near Edinburgh, on the 22d of July,
1793. The village which had afforded him so much
Ijcncvolent pleasure exhibited, for a considerable
period after his death, the outward signs of grief,
and, what seldom happens in the fluctuations of the
world, the philanthropist was mourned by those who
had experienced his public munificence as a private
friend.

In person. Lord Gardenstone is described as having
been a commanding man, with a high forehead,
features intellectually marked, and a serious penetrat-

1 Life introductory to vol. 3d of Travelling Mcmoratidmns,
the only life of Gardenstone hitherto published— at least the
one which, mutatis luuinniiis, has been attached to his name
ia biographical dictionaries.

ing eye. He was generally a successful speaker, and
differed from many orators in being always pleas-
ing. The effect appears to have been produced
more by a deep-toned melodious voice, a majestic
ease and carelessness of manner, which made him
appear unburdened with difficulties, and a flow of
language, which, whether treating of familiar or of
serious subjects, was always copious — than by the
studied art of forensic oratory. His political princi-
ples were always on the side of the jieople, and, so
far as may be gathered from his remarks, he would
have practically wished that every man should enjoy
every freedom and privilege which it might be con-
sonant with the order of society to allow, or which
might with any safety be conceded to those who
had been long accustomed to the restraints and
opinions of an unequal government. From all that
can be gathered from his life and character, it is to
be regretted that Lord Gardenstone, like many other
eminent persons of his profession in Scotland, should
have left behind him no permanent work to save his
memory from oblivion. His Travelling J\Iemora7t-
dums display the powers of a strongly thinking mind,
carelessly strewed about on imworthy objects; the
ideas and information are given with taste and true
feeling; but they are so destitute of organization or
settled purpose, that they can give little pleasure to
a thinking mind searching for digested and useful
information, and are only fit for those desultory
readers who cannot, or, like the author himself, will
not, devote their minds to any particular end. The
.author's criticisms, scattered here and there through
his memorandums, his letters to his friends in the
Edinburgh Magazine, and numberless pencil marks
on the margins of his books, are always just and
searching, and strikingly untrammelled by the pre-
judices of the day, a quality well exhibited in his
praises of Shakspeare, then by no means fashion-
able, and of the satellites of the great bard, Shirley,
Marlow, Massinger, and Beaumont and Fletcher,
who were almost forgotten.

GARDINER, James, a distinguished military
officer and Christian hero, was born at Carriden in
Linlithgowshire, January II, 1688. Of this remark-
able person we shall abridge the pleasing and popu-
lar memoir written by Dr. Doddridge, adding such
additional particulars as have fallen under our ob-
servation in other sources of intelligence.

Colonel Gardiner was the son of Captain Patrick
Gardiner, of the family of Torwoodhead by Mrs.
Mary Hodge, of the family of Gladsmuir. The
captain, who was master of a handsome estate,
served many years in the army of King William
and Queen Anne, and died abroad with the British
forces in Germany, shortly after the battle of Hoch-
stet, through the fatigues he underwent in the duties
of that celebrated campaign. He had a company
in the regiment of foot once commanded by Colonel
Hodge, his brother-in-law, who was slain at the
head of that regiment at the battle of Steinkirk,
1692.

Mrs. Gardiner, the colonel's mother, was a lady
of a very valuable character; but it pleased God to
exercise her with very uncommon trials ; for she not
only lost her husband and her brother in the service
of their country, but also her eldest son, Mr. Robert
Gardiner, on the day which completed the l6th year
of his age, at the siege of Namur in 1695.

She took care to instruct her second son, the sub-
ject of this memoir, at a very early period of his
life in the principles of Christianity. He was also
trained up in human literature at the school of Lin-
lithgow, where he made a very considerable progress

JAMES GARDINER.

83

in the languages. Could liis mother, or a very re-
ligious aunt, of whose good instructions and exhorta-
tions he often spoke with pleasure, have prevailed,
he would not have thought of a military life. But
it suited his taste ; and the ardour of his spirit, ani-
mated by the persuasions of a friend who greatly
urged it, was not to be restrained. Nor will the
reader wonder that, thus excited and supported, it
easily overbore their tender remonstrances, when
he knows that this lively youth fought three duels
before he attained to the stature of a man; in one
of which, when he was but eight years old, he re-
ceived from a boy much older than himself a wound
in his right cheek, the scar of which was always
very apparent. The false sense of honour which
instigated him to it might seem indeed something
excusable in those unripened years, and considering
the profession of his father, brother, and uncle; but
he was often heard to mention this rashness with
that regret which the reflection would naturally
give to so wise and good a man in the maturity of
life.

He served first as a cadet, which must have been
very early; and when at fourteen years old he bore
an ensign's commission in a Scots regiment in the
Dutch service; in which he continued till the year
1702, when he received an ensign's commission from
Queen Anne, which he bore in the battle of Ramil-
lies, being then in the nineteenth year of his age.
In this memorable action, which was fought May
23, 1706, our young officer was of a party in a forlorn
hope, commanded to dispossess the French of the
churchyard at Ramillies, where a considerable num-
ber of them were posted to remarkable advantage.
They succeeded much better than was expected; and
it may well be supposed that Mr. Gardiner, who
had before been in several encounters, was glad of
such an opportunity of signalizing himself. Accord-
ingly, he had planted his colours on an advanced
ground ; and while he was calling to his men he re-
ceived a shot into his mouth ; which, without beat-
ing out any of his teeth, or touching the fore-part
of his tongue, went through his neck, and came out
about an inch and a half on the left side of the
vertebrce. Not feeling at first the pain of the stroke,
he wondered what was become of the ball, and in
the wildness of his surprise began to suspect he had
swallowed it; but dropping soon after, he traced the
passage of it by his finger, when he could discover
it no other way. This accident happened about five
or six in the evening; and the army pursuing its ad-
vantages against the French, without ever regarding
the wounded (which was the Duke of Marlborough's
constant method), the young officer lay all night in
the field, agitated, as may well be supposed, with a
great variety of thoughts. When he reflected upon
the circumstances of his wound, that a ball should,
as he then conceived it, go through his head with-
out killing him, he thought God had preserved him
by miracle ; and therefore assuredly concluded that
he should live, abandoned and desperate as his state
seemed to be. His mind, at the same time, was
taken up with contrivances to secure his gold, and
he had recourse to a Veiy odd expedient, which
proved successful. Expecting to be stripped, he
first took out a handful of that clotted gore of which
he was frequently obliged to clear his mouth, and
putting it into his left hand, he took out his money
(about nineteen pistoles), and shutting his hand and
besmearing the back part of it with blood, he kept
it in this position till the blood dried in such a man-
ner that his hand could not easily fall open, though
any sudden surprise should happen. In the morn-
ing the French, who were masters of that spot, came

to plunder the slain ; and seeing him to appearance
almost expiring, one of them was just applying a
sword to his breast, when, in the critical moment,
a Cordelier, who attended the plunderers, intcqiosed,
taking him by his dress for a Frenchman; and said,
"Do not kill that poor child." Our young soldier
heard all that passed, though he was not able to
speak one word ; and, opening his eyes, made a
sign for something to drink. They gave him a sup
of some spirituous liquor, and afterwards carried him
to a convent in the neighbourhood, where he was
cured by the benevolent lady-abbess in the course
of a few months. He received a great many devout
admonitions from the ladies there, and they would
fain have persuaded him to acknowledge what they
thought so miraculous a deliverance, by embracing
the Catholic Faith, as they were pleased to call it.
But they could not succeed : for though no religion
lay near his heart, yet he had too much of the spirit
of a gentleman lightly to change that form of religion
which he wore, as it were, loose about him.

He served with distinction in all the other glorious
actions fought by the Duke of Marlborough, and
rose through a course of rapid and desers'cd promo-
tion. In 1706 he was made a lieutenant, and very
quickly after he received a cornet's commission in
the Scots Greys, then commanded by the Earl of
Stair. On the 31st of Jannaiy, 17 14-15, he was
made captain-lieutenant in Colonel Ker's regiment
of dragoons. At the taking of Preston in Lanca-
shire, 1 715, he headed a party of twelve, and, ad-
vancing to the barricades of the insurgents, set them
on fire, notwithstanding a furious storm of musketry,
by which eight of his men were killed. A long
peace ensued after this action, and Gardiner, being
favourably known to the Earl of Stair, was made
his aid-de-camp, and accompanied his lordship on
his celebrated embassy to Paris. When Lord Stair
made his splendid entrance into Paris, Captain Gar-
diner was his master of the horse ; and as much of
that admirably well-adjusted ceremony fell upon
him, he gained great credit by the manner in which
he conducted it. Under his lordship's favour a
captain's commission was procured for him, dated
July 22, 1 715, in the regiment of dragoons com-
manded by Colonel Stanhope, then Earl of Har-
rington ; and in 1 7 1 7 he was advanced to the majority
of that regiment; in which office he continued till it
was reduced, November 10, 171S, when he was put
out of commission. But his majesty King George
I. was so thoroughly apprised of his faithful and
important services, that he gave him his sign-manual
entitling him to the first majority that should become
vacant in any regiment of horse or dragoons, which
happened about five years after to be in Croft's regi-
ment of dragoons, in which he received a commission,
dated June 1st, 1724; and on the 20th of July, the
same year, he was made major of an older regiment,
commanded by the Earl of Stair.

The remainder of his military appointments may
be here summed up. On the 24th January, 1 729-3°.
he was advanced to the rank of lieutenant-colonel
in the same regiment, long under the command of
Lord Cadogan, with whose friendship this brave and
vigilant officer was also honoured for many years;
and he continued in this rank and regiment till the
19th of April, 1743, when he received a colonel's
commission over a new regiment of dragoons, at the
head of which he was destined to fall, about two
years and a half after he had received it.

Captain Gardiner lived for several years a veiy
gay and dissolute life, insomuch as even to distinguish
himself at the dissolute court of the Regent Orleans.
His conduct was characterized by every species of

84

JAMES GARDINER.

vice, and his constitution enabled him to pursue his
courses with such iitsouciaiice of manner, that he
acquired the name of "the happy rake." Still the
checks of conscience, and some remaining principles
of good education, would break in upon his most
licentious hours, and I particularly remember, says
Dr. Doddridge, he told me that when some of his
dissolute companions were once congratulating him
on his distinguished felicity, a dog happening at that
time to come into the room, he could not forbear
groaning inwardly, and saying to himself, "Oh that
I were that dog!" But these remonstrances of rea-
son and conscience were in vain ; and, in short, he
carried things so far, in this wretched part of his life,
that I am well assured some sober English gentle-
men, who made no great pretences to religion, how
agreeable soever he might have been to them on
other accounts, rather declined than sought his com-
pany, as fearing they might have been ensnared and
corrupted by it.

The crisis, however, of this course of wickedness
arrived at last. I am now come, says his biographer,
to that astonishing part of his story, the account of
his conversion, which I cannot enter upon without
assuring the reader that I have sometimes been
tempted to suppress many circumstances of it ; not
only as they may seem incredible to some, and en-
thusiastical to others, but I am very sensible they
are liable to great abuses; which was the reason that
he gave me for concealing the most extraordinar}'
from many persons to whom he mentioned some of
the rest.

This memorable event happened towards the
middle of July, 17 19; but I cannot be exact as to
the day. The major had spent the evening (and,
if I mistake not, it was the Sabbath) in some gay
company, and had an unhappy assignation Avith a
married woman, of what rank or quality I did not
particularly inquire, whom he was to attend exactly
at twelve. The company broke up about eleven;
and not judging it convenient to anticipate the time
appointed, he went into his chamber to kill the
tedious hour, perhaps with some amusing book, or
some other way. But it very accidentally happened
that he took up a religious book which his good
mother or aunt had, without his knowledge, slipped
into his portmanteau. It was called, if I remember
the title exactly, T/u Christian Sohiier, or Heaven
taken by Storm ; and was written by Mr. Thomas
Watson. Guessing by the title of it that he should
find some phrases of his own profession spiritualized,
in a manner which he thought might afibrd him some
diversion, he resolved to dip into it ; but he took no
serious notice of anything he read in it : and yet,
while this book was in his hand, an impression was
made upon his mind (perhaps God only knows
how) which drew after it a train of the most impor-
tant and happy consequences. There is indeed a
possibility, that while he was sitting in this solitude,
and reading in this careless and profane manner, he
might suddenly fall asleep, and only dream of what
he apprehended he saw. But nothing can be more
certain than that, when he gave me this relation
['739]i he judged himself to have been as broad
awake during the whole time as he ever was in any
part of his life ; and he mentioned it to me several
times afterwards as what undoubtedly passed, not
only in his imagination, but before his eyes.

lie thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall
on the book while he was reading, which he at first
imagined might happen by some accident in the
candle. But lifting up his eyes he apprehended,
to his extreme amazement, that there was before
him, as it were suspended in the air, a visible re-

presentation of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the cross,
surrounded on all sides with a glory ; and was im-
pressed as if a voice, or something equivalent to a
voice, had come to him, to this effect (for he was
not confident as to the very words), "Oh sinner!
did I suffer this for thee, and are these the returns?"
But whether this were an audible voice, or only a
strong impression on his mind equally striking, he
did not seem very confident, though, to the best of
my remembrance, he rather judged it to be the
former. Struck with so amazing a phenomenon as
this, there remained hardly any life in him, so that
he sank down in the arm-chair in which he sat, and
continued, he knew not exactly how long, insensible;
which was one circumstance that made me several
times take the liberty to suggest that he might pos-
sibly be all this while asleep; but however that were,
he quickly after opened his eyes, and saw nothing
more than usual.

It may easily be supposed he was in no condition
to make any obser\'ation upon the time in which he
had remained in an insensible state. Xor did he,
throughout all the remainder of the night, once
recollect that criminal and detestable assignation
which had before engrossed all his thoughts. He
rose in a tumult of passions not to be conceived, and
walked to and fro in his chamber, till he was ready
to drop down in unutterable astonishment and agony
of heart ; appearing to himself the vilest monster in
the creation of God, who had all his lifetime been
crucifying Christ afresh by his sins, and now saw,
as he assuredly believed, by a miraculous vision, the
horror of what he had done. \Vith this was con-
nected such a view, both of the majesty and good-
ness of God, as caused him to loathe and abhor him-
self, and to repent as in dust and asJies. He imme-
diately gave judgment against himself, that he was
most justly worthy of eternal damnation : he was
astonished that he had not been immediately struck
dead in the midst of his wickedness : and (which I
think deserves particular remark) though he assuredly
believed that he should ere long be in hell, and set-
tled it as a point with himself for several months,
that the wisdom and justice of God did almost ne-
cessarily require that such an enormous sinner should
be made an example of everlasting vengeance, and
a spectacle as such both to angels and men, so that
he hardly durst presume to pray for pardon ; yet
what he then suffered was not so much from the
fear of hell, though he concluded it would soon be
his portion, as from a sense of that horrible ingrati-
tude he had shown to the God of his life, and to
that blessed Redeemer who had been in so affecting
a manner set forth as crucified before hint.

The mind of Major Gardiner continued from this
remarkable time till toward the end of October (that
is, rather more than three months, but especially the
two first of them) in as extraordinar)' a situation as
one can well imagine. He knew nothing of the joys
arising from a sense of pardon; but, on the contrar)',
for the greater part of that time, and with very short
inter\-al3 of hope towards the end of it, took it for
granted that he must in all probability quickly
perish. Nevertheless, he had such a sense of the
evil of sin, and of the goodness of the Divine Being,
and of the admirable tendency of the Christian
revelation, that he resolved to spend the remainder
of his life, while God continued him out of hell, in
as rational and as useful a manner as he could; and
to continue casting himself at the foot of divine
mercy, every day, and often in a day, if peradventure
there might be hope of pardon, of which all that he
could say was, that he did not absolutely despair.
He had at that time such a sense of the degeneracy

JAMES GARDINER.

SS

of his own heart tliat he hardly durst form any
determinate resokition against sin, or pretend to
engage himself by any vow in the presence of God;
l)ut he was continually crying to him that he would
deliver him from the bondage of corruption. lie
perceived in himself a most surprising alteration with
regard to the dispositions of his heart; so that, though
he felt little of the delight of religious duties, he
extremely desired opportunities of being engaged in
them; and those licentious pleasures which had before
been his heaven, were now absolutely his aversion.
And indeed, when I consider how habitual all those
criminal indulgences were grown to him, and that
he was now in the prime of life, and all this while
in high health too, I cannot but be astonished to
reflect upon it, that he should be so wonderfully
sanctilled in body, as well as in soul and spirit, as
that, for all the future years of his life, he, from that
hour, should find so constant a disinclination to, and
abhorrence of, those criminal sensualities, to which
he fancied he was before so invincibly impelled by
his very constitution, that he was used strangely to
tliink and to say, that Omnipotence itself could not
reform him, without destroying that body and giving
him another.

Nor was he only delivered from that bondage of
corruption which had been habitual to him for many
years, but felt in his breast so contrary a disposition,
that he was grieved to see human nature, in those to
whom he was most entirely a stranger, prostituted
to such low and contemptible pursuits. He, there-
fore, exerted his natural courage in a very new kind
of combat, and became an open advocate for religion,
in all its principles, so far as he was acquainted with
them, and all its precepts, relating to sobriety, right-
eousness, and godliness. Yet he was very desirous
and cautious that he might not run into an extreme,
and made it one of his first petitions to God, the
very day after these amazing impressions had been
wrought in his mind, that he might not be suffered
to behave with such an affected strictness and pre-
ciseness, as would lead others about him into mis-
taken notions of religion, and expose it to reproach
or suspicion, as if it were an unlovely or uncomfort-
able thing. For this reason he endeavoured to ap-
pear as cheerful in conversation as he conscientiously
could; though, in spite of all his precautions, some
traces of that deep inward sense which he had of his
guilt and misery would at times appear. He made
no secret of it, however, that his views were entirely
changed, though he concealed the particular circum-
stances attending that change. He told his most
intimate companions freely, that he had reflected on
the course of life in which he had so long joined them,
and found it to be folly and madness, unworthy a
rational creature, and much more unworthy persons
calling themselves Christians. And he set up his
standard, upon all occasions, against principles of
infidelity and practices of vice, as determinately and
as boldly as ever he displayed or planted his colours,
when he bore them with so much honour in the
field.

Such is the account given by an exceedingly honest,
able, and pious writer of the remarkable conversion
of Colonel Gardiner; an account too minute and
curious to be passed over by a modern biographer,
whatever credence may be given to the circumstances
of which it is composed. While the minds of our
readers will probably find an easy explanation of
the "phenomenon" in the theories which some late
writers have started respecting such impressions of
the senses, we shall present a remarkably interesting
notice of the pious soldier which was written twenty
years before his death, and a still longer period

antecedent to Doddridge's publication, and must
therefore be considered as entitled to particular at-
tention and credit. It is extracted from a journal of
the historian Wodrow [MS. Advocates' Library^],
where it appears under date May, 1725, as having
just been taken down from the mouths of various in-
formants :

"From him and others I have a very pleasant ac-
count of Major (Jardiner, formerly master of horse
to the Earl of Stair, and now lately, on the death of
Crai<r, made Major of Stair's gray horse.

He seems to be one of the most remarkable instances
of free grace that has been in our times. He is one
of the bravest and gallantest men in Britain, and
imderstands military affairs exactly well. He was a
lieutenant or a captain many years ago in Glasgow,
where he was extremely vicious. He had a criminal

correspondence with ,* as my informer tells

us he owns with sorrow. He acknowledges with
the deepest concern there was scarce an evil but
what he was addicted to it, and he observes that he
on many accounts has reason to reckon himself the
chief of sinners, much more than Paul; for besides
the multitude of the most horrid sins, he did them
not ignorantly and through unbelief, but over the
belly of light and knowledge. When he was with
my Lord Stair, ambassador at Paris, he was riding
on one of his most unruly and fiery horses, which
could not bear the spur, and in the streets met the
hostie and crowd with it. Whether of design or
accidentally I cannot say, but his horse and he soon
made a clean street, and the hostie came to the
ground. The ambassador's house was attacked for
the abuse of the hostie, and he was obliged to write
over to court about it. The change wrought on the
major a few years ago was gradual and imperceptible.
I think profane swearing was the first thing he re-
frained from, and then other vices, and still as he
refrained from them, he bore testimony against them
in others, in the army, at court, and everywhere, and
reproved them in great and small with the utmost
boldness. At length he is thoroughly reformed, and
walks most closely in ordinances; and while w^th his
troops in Galloway, he haunts mostly at the houses
of the ministers; and has made a sensible reformation
among the troops he commands, and nothing like
vice is to be seen among them. His walk and
conversation is most tender and Christian ; he rises
by four in summer and winter, and nobody has
access to him till eight, and some later, and these
hours he spends in secret religion. He is ^ close and
exemplary keeper of ordinances, and a constant
terror to vice wherever he is, and a serious keeper of
the Sabbath. W'e have at this time several excel-
lent officers in the army, and who have been in it:
Colonel Blackader, Colonel Erskine, Lieutenant-
colonel Cunningham, and this gentleman. May the
Lord increase them!"

"This resolute and exemplary Christian now
entered upon that methodical manner of living which
he pursued through so many succeeding years of life.
A life anything like his could not be entered upon in
the midst of such company as he had been accus-
tomed to keep without great opposition, especially
as he did not entirely withdraw himself from all the
circles of cheerful conversation; but, on the contrary,
gave several hours every day to it, lest religion should
be reproached as having made him morose. He,
however, early began a practice which, to the last
day of his life he retained, of reproving vice and pro-
faneness, and was never afraid to debate the matter

1 The name is expressed in a secret hand used by the ve-
nerable historian.

86

JAMES GARDINER.

with any, under the consciousness of such superiority
in the goodness of his cause.

"A remarkable instance of this happened about
the middle of the year 1720, though I cannot be very
exact as to the date of the story. It was, however,
on his first return to make any considerable abode
in England, after this remarkable change. He had
heard on the other side of the water that it was cur-
rently reported among his companions at home that
he was stark mad — a report at which no reader who
knows the wisdom of the world in these matters,
will be much surprised any more than himself. He
concluded, therefore, that he should have many battles
to fight, and was willing to despatch the business as
fast as he could. And therefore, being to spend a
few days at the count r}'-house of a person of distin-
guished rank with whom he had been very intimate
(whose name I do not remember that he told me, nor
did I think it proper to inquire after it), he begged
the favour of him that he would contrive matters so
that a day or two after he came down, several of
their former gay companions might meet at his lord-
ship's table, that he might have an opportunity of
making his apology to them, and acquainting them
with the nature and reasons of his change. It was
accordingly agreed to; and a pretty large company
met on the day appointed, with previous notice that
Major Gardiner would be there. A good deal of
raillery passed at dinner, to which the major made
very little answer. But when the cloth was taken
away, and the servants retired, he begged their
patience for a few minutes, and then plainly and
seriously told them what notions he entertained of
virtue and religion, and on what considerations he
had absolutely determined that, by the grace of God,
he would make it the care and business of life, what-
ever he might lose by it, and whatever censure and
contempt he might incur. He well knew how im-
proper it was in such company to relate the extra-
ordinary manner he was awakened, which they would
probably have interpreted as a demonstration of
lunacy, against all the gravity and solidity of his dis-
course; but he contented himself with such a rational
defence of a righteous, sober, and godly life as he
knew none of them could with any shadow of reason
contest. He then challenged them to propose any-
thing they could urge to prove that a life of irreligion
and debauchery was preferable to the fear, love, and
worship of the eternal God, and a conduct agreeable
to the precepts of his gospel. And he failed not to
bear his testimony, from his own experience, that,
after having run the widest round of sensual pleasures,
with all the advantages the best constitution and
spirits could give him, he had never tasted anything
that deserved to be called happiness till he had made
religion his refuge and his delight. He testified
calmly and boldly the habitual serenity and peace
that he now felt in his own breast, and the compo-
sure and pleasure with which he looked forward to
objects which the gayest sinner must acknowledge to
be equally unavoidable and dreadful. I know not
what might be attempted by some of the company
in answer to this; but I well remember he told me
the master of the table, a person of a very frank and
candid disposition, cut short the debate, and said,
'Come, let us call another cause: we thought this
man mad, and he is in good earnest proving that we
are so.' On the whole, this well-judged circumstance
saved him a great deal of future trouble. When his
former acquaintance obser\-ed that he was still con-
versable and innocently cheerful, and that he was
immovable in his resolutions, they desisted from
farther importunity. And he has assured me that,
instead of losing any one valuable friend by this

change in his character, he found himself much more
esteemed and regarded by many who could not per-
suade themselves to imitate his example.

"I meet not with any other remarkable event relat-
ing to Major Gardiner, which can properly be intro-
duced here, till the year 1726, when, on the nth of
July, he was married to the Right Honourable Lady
Frances Erskine, daughter to the fourth Earl of
Buchan, by whom he had thirteen children, five only
of which sur\-ived their father — two sons and three
daughters. From this period till the commencement
of the French war he lived either at his villa of Bank-
ton in East Lothian, or moved about through the
countiy with his regiment. Towards the latter end
of 1742 he embarked for Flanders, and spent some
considerable time with the regiment at Ghent, where
he much regretted the want of those religious ordin-
ances and opportunities which had made his other
abodes delightful. As he had the promise of a regi-
ment before he quitted England, his friends were
continually expecting an occasion of congratulating
him on ha\'ing received the command of one. But
still they were disappointed; and on some of them
the disappointment seemed to sit heavy. As for the
colonel himself, he seemed quite easy about it, and
appeared much greater in that easy situation of mind
than the highest military honours and preferments
could have made him. His majesty was at length
pleased to give him a regiment of dragoons, which
was then quartered just in the neighbourhood of his
own house in Scotland. It appeared to him that
by this remarkable event Providence called him
home. Accordingly, though he had other prefer-
ments offered him in the army, he chose to return,
and, I believe, the more willingly, as he did not ex-
pect there would have been an action."

The latter years of Colonel Gardiner's life were
rendered gloomy by bad health, and for some time
before his death he appeared to move constantly
imder a serious anticipation of that event. AVhen
the insurrection of 1745 commenced in the High-
lands, his raw regiment of dragoons constituted an
important part of the small military force with
which Sir John Cope was required to meet the
coming storm. Cope marched in August into the
Highlands, leaving Gardiner's and Hamilton's dra-
goon regiments in the low country; and when the in-
surgents, by a strange manoeuvre, eluded the govern-
ment general, and descended upon the Lowlands,
these inexperienced troops were all that remained
to oppose their course. After an ineffectual attempt
to protect Edinburgh, the two regiments fled in a
panic to Dunbar, where they were rejoined by the
foot under the command of Sir John Cope, and the
whole army then marched towards the capital in
order to meet and give battle to the clans. The
worthy colonel was much depressed by the conduct
of his men, and anticipated that they would not
behave better in the action about to take place : he
said, however, that though he could not influence
the conduct of others, he had one life to sacrifice for
his country's safety, and he would not spare it.

"The two hostile bodies came into view of each
other on the 20th of September in the neighbourhood
of his own house near Prestonpans. The colonel
drew up his regiment in the afternoon, and rode
through all their ranks, addressing them at once in
the most respectful and animating manner, both as
soldiers and as Christians, to engage them to exert
themselves courageously in the service of their coun-
try, and to neglect nothing that might have a ten-
dency to prepare them for whatever event might
happen. They seemed much affected with the ad-
dress, and expressed a very arder.t desire of attack-

JAMES GARDINER GEORGE GARDNER.

S7

ing the enemy immediately : a desire in which he
and another very gallant ofTicer of distinguished rank,
dignity, and character, both for bravery and conduct,
would gladly have gratified them, if it had been in
the power of either. He earnestly pressed it on the
commanding officer, as the soldiers were then in
better spirits than it could be supposed they would
be after having passed the night under arms. He
also apprehended, that by marching to meet them,
some advantage might have been secured with regard
to the ground ; with which, it is natural to imagine,
he must have been perfectly acquainted. lie was
overruled in this advice, as also in the disposition
of the cannon, which he would have jilanted in the
centre of our small army, rather than just before his
regiment, which was in the right wing. And when
he found that he could not carry either of these
points, nor some others, which, out of regard to the
common safety, he insisted upon with unusual ear-
nestness, he dropped some intimations of the con-
sequences he apprehended, and which did in fact
follow; and submitting to providence, spent the re-
mainder of the day in making as good a disposition
as circumstances would allow.

He continued all night under arms, wrapped up
in his cloak, and generally sheltered under a rick
of barley which happened to be in the field. About
three in the morning he called his domestic servants
to him, of which there were four in waiting. He
dismissed three of them, with most affectionate Chris-
tian advice, and such solemn charges relating to the
performance of their duty and the care of their souls,
as plainly seemed to intimate that he apprehended
it at least very probable he was taking his last fare-
well of them. There is great reason to believe that
he spent the little remainder of the time, which could
not be much above an hour, in those devout exercises
of soul which had so long been habitual to him,
and to which so many circumstances did then concur
to call him. The army was alarmed by break of
day by the noise of the approach of the enemy, and
the attack was made before sunrise ; yet it was light
enough to discern what passed. As soon as the
enemy came within gun-shot, they made a furious
fire ; and it is said that the dragoons which consti-
tuted the left wing immediately fled. The colonel,
at the beginning of the onset, which in the whole
lasted but a few minutes, received a wound by a
bullet in his left breast, which made him give a
sudden spring in his saddle; upon which his servant,
who had led the horse, would have persuaded him
to retreat : but he said, it was only a wound in the
flesh, and fought on, though he presently after re-
ceived a shot in his right thigh. In the meantime
it was discerned that some of the insurgents fell by
him.

Events of this kind pass in less time than the de-
scription of them can be written, or than it can be
read. The colonel was for a few moments supported
by his men, and particularly by Lieutenant-colonel
Whitney, who was shot through the arm here, and
a few months after fell nobly in the battle of Falkirk;
and by Lieutenant West, a man of distinguished
bravery; as also by about fifteen dragoons, who stood
by him to the last. But after a faint fire, the regi-
ment in general was seized with a panic: and though
their colonel and some other gallant officers did
what they could to rally them once or twice, they
at last took a precipitate flight. And just in the
moment when Colonel Gardiner seemed to be mak-
ing a pause, to deliberate what duty required him
to do in such a circumstance, he saw a party of the
foot who were then bravely fighting near him, and
whom he was ordered to support, had no officer to

head them; upon which he said eagerly, "Those
brave fellows will be cut to pieces for want of a com-
mander;" or words to that effect: which while he
was speaking, he rode up to them, and cried out
aloud, "Fire on, my lads, and fear nothing." But
just as they were out of his mouth a Highlander
advanced towards him with a scythe fastened on a
long pole, with which he gave him such a deep
wound on his right arm that his sword dropped out
of his hand ; and at the same time several others
coming about him while he was thus dreadfully en-
tangled with that cruel weapon, he was dragged off
his horse. The moment he fell another Higlilander
gave him a stroke, either with a broadsword or a
Lochaber-axe, on the hinder ])art of his head, which
was the mortal blow. All that his faithful attendant
saw farther at this time was, that as his hat was fall-
ing off, he took it in his left hand, and waved it as
a signal to him to retreat ; and added, what were
the last words he ever heard him to speak, "Take
care of yourself:" upon which the ser\'ant retired,
and fled to a mill at the distance of about two miles
from the spot of ground on which the colonel fell ;
where he changed his dress, and disguised like a
miller's servant, returned as soon as possible; yet
not till nearly two hours after the engagement. The
hurry of the action was then over, and he found his
much-honoured master not only plundered of his
watch and other things of value, but also strii)ped
of his upper garments and boots; yet still breathing,
though not capable of speech. In this condition
he conveyed him to the church of Tranent, from
whence he was immediately taken into the minister's
house and laid in bed; where he continued breathing
and frequently groaning, till about eleven in the
forenoon, when he took his final leave of pain and
sorrow. Such was the close of a life which had
been so zealously devoted to God, and filled up with
so many honourable services.

His remains were interred the Tuesday following,
September 24, at the parish church at Tranent — -
where he had usually attended divine service — with
great solemnity. His obsequies were honoured with
the presence of some persons of distinction, who
were not afraid of paying that piece of respect to his
memory, though the country was then in the hands
of the enemy. But indeed there M'as no great hazard
in this; for his character was so well known, that
even they themselves spoke honourably of him, and
seemed to join with his friends in lamenting the fall
of so brave and so worthy a man.

In personal appearance Colonel Gardiner was
tall, well proportioned, and strongly built, his eyes
of a dark gray, and not very large ; his forehead
pretty high; his nose of a length and height no way
remarkable, but very well suited to his other features;
his cheeks not very prominent, his mouth moderately
large, and his chin rather a little inclining to be
peaked. He had a strong voice, and lively accent;
with an air very intrepid, yet attempered with much
gentleness; and there was something in his manner
of address most perfectly easy and obliging, which
was in a great measure the result of the great candour
and benevolence of his natural temper ; and which,
no doubt, was much improved by the deep humility
which divine grace had wrought into his heart, as
well as his having been accustomed from his early
youth to the company of persons of distinguished
rank and polite behaviour.

GARDNER, Georgf., an eminent botanist, was
born in iSio, at Ardentinny, where his father, a
native of Aberdeen, acted as gardener to the Earl of
Dunmore. He was the second son. In 1S16 his

88

GEORGE GARDNER.

father became gardener to tlie Earl of Ei,'lintan at
Ardrossan, and there the sulject of our sketch at-
tended the parish school till 1S22, when his parents
removed to Glasgow. Here he was placed at the
grammar-school, and, in the course of his studies, ac-
quired a good knowledge of tlie Latin language.
He had early iniljihed, ])robal>ly from liis father's
occupation, a taste for botany; but it was j^erhaps as
much by accident as design that he subsequently de-
voted his life to the science.

He commenced the study of medicine in tlie An-
dersonian university of Glasgow, and continued,
during the winter and summer sessions of 1829-1832,
to pursue his studies with a degree of zeal and per-
severing industry which won for him high distinction
in college honours. He also, in 1829-1831, attended
the classes of anatomy, surgery, chemistry, materia
medica, &c., in the university, where he likewise
•listinguislied himself in the prize-list. In 1S30 he
joined llie Glasgow Medical Society and during that
year and 1 83 1, 1832, his attendance at the Royal
Infirmary was unremitting. Still, amidst these
severer studies, he foinid leisure to indulge liis early
bias for botany. His first rudiments of the science
were obtained from Dr. Rattray, and he continued
to improve himself by botanizing rambles in the
country, and frequent visits to the Botanical Garden,
with the curator of which, Mr. Stewart Murray, he
formed a friendship which continued to the day of
his death. Through Mr. Murray, and from his
having discovered in one of his rambles the rare
A'lipliar niiiiiina or pinnila, growing in Mugdock
Loch, he became known to Sir William J. Hooker,
the eminent professor of botany in the university
of Glasgow. He now attended Sir William's botani-
cal lectures and that truly amiable gentleman soon
formed a high estimate of his character and talents.
As a student he made several botanical excursions
to the Highlands with the professor and his class;
and to the intimacy thus produced may be attributed
the important change in his future career.

From the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons of
Glasgow, Gardner obtained his diploma as surgeon,
with high marks of distinction. Meanwhile he had
made himself acquainted with the flowering plants
of Scotland, and stutlied cryptogamic botany so suc-
cessfully that, in 1836, he brought out a work en-
title<l Aliisci Britannici, or Pocket Herbarium of
Hritish A/osses, arranged and named according to
Hooker's British Flora. This work was flatteringly
received, and lias been of great value to muscologists.
The specimens are beautifully dried, and neatly at-
tached; whilst its general accuracy can be depended
upon, as he had not only free access to the splendid
liijrary of Sir William Hooker, but the benefit of his
personal assistance.

A copy of the Aliisci Britannici having reached
the late Duke of Bedford — well known for the in-
terest which he took in botanical science — his grace
Ijccame a liberal ]5atron, and warmly encouraged his
ambition to proceed upon a foreign exploratory mis-
sion. After the death of the lamented Drummond,
whose laljours in Texas and parts of Central America
had greatly enriched the Royal Botanic Garden, the
directors of that institution were solicitous still further
to promote its scientific character; and arrangements
were made for Gardner's proceeding to North Brazil,
to explore the botany of that country. As in the case
of Drummond, Sir William Hooker undertook to
procure a number of subscribers for the dried speci-
mens, and to be at the trouble of subdividing and
forwarding them to the respective parties; the curator,
at the same time, agreeing to take a similar charge
of the seeds and living plants sent home. Many of

tlie public botanical gardens, as well as a number of
amateur noblemen and gentlemen, were subscribers,
and by this means for a moderate sum had their
collections largely and richly increased. Amongst
others the Duke of Bedford was a munificent contri-
butor; and all ]ireliminaries having been arranged for
CJardner's dejiarture, his grace not only interested
his son Lord Edward Russell, R.N., commanding
on the American station, in his behalf, but secured
for him a free passage out in one of H.M. ships.
This, however, he jiolitely declined, preferring the
greater privacy of a merchant 'A\\\>, that he might have
leisure to study, and especially to imjirove himself in
his knowledge of the Spanish and Portuguese lan-
guages. So far from being offended, the duke mag-
nanimously sent him a draft for ;^50 in lieu of the
free passage.

In the summer of 1S36 Gardner sailed from Liver-
pool, and, after a favourable passage, arrived at Rio
de Janeiro, with the appearance of which and the
surrounding scenery he was perfectly captivated, and
wrote home in glowing terms, descriptive of his first
impressions. Amidst scenes so tempting to a natu-
ralist Gardner did not long remain inactive. He
made frequent excursions in the vicinity of Rio, and
particularly to the Organ Mountains, and his first
collection of plants, seeds, and specimens for the
herbarium was drawn chiefly from this quarter.
These came home in excellent condition and proved
highly interesting. They contained many new or-
chids, liliaere, palms, &c. He subsequently pene-
trated into the interior, and spent a considerable
time in exploring the diamond regions. Five years
— from 1836 till 1 841 — were passed in Brazil. Be-
fore returning home, which he did in the latter year,
he paid a parting visit to the Organ Mountains, his
object in doing so being, as he himself says in one
of his letters, to "make a collection of some of the
fine shrubs and herbaceous plants which are to be
found principally on the higher levels" of that
range, to take home with him in the living state.
After penetrating into the interior, he found the diffi-
culty of sending home living plants almost insur-
mountable; yet he continued to preserve large col-
lections for the herbarium, which with seeds and
such living plants as could endure the inland journey
prior to their long voyage, were sent home as oppor-
tunity offered. Some of the melastomaceoe, as
Fleroma benthamianum and mitltijJora may be men-
tioned among the number as now ornamenting every
good collection of hot-house plants; also, many
beautiful franciscas, &c.

Although botany was, of course, his chief pursuit,
Gardner had always an eye to what might be of in-
terest in other departments of natural history — hence
his collections were swelled with minerals, recent
and fossil shells, preserved skins of birds, fishes, &c.
He at the same time did not neglect his medical ac-
quirements. Throughout his extended journeyings,
he carried his surgical instruments along with him,
and performed several important operations with en-
tire success, which not only improved his finances,
but gained him many friends — thus securing a degree
of respect, comfort, and in some cases safety, among
the native tribes, which only a medical man might
expect to enjoy. Amidst his multifarious labours
he kept up his home correspondence with surprising
regularity, writing often to Sir William Hooker and
Mr. Murray, and occasionally communicating with
the more distinguished foreign botanists of the day.
Several of his papers and letters were inserted by
Sir William in the yournal of Botany. In one of
these, dated Province of Minas, September 3, 1840,
he refers to the death of his "generous patron, the

GEORGE GARDNER

Duke of Bedford," in terms which bespeak the deep
gratitude by which he was actuated. Nor did he
overlook the claims of his own relations to a share
in his epistolary attention; and even his juvenile
friends, such as Dr. Joseph Hooker, and Mr.
IMurray's family, were not forgotten.

In 1842, not long after his return, Gardner was
elected professor of botany in the Andersonian Uni-
versity, and had prepared a course of lectures; but
he did not retain that appointment, seeing, at the
tmie, little prospect of the class being well attended.
Meanwhile he occupied himself in arranging the
materials of his Brazilian yottrnal with a view to
publication. The work, however, was still incom-
plete, when, in 1843, '^^ '^^'^s appointed to Ceylon,
as island botanist and superintendent of the botanic
garden there, by the colonial government. This
situation he owed to the influence of his never-failing
friend Sir William Hooker, who had himself been,
some time previously, promoted to the office of
director-general qf the Royal Gardens at Kew.

On arriving in Ceylon his first consideration was
bestowed on the botanic garden, which he repaired,
re-arranged, and greatly improved. He then began
to make botanical excursions over the island, thus
enriching the garden with the fruits of his journeys.
He also transmitted to the botanic gardens in Britain,
especially Kew, such plants and seeds as were likely
to prove acceptable, obtaining in return the produc-
tions of other climes — South America, the West
Indies, &c., for the Ceylon garden. During his
rambles he discovered the upas tree, which was not
previously known to exist in Ceylon. A writer in
one of the Ceylon papers, whose article was copied
into Chambers's Joicrnal, says: — "When returning
to Kornegalle we were most fortunate in the plea-
sure of having for a companion Dr. Gardner, the
eminent botanist, in whose company the most insig-
nificant plant or flower has an interest, in relation
to which he has always something instructive to tell.
On our journey back to Kandy, he discovered the
upas tree, growing within a few miles of Kornegalle.
It was not known before that it grows in Ceylon. "

Gardner's position and eminence as a botanist
led him into an extensive correspondence, notwith-
standing which, and his multifarious official duties,
he so regulated his labours as to be able, not long
after his arrival in Ceylon, to finish the arrangement
of his Brazilian papers, which were published in
London, by Reeves Brothers, in 1846. The work,
562 pp. 8vo, is entitled Travels in the Interior of
Brazil, principally through the Northern Provinces
and the Gold Districts, during the Years 1836-41."
It was very favourably received, being sufficiently
popular in its style to interest the general reader,
whilst it did not disappoint the expectations of the
man of science.

Lord Torrington, governor of Ceylon, proved a
kind friend and patron to Gardner, thereby enabling
him greatly to extend his botanical labours ; so also
did Sir James Emmerson Tennent, the secretary.
Both of these honoured names are often mentioned
with grateful feelings in his letters. It was at Xeuria
Elba Rest-house, the residence of Lord Torrington,
that his demise took place. He arrived there on the
loth of March, 1849, about 3 o'clock p.m., and,
after luncheon with Lord and Lady Torrington,
retired to rest in his room, his lordship and Dr.
Fleming riding out meanwhile. Next day the party
was to have gone on an excursion to the Horton
Plains. Lord Torrington and the doctor had not
proceeded far when they were recalled by express,
Gardner having been attacked by a severe fit of
apoplexy. Everything was done which medical

WILLIAM GED.

t;9

science could suggest, but all to no purpose; he
died at 1 1 o'clock at night, surrounded by a circle
of deeply grieved friends. He was in the prime
of life, and, as remarked at luncheon by Lady Tor-
rington, never seemed in better health and s]iirits.
He had been remarkable throughout life for abstin-
ence. Even during three years of constant travel-
ling, irregularity, and fatigue, while exploring the
interior of Brazil, he drank nothing stronger than
tea, of which he had secured a good supply before
leaving Pernambuco.

Lord Torrington, in communicating the affiicling
intelligence to Sir William Hooker, thus warmly
eulogizes the character of the deceased: "I can
honestly say that the colony, and the public in gene-
ral, have experienced a severe loss in this talented
and excellent man — one who was loved by all ;
never did I see so amiable a person, one who pos-
sessed more benevolence, or was more ready to im-
part information to those who asked for it."

Thus the science of botany \\as deprived of an
enthusiastic student, and able expositor, in the prime
of life and the vigour of intellect. It is believed by
those who best knew him, that his end was hastened
by excessive mental labour. Amongst his numerous
MSS. is one in a finished state, which he was about
to send to press, designed as an elementaiy work on
the botany of India; and, as stated by Sir W. Hooker,
in noticing his death in the ycurnal of Botany, he
had made extensive collections towards a complete
Flora Zeylanica. As a matter of general interest,
it is not unworthy of notice that Gardner had taken
out a patent for preparing coffee leaf, so as to afford
a beverage, by infusion, "forming an agreeable,
refreshing, and nutritive article of diet."

According to Gardner's will, his books and her-
barium were to be offered to the Ceylon government,
to form part of the establishment at Peradinia, at
a certain valuation; and, if not accepted, to be for-
warded to his executor in Britain, Sir W. Hooker.
The government having declined the offer, they were
accordingly placed at the disposal of Sir William,
by whose disinterested efforts the herbarium realized
prices much beyond what could have been expected.

GED, William, the inventor of stereotype print-
ing, was a goldsmith in Edinburgh, in the early part
of the eighteenth century. He is said to have first
attempted stereotyping in the year 1725. The in-
vention, as may be generally known, consists in cast-
ing, by means of a stucco mould, a representation
of the superficies of arranged types, which, being
fitted to a block, may be used under the press exactly
as types are used, and, being retained, may serve at
any time to throw off an additional impression. As
the metal required for this process is very little com-
pared to that of types, stereotpying is accomplished
at an expense, which, though it might come hard
upon ordinary jobs, is inconsiderable in others,
where it may be the means of saving a new com-
position of types for subsequent impressions. In
the case of a book in general use, such as the Bible,
and also in cases where the pubHcation takes place
in numbers, and one number is in danger of being
sold to a greater extent than another, the process
suggested by Ged is of vast utility.^ In July, 1729,

1 A use which certainly the inventor never contemplated has
been found for this valuable handmaid to the printing art, in
facilitating the rapid production of works of verj' large circula-
tion. Some weekly periodicals of the present (1854; day, are
only able to produce the enormous numbers required of them
by casting several sets of stereotype plates, and employing
various printing machines on the same sheet at the same time.
By this means periodicals having acirculation even of half a mil-
lion weekly are enabled to be issued with the utmost regularity.

QO

ALEXANDER GEDDES.

Mr. Ged entered into a partnership with William
Fenner, a London stationer, and, for the purpose
of carrying his invention into practice, allowed Fen-
ner half the profits, in consideration of his advancing
the necessary funds. After\vards Mr. John James,
an architect, was taken into the scheme for the same
purpose, as was likewise Mr. Thomas James, a
letter-founder, and Mr. James Ged, tlie inventor's
son. In 1730 the association applied to the univer-
sity of Cambridge for printing Bibles and Common-
prayer Books, by stereotype, and, in consequence,
the lease was sealed to them, April 23, 1731. In
their attempt they sank a large sum of money, and
finished only two prayer-books, so that it was forced
to be relinquished, and the lease was given up in
1738. Ged imputed his disappointment to the
villany of the pressmen, and the ill treatment of his
partners, particularly Fenner, whom John James
and he were advised to prosecute, but declined. In
1733 this ingenious man returned with blighted
prospects to Edinburgh. Afterwards, however, by
the advice of his friends, he gave to the world a
specimen of his invention, in an edition of Salhist,
finished, it is said, in 1736, but not published till
1744, as the following imprint on the title-page testi-
fies : — Edinbiirgi, Guliebniis Ged, Aurifaber, Edin-
ensis, non typis mobilibiis, ut vulgo fieri solet, sed tab-
ellis sen laminis fusis, excudebat, MDCCXLIV. James
Ged, his son and former partner, engaged in the
insurrection of 1745 as a captain in the Duke of
Perth's regiment, and being taken at Carlisle was
condemned, but, on his father's account, by Dr.
Smith's interest with the Duke of Newcastle, was
released in 1745. He afterwards went to Jamaica,
where he settled, and where his brother William was
already established as a printer. William Ged, the
inventor of an art which has been of incalculable
advantage to mankind, experienced what has been
the fate of too many ingenious and useful men; he
died, October 19, 1749, in very indifferent circum-
stances, after his utensils had been shipped at Leith
for London, where he intended to renew partnership
with his son James. The Misses Ged, his daughters,
lived many years after in Edinburgh, where they
kept a school for young ladies, and were much
patronized by the Jacobite gentry.^ Another mem-
ber of the family, by name Dougal, was a captain in
the town-guard, or military police, of Edinburgh, in
the days of Fergusson the poet.

GEDDES, Alexander, celebrated as a poet, a
critic, and miscellaneous writer, was born at Arra-
dowl, in the parish of Ruthven, Banffshire, in the
year 1737. Ilis father, Ale.xander Geddes, rented a
small farm on the Arradowl estate, and, in common
with that class of people in Scotland at that time,
was in very poor circumstances. His mother was of
the Mitchells of Dellachy, in the neighbouring parish
of Bellay, and both were of the Roman Catholic
persuasion. The parents being anxious to procure
for their son the benefits of learning, he was, with a
view to the service of the church, at a very tender
age, put to learn his letters under a woman who kept
a school in the village, of the name of Sellar. Here
he learned to read the English Bible, which seems
to have been the only book his parents possessed,
and which, contrary to the general practice of people
of their communion, they encouraged him "to read

1 Among the curiosities preserved in Fingask Castle, Perth-
shire, the seat of Sir Peter Murray Threipland, Bart., is a
page of the stereotypes of Ged's Sallnst, which had probably
been obtained from the inventor or his family by Sir .Stewart
Threipland, who was a distinguished partisan of the family of
Stuart.

with reverence and attention." In perusing this book
young Geddes took a singular delight, and by the
time he was eleven years of age had got the historical
parts of it nearly by heart. At this period the laird
of Arradowl having engaged a tutor of the name of
Shearer, from Aberdeen, for his two sons, was look-
ing about him for three boys of promising parts,
whom he might educate gratuitously along with them,
and who might aftenvards be devoted to the service
of the church. Voung Geddes, already celebrated
for his talents and for his love of study, immediately
attracted his notice, and, along with a cousin of his
own, John Geddes, who afterwards became titular
Bishop of Dunkeld, and another boy, was taken into
the house of Arradowl, where he enjoyed all the
advantages peculiar to the laird's superior situation
in life, and we may reasonably suppose, though we
have not seen it noticed, that his improvement was
correspondent to his privilege. From the hospitable
mansion of Arradowl he was, by the influence of the
laird himself, admitted into the Catholic free semi-
naiy of Sculan, a seminary intended solely for young
men who were to be afterwards sent abroad to re-
ceive holy orders in sofne of the foreign universities.
No situation was ever better chosen for the educating
of monks than Sculan, standing in a dismal glen,
overhung with mountains on all sides, so high as to
preclude the sun from being seen for many months
in the year. "Pray, be so kind," said Geddes,
writing from that drearj' spot to one of his fellow-
students, who had obtained leave to visit his friends,
" as to make particular inquiries after the health of
the sun. Fail not to present my compliments to
him, and tell him I still hope I shall one day be able
to renew the honour of personal acquaintance with
him." Flere, to a knowledge of the vulgar English
Bible, he added a knowledge of the vulgar Latin
one, which appears to have been all the benefit he
received by a seven years' seclusion from the sun,
and from the world which he illuminated. Having
attained the age of twenty-one he was removed to
the Scots College at Paris, where he completed his
knowledge of the Latin language, to which he added
Hebrew, Greek, Italian, French, Spanish, German,
and Low Dutch. Theology and biblical criticism
were the principal objects of his attention, for he had
already formed the design of making a new transla-
tion of the Bible for the use of his Catholic country-
men, to the accomplishing of which all his studies
seem to have been directed from a very early period
of his life. When he had completed his course in
the Scots College at Paris, he was solicited to take a
share of the public labours of the college, and to fix,
of course, his residence in that gay metropolis. This,
however, after some hesitation, he declined, and,
after an absence of six years, returned to his native
country in the year 1764. Having entered into
orders, Geddes, on his arrival in Scotland, was by
his ecclesiastic superior ordered to reside at Dun-
dee, as officiating priest to the Catholics of Angus.
This situation he did not long fill, being invited by
the Earl of Traquair to reside in his family at Tra-
quair House, whither he repaired in the month of
May, 1765.

Here Mr. Geddes was situated as happily as his
heart could have wished; he had plenty of time, with
the use of an excellent library, and he seems to have
prosecuted his favourite study with great diligence.
He had been in this happy situation, however, little
more than a year, when the openly-displayed affec-
tion of a female inmate of the house, a relation of the
earl, rendered it necessary for him, having taken the
vow of perpetual celibacy, to take an abrupt de-
parture from the Arcadian scenerj' of the Tweed.

ALEXANDER GEDDES.

91

Leaving with the innocent autlior of his misfortune
a beautiful httle poem, entitled The Confessional, he
again bade adieu to his native land, and in the varie-
ties and volatilities of Paris endeavoured to forget
his pain. Even in this condition, however, he did
not lose sight of his great object, as during the time
he remained in Paris he made a number of valuable
extracts from books and manuscripts which he con-
sulted in the public libraries.

Paris never was a place much to his mind, and it
was less so now than ever, when it presented him
with no definite object of pursuit. He therefore
returned to Scotland in the spring of the year 1769.
He had by this time recovered, in some degree,
possession of himself; but he dared not encounter
the fascination of the beloved object, or re-engage
in the domestic scenes from which he had found it
necessary to flee. Turning, therefore, to the scenes
of his early life, he was offered the charge of a
Catholic congregation at Auchinhalrig, in the county
of Banff, which he accepted. The members of this
little community were poor, their chapel was in
ruins, and the most inveterate rancour subsisted
among themselves, and between them and their Pro-
testant neighbours. Mr. Geddes, however, was not
to be appalled by the prospect of difficulties, how-
ever numerous and formidable. His first object was
to pull down the old chapel, and to build a new one
on the spot. His own house, too, which his bio-
grapher dignifies with the name of a parsonage-
house, he found necessary to repair almost from the
foundation, and he added to it the luxury of an ex-
cellent garden, from which he was able, on many
occasions, to supply the necessities of his people.
In these proceedings Mr. Geddes was not only
useful in directing and overseeing the workmen, but
as a workman himself, many of the most important
operations being performed with his own hands.
Plaving thus provided for the assembling of his con-
gregation, his next object was to coiTect that extreme
bigotry by which they were characterized. For this
end he laboured to gain their affections by the most
punctilious attention to every part of his pastoral
duty, and by the mjost unbounded charity and bene-
volence. The ceremonies of Popery he despised as
heartily as any Presbyterian. The Scriptures he
earnestly recommended to his people, and exhorted
them to think for themselves, and to allow the same
privilege to others. Many of the peculiarities of
Popery, indeed, he denounced as most iniquitous,
and utterly repugnant to the spirit of genuine catho-
licity. In his judgment of others Geddes himself
showed the utmost liberality; and he even ventured
to appear as a worshipper in the church of a neigh-
bouring parish on different occasions. By these
means, if he did not convert to his views the Papists
of Auchinalrig, which we believe he did not, he ac-
quired a vei-y high character to himself, and formed
many valuable friendships among men of all descrip-
tions. Than this conduct nothing could be better
fitted to attain the object which the Papists were by
this time very generally beginning to entertain — that
of obtaining political power and influence; and in
this respect Geddes, by dereliction of principle, did
more for their cause than all other men beside: yet
their zeal could not be restrained, even for this most
obvious purpose, and he had the mortification to
find that he was provoking very generally the resent-
ment of his clerical brethren. His diocesan bishop.
Hay, threatened him with suspension if he did not
behave with greater circumspection, particularly in
regard to the dangerous and contaminating influence
of heretical intercourse; but having no supreme court
before which to bring the refractory and rebellious

priest, the bishop was under the necessity of letting
the controversy drop. Unfortunately the poor priest
had become personally bound for considerable sums
expended in building the chapel and repairing the
manse, for the payment of which he had tnisted to
the liberality of his people. There was no appear-
ance of his expectations being realized, and his
creditors — a class of people whom he could not so
easily set at defiance as the bishoj) — becoming cla-
morous, a "charge of homing" was likely to suspend
him more eff"ectually than the order of his diocesan,
when, through the friendship of the Earl of Traquair,
he was introduced to the notice of the Duke of Nor-
folk, who, having learned the extent of the obliga-
tions he had come under in his pastoral capacity,
claimed the privilege of discharging them as an
earnest of future friendship. Geddes was thus re-
lieved from serious embarrassments, but his income
was far too scanty to supply his necessities, .though
they were by no means so numerous as those of many
others in his situation. In order to provide for him-
self without burdening his congregation, he took a
small farm at Enzie in Fochabers, in the vicinity of
Auchinalrig, which he stocked by means of a loan,
built a little chapel upon it, where he proposed to
officiate as well as at Auchinalrig, and in imagina-
tion saw himself already happy and independent.
There have been men of letters who have been at
the same time men of business. They have been,
however, but few; and Geddes was not of the num-
ber. It was in the year 1775 that he commenced
his agrictdtural speculations, and by the year 177^
he found himself in a still deeper state of embarrass-
ment than w-hen he had been relieved by the Duke
of Norfolk. The expedient he adopted on this occa-
sion, was one that was much more likely to have
added to his embarrassments than to have relieved
them. He published at London ^^ Select Satires of
Horace, translated into English verse, and for the
most part adapted to the present times and manners."
This publication, contrary to all human probability,
succeeded so well that it brought him a clear profit
of upwards of ;!f 100, which, with some friendly aid
from other quarters, set him once more clear of
pecuniary embarrassments. The remark of one of
his biographers on this circumstance ought not to
be suppressed: — "To be brought to the brink of
ruin by farming and kirk-building, and to be .saved
from it by turning poetaster, must be allowed to be
rather out of the usual course of events. "

Finding that his pen was of more service to him
than his plough, Mr. Geddes now seriously thought
of quitting his retirement, and trj'ing his fortune in
London. He was, however, so strongly attached
to his flock, that it might have been long before he
put his design into execution, had not a circumstance
occurred to give it new vigour. Lord Findlater
had about this time married a daughter of Count
IMurray of Mlegnm, who, being educated abroad,
was unacquainted with English. Mr. Geddes was
employed by his lordship to teach her that language.
In the house of his lordship he was introduced to
the Rev. Mr. Buchanan, who had been tutor to his
lordship, and was now minister of the parish of
Cullen, with whom he formed a most intirnate
acquaintance, and did not scniple to attend occasion-
ally upon his ministry in the church of Cullen. This
latter circumstance rekindled the long-smothered
ire of Bishop Hay, who sent him an angry remon-
strance, which he followed up by suspending him
from all his ecclesiastical functions. This at once
dissolved the tie between Mr. Geddes and his con-
gregation, from whom, in the end of the year 1779.
he took an affectionate leave; and selling off what

92

ALEXANDER GEDDES.

property he possessed at Enzie by public roup,
prepared, without regret, to leave once more his
native country. His people testified their affection
for him by buying up, with extraordinary avidity,
everything that belonged to him, even to the articles
of broken cups and saucers. Nor were his Pro-
testant friends wanting to him on this occasion.
Through their joint intluence the university of Aber-
deen stepped forward with praiseworthy liberality,
and conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Laws.
Leaving Enzie Dr. Geddes devoted a few weeks
to visits of friendship, and in company with Lord
Traquair repaired to London in the beginning of
the year 17S0. Through the intluence of Lord
Traquair he was almost immediately nominated to
be othciating priest in the chapel of the imperial
ambassador. The literary fame he had already ac-
quired by his imitations of Horace, and the letters
with which he was honoured by his friends in the
north, introduced him at once to the most celebrated
literary characters of the day, which gave great
elasticity to his naturally buoyant spirits. Several
libraries, too, both public and private, being thrown
open to him, he resumed with redoubled ardour his
early project of translating the Bible for the use
of his Roman Catholic countrymen. Through the
Duchess of Gordon he was also introduced to Lord
Petre, who was like himself a Catholic, and was
anxious to have a translation of the Bible such as
Dr. Geddes proposed to make. To enable him to
go on without any interruption, his lordship gener-
ously allowed him a salary of ;i^200 a year till the
work should be finished, besides being at the expense
of whatever private library he might find necessary
for his purpose. This was encouragement not only
beyond what he could reasonably have hoped for,
but equal to all that he could have wished; and the
same year he published a sketch of his plan, under
the title of A>i Idea of a A'eio I'ersion of the Holy
Bible, for the Use of the English Catholics. This
Idea in general, for we have not room to be parti-
cular, was "a new and faithful translation of the
Bible, from corrected te.xts of the original, unaccom-
panied with any gloss, commentary, or annotations,
ijut such as are necessary to ascertain the literal
meaning of the text, and free of every sort of inter-
pretation calculated to establish or defend any par-
ticular system of religious credence." At the close
of this year he ceased to officiate in the imperial
ambassador's chapel, the establishment being sup-
pressed by an order from the emperor Joseph IL
He continued to preach, however, occasionally at
the chapel in Duke Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, till
the Easter holidays of 1782, when he found his time
so completely taken up by his literary projects,
especially his translation, that he voluntarily with-
drew from every stated ministerial function. The
following year Dr. Geddes paid a visit to Scotland,
during which he wrote Linton, a Tweeddale Pastoral,
in Honour of the Birth of a Son and Heir to the
jVoble House of Traquair. He passed with the earl
and his countess on a tour to the south of France,
came back with them to Scotland, and shortly after
returned to London. He was about this time intro-
duced to Dr. Kennicot, by whom he was introduced
to Dr. Lowth, and both of them took a deep interest
in his undertaking. At the suggestion of the latter
Dr. Geddes wrote a new prospectus, detailing more
fully and explicitly the ]>lan he meant to follow.
This was given to the public in 17S6 : it had a very
general circulation, and was well received. In the
year 1785 he was elected a corresponding member
by the Society of Scottish Antiquaries — an honour
which he acknowledged in a poetical epistle to that

respectable body. This epistle is printed in the
first volume of the Transactions of the society, as
also a dissertation on the Scoto-Saxon dialect, with
the first eclogue of Virgil, and the first idyllium of
Theocritus, translated into Scottish verse.

He was now advancing with his translation ; but
in the year 1787 he published an appendix to his
prospectus, in the form of a Letter addressed to the
Bishop of London, containing Queries, Doubts, and
Difficulties relative to a Vernacular Version of the
Holy Scriptures. He published the same year a letter
to Dr. Priestly, in which he attempted to prove, by
one prescriptive argument, that the divinity of Jesus
Christ was a primitive tenet of Christianity. About
the same time he published his letter on the case of
the Protestant Dissenters. In the year 1788 he en-
gaged as a contributor to the Analytical Peviezv, for
which he continued to furnish many valuable articles
during the succeeding five years and a half It was
during the year just mentioned that he issued Pro-
posals for Printing by Subscription a A'e7U T'ansla-
tion of the Holy Bible, &c. His General Anszuer to
the Counsels and Criticisms that have been communi-
cated to hitn since the Publication of his Proposals for
Printing a A'ew Translation of the Bible, appeared
in the year 1790. Of the same date was his Ans-u'cr
to the Bishop of Comands Pastoral Letter, by a Pro-
testing Catholic, followed by A Letter to the R.R. the
Archbishop and Bishops of England, &c., Carmen
Seculare p7-o Gallica, &c., and an Epistola Macaronica
ad Fratrem, &c. In the year 1791 he was afllicted
with a dangerous fever, and on his recover}- accepted
of an invitation to visit Lord Petre at his seat at
Norfolk. This journey produced A Norfolk Tale,
or a Journey from London to A'oi-icnch, with a Pro-
logue and an Epilogue published in the following
year. The same year he published An Apology for
Shwery, a poem entitled HAvocat du Diablc, &c.,
and The First Book of the Iliad of Homer, verbally
rendered into English Verse, &c. Amidst these
multifarious avocations he was still proceeding with
his translation, and in the year 1792, though his
subscription list was far from being filled up, he
published The First Volume of the Holy Bible, or
the Books accounted Sacred by Jcd'S and Christians,
oiht~r%vise called the Books of the Old and A'ew Co-ve-
nants, faithfully Translated from Corrected Texts of
the Originals, iL<ith various Readings, Explanatory
A'otes, and Critical Remarks.

Dr. Geddes had by this time engaged a house for
himself in Alsop's Buildings, New Road, Maiy-le-
Bone, which he had fitted up with his own hands
in a curious and convenient style. He had also a
garden both before and behind his house, which he
cultivated with the industry of a day labourer, and
with the zeal of a botanizing philosopher ; he had
"a biblical apparatus [a library] through the princely
munificence of Lord Petre," superior to most indi-
viduals, and he wanted only the incense of the
world's applause to this idol of a translation, which
he had set up to outrage alike the faith of Jews and
Christians, to make his triumph perfect and his hap-
piness complete. The vain man had, by his Idea,
his Prospectus, his Appendix, and his Answer to
Counsels and Queries, secured, as he supposed, the
concurrence of mankind, while he had in fact only
excited expectations which, though his talents had
been increased an hundred-fold, he would have
found himself unable to satisfy. ^Vhat must behave
felt or thought when he found that the book, instead
of pleasing all the world, as he had vainly hoped,
pleased nobody. Christians of every description
considered it an insidious attack upon the founda-
tions of their faith, and the Catholics, for whose

ALEXANDER GEDDES.

93

benefit it was stated to have been mainly intended,
were by a pastoral letter from their vicars apostolic
forbidden to read it. Geddes, in an address to the
public the followintj year, defended himself with
great boldness, laying claim, like every other infidel,
to the most fearless honesty and the strictest impar-
tiality. The failure of his hopes, however, affected
him so deeply that his biblical studies were for a
time nearly suspentled, and it required all the atten-
tions of his friends to prevent him from sinking into
the deepest despondency. In the meantime he
soothed, or attempted to soothe, his chagrin by
writing two Latin odes in praise of the French re-
volution, but which, on the representations of his
friends, he allowed to lie unpublished till the period
of the peace in the year iSoi. Lie also wrote and
published at this time a translation of Cresset's Ver
IWi, or tlie Parrot of iVez'crs, which did him no
honour, the poem having been only a short while
before translated more happily by John Gilbert
Couper. In the year 1795 he published an Ode
to the Honourable Thomas Pelham, occasioned by his
speech on the Catholic question in the Irish House
of Commons, which was followed, in 1796, by a
Hudibrastic paraphrase of a sermon which had been
preached by a Ur. Coulthurst on the anniversary
of his majesty's accession, before the university of
Cambridge. In 1797 he published The Battle of
B—ng — r, or the Churches Triumph: a Comic Heroic
Poem in Aliie Cantoes. The subject of this poem
was suggested by the notable contest between Bishop
Warren and Mr. Grindly, and it is unquestionably
the most finished of all his English poems. The
same year he published the second volume of his
translation of the Bible, which brought it to the end
of the Book of Ruth, beyond which it was not
destined to advance in its regidar form.

During the two succeeding years he published two
burlesque sermons, ridiculing the fast-day sermons of
the Established clergy, and in the year 1800 his
Critical Retnarks on the Hebreia Scriptures, corres-
ponding with a new translation of the Bible, vol. i.,
containing remarks on the Pentateuch. If there
had been any doubt on the public mind respecting
the principles of Dr. Geddes, this volume must have
removed it. These remarks are less scurrilous per-
haps, but not less impious, than those of Thomas
Paine, and professing to be the result of laborious
learning, sound philosophy, and a most enlarged and
enlightened Christianity, are to weak minds much
more dangerous, and to the well-informed more offen-
sively disgusting than even the ihppancies of that
celebrated unbeliever. They had not, however, the
merit of meeting the general ideas of mankind, and
we believe are already nearly forgotten. The en-
couragement with which he commenced his publica-
tion was greatly inadequate to meet the expense;
and this encouragement, instead of increasing, had
greatly fallen off; the work being printed too solely
at his own expense, he soon found himself involved
in pecuniary difficulties, from which he had not the
means of extricating himself. Never had a reckless
man, however, such a singularly good fortune. We
have already seen him twice rescued from ruin in a
way, on both occasions, which no one less fortunate
than himself could have hoped for, and on this occa-
sion his situation was no sooner disclosed than a plan
was devised for his relief, and executed almost with-
out his knowledge. "It is to the credit of the age
in which we live," says his biographer, "that, with-
out any further application on his own part, persons
of every rank and religious persuasion, Protestants
and Catholics, clergy and laity, nobility and gentry,
several of whom had never known him but by name,

and many of whom had professed a dislike of his
favourite tenets, united in one charitable effort to
rescue him from anxiety and distress; nor should it
be forgotten that some part at least of the amount
subscribed proceeded from the right reverend bench
itself. The sum thus collected and expended for
him from the year 1798 to the middle of the year
1800, independent of his annuity from Lord Petre,
amounted to /"900 sterling. Nor was this all: mea-
sures were taken at the same time to prevent any
such disagreeable occurrence in future. In the buoy-
ancy of spirit which this great deliverance excited,
he published a modest apology for the Catholics of
Great Britain, addressed to all moderate Protestants,
particularly to the members of both houses of parlia-
ment. This work was published anonymously; but
it had been written twenty years before, and from
the style and the whispers of his friends, was soon
known to be his. It was translated into the French
and German languages, and, considered as the work
of a man who professed himself to be a Catholic, is
certainly a most singular performance. It was about
this time the famous rencounter between William
Gifford, author of the Baviad, and Dr. Wolcott,
better known by the name of Peter Pindar, took
place in the shop of Mr. Wright, bookseller in Picca-
dilly, on which Dr. Geddes published Bardomachia,
or the Battle of the Bards. This he was at the trouble
of composing first in Latin, and afterwards translat-
ing into English, so that it was published in both lan-
guages. In the following year, 1801, Dr. Geddes
sustained an irreparable loss in the death of his noble
patron. Lord Petre. His lordship died of an attack
of the gout in July, 1801, in the sixty-eighth year of
his age. By his latter will he bequeathed to Dr.
Geddes an annuity of ;i{^loo; and his son, the heir of
his virtues as well as of his honours, when he inti-
mated the circumstance to the doctor, politely pro-
posed to add a yearly salary of the same amount.
Nor ought it to be suppressed on this occasion that
Mr. Timothy Brown of Chiswell Street, before Dr.
Geddes was apprised of Lord Petre's generous inten-
tions, had engaged that the £'2.00 a year which he
was likely to lose by the death of his patron should
be supplied by the voluntary contributions of those
friends who had so generously come forward on the
late occasion, or in case of their declining it, by an
equal salaiy to be annually paid by himself. Though
he was thus no loser in a pecuniary point of view,
he felt the void hereby produced in his happiness,
and almost in his existence, to be irreparable; and it
was long before his mind recovered so much calmness
as to reason on the subject, or to admit the sympathies
of surviving friends. His grief, however, began to
assume a milder character, and he attempted to
soothe his feelings by composing for his departed
friend a Latin elegy, and he gave successive proofs
that the embers of his habitual hilarity still glowed
with a few vital sparks. He did not, however, feel
himself at any period sufficiently collected for a
regular prosecution of his favourite undertaking.
At the pressing request of his friends, he began to
prepare for the press the Psalms, to be printed in a
separate volume. With the translation he did not
get further than the one hundred and eighteenth. A
trifling ode on the restoration of peace, written in
Latin, was one of his amusements at this time, and
a Latin elegy on the death of CJilbert Wakefield was
the last of his compositions. Mr. Wakefield died in
the month of September, iSoi, when Dr. Geddes
was already deeply affected with the painful disease
that carried him off early in the following spring.
Through the whole of the winter his sufferings must
often have been extreme, though he had intervals in

94

ALEXANDER GEDDES

MICHAEL GEDDES.

which he was comparatively easy. lie died sud-
denly on the 20th of February, 1S02, in the sixty-fifth
year of his age.

As there has been a story told of Dr. Geddes
having recanted his opinions on his death-bed, it be-
comes an imperious duty to state the manner of his
death, as related by those who were about him at
the time. The rites of that communion to which he
professed to belong were, notwithstanding his avowed
contempt for the greater part of them, administered
to him by his friend M. .St. Martin, a doctor of the
Sorbonne and professor of divinity. The day before
his death Dr. Geddes was visited by this friend,
who was anxious to recall him from those aberrations
he had made from the faith, and for this purpose
had a list of questions drawn up, to which he meant
to insist upon having answers. The state into which
by this time the Doctor had fallen rendered this im-
practicable. Sensible that he was in great danger,
M. St. Martin endeavoured to rouse him from his
lethargy, and proposed to him to receive absolution.
Geddes observed that in that case it would be neces-
sary for him to make his confession. M. St. Martin,
aware that this was beyond his strength, replied that
in extremis this was not necessary, that he had only
to examine the state of his own mind, and to make a
sign when he was prepared. lie could not, how-
ever, avoid putting a question or two upon the more
important points upon which they differed. "You
fully," said he, "believe in the Scriptures?" Geddes,
rousing himself from his sleep, said, "Certainly."
"In the doctrine of the Trinity?" "Certainly, but
not in the manner you mean." "In the mediation
of Jesus Christ?" "No, no, no, — not as you mean;
in Jesus as our Saviour — but not in the atone-
ment." After a pause he said, " I consent to all "—
but of these words M. St. IVIartin did not compre-
hend the meaning. The Doctor shortly after gave
the sign that he was ready, and received from M.
St. Martin absolution in the way he had proposed.
It was the intention of M. St. Martin to have passed
the night with him, but calling in the evening, found
that the physician had forbidden any of his friends
to be admitted. A domestic, however, in a neigh-
bouring house, of the Catholic persuasion, who
knocked at the door during the night, just as he was
dying, was admitted, and, according to the rites of
her church, repeated over him the Creed, Paternoster,
and Ave Maria. Dr. Geddes opened his eyes as she
had concluded, gave her his benediction, and expired.

Perhaps there is not in the history of literary men
a character that calls more loudly for animadversion,
or that requires a more skilful hand to lay it open,
than that of Dr. Geddes. He professed a savage
sort of straightforward honesty, that was at war on
multiplied occasions with the common charities of
life; yet amid his numerous writings will any man
take it on him to collect what were really his ojnnions
upon the most important subjects of human contem-
plation? He professed himself a zealous Catholic ;
yet of all or nearly all that constitutes a Catholic he
has spoken with as much bitterness as it was possible
for any Protestant to have done. If it be objected
that he added to the adjective Catholic the noun
Christian, when he says that he admits nothing but
what has been taught by Christ, his apostles, ancl suc-
cessors in rjery age and i>i every place, we would ask
how much we are the wiser. He professed to believe
in Jesus Christ, and in the perfection of his code; but
he held Moses to have been a man to be compared
only with Numa and Lycurg\is; a man who like them
pretended to personal intercourse with the Deity,
from whom he never received any immediate com-
munication; a man who had the art to take advan-

tage of rarely occurring natural circumstances, and
to persuade the Israelites that they were accomplished
under his direction by the immediate power of God;
a man, in short, conspicuous above all men as a
juggling impostor. Now, to the divine mission of
Moses we have the direct testimony of Jesus Christ
himself, with the express assurance that without be-
lieving in Moses it was impossible to believe in him.
l>ut we cannot here follow out the subject, nor can
we enter into any particular analysis of his works,
to which the eccentricities of his character, the singu-
larity of his opinions, and the peculiar circumstances
of his life, gave for a time an interest to which they
were not at any time entitled. His translation of
the Bible, after all the professions he had made, the
means he had accumulated, and the expectations he
had excited, was a complete failure, and has only
added another demonstration to the thousands that
had preceded it, how much more easy it is to write
fluently and plausibly about great undertakings than
to perform them. We intended here to have noticed
more particularly his translation of the first book of
the Iliad of Homer, which he undertook for the
purpose of demonstrating his superiority to Cowper,
but upon second thoughts have forborne to disturb its
peaceful slumbers. Upon the whole, Dr. Geddes was
unquestionably a man of learning and of genius, but
from an unhappy temper, and the preponderating
influence of arrogance and vanity in his constitution,
they were of little avail to himself, and have not been
greatly useful to the general interests of mankind.

GEDDES, J.\MES, an advocate at the Scottish
bar, was born in the county of Tweeddale about the
year 17 10, and being the son of a gentleman in good
circumstances, was educated by tutors under his
father's roof. The progress which he made in the
learned languages and philosophy was considered
extraordinary; and he fulfilled every promise at the
university of Edinburgh, where he distinguished him-
self, particularly in mathematics, which he studied
under the celebrated Maclaurin. Having prepared
himself for the bar, he entered as an advocate, and
soon acquired considerable reputation. His labours
as a lawyer did not prevent him from devoting much
time to his favourite studies — the poets, philosophers,
and historians of antiquity; and in 1748 he published
at Glasgow his Essay on the Composition and Alaiincr
of Writing of the Ancients, particularly Plato. The
year after this publication he died of lingering con-
sumption, much regretted, both on account of his
learning — the fruits of which had not been fully
given to the world — and for his manners and disposi-
tion, which were in the highest degree amiable.

GEDDES, Michael, a distinguished divine of
the Church of England, and author of some admired
works, was educated at the university of Edinburgh,
where, in 1671, he took the degree of Master of Arts,
in which he was incorporated at Oxford, on the nth
of July, in the same year. He was one of the first
four natives of Scotland who were permitted to take
advantage of the exhibitions founded in Baliol Col-
lege, Oxford, by Bishop Warner, with the view of
promoting the interests of the Episcopal church in
Scotland. Geddes, however, did not return to pro-
pagate or enforce the doctrines of that body in his
native country. He went in 1678 to Lisbon as
chaplain to the English factor}', the exercise of which
function giving offence to the Inquisition, he was
sent for by that court in 1 686, and forbidden to con-
tinue it. This persecution obviously arose from the
attempts now making by King James at home to
establish Popery. The English merchants, resenting

WALTER GEIKIE.

95

the violation of their privileije, wrote on the 7t^^ of
September to the Bishop of London, representini^
their case, and their right to a chaplain, as established
by the commercial treaty between England and Por-
tugal; l)ut before this letter reached its destination,
the bishop was himself put into the same predica-
ment as Mr. Geddes, being suspended from his func-
tions by the ecclesiastical commission. Finding that
his case had become hopeless, Geddes returned to
England in May, l688, where he took the degree of
Doctor of Laws, and after the promotion of Uurnet
to the bishopric of Salisbury, was made by him
chancellor of his church.^ During his residence at
Lisbon he had amassed a great «[uantity of docu-
ments respecting Spanish and I'ortuguese history,
which enabled him, in 1694, to publish a volume,
styled The Church History of Malabar. Of this
work Archbishop Tillotson says, in a letter to Bishop
Burnet, dated June 2Sth, 1694, "j^ir- Geddes' book
finds a general acceptation and approbation. I
doubt not but he hath more of the same kind, with
which I hope he will favour the world in due time."
lie was accordingly encouraged in 1696 to publish
The Church History of Hithiopia, and in 1697 a
]-)amphlet entitled The Coiuicil of Trent Plainly
Discovered not to have been a Free Assembly. His
great work, however, was his Tracts on Divers Sub-
jects, which appeared in 1 7 14, in three volumes,
being a translation of the most interesting pieces
which he had collected at Lisbon, and of which a
list is given in Moreri's Grand Dictionnaire Histor-
ique, a.rt. "Geddes." The learned doctor must have
died previous to the succeeding year, as in 171 5
appeared a posthumous volume of tracts against the
Roman Catholic church, which completes the list
of his publications.

GEIKIE, Walter. It has often been observed
that the Scottish national character abounds in con-
tradictions. Poetical though it be, it has never pro-
duced a Milton ; and in spite of all its wisdom and
sagacity, it has not as yet exhibited a first-rate states-
man. The same inconsistency is perceptible in the
fine arts; so that, in spite of the imaginative and the
humorous, by which that character is distinguished,
Scotland has been barren of caricaturists. From
the time of Hogarth to that of H. B., England has
so plentifully abounded with such artists as to be
eminently the land of caricature delineation ; but
Scotland, with all its shrewd observation, its per-
ception of the ludicrous, and quiet love of fun, which
constitute the chief elements in this department of
pictorial art, has as yet produced no specimens of
it except those of poor Walter Geikie — the very
man, too, be it observed, from whom, on account
of his physical disqualifications, productions of this
kind were least to be expected.

Walter Geikie, whose droll and homely sketches
are to be found upon the table of every Edinburgh
drawing-room, was the son of Mr. Archibald Geikie,
perfumer, and was born in Charles Street, George
Square, Edinburgh, on the 9th November, 1795.
Before he had completed his second year he was
attacked by a dangerous ear disease ; and although
he recovered, it was at the expense of being deaf
and dumb for life. It was too much the fashion at
this time in Scotland to consider dumbies as incap-
able of education, so that they were generally allowed
to go at large, and vegetate as they best might; but
happily, Walter was the son of a pious and intelli-
gent father, who had a better sense of his paternal
responsibility: he taught his bereaved boy the alpha-

' Birch's Life of Tillotson, 334.

bet, so that the latter not only learned to read, but
to understand what he read. Writing and arithmetic
followed, in which Walter showed himself an apt
scholar. When he had thus acquired the rudiments
of education, it happened, fortunately for him, that
Mr. Braidwood, the successful teacher of the deaf
and dumb, was invited to Edinburgh, to open an
institution there, and Geikie became one of his
earliest pupils. In this new school the boy's pro-
ficiency was so rapid that he was soon employed as
a monitor. He showed also that he was no mere
commonplace learner, for he was in the practice of
writing down extracts of the passages that best
pleased him in the authors whose works he perused.
While he was thus storing his mind with knowledge,
and qualifying himself, notwithstanding his defects,
for a life of usefulness, his path was determined.
While yet a child, he had been in the practice of
cutting out representations of the objects that struck
him on paper ; aftenvards he had attempted to por-
tray them with chalk on floors and walls; and rising
higher still in pictorial art, he at length betook him-
self to the use of the pencil. He did not, however,
satisfy himself, like other young sketchcrs, with
merely copying the pictures of others : instead of
this, he would be satisfied with nothing short of the
original object; and therefore he often roamed about
the suburbs of Edinburgh, or among the fields, trans-
ferring into his note-book whatever most pleased
his fancy. This was the form of language in which
he found he could best express himself, and there-
fore it is not to be wondered at that he should culti-
vate it so carefully. At the age of fourteen he was
sent to learn drawing by regular rule, under Mr.
Patrick Gibson, and such was his progress, that in
1 81 2 he was admitted a pupil of the Academy of
Drawing, established for the encouragement of Scot-
tish manufactures, where he had for his preceptor
Mr. Graham, the teacher of Allan and Wilkie.

By this course of training the future profession of
Walter Geikie was confirmed. He was to be an
artist; and it remained to be seen in what department
his excellence was to consist. It was not certainly
in painting, for he soon discovered that his attempts
in oil were decidedly inferior to those of others in
warmth and harmony of colouring; and although his
Itinerant Fiddlers, All-Halloiu Fair, and the Grass-
market, now in the collection at Hopetoun House,
were the best specimens of his painting in oil, they
scarcely exceed the efforts of a mere fourth-rate artist.
It was in sketching that he best succeeded, while the
subjects of his preference were not the beautiful or
the sublime, but the homely and the ludicrous. He
would rather sketch a pig-sty than a palace, and an
odd face had more attraction in his eyes than all the
ideal beauty of the Venus de Medicis. It was upon
this predilection that he acted. He hunted about in
quest of singular visages, at which, with his ready
pencil, he would take a flying shot as he passed along
the street; and as such commodities are by no means
scarce in Edinburgh, his collection was soon both rich
and varied. This kind of sportsmanship, however,
was not without its dangers, for those who were best
fitted for the artist's purposes were generally the
least disposed to have their effigies pcqietuated.
One amusing incident of this kind is related by his
biographer. Geikie had become desperately en-
amoured of the turned-up nose, rhinoceros upper
lip, and pot-belly of a porter of the Grassmarket,
and longed to appropriate them in such a way as
not to impoverish their lawful owner. But the porter,
who had seen his hungry look, and suspected his
purpose, had continued to dodge him, until one day
he found himself all but fixed upon the artist's paper.

96

ALEXANDER GERARD.

Enraged at the discovery, he stormed, swore, and
threatened; but Geikie, who was in ecstasy with his
rich attitudes, and could not liear the tlireats, con-
tinued the drawing, until he saw his model rushing
upon him like a maddened bull in the arena. He
took to his heels, but was so hotly pursued that he
had to take refuge in a common stair; and the porter,
thinking that his tormentor was housed, resolved to
await his coming forth. Geikie, in the meantime,
who was watching every movement tlirough a dingy
window in the stair, contrived to finish his sketch,
and- crown it with the last touch. But how to get
out when his work was finished! This seemed beyond
the power of strategy, for there stood his merciless
enemy on the watch ; and there he remained for
hours. Some lucky cliance at last called away the
bearer of burdens, aud Geikie stole from his con-
cealment when he found the coast clear. He had
caught the porter, and saved his own bones. The
fastidious object of his sketch forms a conspicuous
figure in the group of the Street Auctioneer.

The mirthfid spirit of the artist, which drew him
so powerfully to congenial subjects, was not confined
to drawing; it found vent also in buoyant mimicry,
in which he could act the droll characters of his daily
search, as well as draw them. In this way, though
deprived of the power of utterance, he could deliver
jokes that set the company in a roar. It is gratifying
also to add, that with all this mirthfulness there was
a soundness of moral principle and depth of religious
feeling within him that aimed at nobler ends than
the harmless amusement of society. From infancy
he had received a religious education, and it was all
the more endeared to him, perhaps, from the diffi-
culty which he must have found in acquiring those
spiritual ideas of which he saw so few visible symbols.
Sacred and sincere, indeed, must be the devotion of
the deaf and dumb ! He was also eager to impart
what he had learned, and therefore with two friends
under the same bereavement as himself he estab-
lished a religious meeting of the deaf and dumb, to
whom, on the Sabbaths, he preached and expounded
by signs. After an uninterrupted course of good
health a short illness of a few days occurred, under
which Geikie died on the 1st of August, 1837. He
was buried in the Grayfriars' churchyard. Of his
productions it is unnecessary to enter into farther
analysis, as these, ninety-four in number, illustrative
of Scottish character and scenery, have been pub-
lished in one volume, and are familiarly known to
almost every class. They are also accompanied
with explanations, and a biographical introduction
by Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, from which the fore-
going facts have been chiefly derived.

GERARD, Alexander, D.D., an eminent divine
and writer, was the eldest son of the Reverend Gil-
bert Gerard, minister of the chapel of Garioch, a
parish in Aberdeenshire, where he was born on the
22d of P'ebruary, 1728. He was removed at the
period destined for the commencement of his educa-
tion to the parish of Foveran, in the same county,
the humble schoolmaster of which appears to have
possessed such superior classical attainments, that
the reverend gentleman felt justified in delivering his
son up to his care — a preference which the future
fame of that son, founded on his correctness of acqui-
sition and observation, must have given his friends
no cause to regret. At the age of ten, on the death
of his father, he was removed to the grammar-school
of Aberdeen, whence he emerged in two years, quali-
fied to enter as a student of Marischal College.
Having there performed his four years of academical
attendance in the elementary branches, he finished

his career with the usual ceremony of "the gradua-
tion," and appeared before the world in the capacity
of Master of Arts at the age of sixteen — not by any
means the earliest age at which that degree is fre-
quently granted, but certainly at a jjeriod sufficiently
early to entitle him to the character of precocious
genius. Immediately after finishing these branches
of education, he commenced in the divinity hall of
Aberdeen his theological studies, which he after-
wards finished in Edinburgh.

In 1748 he was a licensed preacher of the Church
of Scotland, and about two years thereafter Mr. D.
Fordyce, professor of natural philosophy in Marischal
College, having gone abroad, he lectured in his
stead; and on the regretted death of that gentleman
by shipwreck on the coast of Holland, just as he
was returning to his friends, Mr. Gerard was ap-
pointed to the vacant professorship. At the period
when Mr. Gerard was appointed to a chair in Mar-
ischal College, the philosophical curriculum, com-
mencing with logic, proceeded immediately to the
abstract subjects of ontology and pneumatics, the
course gradually decreasing in abstruseness with the
consideration of morals and politics, and terminating
with the more definite and practical doctrines of
natural philosophy. Through the whole of this
varied course it was the duty of one instructor to
lead his pupils, mathematics and Greek being alone
taught by separate professors. The evils of this
system suggested to the professors of Marischal Col-
lege the formation of a plan for the radical alteration
of the routine, which has since been most beneficially
conducive to the progress of Scottish literature. A
very curious and now rare pamphlet from the pen of
Dr. Gerard exists on this subject; it is entitled Plan
of Education in the Marischal College and University
of Aberdeen, ivith the Reasons of it, drazvn up by
Order of the Faculty, printed at Aberdeen in 1755 —
a little work of admirable perspicuity and sound
logical reasoning. The rationale of the ancient
system was founded on the presumption that, as it is
by the use of logic and the other metaphysical sciences
alone that we can arrange, digest, and reason upon
the facts which come under our observation, these
must be committed to the mind as rules of manage-
ment before any facts collected can be applied to
their proper purposes, and that before any knowledge
of nature, as it exists, is stored in the intellect, that
intellect must be previously possessed of certain
regulations, to the criterion of which the knowledge
gained must be submitted. A quotation from Dr.
(jerard's little work will afford one of the best speci-
mens of the now pretty generally understood confuta-
tion of this fallacy. Speaking of logic he says : —
"This is one of the most abstruse and difficult
branches of philosophy, and therefore quite improper
to begin with. It has a strict dependence on many
parts of knowledge : these must of consequence be
premised before it can be rightly apprehended; the
natural history of the human understanding must be
known, and its phenomena discovered; for without
this the exertions of the intellectual faculties, and
their application to the various subjects of science,
will be unintelligible. These phenomena must be
not only narrated, but likewise, as far as possible,
explained; for without investigating their general
laws, no certain and general conclusions concerning
their exercise can be deduced: nay, all sciences, all
branches of knowledge whatever must be premised
as a groundwork to genuine logic. History has one
kind of evidence, mathematics another; natural phil-
osophy one still different; the philosophy of nature
another distinct from all these ; the subordinate
branches of these several parts have still minuter

ALEXANDER GERARD.

97

peculiarities in the evidence appropriated to them.
An unprcjmliced mind will in each of these be con-
vinced by that species of argument which is peculiar
to it, though it does not reflect how it comes to be
convinced. By being conversant in them one is pre-
pared for the study of logic, for they supply them
with a fund of materials: in them the different kinds
of evidence and argument are exemplified: from
them only those illustrations can be taken, without
which its rules and precepts would be unintelligible.
. . . In studying the particular sciences, reason
will spontaneously exert itself: if the proper and
natural method of reasoning is used, the mind will,
by the native force of its faculties, perceive the evi-
dence, and be convinced by it, though it does not
reflect how this comes to pass, nor explicitly con-
sider according to what general rules the under-
standing is exerted. By afterv.-ards studying these
rules one will be farther fitted for prosecutmg the
several sciences; the knowledge of the grounds and
laws of evidence will give him the security of reflec-
tion against employing wrong methods of proof and
improper kinds of evidence, additional to that of in-
stinct and natural genius." The consequence of this
acknowledgment of the supremacy of reason and
practice over argumentation and theory was the
establishment of a course of lectures on natural and
civil history, previously to inculcating the correspond-
ing sciences of natural and mental philosophy — an
institution from which, wherever the former part con-
sists of anything better than a blundering among ex-
plosive combustibles, and a clattering among glass
vessels, or the latter is anything superior to a cir-
cumstantial narrative of ancient falsehoods and
modern dates — the student derives a basis of sound
and useful information, on which the more meta-
physical sciences may or may not be built, as circum-
stances or inclination admit. It is a striking instance
of the propensity to follow with accuracy the beaten
track, or to deviate only when some powerful spirit
leads the way, that the system has never advanced
further than as laid down by Dr. Gerard; — according
to his system, jurisprudence and politics are to be
preceded by pneumatology and natural theology, and
are to be mixed up "with the perasal of some of the
best ancient moralists." Thus the studies of juris-
prudence and politics, two sciences of strictly modem
practical origin, are to be mixed with the dogmas of
philosophers, who saw governments but in dreams,
and calculated political contingencies in the abstract
rules of mathematicians; and the British student finds
that the constitutional information for which he will
at a more advanced period of life discover that his
country is renowned is the only science from which
the academical course has carefully excluded him,
and which he is left to gather in after-life by desul-
tory reading or miscellaneous conversation and prac-
tice. The change produced by Dr. Gerard was suf-
ficiently sweeping as a first step, and the reasons for
it were a sufficient victory for one mind over the
stubbornness of ancient prejudice. It is to be also
remembered that those admirable constitutional works
on the government and constitutional laws of Eng-
land (which have not even yet been imitated in Scot-
land), and that new science by which the resources
of governments and the relative powers of different
forms of constitutions are made known like the cir-
cumstances of a private individual — the work of an
illustrious Scotsman — had not then appeared.

In 1 756 a prize offered by the Philosophical Society
of Edinburgh, for the best essay on taste, was gained
by Dr. Gerard, and in 1 759 he published this essay,
the best and most popular of his philosophical works.
It passed through three English editions and two

VOL. II,

French, in which language it was published by
Eidous, along with three dissertations on the same
subject by Voltaire, D'Alembert, and Montesquieu.
This essay treats first of what the author calls taste,
resolved into its simple elements, and contains a sort
of analytical account of the different perceptible
qualities, more or less united, to be found in anything
we admire: he then proceeds to consider the progress
of the formation of taste, and ends with a discussion
on the existence of a standard of taste. The author
follows the system of reflex senses propounded by
Hutchinson. The system of association, upon which
Mr. Alison afterwards based a treatise on the same
subject, is well considered by Gerard, along with
many other qualifications, which he looks upon as
the sources of the feeling — qualifications which other
writers, whose ideas on the subject have not yet
been confuted, have referred likewise to the prin-
ciples of association for \.\\t\Tflrst cause. Longinus,
in his treatise on sublimity, if he has not directly
maintained the original influence of association — or
in other words, the connection of the thing admired,
either through cause and effect, or some other tie,
with what is pleasing or good — as an origin of taste,
at least in his reasonings and illustrations, gives cause
to let it be perceived that he acknowledged such a
principle to exist. ^ The first person, however, who
laid it regularly down and argued upon it as a source
of taste, appears to have been Dr. Gerard; and his
theory was admitted by Sir Joshua Reynolds (in as
far as maintaining that beauty consists in an aptness
of parts for the end to which they are assigned may
be considered an admission of the principle of asso-
ciation), at a period when one of an inversely oppo-
site nature was supported by Burke and Price. To
those who have followed these two, the name of
Dugald Stewart has to be added ; while that emi-
nent scholar and great philosopher Richard Payne
Knight has, amidst the various and rather ill-ar-
ranged mass of useful information and acute remark
accumulated in his inquiry into the principles of
taste, well illustrated the theoiy propounded by Dr.
Gerard; and it has been finally enlarged and systema-
tized by Dr. Alison, and the author of a criticism
on that work in the Editibitrgh Rezieiu, one of the
most beautiful and perfect specimens of modern
composition.

At the period when Dr. Gerard produced this
work, he was a member of a species of debating
institution half-way betwixt a society and a club,
subject neither to the pompous formality of the one
nor the free-and-easy style of the other. This society
is well known in Scottish literary historj' as embrac-
ing among its members many of the first men of the
time. More or less connected with it were the clas-
sical Blackwell; and Gregory; and Reid, the parent
of that clear philosophy which has distinguished the
country; and Beattie, who, though his merits have
perhaps been too highly rated, was certainly fit to have
been an ornament to any association of literary' men.
The use of literary societies has been much exagger-
ated; but still it cannot be denied, that wherever
a spot becomes distinguished for many superior
minds, there is one of these pleasing sources of ac-
tivity and enjoyment to be found. That it is more
the effect than the cause may be true. Such men
as Gerard, Reid, and Blackwell would have been
distinguished in any sphere of life ; but if the prin-
ciple should maintain itself in no other science, it
is at least true of philosophy, that intercommunica-
tion and untechnical debate clear and purify the

' This is particularly remarkable at the commencement of
the seventh section.

42

98

ALEXANDER GERARD.

ideas previously formed, and ramify them to an
extent of which the thinker had never previously
dreamed. It must have been grateful beyond con-
ception to the members of this retired and unosten-
tatious body, to have found learning and elegance
gradually brightening under their influence, after a
dreary and unlettered series of ages which had passed
over their university and the district — to feel that,
though living apart from the grand centres of literary
attraction, they had the enjoyments these could be-
stow beside their own retired hearths and among
their own professional colleagues — and to be con-
scious that they bestowed a dignity on the spot they
inhabited, which a long period of commercial pros-
perity could never bestow, and gave a tone to the
literature of their institution which should continue
when they were gone.

In June, 1760, Dr. Gerard was chosen professor
of divinity in Marischal College, being at the
same time presented to the living of the Grayfriars'
Church, in Aberdeen. During his tenure of these
offices he published his Dissertations on the Genius
and Evidences of Christianity, a subject which he
treated with more soundness, reason, and gentle-
manly spirit, than others of the same period have
chosen to display. In June, 1771, he resigned both
these situations, and accepted the theological chair
of King's College, and three years afterwards pub-
lished An Essay on Genius: this production is stamped
with the same strength of argument and penetrating
thought everywhere to be found in the productions
of the author. The heads of the subject are laid
down with much philosophical correctness, and
followed out with that liberal breadth of argument
peculiar to those who prefer what is reasonable and
true to what supports an assumed theory. The
language is not florid, and indeed does not aim at
what is called elegant writing, but is admirably
fitted to convey the ideas clearly and consistently,
and seems more intended to be understood than to
be admired. It commences with a discussion on
the nature of "genius," which is separated from the
other mental powers, and particularly from "ability,"
with which many have confounded it. Genius is
attributed in the first process of its formation to im-
agination, which discovers ideas to be afterwards
subjected to the arbitration of judgment ; memory,
and the other intellectual powers, being considered
as subsidiary aids in instigating the movements of
imagination.

Dr. Gerard afterwards presented to the world two
volumes of sermons, published in 17S0-S2. He
died on his sixty-seventh birth-day, 22d Feb. 1795.
A sermon was preached on his funeral, and after-
wards published, by his friend and pupil Dr. Skene
Ogilvy of Old Aberdeen, which, along with the
adulation common to such performances, enumerates
many traits of character which the most undisguised
flatterer could not have dared to have attributed to
any but a good, able, and much esteemed man. A
posthumous work, entitled Pastoral Care, was pub-
lished by Dr. Gerard's son and successor in 1799.

GERARD, Alexander. This enterprising east-
ern traveller, who died a martyr to his zeal in ex-
ploring the various regions of Hindoostan, was the
son of Gilbert Gerard, professor of theology in King's
College, Aberdeen, and grandson of Alexander
Gerard, who had previously occupied the same chair
in that college. This clerical succession, however,
was broken in the case of Alexander, who selected
the army as his sphere of occupation, and went to
India at the early age of sixteen. It was not, how-
ever, in military transactions that he was to win

distinction; but the more scientific parts of his pro-
fession, for which he showed a remarkable aptitude,
so that not long after his arrival in India, he was
sent by Sir David Gchterlony to survey Malacca, a
task which he executed with great accuracy, mostly
at mid-day, under a burning sun. After this he was
employed to make many of the surveys in the East
which were judged of peculiar difficulty and import-
ance, and in consequence of these appointments
he resided many years in the then almost unknown
district of Chinese Tartary, and among the Himalaya
Mountains. The dangers he dared and the toils he
endured among these mountains were almost in-
credible : he scaled heights that had never been
ascended by the foot of any European traveller, and
was rewarded by finding tribes in many places which
had hitherto been deemed uninhabited and unin-
habitable.

It was unfortunate, that while executing these pro-
fessional sur\-eys, and communicating his reports to
the East India Company, Captain Gerard took no
means of imparting to the world at large a full ac-
count of his explorations, contenting himself with
a few occasional notices published in India. For-
tunately, however, there was one exception to this
general statement, by the appearance of a work pub-
lished after his death, with the title which we give
in full: IVarrative of a fourney from Caivnpoor to the
Borendo Pass in the Himalaya l\foutitains, via
G'cualior, Agra, Delhi, and Sirhind, by Major Sir
William Lloyd; and Captain Alexander Gerard^s
Account of an Attempt to Penetrate by Bekhur to
Guroo and the Lake Manasorowara ; 'with a L^etter
from the late jf. G. Gerard, Esq. , detailijig a Visit to
the Shutool and Bore/ido Passes, for tfu Purpose of
Determining the Line of Perpetual Snow on the
Southern Face of the Himalaya, &c. &c., with maps.
Edited by George Lloyd. 2 vols. 8vo. London,
1840. In this work the second volume is occupied
by the " narrative" of Captain Gerard, and in it we
can see the character of the man, and the nature of
those travels and investigations which he prosecuted
for so many years in India, until his energies were
exhausted. Of this detailed expedition, however,
our limits will only permit a few particulars.

He left Sobahtoo in the beginning of June, 1821,
and ascended the Himalaya Mountains, noting care-
fully on the way the places inhabited, their range of
elevation above the level of the sea, their temperature
and produce, and the character of the tribes who
occupied them. Toiling and struggling amidst the
eternal snows, but still continuing his march upward,
he and his company, now looking more like ghosts
than men, reached the Borendo Pass, an elevation of
15,121 feet, on the 15th of June. It was a height at
which travellers can sleep little, and breathe only
with difficulty, while they are subject to frequent
headaches. Here their native guides refused to pro-
ceed with them, declaring that to go higher was
impossible; so that Gerard was obliged to alter his
route to the source of the Pabur, and seek it by
another. Charung Pass, an elevation of 17)348 feet,
he reached on the 9th of July, and half a mile of
this height was so slippeiy with stones, gravel, and
snow half melted by the rain, that he was obliged to
move upward on all fours, thrusting his hands deep
into the snow to secure his hold. Another ascent
which he performed was to the Keeobrung Pass,
18,313 feet in height, and a third was the Gangthung
Pass, an elevation of 18,295 f'^^'- Most of the com-
munities with which the ledges of the Himalayas in
these directions were dotted, consisted chiefly oJ
Tartars and Chinese, the subjects of the Celestial
Empire, whose conduct to the traveller was various;

ALEXANDER GERARD

some receiving him kindly and treating him with
hospitality, while others were churlish, and would
not allow him to proceed. In many cases, too,
Captain Gerard did not fmd the occupants of these
vast heights to be so uncomfortable as such localities
would seem to intimate. They had a healthy climate
cooled from the heat of the burning Indian sun, a
fertile soil in which some of the fruits and grains of
Europe were mixed with those of a warmer region, and
his description of one of these — the village of Ilango,
11,400 feet above the sea — would present allure-
ments for a European agriculturist to become a settler
there. It contains "thirty families of Tartars and
two nuns. It is situated at the head of a dell, in the
bosom of cultivation, extending nearly a mile in one
direction, and half that in the other. There are a
few poplar-trees, but apricots do not vegetate. I
have seldom seen more luxuriant crops: the ear of
the ooa showed so large and full, that I was induced
to count the grains, and I found the average of eight
picked casually to be seventy-eight fold. The pro-
duce here is the same as at Nako; most of the fields
were ripe, and some even cut. The glen runs nearly
east and west; a stream flows on each side of it, and
one through the middle; and the supply of water
never fails." At Nisung, another village at an eleva-
tion of more than 10,000 feet, at which our traveller
halted, he witnessed a usage which must have warmed
his heart with recollections of his native home. "I
remarked," he says, "a custom here similar to that
of the Scotch farmers, who, on commencing harvest,
plait some of the first-cut stalks of corn, and fix them
over the chimney-piece till next harvest. The Tar-
tars fasten three stalks of barley over the outside of
the door, the ear hanging down: every door in the
village was thus ornamented." Of the time alone
occupied in these perilous expeditions of Gerard, an
idea may be formed from the fact, that this one did
not terminate until the end of September, 1S21,
being a journey that lasted four months.

But such journeys in Hindoostan, continued over a
long course of -years, were sufficient to wear out a
constitution of iron ; and at last, yielding to the
solicitations of his friends, he returned to his native
country. But the return was too late for the recovery
of his health, and at home he was subject to per-
iodical attacks of a fever under which he gradually
sunk. It was one of these that carried him off on
the 15th of December, 1839, at Aberdeen, after a
short illness of three days.

Alexander was not the only one of the family of
the Gerards distinguished in the records of Indian
travel. His elder brother. Dr. James Gerard, of the
Bengal medical establishment, who accompanied
him in many of his expeditions and surveys, was
distinguished by the same adventurous enthusiasm,
and scarcely his inferior in that scientific skill and
quickness of observation so necessary for exploring
unknown and interesting countries; and he, too, like
his brother, fell a martyr to his zeal for Indian ex-
ploration. The following short account of him by
Captain Alexander Gerard, written only four weeks
before his own death, in a letter to the editor of Sir
William Lloyd's N'arrative, will be more interesting
than a lengthened narrative:

" You would be sorry to see my poor brother
James's death. His trip to Bokhara with Colonel
Sir A. Burnes was a mad-like expedition for
him, as he had long been unwell, and was obliged
to leave his bed to go, and could only travel in a
palkee [palankin]. It was, however, his own wish,
and, at his own particular request, that Burnes
applied for him. This trip killed him, for he had
several attacks of fever on his way to Bokhara, and

GILBERT GERARD.

99

Burnes again and again urged him either to return
or stop at Kabool till he recovered. But he
would do neither. His love of research carried him
on, and he persevered and accomplished the journey
with the greatest difficulty. On his return he was
detained three months at Meskid, and no less than
eight at Herat, by fever, so after his arrival at
Soobahtoo, his constitution was completely worn
out. He never had a single day's good health, and
gradually declined. But the doctors would not be-
lieve him on account of the florid complexion he
had even on the very day of his death. Patrick and
I were with him the whole time he survived, which
was just a year, for I got leave of absence on purpose
to prepare a map of his route from his notes; for he
observed the bearings, estimated the distances, and
noted the villages all the way from Herat to the
Indus." Of this survey taken from the notes, and
drawn up under the inspection of Dr. Gerard, the
captain gives the following interesting account: —
"It was a splendid map. It measures ten feet long
by three broad, on the scale of five miles to an inch.
At my brother's dying request I presented it to Sir
C. Metcalfe, then governor-general, from whom I
received a thousand thanks. The map is now
with the army of the Indus, and I was gratified
to hear, that, as far as they had gone, they had
found the positions of the roads wonderfully cor-
rect, considering the distances were estimated by
time, and the bearings taken with a small pocket
compass."

Such was the active character and career of two
enterprising brothers, whom no dangers could daunt
or difficulties deter; whose only place of rest was the
grave, and who persevered in their long pilgrimage
until their mission was accomplished.

GERARD, Gilbert, D.D., a divine, father of
the foregoing Alexander and James, and son of the
Rev. Alexander Gerard, D.D. (a memoir of whom
we have already given), was born at Aberdeen on the
1 2th of August, 1 760, and having acquired the earlier
elements of his professional education in his native
city, at a period when the eminence of several
great and well-known names dignified its universi-
ties, he finished it in the more extended sphere of
tuition furnished by the university of Edinburgh.
Before he reached the age of twenty-two, a vacancy
having occurred in the ministry of the Scottish
church of Amsterdam, a consideration of his father's
qualifications prompted the consistory to invite the
young divine to preach before them, and he was
subsequently waited upon by that body, with an
offer of the situation, which he accepted. During
his residence in Holland he turned the leisure allowed
him by his clerical duties, and his knowledge of the
Dutch language and of general science, to the sup-
port, with the assistance of two literary friends, of a
periodical called Dc Rccenscjit. What may have
been the intrinsic merits of this publication it would
be difficult to discover, either through the medium
of personal inquiry or general report, in a nation
where modern Dutch literature is unnoticed and
almost unknown; but it obtained the best suffrage of
its utility in the place for which it was intended — an
extensive circulation. During the same period he like-
wise occupied himself in contributing to the English
press; and on the establishment of the Analytical
Ra^'iciu in 1788, he is understood to have conducted
the department of that periodical referring to foreign
literature, — a task for which his hereditary critical
acuteness, his residence on the Continent, and know-
ledge of the classical and of several modern languages,
some of which were then much neglected, or had but

S D Q ft Q n A

GILBERT GERARD

ADAM GIB.

begun to attract the attention of educated English-
men, must have given peculiar facilities.

During his residence at Amsterdam he received
as a token of respect from his native university the
degree of Doctor of Divinity. Soon after this event
his professional and literary pursuits experienced a
check from a severe illness, which compelled him to
seek early in life a restorative for his weakened con-
stitution, in breathing the air of his native countr}-.
The change of climate had the desired effect, and he
returned restored in health to his duties in Holland.
These he continued to perform until April, 1791,
when strong family motives induced him to relinquish
a situation which habit and friendship had endeared
to him, and his resignation of which was followed by
the regrets of those who had experienced the merits
of their pastor. He soon after accepted the vacant
professorship of Greek in the King's College of
Aberdeen, a situation which he held for four years.
Although the students of King's College are not verj-
numerous, and the endowments connected with the
institution are by no means affluent, both are very
respectable, and there is every opportunity on the
part of the instructor to e.xhibit, both to the world
in general and to his students, those qualifications
which make the man respected and esteemed. From
the youth of the scholars generally committed to his
care, the professor of Greek is not only the public
lecturer in his department of literature, but the in-
stnictor of its elements; and he has not only to per-
form the more ostentatious duty of exhibiting to and
laying before them the stores of his own knowledge,
but to find the means by which this knowledge shall
enter the mind of each individual student. The in-
structor meets his pupils during a considerable por-
tion of the day, and for several months together; and
a knowledge of individuals is thus acquired, which
gives the benevolent and active discerner of charac-
ter an opportunity of uniting the friend and the in-
structor towards the young man who looks to him
for knowledge. The shrewdness of the young re-
specting those who have cognizance over them is
proverbially acute, and it frequently happens that
while the learned world has overlooked, in the midst
of brilliant talents or deep learning, the absence or
presence of the other more personal qualities requisite
fir the instruction of youth, the pupils have dis-
covered these, and, as a consequence, have pursued
or neglected their proper studies as they have per-
sonally respected or disliked the teacher of them.
It was the consequence of the learning and personal
worth of Dr. Gerard that his pupils respected his
personal character, and acquired, from his knowledge
and his kind friendship towards them, an enthusiasm
for Greek literature, which few teachers have had
the good fortune to inspire, and which has very sel-
dom made its appearance in Scotland. A course of
lectures on Grecian history and antiquities (unfor-
tunately never given to the world) which he delivered
to his students was profitably remembered by many,
to whom they formed a stable foundation for more
extended knowledge of the subject.

During the latter years of his father's life he had
assisted him in the performance of his duties as pro-
fessor of divinity, and on his death succeeded to that
situation, where he brought, to the less irksome and
more intellectual dutiesof instilling philosophic know-
ledge into more advanced minds, the same spirit of
friendly intercourse which had distinguished his ele-
mentary instructions. The Scottish student of divinity
is frequently a person who stands in need of a protector
and friend; and when he has none to trust to but
the teachers of the profession, on whom all have a
claim, it is very natural that these individuals should

hesitate in the exercise of any little patronage on
which there is an indefinite number of claimants.
It is, however, worthy of remark, to the honour of
the individuals who have filled these situations, that
many of them have been the best friends to their
students, and that although they had at that period
to look to them for no professional remuneration,
they considered themselves as being, from the com-
mencement of the connection, not only the tem-
porary instructors, but the guardians of the future
conduct, and the propagators of the future fortune,
of their students. Of these feelings on the part of
Dr. Gerard many afterwards dispersed in respectable
ministerial situations through the country retained an
affectionate recollection. His influence, which was
considerable, was used in their favour, and where he
had not that to bestow, he was still a friend. In
181 1 he added to his professorship the second charge
of the collegiate church of Old Aberdeen, and con-
tinued to hold both situations till his death. During
the inter\-ening period he permitted his useful leisure
hours to be occupied with the fulfilment of the duties
of the mastership of mortifications for King's College,
— certainly rather an anomalous office for a scholar,
and one which, with a salarj- that could have been no
inducement, seems to have brought along with it the
qualities of its not very auspicious name. The duties,
though petty and irksome in the extreme, were per-
formed with the same scrupulous exactness which
distinguished the professor's more important pursuits;
and he had in the end, from his diligent discharge of
these duties, and his being able to procure, from his
personal influence with the government, a grant in
favour of the university, the satisfaction of rescuing
it from the poverty with which it was threatened, by
a degree of augmentation of the stipends of several
churches, of which the college was titular. During
this period of adversity Dr. Gerard had before his
eyes the brighter prospect of a benefice in the Scottish
metropolis, which many of his friends there attempted
to prevail on him to accept ; but the retired habits
consequent on a studious life, the small but select
circle of intimate friends in the neighbourhood of his
college, to whose appearance and conversation long
intercourse had endeared him, and a desire to benefit
an institution he might almost call paternal, prompted
him to continue his useful duties.

Dr. Gilbert Gerard died on the 2Sth of September,
181 5, and amidst the regrets of his acquaintances,
the professional tribute to his memory was bestowed
by the same reverend friend who preached his father's
funeral sermon. His only published work is entitled
Institutes of Biblical Criticism, published in Edin-
burgh in iSoS. It has received from his profession
that approval which the author's merit had given
cause to anticipate. It is characterized by the author
of the Biographic Universcllc 2.% " Un ouvrage plein
d'erudition, et compose dans un bon esprit."

GIB, Adam, long distinguished as leader of the
religious party called Antiburghers, was a native of
Perthshire, and bom in 17 13. He received his edu-
cation at the university of Edinburgh. In the year
1 74 1 he was ordained a minister of the Associated
Presbyterj', recently formed by Mr. Ebenezer Ersktne
and others, as detailed in the life of that eminent in-
dividual. Mr. Gib's charge was one of the most im-
portant in the kingdom— namely the congregation
in the southern suburbs of Edinburgh, which was
after^vards administered to by Dr. Jamieson, the
learned author of the Scottish Etynwlogical Dic-
tionary. It is well known that during the progress
of the rebellion of 1745-6, no body of individuals in
Scotland manifested a warmer loyalty to the govern-

ADAM GIB JOHN GIBB.

ment than that to which Mr. Gib belonged. When
the insurgents were approaching Edinburgh, about
300 of the congregation in and around the city took
up arms for its defence, hired a sergeant to teach
them the military exercise, and were the last to de-
liver up their arms to the castle, when all hope of
holding out the town had been abandoned. During
the six weeks' occupation of the city by Prince Charles,
the established Presbyterian clergy were, with one
exception, mute, having mostly fled to the country.
Mr. Gib was also obliged to abandon his meeting-
house; but he did not flee so far as the rest, nor resign
himself to the same inactivity. He assembled his
congregation at Dreghorn, about three miles from
the town, and within a short distance of Colinton,
where the insurgents kept a guard, and not only
preached the gospel as usual, but declared that he
was doing so as an open proof and testimony
"that we are resolved, through the Lord's grace, to
come to no terms with the enemy that has power in
the city, but to look on them as enemies, showing
ourselves to be none of their confederacy. In our
public capacity," he continued, "it is fit that we
make even a voluntary removal from the place where
they are, as from the seat of robbers, showing our-
selves resolved that their seat shall not be ours."
Mr. Gib thus discoursed on five different Sundays,
"expressly preaching up an abhorrence of the rebel-
lion then on foot, and a hope of its speedy overthrow,
and every day making express mention of the reign-
ing sovereign in public prayer; praying for the safety
of his reign, the support of his government, a bless-
ing on his family, and the preservation of the Pro-
testant succession in that family; at the same time
praying for the suppression of the rebellion, expressly
under the characters of an unnatural and anti-christian
rebellion, hes.<le(l hy -x Popish pretender." What is
most surprising of all, to pursue Mr. Gib's own rela-
tion of the circumstances, "while I was doing so, I
ordinarily had a party of the rebel guard from Col-
lington, who understood English, standing before
me on the outside of the multitude. . . . Though
they then attended with signs of great displeasure,
they were restrained from using any violence: yet,
about that time, as I was passing on the road near
CoUington, one of them who seemed to be in some
command, fired at me ; but for anything that ap-
peared, it might be only with a design to fright me."

In a subsequent part of the campaign, when the
Seceders re-appeared in arms along with the English
army, Mr. Gib seems to have accompanied them to
Falkirk, where, a few hours before the battle of the
17th January, he distinguished himself by his activity
in seizing a rebel spy. When the rebels in the even-
ing took possession of Falkirk, they found that
person in prison, and, being informed of what Mr.
Gib had done, made search for him through the
town, with the intention, no doubt, of taking some
measure of vengeance for his hostility.

Referring the reader to the article Ebenezer Er-
SKINE for an account of the schism which took place
in 1747 in the Associated Presbytery, respecting the
burgess oath, we shall only mention here that Mr. Gib
took a conspicuous part at the head of the more rigid
party, termed Antiburghers, and continued during
the rest of his life to be their ablest advocate and
leader. A new meeting-house was opened by him,
November 4, 1753, in Nicholson Street, in which he
regularly preached for many years to about 2000
persons. His eminence in the public affairs of his
sect at last obtained for him the popular epithet of
Pope Gib, by which he was long remembered. In
^765. when the General Assembly took the subject
of the Secession into consideration, as a thing that

"threatened the peace of the countr}-," Mr. Gib
wrote a spirited remonstrance against that injurious
imputation; and, as a proof of the attachment of the
Seceders to the existing laws and government, de-
tailed all those circumstances respecting the rebellion
in 1745 which we have already embodied in this
notice. In 1774 Mr. Gib published A Display of
t/te Secession I'estimony, in two volumes 8vo; and in
1784 his Sacred Contemplaliois, at the end of which
was "An Essay on Liberty and Necessity," in an-
swer to Lord Kaimes' essay on that subject. Mr. Gib
died, June 18, 1788, in the seventy-fifth year of his
age and forty-eighth of his ministry, and was in-
terred in the Grayfriars' Churchyard, where an
elegant monument was erected to his memory, at the
expense of his grateful congregation.

GIBB, John. This active and skilful civil en-
gineer was born at Kirkcows, a small property be-
longing to his father near Falkirk, in 1776. His
father having died when he was only twelve years of
age, John learned the first lessons of his future pro-
fession by serving an apprenticeship to a mechanical
trade: after this he was so fortunate as to learn the
higher departments of civil engineering at the Lan-
caster and Preston canal, in the construction of
which his brother-in-law was engaged under its super-
intendent, Mr. Rennie. From this he was afterwards
transferred to Leith, where he was employed in the
formation of the Leith docks under his father-in-law,
Mr. Easton.

Having thus acquired a knowledge of his profession
under the patronage and direction of such near rela-
tives, John Gibb was enabled to commence business
on his own account; and his character for profes-
sional skill being established, he was employed by
the magistrates and town-council of Greenock in the
erection of the new harbour of that town, under the
superintendence of Mr. Rennie. It was a fortunate
turning-point in his progress, for, while employed
upon this commission, he was so fortunate as to at-
tract the attention of Mr. Telford to his superior man-
agement and skill. As Mr. Telford was at that time
looking out for a resident engineer to the harbour-
works at Aberdeen, he recognized in Gibb a fit
person for so responsible a charge, and engaged him
accordingly. The latter removed to Aberdeen in
1809, and warranted the recommendation by erecting
the extensive piers at the entrance into the Aberdeen
harbour. It was at an after period of his life that,
along with his son, he deepened the bed, and con-
structed quay- walls for the conversion of the harbour
into a wet-dock, as well as introduced many other im-
portant improvements — works which secured the high
approbation of Mr. Telford, one of the most com-
petent judges in civil engineering. These he de-
clared Mr. Gibb had superintended with unremitting
attention, and had distinguished himself in them by
remarkable ingenuity and perseverance.

Aberdeenshire being found too contracted a field
for his professional exertions, Mr. Gibb became a
contractor for extensive works in other districts, and
principally in the south of .Scotland, and his first con-
tract of this kind, in 1S17, won him honourable com-
mendation from the highest quarters. The Crinan
Canal was to be finished in a twelvemonth, and at
the end of Febraary in that year it was closed
to admit of the necessarj- operations. Mr. Gibb
engaged to complete these operations within the
specified time, and his offer was accepted. In this
he was better than his word, for in nine months the
arduous task was finished. In the report of the
parliamentarj' commissioners for the improvement of
the canal, consisting of Lords Castlereagh, Melville,

JAMES GIBBS.

llinning, and Glenbervie, they thus record the gra-
tifying fact: — "The canal was closed at the end of
Februar)', 1817, to admit of the necessarj^ operations,
for the completion of which we allowed the contrac-
tor (Mr. Gib)} of Aberdeen) a twelvemonth, expiring
February, iSiS. But his activity has outrun our ex-
pectations, the canal having been actually ojiened
for use in the beginning of November last. On a
review of what has been done by Mr. Gibb, we can-
not but be gratified at such an instance of exertion."
Such promptitude, combined with such professional
care and skill, necessarily led to numerous engage-
ments in the erection or completion of jniblic works,
and as he was effectually aided by his son, who
worked with him in partnership, he was enabled to
continue his exertions to a good old age. The last
commission in which they were conjointly occupied
was the erection of the Glasgow bridge faced with
Aberdeen granite, designed by Mr. Telford; and
this they performed so satisfactorily, that the bridge
trustees presented to them at the close of the work
two elegant pieces of plate in token of their satis-
faction. After having outlived most of his contem-
poraries, so that he was one of the oldest meml^ers
of the Institution of Civil Engineers of London, Mr.
Gibb died at Aberdeen on the 3d of December, 1S50.

GEBBS, J.\MES, a celebrated architect, was bom
in Aberdeen, according to the most approved autho-
rity, in the year 1674, though Walpole and others
j)lace the date of his birth so late as 1683, a period
which by no means accords with that of his advance-
ment to fame in his profession. He was the only
son (by his second wife)' of Peter Gibbs of Footdees-
mire, a merchant, and, as it would appear from his
designation, a proprietor or feuar of a piece of ground
along the shore at the mouth of the Dee, where his
house, called "the White House in the Links," re-
mains an evidence of the respectability and compara-
tive wealth of the family. Old Gibbs retained, during
the stormy period in which he lived, the religion of
his ancestors, and was a staunch non-juror. An
anecdote is preserved by his fellow-townsmen, char-
acteristic of the man and of the times. The conflict-
ing religious doctrines of Presbyterian and Episco-
palian, and of course the political doctrines of Whig
and Tory, found in Al^erdeen a more equal balance
than perhaps in any other part of Scotland; and his-
tory has shown that, in the event of a serious struggle,
the influence of the Huntly family generally made
the latter predominate; in these circumstances, it may
easily be supposed that the city was a scene of per-
petual petty jarring, and that pasquinades and abuse
were liberally given and bitterly received. Gibbs
being a Roman Catholic was the friend of neither
jiarty, and an object of peculiar antipathy to the
Presbyterians, wlio testified their sense of his import-
ance and wickedness by instructing the children in
the neighbourhood to annoy the old gentleman in
his premises, and hoot him on the streets. Gibbs,
to show his respect for both parties, procured two
fierce dogs for his personal jirotection, and engraved
on the collar of the one "Luther," and on that of
the other "Calvin;" the compliment was understood
by neither party; and the dogs and their master being
summoned before the bailies to answer for their re-
spective misdemeanours, the former were delivered
over to the proper authorities, and executed accord-
ing to law, at the cross, the public place of execution.

The subject of our memoir attended the usual

1 Cunningham errs in supposing that James Gibbs was the
only son and only child of Peter Gibbs. There was a son
William, by the first wife, who went abroad after his father's
death— what became of him is not known.

course of instruction at the grammar-school, and
was afterwards sent to Marischal College, where he
accepted of the easily acquired degree of Master of
Arts. At that period when the Scottish colleges
were partly remnants of monastic institutions, partly
schools for the instruction of boys, having the indo-
lence of the Roman Catholic age strangely mingled
with their own poverty and the simplicity of Presby-
terian government, there were but two classes of
persons at the universities — the sons of the noblemen
and gentlemen, living in a style superior to the
citizens, and a poorer class who were supported by
the bursaries, or even common charity ; the two
classes wore different dresses, and of course had little
communication with each other, excepting such as
might exist between master and servant. To which
of these classes Gibbs may have belonged is not
known ; that it should have been the latter is not
so improbable as it may appear, as custom, the
master of everything, made it by no means degrad-
ing to those of inferior rank; while a burgess, what-
ever might have been his wealth, would hardly in
that age have been so daring as to have forced his
son upon the company of the offspring of lairds. For
some time after his father's death he was reared and
educated by his uncle-in-law and aunt, Mr. and Mrs.
Morrison, people in much the same respectable
circumstances with his father; but destitute, perhaps
from his religious principles, of influence sufficient
to enable him to follow his father's business with
success, or more probably having a natural bent for
more tasteful pursuits, Gibbs, at the early age of
twenty, left his native town, nor did he ever return
to a spot not very congenial to the pursuit of a pro-
fession which must be studied among the remains
of ancient grandeur, and practised in the midst of
luxury and profusion. From 1694 to I'JOO he studied
architecture and the mathematics in Holland, under
an architect to whom the biographers of Gibbs have
given the merit of possessing reputation, while neither
his own talents nor the subsequent fame of his scho-
lar has preserved his name from oblivion. Here
the young architect made himself acquainted with
the Earl of Marr, then on a visit to the Continent,
who, according to the praiseworthy custom for which
Scotsmen have received rather uncharitable com-
mendation, of assisting their countrymen when they
meet them in a foreign country, gave him recom-
mendatory letters to influential friends, and money
to enable him to pursue the study of his profession,
for which it would appear the earl had a taste.
After leaving Holland he spent ten years in Rome,
where, according to L^allaway, he studied under
P. F. Garroli, a sculptor and architect of consider-
able merit ; and where, like many who have after-
wards issued from the great manufactory of artists
to astonish and gratify the world, he probably spent
his days in labour and unnoticed retirement.

In 1 710 Gibbs returned to Britain, and by the
influence of the Earl of Marr, then secretary of state
for Scotland in Queen Anne's Tory ministry, the
means of exhibiting his knowledge to advantage,
and gaining emolument, were amply provided. The
renowned legislative measure by which the metro-
polis was to be made religious by act of parliament
on the erection of fifty new churches having been
passed, the name of Gibbs was added by his gen-
erous patron to the list of those eminent architects
who were to put the vast plan in execution. Pre-
vious, however, to commencing this undertaking,
he completed the first of his architectural labours,
the additional buildings to King's College, Cam-
bridge. It is generally allowed that this is a pro-
duction on which the architect could not have foun-

JAMES GIBBS.

103

ded much of his fame. "The diminutive Doric
portico," says Dallaway, "is certainly not a happy
performance, either in the idea or the execution.
Such an application of the order would not occur
in a pure and classic instance." While, on the
other hand, the historian of the university of Cam-
bridge remarks: — "It is built of white Portland
stone, beautifully carved, with a grand portico in
the centre; and contains three lofty floors above the
vaults. The apartments, which are twenty-four in
number, are exceedingly well fitted up, and in every
respect correspond with the outward appearance,
which equals that of any other building in the uni-
versity." The latter part of the sentence, in refer-
ence to the spot which contains King's College
Chapel and Clare Hall, is sufficiently complimentary
for the architect's best works. The truth appears
to be, that those trammels which architects have
had more reason to detest than any other class of
artists, restrained the genius of Gibbs in this instance,
and that being obliged to apply given form, size, and
number of apartments, to given space, he had no
opportunity of displaying the beauties which attend
Ids other works. The first of "the fifty," which
Gibbs completed, was St. Martin's-in-the-Fields,
a work which, with its calm tastefulness and simple
grandeur, might have been honourable to the fame
of the greatest architect the world ever saw. The
west front of this building, surmounted by a light
and neatly designed spire, is decorated with Corin-
thian columns, over which is a pediment bearing
the royal arms ; the order is continued round the
sides in pilasters, and there is a double series of
windows in the inter-columniations, an unfortunate
sacrifice of architectural effect to internal accommoda-
tion. The interior is divided into three unequal
parts, by a range of four Corinthian columns and
two pilasters on each side, standing on tall pedestals;
the central space or nave being covered by a semi-
elliptical ceiling, rising from the top of the entab-
lature over each column, and is rich in moulding and
ornament. The following plainly told but judicious
opinion of this building, is given by Ralph, in his
Critical Re7.'ieiv of Public Buildings: — "The portico
is at once elegant and august, and the steeple above
it ought to be considered as one of the most tolerable
in town ; if the steps arising from the street to the
front could have been made regular, and on a line
from end to end, it would have given it a very con-
siderable grace : but, as the situation of the ground
would not allow it, this is to be esteemed rather a
misfortune than a fault. The round columns at each
angle of the church are very well conceived, and
have a very fine effect in the profile of the building:
the east end is remarkably elegant, and very justly
challenges particular applause. In short, if there is
anything wanting in this fabric, it is a little more
elevation, which I presume is apparently wanted
within, and would create an additional beauty with-
out." "All the parts," says Allan Cunningham,
"are nicely distributed, and nothing can be added,
and nothing can be taken away. It is complete in
itself, and refuses the admission of all other orna-
ment. " Much discussion seems to have been wasted
on the portico of St. Martin's, some insisting that
it is a mere model of the portico of the Pantheon,
or some other production of classic art; others main-
taining its equality in merit and design to the best
specimens of Grecian architecture. A portico, to
bear the name, must have basements, pillars, capitals,
and an entablature, just as a house must have a roof
and windows, and a bridge arches ; so all that ori-
ginality can possibly achieve in such a work, is the
harmony of the proportions and ornaments with each

other, and with the rest of the building; it is in hav-
ing made the proportions and ornaments different
from those of the Pantheon, and adapted them to a
totally different building, that Gibbs has been ori-
ginal, and it is on the pleasure which the whole com-
bination affords to the eye that his merit depends;
a merit, however, which cannot come in competi-
tion with that of the invcfitor of the portico. The
next church of the fifty undertaken by Gibbs was
St. Mary's in the Strand, a work on which, if we
may judge from its appearance, he bestowed more
labour with less effect. Instead of appearing like
the effort of a single grand conception, forming a
complete and harmonizing whole, it is like a num-
ber of efforts clustered together. Instead of being
one design, the interstices in which are filled up by
details, it is a number of details united together; in
gazing on which the mind, instead of absorbing the
grandeur of the whole at one view, wanders from
part to part, finding no common connection by which
the joint effect of all may be summoned before it at
once.

Gibbs had just prepared the plans of the buildings
we have described, and was in the high and palmy
state of his fortunes, when his kind patron, having
had his overtures to procure the allegiance of the
Highland clans contumeliously rejected, and having
been disgusted and thrown in fear by the impeach-
ment of Oxford and Stafford, and the exile of Or-
mond and Bolingbroke, resolved to avenge his per-
sonal wrongs by a recourse to the feudal fiction of
the divine origin of hereditary right, to maintain the
theoretic purity of which a nation contented with
its king was plunged in civil war, that the king they
ought not to have been contented without should
be restored. Family ruin followed the rebellion of
the earl ; but the architect, fortified by the practice
of a profession, the principles of which politics could
not sway, and possessing knowledge which, unlike
the art of governing, could not be deprived of its
efficacy by the influence of the party in power, re-
mained unmolested on the step to which he had ad-
vanced, and looked forward to the prospect of other
honours.

The most magnificent, though perhaps not the
purest of Gibbs' works, is the ' Radcliffe Library
at Oxford, on the completion of which he received
the degree of Master of Arts from that university.
The Radcliffe Library is of a circular form, rising
in the centre of an oblong square of 370 feet by i lO,
with a cupola 140 feet high and ICX) feet in diameter.
The lofty dome of this building raises itself in the
centre of almost every prospect of Oxford, and gives
a characteristic richness to the landscape. "The
Radcliffe dome," says Allan Cunningham, "in fact
conveys to every distant observer the idea of its be-
ing the air-hung crown of some gigantic cathedral
or theatre. It is perhaps the grandest feature in
the grandest of all English architectural landscapes;
it rises wide and vast amid a thousand other fine
buildings, interrupts the horizontal line, and mate-
rially increases the picturesque effect of Oxford;"
on a nearer and more critical view, however, the
spectator is disappointed to find that a want of pro-
portion betwixt the cupola and the rest of the build-
ing, slight, but still very perceptible, deadens the
effect of the magnificent whole, a mistake on the
part of the architect which has frequently turned
the whole mass of taste and beauty into an object
of ridicule to the bitter critic. It may be in general
questioned how far such a building, however much
its swelling magnificence may serve to add dignity
to a vast prospect without, or solemnity to an im-
portant pageant within, is suited for the more retired

I04

JAMES GIBES SIR ALEXANDER GIBSON.

purposes of a librarj'. The student seldom wishes
to have his attention obstructed by the intrusion of
a wide prospect upon his view whenever he raises
his eyes; and perhaps when extent and grandeur are
desired, a more suitable method of accommodating
them with comfortable retirement may be found in
a corridor or galler)', where any one, if he is anxious,
may indulge himself by standing at one end, and
luxuriate in the perspective of the whole length,
while he who wishes to study uninterrupted may
retire into a niche, whence his view is bounded by
the opposite side of the narrow galler}'. In the com-
pletion of the quadrangle of All Souls, Gibbs had
the great good fortune to receive a growl of uncharit-
able praise from Walpole. "Gibl)s," says the im-
perious critic, "though he knew little of Gothic
architecture, was fortunate in the quadrangle of All
Souls, which he has blundered into a picturesque
scenery not void of grandeur, especially if seen
through the gate that leads from the schools. The
assemblage of buildings in that quarter, though no
single one is beautiful, always struck me with singu-
lar pleasure, as it conveys such a vision of large
edifices unbroken by private houses, as the mind
is apt to entertain of renowned cities that exist no
longer." Such is the opinion of one whose taste
in Gothic architecture, as represented by the strag-
gling corridors and grotesque and toyish mouldings
of Strawberry Hill, would not, if curiosity thought
it of sufficient importance to be inquired into, bear
the test of a very scrutinizing posterity. A com-
parison of his various opinions of the different works
of Gibbs are among the most amusing specimens
of the constmction of the noble critic's mind. \Vhere
the architect has been tasteful and correct, he only
shows that mere mechanical knowledge may avoid
faults without furnishing beauties, "and where he
has been picturesque and not void of grandeur, the
whole is the effect of chance and blunder." Among
the other works of Gibbs are the monument of
Holies, Duke of Newcastle, in Westminster Abbey;
the senate-house at Cambridge, a very favourable
specimen of his correct and tasteful mind; and some
buildings in the palace of Stowe. The west church
of St. Nicholas in his native city, a very fine speci-
men, if we may believe the accounts of contempor-
aries, of Gothic taste, having fallen nearly to ruin,
Gibbs presented the magistrates with a plan for a
church that might reinstate it. In this production
we look in vain for the mind which imagined the
lofty pomp of the Radcliffe, or the eye that traced
the chaste proportions of St. Martin's ; and one
might be inclined to question with what feelings the
great architect made his donation. The outside
is of no description of architecture under the sun
"in particular;" it just consists of heavy freestone
walls, with a roof, and plain Roman arched windows.
The inside is a degree worse. Heavy groined arches,
supported on heavier square pillars, overtop the
gallery. There is in every corner all the gloom of
the darkest Gothic, with square comers instead of
florid mouldings, and square beams instead of clus-
tered pillars; while the great arched windows of the
Gothic piles, which send a broken and beautiful light
into their farthest recesses, are specially avoided,
a preference being given to wooden square glazed
sashes, resembling those of a shop — in the whole,
the building is one singularly repulsive to a correct
taste.

Gibbs, in 172S, published a folio volume of de-
signs, which have acquired more fame for the know-
ledge than for the genius displayed in them. By
this work he gained the very considerable sum of
;^I900. Besides a set of plans of the Radcliffe

Librar}-, this forms his only published work: his
other papers and manuscripts, along with his lib-
rary, consisting of about 500 volumes, he left as a
donation to the Radcliffe Library. After five years
of suffering from a lingering and painful complaint,
this able, persevering, and upright man died in Lon-
don, in 1754, having continued in the faith of his
ancestors, and unmarried. He made several be-
quests, some to public charities, others to individuals,
one of which in particular must not be passed over.
Remembering the benefactor who had assisted him
in the days of his labour and adversity, he left
;i^iooo, the whole of his plate, and an estate of jC2?>o
a year to the only son of the Earl of Marr ; an un-
common act of gratitude, which, however party
feeling may regret the circumstances which caused
it, will in the minds of good and generous men,
exceed in merit all that the intellect of the artist
ever achieved.

GIBSON", Sir Alexander, Lord Durie, an
eminent lawyer and judge, was the son of George
Gibson of Goldingstones, one of the clerks of session.
The period of his birth we have been unable to dis-
cover; but as we find him admitted a clerk of session
in 1594, we may conclude that he was born con-
siderably more than twenty years previous to that
period. It appears that the appointment of Gibson
to this duty created a new clerkship, and as the addi-
tion in number would reduce the arbitrary sources
of emolument of the other two clerks, it was na-
turally apprehended that the interloper would be
received with the usual jealousy of those whose in-
terests are unduly interfered with. King James VI.,
who had generally some deep and mysteriously wise
purpose in all he did, chose to be personally present
at the appointment of his nominee, in order that the
royal choice might meet with no marks of contempt.
The mindful sovereign was on this occasion pleased to
be so highly delighted with the disinterested conduct
of his obedient clerks, who had so willingly received
a partner "at his highness's wish and special desire,"
that he promised in presence of the court to remun-
erate them with "ane sufficient casualty for said
consents." The chamber in the Register House
instituted by this appointment still retains the deno-
mination of "Durie's Office." At that period the
duties of a principal clerk of session were of a more
politically important nature than they have been
since the union: these officers had to register the
decrees and acts of parliament, in addition to their
present duties. The only remnant of their former
occupations is their acting as clerks at the elections
of the Scottish representative peers. Gibson con-
tinued in his clerkship for all the remainder of his
life, notwithstanding the higher offices to which he
was afterwards promoted. In 1621 he was appointed
a lord of session ; and as the duties of judge and
clerk were rather anomalous, we find by the books
of sederunt that the prudent clerk had procured in
the previous month his son to be installed in the
office. Mr. Alexander Gibson, junior, being ap-
pointed conjunct clerk with Mr. Alexander Gibson,
senior, during the life of the longest liver, the senior,
it may be presumed, continued to draw the salary,
without being much troubled with the duties. Seven
years after his appointment to the bench, we find
him accepting a baronetcy of Nova Scotia, with a
grant of some few square miles of land in that dis-
trict. In 1633 he was appointed a member of one
of the committees for the revision of the laws and
customs of the countr)-. In 1640 he appears to
have been elected a member of the committee of
estates, and his appointment as judge was continued

SIR ALEXANDER GIBSOX

PATRICK GIESOX.

105

under a new commission to the court in 1641. From
the period of his elevation to tlie bench in 1621, till
the year 1642, this laborious lawyer preserved notes
of such decisions of the court as he considered worthy
of being recorded as precedents, a task for which a
previously extensive practice had fitted him. These
were published by his son in one volume folio, in
16SS, and are valuable as the earliest digested col-
lection of decisions in Scottish law. Their chief
peculiarities are their brevity, and, what would not
appear at first sight a natural consequence, their ob-
scurity. But Gibson produced by a too niggardly
supply the effect which is frequently attributed to a
too great multitude of words. He appears, however,
to have always known his own meaning; and when,
with a little consideration, his ralioncs decidendi are
discovered, they are found to be soundly stated.
The clamours which other judges of the day caused
to be raised against their dishonesty and cupidity,
were not applied to Durie. He seems, indeed, as
far as the habits of the times could allow the virtue
to exist except in an absolutely pure being, to have
been a just and fearless judge, for in a period of
general legal rapine and pusillanimity, the possession
of a very moderate share of honesty and firmness in
the judgment-seat made their proprietor worthy of
a nation's honour. If the affirmation of a profes-
sional brother may be credited, Durie possessed, ac-
cording to the opinion of Forbes, a later collector
of decisions, most of the intellectual and moral
qualities which can dignify the bench. It is a proof
of the respect in which his brethren held him, that
while the office continued elective in the senators of
the college, he was repeatedly chosen as president.
At that period the legal practice of Scotland ap-
peared to have improved for the mere purpose of
substituting sophism and injustice under form for
nide equity ; it was a handle to be made use of,
rather than a rule to be applied. The crown had
recourse to legal fictions, and unjust and arbitrary
presumptions, in its dealings with the subject. The
subject, instead of calling for a recourse to constitu-
tional principles, sometimes rose against the admin-
istration of the law, just or unjust. With private
parties the more powerful got the command of the
law, and used it against the weaker. A striking
instance of contempt towards the laws, which took
place during one of the presidencies of Gibson of
Durie, is mentioned in Douglas' Baronage, and
Forbes' Journal, and is more fully and pleasingly
narrated in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.
The Earl of Traquair had an action depending
in court, in which it was understood the president
would, by his influence, cause the court to give
judgment against him. A border freebooter, or
gentleman thief, known by the name of Christie's
Will, owed to the peer some gratitude and allegiance,
having gained his protection by an insolent jest on
the subject of his having been imprisoned for theft.
This person being a gentleman both by descent and
education, insinuated himself into the president's
company during his usual morning ride on the sands
of Leith. On the two reaching a very lonely spot,
the judge was snatched from his horse, rolled into a
blanket, and carried off he knew not where. He
was imprisoned three months, during which time his
friends and himself considered that he was in fairy-
land. The case was decided in favour of Traquair,
and a new president appo'r.ted, when the judge one
morning found himself laid down in the exact spot
from which he had been so suddenly carried off, and
returned to claim his privileges. This useful man
died at his house of Durie on the loth of June, 1644.
He left behind him a son of his own name, who was

active among the other persons of high rank, who
came forward to protect their national church from
the imposition of a foreign liturgy. He is known
as having boldly resisted one of King Charles I.'s
prorogations, by refusing the performance of the
duty of clerk of parliament, already alluded to. He
appears, however, not to have always given satisfac-
tion to the cause he had so well espoused, as he is
more than once mentioned in Lamonfs Diary as a
malignant. He was raised to the bench in 1646.
Besides this son, the wealth of the father allowed
him to provide a junior branch of the family with
the estate of Adistone in Lothian.

GIBSON, P.A.TRICK, an eminent artist and writer
upon art, was born at Edinburgh, in December,
1782. He was the son of respectable parents, who
gave him an excellent classical education, partly at
the high-school, and partly at a private academy.
In his school-boy days he manifested a decided
taste for literature, accompanied by a talent for
drawing figures, which induced his father to place
him as an apprentice under Mr. Nasmyth, the dis-
tinguished landscape-painter; who was, in this man-
ner, the means of bringing forward many men of
genius in the arts. Contemporary with Mr. Gibson
as a student in this school, was Kir. Nasmyth's son
Peter; and it is painful to think, that both of these
ingenious pupils should have gone down to the grave
before their master. Mr. Nasmyth's academy was
one in no ordinary degree advantageous to his
apprentices: such talents as they possessed were
generally brought into speedy use in painting and
copying landscapes, which he himself finished and
sold; and thus they received encouragement from
seeing works of which a part of the merit was their
own, brought rapidly into the notice of the world.
About the same time Mr. Gibson attended the
Trustees' Academy, then taught with distingiiished
success by Mr. Graham. ^^ hile advancing in the
practical part of his profession, Mr. Gibson, from
his taste for general study, paid a greater share of
attention to the branches of knowledge connected
with it, than the most of artists had it in their power
to bestow. He studied the mathematics Mith par-
ticular care, and attained an acquaintance with per-
spective, and with the theory of art in general, which
was in his own lifetime quite unexampled in Scottish
— perhaps in British — art. Mr. Gibson, indeed,
might rather be described as a man of high literary
and scientific accomplishments, pursuing art as a
profession, than as an artist in the sense in which
that term is generally understood. In landscape-
painting he showed a decided preference for the
classical style of Domenichinoand Nicholas Poussin;
and having studied architectural drawing with much
care he became remarkably happy in the views of
temples and other classical buildings which he in-
troduced into his works. When still a veiy young
man, Mr. Gibson went to London, and studied the
best works of art to be found in that metropolis —
the state of the Continent at that time preventing
him from pursuing his investigations any further.

Mr. Gibson painted many landscapes which have
found their way into the collections of the most re-
spectable amateurs in his native countr)-. His own
exquisitely delicate and fastidious taste perhaps pre-
vented him from attaining full success at first, but he
was continually improving ; and, great as the tri-
umphs of his pencil ultimately were, it is not too
much to say, that if life had been spared to him, he
must have reached still higher degrees of perfection.

Mr. Gibson's professional taste and skill, along
with his well-known literary habits, pointed him out

io6

PATRICK GIRSOX JOHN BORTIIWICK GILCHRIST.

as a proper individual to write, not only criticisms
upon the works of modern art brought under public
notice, but articles upon the fundamental principles
of the fine arts, in works embracing miscellaneous
knowledge. He contributed to the Encychpj:dia
Edinensis an elaborate article under the head "De-
sign," embracing the history, theory, and practice of
painting, sculpture, and engraving, and concluding
with an admirable treatise on his favourite subject,
"Linear Perspective," This article extends to io6
pages of quarto, in double columns, and is illus-
trated by various drawings. It is, perhaps, the
best treatise on the various subjects which it em-
braces ever contributed to an encyclopaedia. To Dr.
Brewster's more extensive work, entitled the Edin-
burgh Encyclopirdia, Mr. Gibson contributed the
articles "Drawing," "Engraving," and "Miniature-
painting," all of which attracted notice for the full
and accurate knowledge upon which they appeared
to be based. In the Edinburgh Annual Register for
lSi6, published in 1820, being edited by Mr. J. G.
Lockhart, was an article by Mr. Gibson, entitled
"A View of the Progress and Present State of the
Art of Design in Britain." It is written with much
discrimination and judgment, and is certainly worthy
of being transferred into some more extended sphere
of publication than the local work in which it ap-
peared. An article of a similar kind, but confined
to the progress of the fine arts in Scotland, appeared
in the A'ezv Edinburgh Reziciv, edited by Dr. Rich-
ard Poole. In 1S18 Mr. Gibson published a thin
quarto volume, entitled Etchings of Select J'icios in
Edinburgh, ■n'ith Letter-press Descriptions. The sub-
jects chiefly selected were either street scenes about
to be altered by the removal of old buildings, or
parts opened up temporarily by the progress of im-
provements, and which therefore could never again
be observable in the point of view chosen by the
artist. The most remarkable critical effort of Mr.
Gibson was an anonymous j'eu d' esprit, published in
1822, in reference to the exhibition of the works of
living artists then open, under the care of the Royal
Institution for the Encouragement of the Fine Arts
in Scotland. It assumed the form of a report, by a
society of cognoscenti, upon these works of art,
and treated the merits of the Scottish painters, Mr.
Gibson himself included, with great candour and
impartiality. The style of this pamphlet, though in
no case unjustly severe, was so different from the in-
dulgent remarks of periodical writers, whose names
are generally known, and whose acquaintance with
the artists too often forbids rigid truth, that it occa-
sioned a high degree of indignation among the au-
thor's brethren, and induced them to take some steps
that only tended to expose themselves to ridicule.
Suspecting that the traitor was a member of their
own body, they commenced the subscription of a
paper disclaiming the authorship, and this being
carried to many different artists for their adherence,
was refused by no one till it came to Mr. Gibson,
who excused himself upon general principles from
subscribing such a paper, and dismissed the intruders
with a protest against his being supposed on that
account to be the author. The real cause which
moved Mr. Gibson to put forth this half-jesting,
half-earnest criticism upon his brethren, was an
ungenerous attack upon his own works which
Aad appeared in a newspaper the previous year,
and which, though he did not pretend to trace
it to the hand of any of his fellow-labourers,
was enjoyed, as he thought, in a too malicious
manner by some to whom he had formerly shown
much kindness. He retained his secret, and en-
joyed his joke to the last, and it is only here that

his concern in the pamphlet is for the first time
disclosed.

In 1S26 he gave to the world A Letter to the
Directors and Managers 0/ the Institution for the En-
couragement of the Eine Arts in Scotland. Towards
the close of his life he had composed, with extra-
ordinary care, a short and practical work on per-
spective, which was put to press, but kept back on
account of his decease.

In June, 1818, Mr. Gibson was married to Miss
Isabella M. Scott, daughter of his esteemed friend
Mr. William Scott, the well-known writer upon elo-
cution. By this lady he had three daughters and
a son, the last of whom died in infancy. In April,
1824, he removed from Edinburgh, where he had
spent the most of his life, to Dollar, having accepted
the situation of professor of painting in the academy
founded at that village. In this scene, quite un-
suited to his mind, he spent the last five years of his
life, of which three were embittered in no ordinary
degree by ill health. After enduring with manly
and unshrinking fortitude the pains of an uncom-
monly severe malady, he expired, August 26, 1829,
in the forty-sixth year of his age.

Mr. Gibson was not more distinguished in public
by his information, taste, and professional success,
than he was in private by his upright conduct, his
mild and affectionate disposition, and his righteous
fulfilment of ever)- moral duty. He possessed great
talents in conversation, and could suit himself in
such a manner to ever)' kind of company that old
and young, cheerful and grave, were alike pleased.
He had an immense fund of humour, and what gave
it perhaps its best charm was the apparently unin-
tentional manner in which he gave it vent, and the
fixed serenity of countenance which he was able to
preser\-e while all were laughing around him. There
are few men in whom the elements of genius are so
admirably blended with those of true goodness, and
all that can render a man beloved, as they were in
Patrick Gibson.

GrLCHRIST, John Borthwick, LL.D. This
learned oriental scholar was bom at Edinburgh in
1759, and educated in George Heriot's Hospital,
an institution to which he bequeathed a liberal dona-
tion, in acknowledgment of the benefits he had
derived from it. Having studied for the medical
profession, and obtained the appointment of assist-
ant-surgeon in the East India Company's service,
he went out in that capacity to Calcutta. At this
period it was thought enough by the Company if
its officials possessed a tolerable knowledge of Per-
sian, the court language of India, in which the acts
of the Anglo-Indian government and the proceedings
of the legal tribunals were registered. But this
limited means of intercourse with the people under
our rule did not satisfy Dr. Gilchrist, and he saw,
that to hold intercourse with them, as the proper
means of governing and benefiting them, it was
necessary to possess a proper knowledge of the
various languages of Hindostan. To facilitate their
acquirement, and at the same time to set an example
to others, he assumed an eastern garb, and travelled
over those provinces where Hindostanee was spoken
in its greatest purity ; and besides the native lan-
guage in its various dialects, he obtained a complete
knowledge of the Sanskrit, Persian, and other eastern
tongues. His success in these attainments inspired
a new spirit in the Company's servants, and the study
of Hindostanee was pursued among them with a dili-
gence that had as yet been unknown. To facilitate
this hopeful commencement. Dr. Gilchrist published
in 1786 and 1790 his Anglo-Hindostanec Dictionary^

JOHN BORTIIWICK GILCHRIST.

107

and in 1796 his Hindostance Grammar. But a still
more favourable opportunity of communicating his
acquirements in oriental learning was furnished to
him in consequence of the foundation of the college
of Calcutta by the Marquis Wellesley, governor-
general of India, in 1800. On this occasion Dr.
Gilchrist was appointed to the chair of the Hindos-
tance and Persian languages, being the first appoint-
ment of the kind that had been made by our govern-
ment in India. He did not, however, long hold
this office, being compelled in consequence of ill
health to return home in 1S04. His departure from
India was accompanied with highly honourable tes-
timonials of the diligence and success of his labours,
and the estimation in which he was held. He re-
ceived from the governor-general in council a public
letter to the court of directors at home, recommend-
ing him to their favour in their endeavours to pro-
mote the study of the oriental languages. But be-
sides this, the marquis introduced him to Mr. Ad-
dington, aftenvards Lord Sidmouth, in a letter of
which the following is an extract: — "Mr. John
Gilchrist, late professor of the Hindostanee language
in the college of Fort William, will have the honour
of delivering this letter to you. The records of this
government furnish ample proof of the importance
of Mr. Gilchrist's services. I am anxious, however,
that you should be apprised of the personal interest
which I feel in Mr. Gilchrist's honourable reception
in England; and I take the liberty of recommending
him to your favourable notice, as a gentleman highly
distinguished for his zeal in the promotion of an
important branch of the public service, and for his
eminent knowledge of the oriental languages."

On returning home Dr. Gilchrist set up his re-
sidence in his native Edinburgh, and there his fiery
eastern temperament, his liberal opinions in politics,
which trenched upon republicanism, and his eccen-
tricity in conduct as well as opinions, astonished
the gravity of his wondering fellow-citizens. Being
too impatient to be idle, he instituted, in conjunc-
tion with Mr. James Inglis, a bank in the Scottish
capital, under the title of "Inglis, Borthwick Gil-
christ, & Co.;" but the other banks, doubtful of its
management, looked so unfavourably upon it, that
the establishment after some time was closed. He
set up an aviary at his house on the north side of
Nicholson Square, the building being largely trellised
with wire-work and stored with all manner of bright
and curious birds — and the natives, who gazed and
marvelled, thought it the strangest of Noah's arks,
or the best of raree shows. From his strong language,
especially at civic meetings, and his aptitude to take
offence, he was liable to be involved in serious quar-
rels; and on one occasion, in June, 1815, when a gen-
tleman was reading aloud in a coffee-room an
account of the victory of Waterloo, Dr. Gilchrist,
who was present, gave him the lie, and proclaimed
the intelligence to be false. This mortal offence
would probably have been followed by a deadly
meeting, had not the friends of both parties inter-
fered. Such was Dr. Gilchrist in Edinburgh, and
where these singularities were perhaps more vividly
remembered in later periods than his talents, his
kindliness, and benevolence, by which they were
more than counterpoised.

In 1 81 6 this learned orientalist left Edinburgh
to settle in London ; and here he found more con-
genial occupation, by teaching the eastern languages
in his own house to such young gentlemen as were
qualifying themselves for the Indian service. Two
years after his class was removed to the Oriental
Institution, Leicester Square, where he taught Hin-
dostanee and Persian under the sanction of the East

India Company. This connection, however, lasted
only six years, and its dissolution was probably
owing to incompatibility of temper between the
employers and the employed. Dr. Gilchrist was
not of a temper to brook contradiction or interfer-
ence. His mode of teaching was also apt to give
offence to the grave and the formal. At this time
his bushy head and whiskers were as white as the
Himalayan snow, and in such contrast to the active
expressive face which beamed from the centre of the
mass, that he was likened to a royal Bengal tiger
— a resemblance of which he was even proud. His lec-
tures also, which were extemporaneous, and governed
by the fitful impulses of the moment, were a singular
medley of "orient pearls at random strung;" but
still they were pearls of price, and those pupils who
were willing to learn were enriched by his prelec-
tions, however oddly delivered or illustrated. Nor
was his style of writing less strange than that of his
lecturing ; and besides the eccentricities of style and
innovations in orthography with which it astonished
the readers eye, the doctor had a sublime contempt
of capitals, which he had banished from his printed
compositions. These serious offences against the
common usages of good taste cannot be perpetrated
with impunity ; and those who might have been
attracted by the doctor's valuable erudition, were
offended by the adjuncts with which it was garnished.
In the meantime his publications, which were nume-
rous and valuable, and chiefly connected with the
languages, condition, and histor}' of India, were
mingled with pamphlets and broad-sheets filled with
his personal resentments, or expounding his own
crotchets. His chief subject of complaint was the
ill treatment he had received from the East India
Company, which had only allowed him a retiring
surgeon's pension of ;^300 instead of ;^500> ^"^ '^
salary of ;i^350 as a teacher of eastern languages,
which was greatly disproportioned, as he thought,
to his services. It was in this mood that the writer
of the present memoir found him in London some
forty years ago. Among those who were persistent
friends of Dr. Gilchrist, and knew his real talents,
was the late Joseph Hume, whose career had in some
cases been similar to his own. Both had commenced
their career as surgeons in India ; both had com-
menced their rise by the study of eastern languages,
which they turned to a profitable account ; both
had returned with a competence after a short stay
in the East; and they were heartily at one in perceiv-
ing the existing evils of government, and advocating
a reform. But here the similarity ended. Dn
Gilchrist unfortunately could not lay claim to the
temper, caution, management, and good sense by
which his more fortunate but not more talented
friend was distinguished.

While residing in Edinburgh, Dr Gilchrist had
married a Miss Mary Ann Coventry ; and on re-
moving to London, the pair, who had no children,
occupied a house in the fashionable locality of Clarges
Street. The doctor's means of living in such a place
were comfortable, not only from the extensive sale
of his principal works connected with India and its
languages, but also from the result of his banking
speculation in Edinburgh, which had turned out
better than could have been anticipated. After
he had given an impulse to the study of the eastern
tongues which has steadily increased to the present
day, and trained young cadets for the East India
service, whose proficiency reflected honour upon
their teacher, and by whom he was respected and
beloved. Dr. Gilchrist, worn out with the infirmities
of old age, lived in retirement, and died at Paris on
the 9th of January, 1 841, at the age of eighty-two years.

loS

ROBERT CILFILLAX,

GELFILLAN, Robert. This amiable poet of
domestic Yitc and popular song-writer, was bom in
Dunfermline, Fifeshire, on the Jihof July, 179S, and
was the second of three sons. His father was a man
of respectable condition, according to the reckoning
of the times in provincial towns, for he was a master
weaver, and kept several looms in full employment.
His mother, who died in 1S44, was justly character-
ized as " a woman of high intellectual powers, and
one who, belonging to the middle classes of society,
was distinguished by high literar)- acquirements,
united to a modesty that rather fostered the talents
of others than exhibited her own." Can we easily
imagine a poet of good, current, lasting songs, bom
in a loftier position, or independent of such a mater-
nity? Like most bards, and especially of this par-
ticular class, Robert Gilfillan's natural tendency was
called forth in early life, under the pressure of a
stirring public impulse. While still a boy, he had
joined a group of urchins like himself, to make merry
during the Christmas holidays with the sport of
giiisiii:^, OT guisarJiit^ — an old Saxon revel, scarcely
yet disused in Scotland, but which is now generally
supplanted by the drawing-room amusement of
charades; and while employed in this merry street
masquerade, instead of confining himself to the hun-
dred-year-old hackneyed stanzas about Alexander
the Great and Guloshin, he chanted a song of his
own composition on the death of Sir Ralph Aber-
cromby, at that time a recent event, and by which
the sympathies of everj- cottage in Scotland had been
roused into full native vigour. Young Gilfillan on
this occasion received more than the usual poet's
meed of pence and praise from the goodwives of
Dunfermline, who listened at their doors in silent
admiration.

After this sudden outburst of rhyme a long in-
terval succeeded: school-boy trials, and the suc-
ceeding cares and difficulties of apprenticeship, are
generally sufficient to banish the Muses for years, if
not for life; and Robert Gilfillan, who at the age of
thirteen removed with his parents to Leith, was
employed during a seven years' service in the un-
poetical occupation of hammering tubs and barrels,
having been bound apprentice for that period to a
cooper. Although he manfully endured this pro-
bation, he abandoned the trade of a cooper as soon
as his term of indenture had expired ; and, returning
to Dunfennline in iSiS, he was employed for nearly
three years in the superintendence of a grocerj- esta-
blishment Here his first love retumed upon him in
full \-igour, and his attempts in song-writing were
accompanied with the work of self-improvement,
which he prosecuted not only by general reading,
but associating with the young men of his neigh-
bourhood who were like-minded with himself In
this way not only his acquired knowledge, but his
conversational power in the use of it, made him
distinguished in Dunfermline society, and caused
him to be regarded as one whose future career would
surpass that of his companions. After this he again
settled in Leith, where he was first employed in the
warehouse of a firm of oil and colour merchants, and
subsequently in that of a wine merchant, as confi-
dential clerk, until 1837, when he was appointed
collector of the police-rates at Leith, which situa-
tion he held till the close of his life.

In this way Mr. Gilfillan held onward in his course,
and fulfilled his mission as a useful member of society;
but as a poet he had continued during his several
changes of store-keeper, clerk, and tax-gatherer, to
labour for a wider sphere and a more permanent
memorial. The first earnest of this he enjoyed in
the popularity of his songs, which, although still

unpublished, were circulated over the whole of Scot-
land, and sung not only at public festivals, but also
at social and domestic meetings. How was it pos-
sible, under sueh circumstances, to resist the tempta-
tions of the press? It speaks much, however, for
his self-denial, that he did not yield until he had
attained the matured reflective age of thirty-three,
and when his songs had stood the test of years. In
I S3 1 he became an author, by publishing a small
volume of about 150 pages, under the title of Origi-
nal Scvigs, which he dedicated to Allan Cunningham,
himself, ne.xt to Burns, the prince of Scottish song-
poets. So successful was this appeal to public ap-
probation, that in 1835 he brought out a new edition,
increased by fifty additional pieces ; and soon after
its appearance a public dinner was given to him in
the Royal Exchange, Edinburgh, and a massive
silver cup presented to him on the occasion thus
inscribed: — "Presented to Mr. Robert Gilfillan by
the admirers of native genius, in token of their high
estimation of his poetical talents and private worth.
Edinburgh, 1835." In 1839 he published a third
and still larger edition of his original volume, sixty
new songs being added to the collection; and by this
completed work he will continue to hold an hon-
oured place in the third rank of Scottish song-writers
— Bums being of the first, and standing alone, and
Hogg and Cunningham being taken as the repre-
sentatives of the second. In addition to those warm
but simple and narrowed home affections which
formed the chief themes of his hiics, and in the
delineation of which he has not often been surpassed,
there is a moral purity in the songs of Gilfillan in
-which he has very- seldom been equalled. But how,
indeed, could it be otherwise, when we take into
account the ordeal to which he submitted them?
"It was his practice," says his biographer, "to read
to his mother and sister his songs as he wrote them;
and he was entirely guided by their judgment re-
garding them. " This was better still than the house-
keeper of Moliere ! One circumstance connected
with this gentle home tribunal of criticism first gave
him the hope that fame was within his reach. He
was reading his Fare ihee well, for I must Leave thee,
when his sister and a young lady, a cousin of his
own, who was present, were so deeply affected, that
they burst into tears. - After such an incident some
of our readers might wish to know the song: it is as
follows: —

" Fare thee well, for I must leave thee,
But, 01 let not our parting grieve thee;
Happier days may yet be mine,
At least 1 wish them thine — believe mc!

" We part — but by those dew-drops clear,
My love for thee will last for ever;
I leave thee — but thy image dear.
Thy tender smiles, will leave me never.

" O I drj- those pearly tears that flow —
One farewell smile before we sever;
The only balm for parting woe
Is — fondly hope 'tis not forever.

"Though dark and drear>- lowers the night,
Calm and serene may be the morrow;
The cup of pleasure ne'er shone bright.
Without some mingling drops of sorrow!

'- Fare thee well, for I must leave thee.
But, O! let not our parting grieve thee;
Happier days may yet be mine.
At least I wish them thine — believe me!"

The rest of the incidents in Mr. Gilfillan's tran-
quil life scarcely require commemoration. Indepen-
dently of his devotion to poetrv-, which was his master
affection, he took pleasure in the various departments
of light and ever)--day literature, and was a frequent
contributor to the Edinburgh Jcunial and the Dublin
University Magazine. Although he continued to the

GEORGE GILLESPIE.

109

end of his clays a bachelor, he was not the less sub-
ject to pahifui bereavements, and these, too, at that
period of life when the affections are most confirmed;
for his mother died in 1S44, '^^^ ^^'s sister in 1849,
and thus the voices that liad hitherto cheered him
onward were no longer heard. Mis own death
occurred on the 4th of December, 1850, and was
occasioned by a stroke of apoplexy. Ilis remains
were buried in the churchyard of South Leilh, where
a monument, by the subscription of his admirers,
has been erected to his memory.

V

GILLESPIE, George, an eminent divine at a
time when divines were nearly the most eminent
class of individuals in Scotland, was the son of the
Rev. John Gillespie, minister at Kirkcaldy, and was
born^January 21, 1613. His advance in his studies
was so rapid, that he was laureated in his seven-
teenth year. About the year 1634, when he must
have still been very young, he is known to have
been chaplain to Viscount Kenmure: at a subsequent
period he lived in the same capacity with the Earl
of Cassilis. While in the latter situation he wrote
a work called English Popish Ccretnonies, in which,
as the title implies, he endeavoured to excite a
jealousy of the episcopal innovations of Charles I.,
as tending to Popery. This book he published when
he was about twenty-two years of age, and it was
soon after prohibited by the bishops. Had Episco-
pacy continued triumphant, it is likely that Mr.
Gillespie's advance in the church would have been
retarded; but the signing of the national covenant
early in 1638 brought about a different state of
things. In April that year, a vacancy occurring at
Wemyss in Fife, he was appointed minister; and at
the General Assembly which took place at Glasgow
in the ensuing November, he had the honour to
preach one of the daily sermons before the house,
for which he took as his text, "The king's heart is
in the hands of the Lord." The Earl of Argyle,
who had then just joined the covenanting cause, and
was still a member of the privy-council, thought
that the preacher had trenched a little, in this dis-
course, upon the royal prerogative, and said a few
words to the assembly, with the intention of warning
them against such errors for the future.

In 1 64 1 an attempt was made to obtain the trans-
portation of Air. Gilliespie to Aberdeen; but the
General Assembly, in compliance with his own
wishes, ordained him to remain at Wemyss. When
the king visited Scotland in the autumn of this year,
Mr. Gillespie preached before him in the Abbey
Church at Edinburgh, on the afternoon of Sunday
the 1 2th of September. In the succeeding year he
was removed by the General Assembly to Edinburgh,
of which he continued to be one of the stated clergy-
men till his death. Mr. Gillespie had the honour
to be one of the four ministers deputed by the Scot-
tish church, in 1543, to attend the Westminster
Assembly of Divines; and it is generally conceded
that his learning, zeal, and judgment were of the
greatest service in carrying through the work of that
venerable body, particularly in forming the Directory
of Worship, the Catechisms, and other important
articles of religion, which it was the business of the
assembly to prepare and sanction. Baillie thus al-
ludes to him in his letters: "We got good help in
our assembly debates of Lord Warriston, an occa-
sional commissioner, but of none more than the
noble youth Mr. Gillespie. I admire his gifts, and
bless God, as for all my colleagues, so for him
in particular, as equal in these to the first in the
assembly." It appears that Mr. Gillespie composed
six volumes of manuscript during the course of his

attendance at the Westminster Assembly; and these
were extant in 1707,' though we are not aware of
their still continuing in existence. He had also,
when in England, prepared his sermons for the
press— part being controversial, and part practical;
l)ut they are said to have been suppressed in the
hands of the printer with whom he left them, through
tlie instrumentality of the Independents, who dreaded
their publication. He also wrote a piece against
toleration, entitled Wholesome Sci'cri/y Reconciled
zcilh Christian Liberty.

In 1648 Mr. Gillespie had the honour to be
moderator of the General Assembly; and the last of
his compositions was the Conunission of the A'irk^s
Ans7C'cr to tlie Estates' Observations on the Declaration
of the General Assejubly concerning the Unlawfulness
of the Engagement. For some months before this
assembly he had been greatly reduced in body by a
cough and perspiration, which now at length came
to a height, and threatened fatal consequences.
Thinking perhaps that his native air would be of
service, he went to Kirkcaldy with his wife, and lived
there for some months; but his illness nevertheless
advanced so fast, that, early in December, his friends
despaired of his life, and despatched letters to his
brother, to Mr. Samuel Rutherford, the Marquis of
Argyle, and other distinguished individuals, who
took an interest in him, mentioning that if they
wished to see him in life, speed would be necessar)'.
The remainder of his life may be best related in the
words of Wodrow, as taken, in I707) from the mouth
of Mr. Patrick Simpson, who was cousin to Mr.
Gillespie, and had witnessed the whole scene of his
death-bed:

"Monday, December II, came my Lord Argyle,
Cassils, Elcho, and Warriston, to visit him. He
did faithfully declare his mind to them as public
men, in that point whereof he hath left a testimony
to the view of the world, as afterwards; and though
speaking was very burdensome to him, and trouble-
some, yet he spared not very freely to fasten their
duty upon them.

"The exercise of his mind at the time of his sick-
ness was very sad and constant, without comfortable
manifestations, and sensible presence for the time;
yet he continued in a constant faith of adherence,
which ended in ane adhering assurance, his gripps
growing still the stronger.

"One day, a fortnight before his death, he had
leaned down on a little bed, and taken a fit of faint-
ness, and his mind being heavily exercised, and
lifting up his eyes, this expression fell with great
weight from his mouth, ' O ! my dear Lord, forsake
me not for ever.' His weariness of this life was
very great, and his longing to be relieved, and to be
where the vail would be taken away.

"December 14, he was in heavy sickness, and
three pastors came in the afternoon to visit him, of
whom one said to him, 'The Lord hath made you
faithfid in all he hath employed you in, and it's
likely we be put to the trial; therefore what encourage-
ment do you give us thereanent?' Whereto he an-
swered, in few words, 'I have gotten more by tiie
Lord's immediate assistance than by study, in the
disputes I had in the assembly of divines in England;
therefore, let never men distrust God for assistance,
that cast themselves on him, and follow his calling.
For my part, the time I have had in the exercise of
the ministry is but a moment !' To which sentence
another pastor answered, 'But your moment hath
exceeded the gray heads of others; this I may speak
without flattery.' To which he answered, disclaim-

1 Wodrow's Analecia (MS. Adv. Lib.), i. 329.

THOMAS GILLESPIE.

ing it with a noe; for he desired still to have Christ
exalted, as he said at the same time, and to another;
and at other times, when any such thing was spoken
to him, ' What are all my righteousnesses but rotten
rags? all that I liave done cannot abide the touch-
stone of His justice; they are all but abominations,
and as an unclean thing, when they are reckoned
between God and me. Christ is all things, and I
am nothing.' The other pastor, when the rest were
out, asked whether he was enjoying the comforts of
God's presence, or if they were for a time suspended.
He answered, 'Indeed, they are suspended.' Then
within a little while he said, 'Comforts I ay comforts!'
meaning that they were not easily attained. His
wife said, 'What reck? the comfort of believing is
not suspended ?' He said, 'Noe.' Speaking further
to his condition he said, 'Although that I should
never more see any light of comfort, that I do see,
yet I shall adhere, and do believe that he is mine
and that I am his.' "

Mr. Gillespie lingered two days longer, and ex-
pired almost imperceptibly, December 1 6, 1646.
On the preceding day he had written and signed a
paper, in which ' ' he gave faithful and clear testi-
mony to the work and cause of God, and against the
enemies thereof, to stop the mouths of calumniators,
and confirm his children." The object of the paper
was to prevent, if possible, any union of the friends
of the Church of Scotland with the loyalists, in be-
half of an uncovenanted monarch. The committee
of estates testified the public gratitude to Mr. Gil-
lespie by voting his widow and children ;,{^iooo,
which, however, from the speedily ensuing troubles
of the times, was never paid.

GILLESPIE, Rev. Tho.m.\s, was the first Relief
minister, and founder of the synod of Relief. He
was born in the year 1708, at Clearbum, in the parish
of Duddingstone near Edinburgh, of parents distin-
guished for their piety. He lost his father, who was
a farmer and brewer, when he was very young. His
mother, who seems to have been a woman of decided
piety, and at the same time of active business habits,
continued her husband's business as farmer and
brewer after his death. Gillespie, who was of de-
licate constitution and melancholy temperament,
seems throughout life to have been marked by the
shyness of disposition, the reserved manners, the
fondness for retirement, and the tenderness yet con-
scientiousness of feeling, which usually distinguish the
boy brought up in a retired domestic way, under a
fond and widowed mother. His mother was ac-
customed to attend the services at the dispensation
of the Lord's supper by Mr. Wilson of Maxton, Mr.
Boston of Ettrick, Mr. Davidson of Galashiels,
and other eminent evangelical ministers, with whom
the south of Scotland was at that time favoured.
On these occasions she commonly took with her
her son Thomas, in whom the anxious mother had
not yet traced those satisfactory evidences of decisive
piety which her maternal regard for his best interests
so earnestly desired; on one of these occasions she
mentioned her distress on account of her son to Mr.
Boston, who, at her request, spoke to him in private
on his eternal interests.. His counsels made a de-
cisive impression upon the mind of Gillespie, at that
time a young man about twenty years of age, and
led him soon after to commence his studies as prepa-
ratory to the ministry', which he prosecuted at the
university of Edinburgh.

After the origin of the Secession his mother be-
came attached to that body; and through her advice
and influence Gillespie went to Perth to study under
Mr. Wilson, their first theological professor. In

this step he seems to have been influenced more by
a desire to comply with the wishes of a fond and
pious mother, than by personal attachment to the
peculiarities of the Secession. His whole stay at
Perth was ten days; for as soon as from conversa-
tions with Mr. Wilson he fully comprehended the
principles on which the Secession were proceeding,
he withdrew. He proceeded to England, where he
pursued his studies at the theological academy in
Northampton, at that time superintended by the
celebrated Dr. Philip Doddridge. When he thus
went to England Dr. Erskine states (in his preface
to his Essay on Temptations) that he had attended
the humanity, philosophy, and divinity classes in the
college of Edinburgh, and that he carried with him
attestations of his personal piety and acquirements
in philosophical and theological literature from
several ministers of the Church of Scotland: viz. Rev.
Messrs. Davidson of Galashiels, Wilson of Maxton,
Wardlaw of Dunfermline, Smith of Xewburn, Gust-
hart, Webster, and Hepburn, of Edinburgh, James
Walker of Canongate, M 'Vicar of West Kirk, Kid
of Queensferr)', Bonnar of Torphichen, and Ward-
rope of Whitburn — all of whom mention their having
been intimately acquainted with him.

After the usual trials, he was licensed to preach
the gospel, 30th October, 1740, by a respectable
class of English dissenters, among whom Dr. Dod-
dridge presided as moderator, and ordained to the
work of the ministry, 22d January, 1741. It is said
that his first charge was over a dissenting congrega-
tion in the north of England. If so, it must have
been for a very short time, for in March following
he returned to Scotland, bringing with him warm
and ample recommendations from Dr. Doddridge,
Mr. Job Orton, and thirteen other ministers in that
neighbourhood, "as a deeply experienced Christian,
well qualified for the important work of the ministr}',
and one who bade fair to prove an ornament to his
holy profession, and an instrument of considerable
usefulness to the souls of men."

Soon after his return to Scotland he got a regular
call to the parish of Carnock near Dunfermline, to
which he was presented by Mr. Erskine of Carnock.
At that time the forms of procedure in the Church of
Scotland seem to have been not so strict and un-
accommodating to circumstances as they are now; for
in inducting him into Carnock the presbytery of
Dunfermline proceeded on his deed of license and
ordination by the English dissenters as valid, and
dealt by him as one who had already held a charge.
At his admission into Carnock he showed the influ-
ence which his theological education at Northampton,
and his intercourse with the English dissenters had
exerted upon his opinions as to Christian liberty, by
objecting to the doctrine of the Confession of Faith
respecting the power of the civil magistrate in reli-
gion; he was permitted to subscribe with an expla-
nation of his meaning upon this point. The passages
of the Confession to which he objected were the 4th
section of the 20th chapter, and the 3d section of the
23d chapter: which declare that those may be pro-
ceeded against by the power of the civil magis-
trate who publish such opinions, or maintain such
practices, as are contrary to the light of nature, the
known principles of Christianity, or the power of
godliness, or which are destructive to the external
peace and order which Christ hath established in the
church ; and that the civil magistrate hath authority,
and it is his duty, to take order that unity and peace
be preserved in the church, that the truth of God
be kept pure and entire, that all blasphemies and
heresies, all corruptions and abuses in worship
and discipline, be prevented or reformed, and all

THOMAS GILLESPIE.

the ordinances of God duly settled, administered,
and observed, for the better effecting of which he
liath power to call synods, to be present at them,
and to provide that whatever is transacted in them
be according to the mind of God.

Mr. Gillespie laboured as parish minister of Car-
nock till the year 1752. He was a careful student,
a diligent and faithful minister, and generally ac-
ceptable and useful in his pulpit labours, both in his
own parish and as an occasional assistant elsewhere.
The acceptance which his pulpit discourses met was
not owing to any advantage of manner, for his de-
livery was uncouth, and his whole manner that of
one nervously afraid of his audience. Hut he was
solemn and affectionate, much impressed himself as
conscious of his awful charge. He had struggled
hard himself against the oppression of a constitutional
tendency to despondency; and in his discourses he
sought especially to comfort and counsel the de-
sponding and tempted Christian. Dr. John Erskine,
who was several months his stated hearer, and who
besides this often heard him occasionally, bears
witness in his preface to Mr. Gillespie's Essay on
the Continuance of hnmcdiate Rez'elations in^ the
Church, that "he studied in his ministry what was
most needful for the bulk of his hearers, giving law
and gospel, comfort and terror, privileges and duties,
their proper place. I never (says he) sat under a
ministry better calculated to awaken the thoughtless
and secure, to caution convinced sinners against
what would stifle their convictions and prevent their
issuing in conversion, and to point out the difference
between vital Christianity and specious counterfeit
appearances of it."

During the eleven years that Mr. Gillespie occu-
pied the charge of Carnock he kept close to the
humble and unostentatious yet useful duties of the
pastor of a country parish. He seems never to have
taken any prominent part in the business of the
church courts: he was, both from habit and disposi-
tion, retiring and reserved, fond of the studies of
the closet, but destitute alike of the ability and the
inclination for managing public affairs, and leading
the van in ecclesiastical warfare. It was his scrupu-
lous conscientiousness, not his ambition, that made
him the founder of a party. He was thrust on it by
circumstances beyond his intention.

Mr. Gillespie entered the ministry in the Church
of Scotland when the harsh operation of the law
of patronage was causing painful and lamentable
contests between the people and the dominant party
in the church courts. It had already caused the
secession ; and there still remained in the Church
of Scotland many elements of discord and sources
of heart-burning ; whole presbyteries even refused
to act when the settlement of obnoxious presentees
was enjoined by the superior courts — and to effect
the execution of their sentences appointing the
settlement of unpopular individuals, the General
Assembly had at times wholly to supersede the func-
tions of the presbytery, and appoint the induction
to be completed by committees of individuals not
connected with the presbytery; it might be men who,
without scruple, were willing to act on whatever was
ecclesiastical law, and carry through the matter in-
trusted to their care in the face of the menaces or
murmurs of a dissatisfied and protesting people.

This method of settling obnoxious presentees by
riding committees, as they were called in those days
by the populace, was confessedly a most irregular
and unconstitutional device. It was a clumsy ex-
pedient to avoid coming in direct collision with re-
cusant presbyteries. It was found to answer the
purpose very imperfectly; and it was soon seen that

there remained to the General Assembly but two
alternatives, either to soften the operation of the
law of patronage, and give way to the popular voice,
or to compel the presbyteries to settle every man
who received a presentation, against whom heresy
or immorality could not be proved; otherwise there
would be perpetual collision between themselves
and the inferior courts. The assembly chose the
latter and the bolder alternative. In 1750, accord-
ingly, the assembly referred it to their commission,
"to consider of a method for securing the execution
of the sentences of the assembly and commission,
and empowered them to censure any presbyteries
which might be disobedient to any of the sentences
pronounced by that meeting of assembly."

In 1 75 1 Mr. Andrew Richardson, previously
settled at Broughton, in the parish of Biggar, was
presented to the charge of Inverkeithing by the
patron of the parish. He was unacceptable to the
body of the people, and his call was signed only by
a few non-resident heritors. Opposition being made
to his settlement by the parishioners, the presbyteiy
of Dunfermline, and after them the synod of Fife,
refused to comply with the orders of the commission
to proceed to the settlement of Mr. Richardson.
The case came before the assembly in 1752; and it
was justly anticipated that it would bring to an issue
the conflict between recusant presbyteries, who had
a conscientious regard for the rights of the people,
and the dominant party in the assembly, who had
no regard for them, but were resolved to give effect
to every presentation. The lord-commissioner, the
Earl of Leven, in his opening speech, with sufficient
plainness indicated the course of procedure which
the government desired and expected the assembly
should pursue, in the circumstances; and said that
it was more than high time to put a stop to the
growing evil of inferior courts assuming the liberty
of disputing and disobeying their decisions. The
ruling party in the assembly were prompt in obey-
ing these orders of the lord-commissioner. They
acted with more energy than prudence or tenderness.
When the Inverkeithing case came to be considered,
the assembly sent the presbytery from their bar to
Inverkeithing with orders to complete Mr. Richard-
son's induction: they enjoined every member of pres-
bytery to be present at the admission: they changed
the legal quorum from three to five. These orders
were issued by the assembly on Monday; the induc-
tion was appointed to take place on Thursday, and
the members of the presbyteiy were all commanded
to appear at the bar of the assembly on Friday, to
report their fulfilment of these orders.

On Friday, when the members of the Dunfermline
presbytery were called upon, it appeared that only
three had attended at Inverkeithing, and they not
being the number required by the decision of the
assembly to constitute a presbytery, did not feel
themselves authorized to proceed to the admission.
Of the other six, Mr. Gillespie and other five pleaded
conscientious scruples, and gave in a paper in defence
of their conduct, quoting in their justification the
language of the assembly itself, who in 1736 had
declared that "it is, and has been ever since the
Reformation, the principle of the church, that no
minister shall be introduced into any parish contrary
to the will of the congregation; and therefore it is
seriously recommended to all judicatories of the
church, to have a due regard to the said principle
in planting vacant congregations, so as none be in-
truded into such parishes, as they regard the glory
of God, and the edification of the body of Christ."

The assembly paid small regard to their own
former declarations thus brought under their notice.

THOMAS GILLESPIE.

They felt, indeed, that it would be rather trenchant
and severe, by one fell swoojj to depose six ministers
all equally guilty : they resolved, however, by a
majority, to depose one of the six. This was inti-
mated to them with orders to attend on the morrow.
Next day Mr. Gilles[)ie gave in a paper justifying
a statement made in their joint representation, tliat
the assembly had themselves stigmatized the act
of 1712, restoring patronages, as an infraction of
the settlement made at the union. The proof of this
statement, which had been questioned in the previous
day's debate, he proved by quotations from the
assembly's act of 1736, made at the time when they
wished to lure back and reconcile the four seceding
brethren — the founders of the Secession.

After prayer to God for direction — which, in the
circumstances of the case, and in the predetermined
state of mind in which the ruling party in the assem-
bly were, was a profane mockery of Heaven — they
proceeded to decide which of the six should be de-
posed. A great majority of the assembly (102)
declined voting; 52 voted that Mr. Gillespie should
bs deposed, and 4 that some one of the others
should be taken. The moderator then pronounced
the sentence of deposition on Mr. Gillespie. He
stood at the bar to receive it, and when he had
heard it to an end, with the meek dignity of con-
scious innocence, replied, "Moderator, I receive
this sentence of the General Assembly of the Church
of Scotland with reverence and awe on account of
the divine conduct in it. But I rejoice that it is
given to me on the behalf of Christ, not only to be-
lieve on him, but to suffer for his sake."

This hard measure dealt to him excited general
commiseration and sympathy even among the min-
isters of the church. He was humble and unassum-
ing, a quiet, retired student, not one versant in the
warfare of church courts. Sir H. Moncrieff, in his
Life of Dr. Erskine, testifies that he was one of the
most inoffensive and upright men of his time, equally
zealous and faithful in his pastoral duties, but one
who never entered deeply into ecclesiastical business,
and who was at no time a political intriguer. His
sole crime was, that from a conscientious feeling,
he would not be present or take any active part in
a violent settlement, and they must be strangely
fond of stretches of ecclesiastical power who will
pronounce the deposition of such a man in such
circumstances either praiseworthy or wise.

The sentence of deposition was pronounced on Sa-
turday. On Sabbath, the day following, he preached
in the fields at Carnock to his people, from the
words of Paul, "For necessity is laid upon me, yea,
woe is unto me if I preach not the gospel." He
told his hearers, that though the assembly had de-
posed him from being a member of the Established
church, for not doing what he belived it was sinful
for him to do, yet he hoped, through grace, no public
disputes should be his theme, but Jesus Christ and
him crucified,^ and then went on to illustrate his
text, without saying anything in justification of him-
self or in condemnation of the assembly.

He preached in the fields till the month of Sep-
tember, when he removed to the neighbouring town
of Dunfermline, where a church had been prepared
for him. At the following meeting of assembly,
in 17535 firi attempt was made by the evangelical
party in the church to have the sentence of deposi-
tion rescinded; but though some of those who voted
for his deposition, stung by their own consciences,
or moved by sympathy, expressed their regret in

1 Dr. Erskine's Preface to his Essay on Temptations.

very poignant language," yet the motion was lost by
a majority of three.

He laboured in Dunfermline for five years with-
out any ministerial assistance, and during that period
he dispensed the sacrament of the Lord's supper
thirteen times, preaching on these occasions com-
monly nine sermons, besides the exhortations at the
tables. When he first determined to celebrate the
Lord's supper in his congregation at Dunfermline,
he requested the assistance of some of the evangeli-
cal ministers in the Church of Scotland ; but from
fear of the censures of the assembly, they refused him
their aid.

The first minister who joined Mr. Gillespie in his
separation from the Church of Scotland, was Mr.
Boston, son of the well-known author of the Four-
fold State. The parish of Jedburgh becoming vacant,
the people were earnestly desirous that Mr. Boston,
who was minister of Oxnam, and a man of eminently
popular talents, might be presented to the vacant
charge. No attention, however, was paid to their
wishes. The people of Jedburgh took their redress
into their own hands, they built a church for them-
selves, and invited Mr. Boston to become their min-
ister; and he resigning his charge at Oxnam, and
renouncing his connection with the Church of Scot-
land, cheerfully accepted their invitation. He was
settled among them 9th December, 1757. He im-
mediately joined Mr. Gillespie, to whom he was
an important acquisition, from his popular talents
and extensive influence in the south of Scotland.
Though associated together, and lending mutual
aid, they did not proceed to any acts of ecclesiastical
government, till, by a violent settlement in the parish
of Kilconquhar, in P'ife, the people were led to erect
a place of worship for themselves in the village of
Colinsburgh, to which they invited as their pastor
the Rev. Thomas Collier, a native of the district, who
had for some time been settled at Kavenstondale,
in Northumberland, in connection with the English
dissenters. At his admission to the charge of the
congregation formed in Colinsburgh, on the 22d of
October, 1761, Mr. Gillespie and Mr. Boston, with
an elder from their respective congregations, first
met as a presbytery. In the minute of that meeting
they rehearsed the circumstances connected with their
separation from the Church of Scotland, and declared
that they had formed themselves into a presbytery
for the relief of Christians oppressed in their privi-
leges.

The number of congregations in connection with
the Relief rapidly increased. It afforded an asylum
for those who desired to have the choice of their own
ministers, yet could not accede to the peculiarities
of the Secession. Relief from patronage, the asser-
tion of the people's right to choose their own min-
isters, the extending of their communion to all visible
saints, to all sound in the faith and of holy life —
these were the distinguishing peculiarities which
marked the Relief They were distinguished from
the two bodies of the Secession by their permission
of occasionally attending the ministry of other
churches, their disregard of the covenants sworn
by our Scottish ancestors, their neglect of the duty
of covenanting, and their not restricting their com-
munion to their own Christian societies.. These
peculiarities provoked the reproaches of the Seces-
sion writers of the day. In the progress of time, how-
ever, a large section of the Seceders came to be of
one mind with their Relief brethren on all matters
of doctrine and discipline. In the year 1847 the two

- Memoir of Gillespie, in the Quarterly Magazine, by Dr.
Stuart.

THOMAS GILLESPIE —

bodies were joined together under the designation
of the United Presbyterian Church. This respect-
able denomination now (iS66) numbers 5SS congre-
gations, with an aggregate attendance of 460,000 per-
sons. The Relief and United Secession churches were
both opposed to the principle of an established
church ; and although the voluntary principle of the
United Presbyterian church is not formally avowed
in her standards, it is distinctly implied in her posi-
tion and actings.

It has been said that Gillespie cooled in his at-
tachment to the Relief in the latter part of his life,
and that he even expressed a wish that his congrega-
tion should join the Established church as a chapel
of ease. This last assertion is certainly questionable.
It has been contradicted by Mr. Smith in his His-
torical Skdchcs of the Relief Church, who, holding
a charge in Dunfermline, and living among the per-
sonal associates of Gillespie, may be reckoned a
competent witness as to what was known of Mr.
Gillespie's sentiments. He states that the church
and part of the congregation were carried over to
the Establishment by the undue influence and re-
presentations of Mr. Gillespie's brother; and that
Mr. Gillespie had no difference with his brethren
as to the constitution and principles of the Relief
church. He never discovered to his people any
inclination to be connected again with the Establish-
ment. His disapprobation of the church which
deposed him continued to the end of his days. He
was, however, dissatisfied with some of his brethren
for the willingness they showed to listen to the ap-
plication of Mr. Perrie (1770) to be received into
the body. Perhaps, too, his being thrown into the
shade in the conduct of the public affairs of the
body, by the active business habits of Mr. Bain,
after his accession to the Relief, might heighten his
chagrin. These circumstances, operating on the
tenderness of temper incident to old age and increas-
ing infirmities, seem to have created in his mind
a degree of dissatisfaction with some of his brethren;
but that he repented -of the steps he had taken in
the formation of the presbytery of Relief, or that
he had changed his sentiments on the terms of com-
munion, on the impropriety of the civil magistrate's
interference in ecclesiastical affairs, or similar points,
there is no evidence.

The only productions of Gillespie that have been
published are. An Essay on the Continuance of Im-
mediate Rez'elations in the Church, published in his
lifetime, and a Treatise on Temptation, in 1774, after
his death, both prefaced by Dr. J. Erskine of Edin-
burgh. The first is designed to prove that God does
not now give to any individuals, by impressions,
dreams, or otherwise, intimations of facts or future
events. He argues the point solidly and sensibly,
and with some ingenuity. From his correspondence
it appears that the topic had occupied his thoughts
much. He corresponded with Doddridge, Harvey,
and President Edwards; and his correspondence with
Edwards was published in the Quarterly ^Magazine,
conducted by Dr. Stuart, son-in-law to Dr. Erskine.
Mr. Gillespie always prepared carefully for the pul-
pit. He left in MS. about 800 sermons, fairly and
distinctly written. He died on the 19th of January,
1774-

GILLESPIE, Rev. Thomas, D.D., was bom

in the parish of Clossbum, Dumfriesshire, but in
what year we have been unable to ascertain. He
received the rudiments of education at the celebrated
seminary of Wallacehall, in his own native parish,
and afterwards went through the curriculum of the
Dumfries Academy, a place noted for its excellence

VOL. II.

WILLIAM GILLESPIE.

"3

among the educational establishments of Scotland.
Having been designed for the church, Mr. Gillespie
enrolled as a student in the university of Edinburgh;
and after having been distinguished in the divinity-
hall by his talents and scholarship, was licensed as
a preacher, and a few years afterwards was presented
by the United College, St. Andrews, to the parish
of Cults, in the presbytery of Cupar-Fife. In this
ministerial charge he was the immediate successor of
the Rev. David Wilkie, father of the celebrated
painter; and, on taking possession of his manse lie
was grieved to find that, in the process of cleaning
and white-washing, the sketches with which Sir
David Wilkie, when a little boy, had covered the
walls of his nursery, were remorselessly swept away.
To a man of Gillespie's taste and enthusiasm it
seemed as if his entrance into a peaceful home had
been preceded by an onslaught of the Vandals; but
after settling in Cults he made many inquiries into
the early history of Sir David, which he communi-
cated to Allan Cunningham, the artist's eloquent
biographer. Over the portal of the manse, also, in
imitation of Gil Bias, he afterwards cars'ed that
couplet of the Latin poet—

Inveni portum, spes et fortuna valete:
Sat me lusistis, ludite nunc alios."

This final good-bye to hope and fortune, however,
was somewhat premature; for having been appointed
assistant and successor to Dr. John Hunter, professor
of humanity in St. Andrews, whose daughter Mr.
Gillespie had married, he relinquished the minis-
terial charge of Cults, and became a resident in the
ancient town of St. Andrews.

In his capacity of a country divine, and after^vards
as a professor, Mr. Gillespie was distinguished by
superior talent, both as an able writer and ready
eloquent speaker. His chief work was a volume of
sermons on the Seasons; but his contributions to some
of our best newspapers and journals, both in prose
and verse, showed how high a rank he might have
attained as an author had he devoted his labours to
this department. But his productions through the
press were the light buoyant sallies of an occasional
hour of leisure, as a relief from more important occu-
pations, rather than serious and continued efforts; and
as such they were read, admired, and forgot, amidst
the gay sparkling literature of the hour to which they
were contributed. It was in the pulpit as an elo-
quent persuasive divine, and in his university chair
as an effective teacher of classical literature, that his
whole energies were thrown forth; and when he died
a blank was left both in presbytery and college,
which his learned and reverend brethren felt would
not soon be filled up. Dr. Gillespie's death, which
was sudden, occurred at Dunino, on the llth of
September, 1844. He was twice married, and his
second wife was daughter of the Rev. Dr. Campbell,
formerly minister of Cupar, and sister of the Right
Hon. Lord John Campbell.

GILLESPIE, Rev. William, minister of Kelis
in Galloway, was the eldest son of the Rev. John
Gillespie, who preceded him in that charge; and was
born in the manse of the parish, February 18, 1776.
After receiving the rudiments of education at the
parish school, he entered the university of Edinburgh
in 1792, and was appointed tutor to Sir. Don, after-
wards Sir Alexander Don, Bart., in whose company
he was introduced to the most cultivated society.
While acting in this capacity, and at the same time
prosecuting his theological studies, he amused him-
self by writing verses, and at this time commenced
his poem entitled the Progress of Refinement, which
was not completed or published till some years after-

43

114

JOIIX GILLIES.

wards. Among other clubs and societies of wliich
he was a member may be instanced the Academy
of Physics, which compreliendcd Brougham, Jeffrey,
and other young men of the highest abilities, and of
which an account has already been given in our
article Dr. Thom.vs Brown. In iSoi, having for
some time completed his studies and obtained a
license as a preacher, he was ordained helper and
successor to his father, with the unanimous approba-
tion of the parish. Soon after he was invited by his
former pupil, Mr. Don, to accompany him in making
the tour of P^urope; and he had actually left home
for the purpose when the project was stopped by
intelligence of the renewal of the war with France.
In 1S05 Mr. Gillespie published the ^'Pivprss of
Refinement, an Allegorical Poem," intended to de-
scribe the advance of society in Britain from its
infancy to maturity, but which met with little success.
It was generally confessed that, though Mr. Gillespie
treated every subject in poetry with much taste and
no little feeling, he had not a sufficient amount of
inspiration, or that vivid fervour of thought which is
necessary, to reach the highest rank as a versifier.
In 1806, by the death of his father, he succeeded to
the full charge of the parish of Kells. For some
years afterwards he seems to have contented himself
in a great measure with discharging his duties as a
clerg)'man, only making occasional contributions to
periodical works, or communicating information to
the Highland Society, of which he was a zealous and
useful member. At length, in 181 5, he published,
in an octavo volume. Consolation and other Poems,
which, however, received only the same limited
measure of applause which had already been be-
stowed upon his P?vi:^ress of Refinement. Mr. Gil-
lespie, in July, 1825, married Miss Charlotte
Hoggan; but being almost immediately after seized
with erysipelas, which ended in general inflamma-
tion, he died, October 15, in the fiftieth year of his
age. As the character of this accomplished person
had been of the most amiable kind, his death was
very generally and very sincerely mourned: his bio-
grai">her, Mr. Murray, in his Literary History of
Galloiuay, states the remarkable fact, that, amidst
the many wet eyes which surrounded his grave,
"even the sexton — a character not in general noted
for soft feelings — when covering the remains of his
beloved pastor, sobbed and wept to such a degree
that he was hardly able to proceed with his trying
duty."

GILLIES, John, LL.D., F.R.S., F.A.S., mem-
ber of many foreign societies, and historiographer
to his majesty for Scotland. The many literary
titles of this enulite and once popular historian,
eviq,ce the high estimation in which he was held by
the learned men of his day. He was born at Bre-
chin, in the county of Forfar, on the i8th of January,
1747. Although of a family belonging to the
middling classes, he was not its only distinguished
member, as one of his younger brothers became an
eminent lawyer at the Scottish bar, and finally
attained the rank of lord of session. John Gillies
was educated at the university of Glasgow, and there
he so highly distinguished himself by his classical
attainments, that, before he was of age, he was ap-
pointed to teach the classes of the Greek professor,
who had been laid aside by old age and infirmity.
Instead of waiting, however, for those turns of for-
tune that might have elevated him to the chair which
he had filled as deputy, he repaired to London, for
the purpose of devoting himself to authorship. Before
he settled down in the metropolis he resolved still
further to qualify himself for his future occupation

by the study of the living languages; and for this
purpose he took up his residence for some time on
the Continent. Upon his return he was engaged by
the Earl of Ilopetoun to accompany his second son
as travelling tutor; and as it was necessary that he
should relinquish certain profitable literary engage-
ments into which he had already entered, before he
set out with his pupil, he was remunerated for the
sacrifice by the earl in 1777, who settled upon him
a pension for life. But in the year previous his young
charge died abroad; and a few years afterwards he
was induced to undertake the charge of two other
sons of the earl, who were abcnit to travel on the
Continent — one of theni being John, afterwards Sir
John Hope, and finally Earl of Ilopetoun, distin-
guished by his military achievements — the other,
Alexander, afterwards Sir Alexander Llope, lieu-
tenant-governor of Chelsea Hospital. During the
interval that elapsed between his first and second
tutorship, and when no such interniption was anti-
cipated, he had commenced the purposed business
of his life in earnest, by publishing his first work.
This was the " Orations of Lysias and Socrates, trans-
lated from the Greek, with some account of their
Lives; and a Discourse on the History, Manners,
and Character of the Greeks, from the conclusion of
the Peloponnesian War to the Battle of Chaeronea,"
1778, 4to. About the same time he received the
diploma of LL.D., the first of his literary distinc-
tions.

On returning from the Continent, when his office
of travelling-tutor had ended, which it did in 1784,
Dr. Gillies resumed those labours which were so
congenial to his tastes and habits, and which were
now continued to the end of a very long life. His
previous duties had not only furnished him with such
a competence as to make him independent of the
many painful contingencies to which authorship as a
profession is subject, but had closely connected him
with the Hopetoun family, to whose early patronage
and continuing kindness he was wont to attribute
much of the happiness by wliich his tranquil course
was enlivened. Two years after his return to Eng-
land he published the first portion of the work by
which he is best known, entitled the '■''History of
Ancient Greece, its Colonies and Conquests, from
the Earliest Accounts till the Division of the Mace-
donian Empire in the East; including the History of
Literature, Philosophy, and the Fine Arts," 2 vols.
4to, 1786. This work, which was continued in a
second part, was so acceptable to the scholars of
Germany, that a translation of it into German was
published at Vienna in 1825, while at home it was
so popular that it went through several editions.
Time, however, which has so much diminished the
lustre that invested the literature and science of the
last century, has not spared his history any more
than it has done the more distinguished productions
of Flume and Gibbon; and Gillies, the once distin-
guished historian of Greece, is now subjected to an
ordeal through which few of his contemporaries have
passed unscathed. Newer and juster views, the fruit
of a more ample experience and sounder philosophy;
a more extensive knowledge of Grecian history and
antiquity, and a more rigid and severe taste in his-
torical writing, by which the present day is in the
habit of judging the labours of the past, will no
longer be satisfied with any history of ancient Greece
that has as yet been produced. But, notwithstand-
ing the faults that have been objected to the work
of Gillies under this new and improved school of
criticism, it was certainly a most useful production
in its d.ay, and well worthy of the approval with
which it was welcomed by the learned; so that, not-

JOHN GLASS.

"S

withstanding the complaints that have been made of
the duhiess of his dissertations, the pomposity of
his style, and the occasional unfiithfulness of his
translations, we have still to wait for a better history
of Greece. By a curious coincidence the first part
of the work, and the first volume of Mitford's His-
tory of Greece — two rival publications upon a common
subject — were published during the same year.

The rest of the life of Dr. Gillies presents few in-
cidents for the biographer. In 1793 he succeeded
Dr. Robertson as historiographer royal for Scotland,
a sinecure office, to which a salary of ^200 per annum
is attached. He was also elected a member of several
societies in our own country, as also a corresponding
member of the French Institute and of the Royal
Society of Gottingen. In 1794 he married. His
various publications continued to appear at distant
intervals, until the debility of old age compelled him
to lay aside his pen; and, having done enough for
fame and fortune, he retired in 1830 to Clapham,
near London, where the rest of his life was passed
in tranquil enjoyment, until he died at the age of
ninety without disease and without pain. This event
occurred on the 15th of February, 1836.

Besides his writings which we have already speci-
fied, Dr. Gillies published: — i. ^^ VicM of the Reign
of Frederic II. of Prussia, with a Parallel between
that Prince and Philip II. of Macedon," 1789, 8vo.
2. "Aristotle's Ethics and Politics, comprising his
Practical Philosophy, translated from the Greek;
illustrated by Introductions and Notes, the Critical
History of his Life, and a New Analysis of his
Speculative Works," 1797, 2 vols. 4to. 3. "Supple-
ment to the Analysis of Aristotle's Speculative Works,
containing an Account of the Interpreters and Cor-
rupters of Aristotle's Philosophy, in connection with
the Times in which they respectively flourished,"
1S04, 4to. 4. The Histoiy of the Ancient World, from
the Dominion of Alexander to that of Augustus, with
a Preliminary Survey of Preceding Periods, 1807-10,
2 vols. 4to. This was afterwards reprinted in 4 vols.
8vo, as the History of Ancient Greece, its Colonies and
Conquests, Part II., 1820. 5. "A New Translation
of Aristotle's Rhetoric, with an Introduction and
Appendix, explaining its Relation to his Exact Philo-
sophy, and vindicating that Philosophy by Proofs that
all Departures from it have been Deviations into
Error," 1823, 8vo.

GLASS, John, founder of a sect still known by
his name, was the son of the Rev. Alexander Glass,
minister of the parish of Auchtermuchty, in the
county of Fife, where he was born on the 21st of
September, 1695. In the year 1697 his father was
translated to the parish of Kinclaven, at which place
Mr. John Glass received the rudiments of his educa-
tion. He was afterwards sent to the grammar-school
of Perth, where he learned the Latin and Greek
languages. He completed his studies at the univer-
sities of St. Andrews and Edinburgh, and having
been licensed as a preacher by the presbytery of
Perth, was in 17 19 ordained a minister of the
Church of Scotland, in the parish of Tealing, in the
neighbourhood of Dundee. Mr. Glass had been a
diligent student, was deeply impressed with the im-
portance of the ministerial' character and the awful
responsibility which attached to it, and was anxious,
in no common degree, about the due discharge
of the various duties which it involved. In his
public services he was highly acceptable; had a
singular gift of prayer; and in his sermons, which,
according to the fashion of the time, were seldom
less than two, sometimes three, hours in length, he
attracted and kept up the unwearied attention of

crowded audiences. His fame as a preacher, of
course, soon spread abroad, and his sacramental
occasions attracted vast crowds from distant quarters;
the usual concomitant, in those days, of popularitv.
But it was not public services alone that absorl)e<l
his attention; the more private duties of his station
were equally attended to. Even so early as 1725,
only two years after his settlement, he had formed
within his parish a little society of persons whom
he found to be particularly under serious impres-
sions, and with whom he cultivated a more intimate
intercourse, though no part of his charge was ne-
glected. It is probable, however, that his peculiar
notions of the constitution of a Christian church
were by this time beginning to be developed, and this
intercourse with a detached and particular part of
his charge must have tended to hasten the process.
Breach of covenant engagements, from a combination
of circumstances, was at this time the topicvery gener-
ally insisted on in the ministrations of the Scottish
clergy. The binding obligation of Ixjth the national
covenant of Scotland, and the solemn league and
covenant of the three kingdoms being universally
admitted, Mr. Glass began to preach against these
covenants, as incompatible with the nature of the
gospel dispensation and the sacred rights of con-
science. A paper written by him at this time to the
above effect excited a verj- great sensation throughout
the country, and called forth some of the ablest de-
fences of these famous deeds that have yet appeared.
In the above paper Mr. Glass did not state himself
as formally an enemy to the covenants, but only as
an inquirer, wishing further light and information
respecting them; yet it was evident to eveiy intelli-
gent person that he was no longer a Presbyterian.
He was forthwith summoned before the church
courts; and, refusing to sign the formula and some
passages of the Confession of Faith, was, by the
synod of Angus and Meams, deposed from his office,
on the I2th of April, 1728.

The same year he published his King of Martyrs,
in which he embodied his views more fully matured.
This book had no inconsiderable share of popularity,
and it has sensed for a general storehouse, whence
Mr. Patrick Hutchison, and after him all the mo-
dem advocates of spirituality, as a peculiar and
distinguishing characteristic of the New Testament
church, have drawn their principal arguments. On
his deposition Mr. Glass removed from Tealing to
Dundee, where, several persons joining him, he
formed the first church of the kind in Scotland.
This small body was not without its share of the
obloquy to which Independency had long been ex-
posed in Scotland, nor were the members without
their fears respecting the practicability of the scheme,
being doubtful of a sufficiency of gifts in the lay
brethren. When they came to the proof, however,
they were agreeably disappointed; and wherever
they had occasion to form churches, which was in
a short time in a great many places, appear to have
found no lack of qualified persons. In the year
1733 Mr. Glass removed from Dundee to Perth,
where he erected a small meeting-house, which was
thought great presumption, especially as the handful
of people that attended arrogated to themselves the
name of a church. Attempts were even made to
eject them forcibly from the town; and a zealous
lady beholding Mr. Glass in the street, was heard
to exclaim, "Why do they not rive [tear] him in
pieces!" In the year 1739 the General Assembly
of the Church of Scotland, the same that gave
positive orders to the commission to proceed against
the Seceders with the censures of the church, took
off, by a vei7 curious act, the sentence of deposition

ii6

JOHN GLASS JAMES GLEXXIK.

tliat had been passed against Mr. Glass. In this
act he is stated to hold some peculiar views, which
the Assembly do not think inconsistent with his
being a minister. They accordingly restored him
to the character of a minister of the gospel of Christ,
but declared at the same time he was not to be
considered a minister of the Established Church of
Scotland, or capable of lacing called and settled
therein, till he shoukl renounce these peculiar views.
This act, even among the anomalous acts of church
courts, was certainly a very strange one. If Mr.
Glass, however, was satisfied on scriptural grounds
that he was a minister of Christ, it could make little
difference whether he belonged to the Church of
Scotland or not. At the time of his deposition
Mr. Glass had a large family, and when he was
deprived of his stipend had no visible means of
supporting it. This, taken in connection with the
persecutions of another kind which he was made to
endure, affords sufficient evidence, whatever any
may think of his principles, that he was sincere and
conscientious in their profession. In this sacrifice
of worldly interests it is pleasing to learn that he
had the cheerful concurrence of his excellent wife,
Catharine Black, a daughter of the Rev. Mr. Black
of Perth. This worthy woman, persuaded that the
cause in which he was engaged was the cause of
God, encouraged him in his darkest moments to
perseverance, and to a cheerful trust in Divine
Providence, even for such things as might be needful
for this present frail and transitory life; nor was his
confidence in vain. In the death of their children
(fifteen in number, all of whom he survived) their
faith and patience were also severely tried, especially
in the case of such of them as had arrived at the
years of maturity. One of his sons was the occasion
of much trouble to him, and left his house a disobe-
dient son. Like the prodigal in the parable, how-
ever, he repented in his afifhction, and returned a
very different person. His son Thomas lived to
become a respectable bookseller in Dundee, where
he was settled in life, and was pastor to the congre-
gation which his father had left in that place; but he
was cut off in the prime of life by a fever. Another
of his sons, George, was a sea-captain, and known
as the author of the History of the Canary Islands,
published by Dodsley in 1764. He afterwards
went out for a London company to attempt forming
a settlement on the coast of Africa, where he was
seized by the Spaniards, and kept a prisoner for
several years. The men whom he had conducted
to Africa were in the meantime murdered, and his
ship ])lundered. Having, by a pencil note inclosed
in a loaf of bread, found means to make his case
known to the British consul, the government in-
terfered, and he was set at liberty. He took his
passage with his wife and daughter for London,
intending to revisit his native country. The ship in
which he embarked was unfortunately loaded with
specie, which, awakening the cupidity of a part of
the crew, they conspired to murder the captain and
secure the vessel. Captain Glass, hearing the dis-
turbance on deck when the mutiny broke out, drew
his sword, and hastening to the rescue, was stabbed
in the back by one of the conspirators, who had
been lurking below. Mrs. Glass and her daughter
clung to one another imploring mercy, but were
thrown overboard locked in each other's arms.
The murderers landed on the coast of Ireland, where
they unshipped the money- chests, which they hid in
the sands, and went to an ale-house to refresh them-
selves. Here they were taken up on suspicion, con-
fessed the atrocious crime, and were subsequently
executed. Mr. Glass and his friends in Perth had

been apprised by letter that his son was on his voy-
age home, and were in daily expectation of his arrival,
when intelligence of the fate of the ship and her
crew reached Perth in a newspaper. Mr. Glass
sustained the shock with his wonted resignation and
equanimity. He died in 1773, aged seventy-eight.
The doctrines and practices of his sect were afterwards
modified by his son-in-law Mr. Robert Sandeman,
author of The Letters on Theron and Aspasio, and
from whom the members of the body are sometimes
denominated Sandemanians.

GLENNIE, James, a distinguished geometrician,
a native of Life, was born in 1750. Ilis father was
an officer in the army, and saw much severe service.
Glennie received the rudiments of his education at a
parochial school, and was afterwards removed to the
university of St. Andrews, where he made consider-
able proficiency in the Greek and Latin languages,
but early discovered a strong and peculiar propensity
to the sciences in general, but more particularly to
geometry, a branch which he pursued with such zeal
and success as to carry off two successive prizes in
the mathematical class, when he was only nineteen
years of age. Glennie was originally intended for
the church, and with this view attended the divinity
class, where he also distinguished himself, becoming
a keen polemic and theologian, and an acute and
able disputant. Whether, however, from his finding
a difficulty in obtaining a church, or from the im-
pulse of his own disposition, he abandoned the idea
of entering into holy orders, and chose rather to
seek his fortune in the army. Through the interest
of the Earl of Kinnoul, then chancellor of the uni-
versity of St. Andrews, and of the professors of that
university, to whom Glennie's talents had strongly
recommended him, he obtained a commission in the
artillery, a branch of the service for which his geo-
metrical knowledge eminently fitted him. On the
breaking out of the American war, in 1775, Glennie
embarked for that country with the troops sent out
by the mother country to co-operate with those
already there, in the suppression of the insurgents.
On his arrival, now a lieutenant of artillerj', he was
placed under the command of General St. Leger;
his reputation, however, as a promising officer and
skilful engineer was already so great, that he was
left in full command of his own particular depart-
ment. Throughout the whole campaign which fol-
lowed he conducted all his operations with such
judgment and intrepidity as to attract the notice of
the Marquis of Townshend, who, without solicitation
or any interest whatever being made, transferred
Glennie to the engineers; and this flattering circum-
stance, together with the reasons annexed, were
certified in the London Gazette. In 1779 he was
further gratified by being nominated one of the thirty
practitioner engineers, and appointed second, and
soon after first, lieutenant. So active and industri-
ous were Glennie's habits, that even while engaged
in the arduous and dangerous duties of his profession
in America, he wrote a number of im])ortant papers
on abstruse subjects. These he transmitted to the
Royal Society, where they were read, and deemed
so valuable as to procure him the honour of being
elected a member, and that, as in the case of the
celebrated Dr. I'"ranklin, without fees, and even
without his knowledge.

On his return to England Mr. Glennie married
Miss Mary Anne Locke, daughter of the store-keeper
at Plymouth.

The good fortune, however, which had hitherto
attended Glennie, and the prosperous career which ap-
parently lay still before him, were now about to close

JAMES GLENNIE WALTER GOODAL.

117

in darkness and disappointment. Tiie first blow to
Glennie's hopes of future promotion proceeded from
a circumstance sufficiently remarkable in itself. The
Duke of Richmond, who was, at the time of Glen-
nie's return from America, master -general of the
board of ordnance, in which he had displaced Glen-
nie's early patron the Marquis of Townshend, had
conceived the absurd idea of fortifying all our naval
arsenals, and of forming lines of defence on the coast,
instead of increasing the navy, and trusting to that
arm for protection against a foreign enemy. The
duke was much opposed on this point in parliament;
but as it was a favourite idea, he persevered, and
supported as he was by the influence and eloquence
of Pitt, would have carried the measure, but for the
skill and talent of a subaltern of artillery ; and that
subaltern, who coped successfully with a minister of
state on a great national question, was Glennie.

The Duke of Richmond, aware of Glennie's talents
'in the sciences of gunnery and fortification, frequently
and anxiously endeavoured to obtain his approba-
tion of his plans ; with more candour than wisdom,
however, he not only steadfastly withheld this appro-
bation, but unhesitatingly declared them to be absurd
and impracticable. Glennie's early patron, the Mar-
quis of Townshend, knowing the former's opinion of
the Duke of Richmond's plans, invited him to his
residence, where he detained him until he had com-
posed, which he did at the marquis's request, a
pamphlet on the subject. The pamphlet, which was
written with great ability and discovered a profound
knowledge of the matter of which it treated, was
immediately publis'aed, and produced a prodigious
effect. It instantly opened the eyes of the public to
the absurdity of the minister's ideas: his projects were
overturned, and the country was saved; but Glennie
was ruined.

In this celebrated pamphlet, which is simply
entitled A Short Essay, it was demonstrated that
extensive lines produce prolonged weakness, not
strength, and showed that troops are much more
formidable as an active and movable force than as
an inert body, cooped up in fortifications. It showed
further that the sum (calculated at forty or fifty mil-
lions) which should be required to carry the duke's
plans into effect, was more than would be necessary
to build a new and complete fleet, superior to that
of any power on earth. Besides all this, it was
shown that it would require 22,000 soldiers for the
intended fortifications of Portsmouth and Plymouth
alone.

Glennie, perceiving that all hopes of further pro-
motion were now at an end, resigned his commission
and emigrated to British America with his wife and
children. Here he purchased a tract of land, and
soon afterwards became a contractor for ship-timber
and masts for government. The speculation failed,
and both Glennie himself and a partner, a wealthy
man who had joined him in it, were ruined. Driven
back to England, but now, as many years had
elapsed, forgotten and without friends, Glennie ap-
plied to the Earl of Chatham, who, recognizing his
merits, but unable to do more for him, retained
rather than employed him as "engineer extraordi-
nary." Soon after, however, he procured Glennie
the appointment of instructor to the East India
Company's young artillery officers, with salary and
emoluments amounting to ;[^400 per annum. Glen-
nie's good fortune was, however, again but of short
duration. He was summoned as an evidence on
some^ points in the celebrated trial of the Duke
of York and Mrs. Clarke ; his evidence was
unfavourable to the duke ; the consequence was,
that he soon afterwards received an official letter

from the board of directors, dispensing with his
services.

In 1812 Glennie, now in the sixty-second year of
his age, went out to Copenhagen at the request of a
gentleman who then held a seat in parliament, to
negotiate the purchase of a certain plantation. Glen-
nie having set out on his mission without coming
to any explicit terms with his employer, his claim
for compensation on his return was disputed, and
referred to arbitration; but the referees could not
agree, and the matter therefore was never adjusted.
Glennie, now in an exceedingly destitute condition,
without friends who could assist him, his health
destroyed, and himself far advanced in life, made an
unsuccessful attempt to procure a few mathematical
pupils, and finally died of apoplexy on the 23d
November, 181 7, in the sixty -seventh year of his age.
His remains were interred in the churchyard of St.
Martin's-in-the-I'lelds.

Amongst other proofs of Glennie's geometrical
knowledge is to be found a solution of Dr. Matthew
Stewart's "42d proposition on 39th theorem," which
had remained unsolved, and had puzzled the learned
for sixty-five years; and also a demonstration of the
impossibility of "squaring the circle," a question
which has long excited public curiosity, and which
it is said engaged the attention and eluded the re-
search of the great Newton.

GOODAL, Walter, well known as a historical
antiquaiy, was the eldest son of John Goodal, a
farmer in Banffshire, and was born about the year
1706. In 1723 he was entered as a student in King's
College, Aberdeen, but did not continue long enough
to take a degree. In 1730 he obtained employment
in the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh under the
famous Thomas Ruddiman, who was a native of the
same district, and perhaps patronized him on account
of some local recommendations. He assisted Rud-
diman in the compilation of the first catalogue of the
library, which was published in 1742. When Rud-
diman was succeeded by David Hume, Goodal con-
tinued to act as sub-librarian, probably upon a very
small salary. Like both of his successive superiors,
he was a Tory and a Jacobite, but, it would appear,
of a far more ardent character than either of them.
Being, almost as a matter of course, a believer in
the innocence of Queen Mary, he contemplated
writing her life, but afterwards limited his design to
a publication entitled An Examination of the Letters
said to be written by Jllary to James Earl of Bothwell,
which appeared in 1754. In this work, says Mr.
George Chalmers, he could have done more, if he
had had less prejudice and more coolness. Hume
had become librarian two years before this period;
but " the chief duty," we are informed, " fell upon
Walter, or, as he good-naturedly permitted himself
to be called, IVatty Goodal. One day, while Goodal
was composing his treatise concerning Queen Mar}-,
he became drowsy, and laying down his head upon
his manuscripts, in that posture fell asleep. Ilunie,
entering the library and finding the controversialist
in that position, stepped softly up to him, and laying
his mouth to Watty's ear, roared out with the voice
of a stentor, that Queen Mar>- was a whore, and had
murdered her husband. Watty, not knowing whether
it was a dream or a real adventure, or whether the
voice proceeded from a ghost or living creature,
started up, and before he was awake, or his eyes
well opened, he sprang upon Hume, and, seizing
him by the throat, pushed him to the further end of
the library, exclaiming all the while that he was some
base Presbyterian parson, who was come to murder
the character of Queen Mary as his predecessors had

iiS

ALEXANDER GORDON

LORD GEORGE GORDON.

contributed to murder her person. Hume used to
tell this story with much glee, and Watty acknow-
ledged the truth of it with much frankness."

In 1753 Mr. Goodal acted as editor of a new
edition of the work called C)\n^'foi\rs Memoirs, which
he is generally blamed for not having corrected or
purified from the vitiations of its autiior. In 1754
he published an edition, with emendatory notes, of
Scott of Scotstar%-et's Stuggcriii^ Stah- 0/ Scots Stales-
me/i, and wrote a preface and life to Sir James Bal-
four's Practices. He contributed also to Keith's
Catalogue of Scottish Bishops, and published an edition
of Fordun's Scotichroiticoii, with a Latin introduction,
of which an English version was given to the world
in 1769. Goodal died July 2S, 1766, in very in-
digent circumstances, which Mr. Chalmers attributes
to habits of intemperance. The following extract
from the minutes of the Faculty of Advocates throws
a melancholy light upon the subject, and is fully
entitled to a place in Mr. DTsraeli's Calamities of
Authors: —

"A petition was presented in name of INIary
Goodal, only daughter of the deceased Mr. Walter
Goodal, late depute-keeper of the Advocates' Library,
representing that the petitioner's father died the 2Sth
last month; that by reason of some accidental mis-
fortunes happening in his affairs, any small pieces of
household furniture or other movables he hath left
behind will scarcely defray the expense of his funeral;
that if there is any overplus, [it] will be attached by
his creditors; that she is in the most indigent cir-
cumstances, and without friends to give her any
assistance; that she proposes to go to the north
country, where she hath some relations, in order to
try if she can be put upon any way of gaining her
bread; tliat she would not be permitted to leave the
town until she should discharge some small debts
that she was by necessity obliged to contract; that,
besides, she was in such want of clothes and other
necessaries, that she can scarcely appear in the
streets; and that, in her most distressed situation,
she hath presumed to make this humble application
to the honourable the dean and 'faculty of advo-
cates, praying that they would be pleased to order
her such a sum from their fund as they shall judge
her necessities require.

"The dean and faculty, taking this clamant case
under their consideration, were unanimously of opinion
that the petitioner should have some allowance out
of their fund. " The sum given was ten pounds.

GORDON, Alexander, authorof various learned
and useful antiquarian works, is one of the numerous
subjects for the present puljlication, of whom nothing
is known except their birth in Scotland, and their
transactions in pulilic life out of it. He was a well-
educated man, possessing what was not in his time
common among the Scottish literati — an intimate
knowledge of the Greek language. In early life he
travelled through France and other parts of the
Continent, and spent some years in Italy. His first
publication referred to the antiquities of his native
country, which he seems to have explored with minute
and painstaking fidelity. The work appeared in
1726, under the title of ^^ Itinoarium Septentrionalc,
or a yoiirney through ?nost Parts of the Counties of
Scotland, in two parts, with sixty-six copperplates,"
folio: a supplement, published in 1732, was entitled
Additions and Corrections to the Itinerariuin Septen-
trionale, containing scz<eral Dissertations on and
Descriptions of Roman Antiquities discovered in Scot-
land since publishing the said Itinerary. These were
among the first efforts in what may be called pure
antiquities which were made in Scotland. The It-

inerary was considered so valuable a work, that it
was translated into Latin and published in Holland
in 1 73 1 (the supplement included), for the use of
general scholars throughout Europe. In 1729 Mr.
Gordon published " The Lives of Pope Alexander
I'l. and his Son desar Boigia, comprehending the
Wars in the Reign of Charles VHI. and Lewis XII.,
Kings of France, and the Chief Transactions and
Revolutions in Italy from 1492 to 15 16, with an
Appendix of Original Pieces referred to in the
Work." This work was also in folio. In 1730 he
published in octavo, "^ Complete History of Ancient
Amphitheatres, more particularly regarding the Ar-
chitecture of these Buildings, and in particular that
of J'erona; by the Marquis Scipio Maffei; translated
from the Italian." In 1736 Mr. Gordon was ap-
pointed secretary to the Society for the Encourage-
ment of Learning, with an annual salarj- of ^^50; and
also secretary to the Antiquarian Society: the former
place he resigned in 1739, and the latter in 1741-
About the same time he officiated as secretary to
the Eg)-ptian Club, an association of learned indi-
viduals who had visited Egj-pt, comprising Lord
Sandwich, Dr. Shaw, Dr. Pococke, and others of
nearly equal distinction. Mr. Gordon published
two other works — An Essay towards Explaining the
Ilieroglyphical Eigures on the Coffin of the Ancient
Mummy belonging to Captain ll'illiam Lethieullier,
1737, and Tii'cnty-five Plates of all the Egyptian
Mummies and other Egyptian Antiquities in England,
about 1739 — both in folio.

Mr. Gordon was destined, after doing so much to
explain the antiquities of the old world, to the un-
congenial fate of spending his last years in the new,
\\here so few are to be found. He was induced
in 1741 to accompany Governor Glen to Carolina
in North America, where, besides a grant of land,
he had several offices, particularly that of registrar
of the province. He died about 1750, leaving a
valuable estate to his family.

GORDON, George, commonly called Lord
George Gordon, one of the most remarkable Scots-
men who have flourished in modem political history,
was the third son of Cosmo George, third Duke of
Gordon, by Catharine, daughter of William Earl of
Aberdeen. He was born in L^pper Brook Street,
London, in December, 1750, and was baptized in
January, 1752; George II. standing as his sponsor
or godfather. Of his boyhood or education we
know little or nothing; nor does there appear to
have supervened any peculiar trait of conduct or
bias of disposition, during his juvenile years, to dis-
tinguish him from his compeers, or forbode the
singular eccentricity and erratic waywardness of his
future career. At a verj' tender age he entered the
navy, in which he arrived, by due gradation, at the
rank of lieutenant. The reason of his afterwards
abandoning the naval profession was a pretended
disappointment at non-promotion in theserv-ice, while
it was, in fact, a mere job effected by some of the
opposition members to win him to their ranks, as
will afterwards be seen. In the year 1772, being then
little more than twenty years of age, he went to reside
in Inverness-shire, with the view of opposing General
Eraser of Lovat, as member for the county, at the
next general election, which would of necessity take
place in two years thereafter at farthest. This was
indeed bearding the lion in his den, and appeared
about as Quixotic an undertaking as that of displac-
ing one of the chieftain's native mountains. Such,
however, were his ingratiating qualities, the frank-
ness of his manners, the affability of his address, and
his happy knack of accommodating himself to the

LORD GEORGE GORDON.

119

humours of all classes, that, when the day of elec-
tion drew nigh, and the candidates began to number
their strength, Lovat found, to his unutterable con-
fusion and vexation, that his beardless competitor
had actually succeeded in securing a majority of
votes ! Nor could the most distant imputations of
bribery or undue influence be charged upon the
young political aspirant. All was the result of his
winning address and popular manners, superadded
to his handsome countenance, which is said to have
been of almost feminine beauty and delicacy. He
played on the bagpipes and violin to those who loved
music. He spoke Gaelic and wore the pliilabeg,
where these were in fashion. lie made love to the
young ladies, and listened with patience and defer-
ence to the garrulous sermonizing of old age. And,
finally, he gave a splendid ball to the gentry at In-
verness— one remarkable incident concerning which
was his hiring a ship, and bringing from the isle of
Skye the family of the M'Leods, consisting oi fifteen
young ladies — the pride and admiration of the north.
It was not to be tolerated, however, that the great
feudal chieftain should thus be thrust from his here-
ditary political possession by a mere stripling. Upon
an application to the duke, Lord George's eldest
brother, a compromise was agreed on, by which it
was settled, that upon Lord George's relinquishing
Inverness-shire, General Eraser should purchase a
seat for him in an English borough; and he was ac-
cordingly returned for Ludgershall, the property of
Lord Slelbourne, at the election of 1774.

It would appear that, for some time after taking
his seat. Lord George voted with the ministry of the
day. He soon, however, and mainly, it is affirmed,
by the influence of his sister-in-law, the celebrated
Duchess of Gordon, became a convert to the princi-
ples of the opposition; and it was not long ere, at
the instigation of Governor Johnston and Mr. Burke,
he fairly broke with the ministry, upon their refusal
to comply with a most unreasonable demand for
promotion over the heads of older and abler officers,
which the gentlemen just named had incited him to
make. From this time forward he became a zealous
opponent of government, especially as regarded their
policy towards America, where discontents against
their measures were becoming rife and loud. It was
not, however, until the session of 1776 that he stood
forth as a public speaker, when he commenced his
career by a furious attack on ministers, whom he
accused of an infamous attempt to bribe him over to
their side by the offer of a sinecure of ;^iooo a year.
Whether this charge was true or false, certain it is
that ministers felt the effects of the imputation so
severely, reiterated and commented on as it was in
the withering eloquence of Fox, Burke, and others,
that an attempt was made to induce him to cede his
seat in parliament, in favour of the famous Irish
orator Henry Flood, by the offer of the place of
vice-admiral of Scotland, then vacant by the resigna-
tion of the Duke of Queensbeny. Notwithstanding
that Lord George's fortune was then scarcely ;(^700
per annum, he had the fortitude to resist the prof-
fered bait, and seemed determined, like Andrew
Marvel, to prefer dining for three days running on a
single joint, rather than sacrifice his independence
by the acceptance of court-favour. His lordship,
indeed, soon began to estrange himself from both
parties in the house, and to assume a position then
entirely new in parliamentary tactics, and somewhat
parallel to the course chalked out for themselves by
a few of our patriots in the House of Commons at
a later period. Disclaiming all connection with
either Whigs or Tories, he avowed himself as being
devoted solely to the cause of the people. Continu-

ing to represent the borough of Ludgershall, he per-
severed in animadverting with great freedom, and
often with great wit, on the proceedings on both
sides of the house, and became so marked, that it
was usual at that time to say that "there were three
parties in parliament — the ministry, the opposition,
and Lord George Gordon."

A bill had been brought into parliament, in the
session of 1778, by Sir George Saville, who is de-
scribed by a writer of the Whig party as one of the
most upright men which perhaps any age or country
ever produced, to relieve the Roman Catholic sub-
jects of England from some of the penalties they
were subject to by an act passed in the eleventh
and twelfth year of King William III. — an act sup-
posed by many to have originated in faction, and
which at all events, from many important changes
since the time of its enactment, had become unneces-
sary, and therefore unjust.

On the passing of this bill, which required a test
of fidelity from the parties who claimed its protection,
many persons of that religion, and of the first fami-
lies and fortunes in the kingdom, came forward with
the most zealous professions of attachment to the
government; so that the good effects of the indul-
gence were immediately felt, and hardly a mumiur
from any quarter was heard. This act of Sir George
Saville did not extend to Scotland; but in the next
winter a proposition was made by several individuals
to revise the penal laws in force against the Catholics
in that kingdom also, at least a report prevailed of
such an intention. The people in general, having
still a keen recollection of the religious dissensions
of the preceding century, M-ere strongly excited by
this rumour, and formed numerous associations
throughout the country for the purpose of resisting,
by petition, any remission of the Catholic penalties.
In this movement they were countenanced generally
by the evangelical section of the national clerg}', and
perhaps the public fervour was raised by no circum-
stance so much as by the indifference with which the
majority of the moderate party had treated the sub-
ject in the General Assembly of 1778, when the idea
of a prospective declaration against the measure was
coldly negatived. The proceedings in Scotland,
and some inflammatory pamphlets published about
the same time, gradually awakened the public mind
in England, or at least the less informed part of it,
to a conviction of the danger of Sir George Saville's
act, and a powerful society was formed at London,
under the name of the "Protestant Association," for
endeavouring to procure the repeal of the bill.
Large subscriptions were raised in different parts of
the kingdom, a secretary was publicly chosen, and
correspondences set on foot between the different
societies in England and Scotland. To crown all,
in November, 1779, Lord George Gordon, M.P.,
was unanimously invited to become president of the
association, of which situation he accepted. One
thing ought here to be observed, in judging of the
sincerity of this nobleman in the part he took in the
subsequent public proceedings on this subject, both
in and out of parliament, that he offered no opposi-
tion whatever to the passing of Sir George Saville's
repeal act.

In detailing the fearful events which ensued both
in England and Scotland, in consequence of this
struggle of parties, it is necessarj' that some regard
be had to chronological order; and we must, there-
fore, first of all turn our attention to the posture of
affairs in our own countiy.

Soon after the passing of the tolerating act in
favour of the English and Irish Catholics, those of
that creed m Scotland, encouraged, as we have said,

LORD GEORGE GORDOX.

by demonstrations in their favour in various influen-
tial quarters, prepared a petition to parliament,
praying for the enjoyment of the same rights and
privileges which had been extended to their more
fortunate brethren. At this juncture an anon)-mous
pamphlet appeared at Edinburgh, which caused an
extraordinary sensation throughout the country'. Its
effects were first developed by the proceedings in the
provincial sj-nods, by almost all of which (excepting
that of Lothian and Tweeddale) violent and angr>'
resolutions were passed against the Papists, and the
firmest determination expressed to oppose their
petition. These resolutions being published in the
newspapers, soon propagated the ferment, and fanned
the popular excitement into a blaze. Numerous so-
cieties were organized at Edinburgh, Glasgow, and
elsewhere, who severally passed resolutions to the
same effect. That at Edinburgh, together with all
the incorporations of the city, excepting the surgeons,
the merchant company, and the society of candle-
makers, petitioned the town-council early in Januarj',
1779, to oppose the bill, which was agreed to; and
the members for the city and county were instructed
accordingly. Similar proceedings also took place
at Glasgow.

The populace, however, were far too highly irri-
tated to await patiently the issue of these decided
measures, and on the 2d of Februar)' their fury
burst out at Edinburgh with uncontrollable vio-
lence. Incendiar)' letters had previously been dis-
tributed in the streets, calling upon the people to
meet at the foot of Leith Wynd on the above day,
' ' to pidl down that pillar of Popery lately erected
there" — alluding to a house occupied, along with
other families, by a Roman Catholic bishop, and
which was supposed to contain a Catholic place of
worship. A large mob accordingly assembled, and
in spite of the exertions of the magistrates, backed
by a regiment of fencibles, the house was set on fire
and reduced to ashes. The house of another Popish
clerg)'man in Black friars' Wynd was completely
gutted. The Catholics in all the other parts of the
town were indiscriminately abused, and their houses
pillaged. Nor against these alone was the violence
of the mob directed. The liberal Protestants kno^^•n
to favour toleration towards the Catholics became
equally the marks of popular fury. Amongst
these were the celebrated Professor Robertson,
and Mr. Crosbie, an eminent advocate, whose
houses were attacked, and which, but for the timely
interference of the militar}% would doubtless, like
the rest, have been fired and razed to the ground.
Seeing no likelihood of a termination to the tumults,
the provost and magistrates, after several days'
feeble and ineffectual efforts to restore order, at
length issued a proclamation of a somewhat singular
description, assitriii!^ the people that tio repeal of the
statutes against Papists should take place, and attri-
buting the riots solely to the "fears and distressed
minds of well-meaning people." This announce-
ment, nevertheless, had the effect of partially re-
storing quiet. The example of Edinburgh was in
part copied in Glasgow; but the disturbances there,
owing to the exertions and influence of the principal
merchants and others, were soon got under; — the
provost and magistrates finding it necessary, how-
ever, to issue a notice similar to that of their civic
brethren at Edinburgh. But notwithstanding that
these magisterial assurances were corroborated by a
letter to the same effect from Lord Weymouth, home-
secretary, dated 12th February, addressed to the
lord justice-clerk, the excitement throughout the
country every day increased, instead of abating.
At no period of our history, unless perhaps during

the political crisis in i S3 1-32, has either branch of
the legislature been addressed or spoken of in lan-
guage half so daring, menacing, or contemptuous.
The resolutions passed by the heritors and heads of
families in the parish of Carluke, Lanarkshire, may
vie with the most maledictory philippics poured
forth on the heads of the " boroughmongers" in
modern days. To such a height did this anti-
catholic feeling at last rise, that the Papists deemed
it at last prudent to memorialize parliament on the
subject, and pray for protection to their lives and
property, as well as redress for what they had already
suffered. This petition was laid before the house by
Mr. Burke on the i8th of March, and it is in the
debate which thereupon ensued that we first find
Lord George Gordon standing forth in parliament
as the champion of the Protestant interests. In the
following August, after the rising of the session. Lord
George paid a visit to Edinburgh, where he was
received with extraordinarv' attention, and unani-
mously chosen president of the "committee of cor-
respondence for the Protestant interest." We ought
to have mentioned that, in the month of April, the
sum of £\(iOO had been adjudged by arbitration to
the Catholics in compensation of their loss in the
city of Edinburgh, which amount was paid from the
city's funds.

The remarkable respect and honours which Lord
George experienced from the Protestant societies
in Scotland appear to have operated like quicksilver
in his veins. He forthwith devoted himself heart
and hand to their cause; and on his return to London
he was, as we have already mentioned, chosen presi-
dent of the formidable Protestant Association.

Encouraged by the deference paid by government
to the wishes of the Scottish Protestants, the mem-
bers of the London Association entertained the most
sanguine hopes of getting a repeal of the late tolera-
tion act for England. The most strenuous exertions
by advertisement and otherwise were therefore made
to swell the numbers of the society ; meetings were
called, and resolutions passed, to petition the House
of Commons for an abrogation of the obnoxious
act.

After various desultory motions in parliament,
which it is unnecessary to specify, Lord George,
on the 5th of May, presented a petition from Ply-
mouth, praying for a repeal of Sir G. Saville's act.
Finding, however, the government and legislature
little disposed to pay any attention to these applica-
tions, the members of the association resolved upon
adopting more active and unequivocal measures to
accomplish their object. A meeting was accordingly
held in Coachmakers' Hall, on the evening of the;
29th May — at which Lord George, who was in the
chair, addressed them in a long and inflammatory
harangiie upon the wicked designs of the Papists,
the fearful increase of Poperj' in the kingdom in
consequence of the late act, and the measures in-
dispensably necessarj' to be adopted for the salvation
of Protestantism. He said their only resource was
to go in a body to the House of Commons, and ex-
press their determination to protect their religious
])rivileges with their lives; that for his part he would
run all hazards with "the people," and if they were
too lukewarm to do the like with him, they might
choose another leader. This speech was received
with tremendous acclamations; and resolutions were
passed, that the whole Protestant Association should
assemble in St. George's Fields on the following
Friday (June 2d), to accompany his lordship to the
House of Commons, where he was to present the
Protestant petition, and that they should march to
the house in four divisions, and by different routes.

LORD GEORGE GORDON.

His lordship also added, that unless 20,000 people, '
each decked with a blue cockade, assembled, he
would not present the petition. Ne.xt evening Lord
(ieorge gave notice in the House of Commons of
his intention of presenting the petition on the ap-
pointed day, as also of the proposed processions
of the association; and it is a remarkable fact, that
although by the act of 1661 such a proceeding was
declared quite illegal, not the slightest intimation
was given to him by the ministry to that effect.

On the day appointed an immense concourse of
people, not less, it was computed, than 100,000,
assembled in St. George's P'ields. Lord George
arrived about twelve o'clock, and after haranguing
them for a considerable time, directed them how
they were to march. One party, accordingly, pro-
ceeded round by London Bridge, another over
Blackfriars, and a third accompanied their presi-
dent over Westminster Bridge. The petition, to
which the subscriptions of the petitioners were ap-
pended, on an immense number of rolls of parch-
ment, was borne before the latter body. On their
assembling at the two houses of parliament, which
they completely surrounded, they announced their
presence by a general shout, and it was not long
ere the more unndy of them began to exercise the
power they now felt themselves to possess,- by abus-
ing and maltreating the members of both houses,
as they severally arrived. At the door of the House
of Lords the Archbishop of York, the Bishops of
Litchfield and Lincoln, the Duke of Northumber-
land, Lords Bathurst, Mansfield, Townshend, Hills-
borough, Stormont, Dudley, and many others, were
all more or less abused, both in character and per-
son. Lord Boston, in particular, was so long in
the hands of the mob, tlitit it was at one time pro-
posed that the house should go out in a body to his
rescue. He entered at last, unwigged, and with his
clothes almost torn from his person.

In the meantime the rioters had got complete
possession of the lobby of the House of Commons,
the doors of which they repeatedly tried to force
open; and a scene of confusion, indignation, and
uproar ensued in the house, almost rivalling that
which was passing out of doors. Lord George, on
first entering the house, had a blue cockade in his
hat, but upon this being commented upon as a signal
of riot, he drew it out. The greatest part of the
day was consumed in debates (almost inaudible from
the increasing roar of the multitude without) relat-
tive to the fearful aspect of affairs ; but something
like order being at last obtained. Lord George in-
troduced the subject of the Protestant petition, which,
he stated, was signed by 120,000 Protestants, and
moved that it be immediately brought up. Leave
being given, he next moved that it be forthwith
taken into consideration. This informal and un-
precedented proposition was of course resisted ; but
Lord George, nevertheless, declared his determina-
tion of dividing the house on the subject, and a
desultor)' but violent debate ensued, which was ter-
minated by the motion being negatived by 192 to 9.
During the course of the discussion the riot with-
out became every moment more alarming, and Lord
George was repeatedly called upon to disperse his
followers; but his manner of addressing the latter,
which he did from the top of the galler)' stairs, leaves
it doubtful whether his intention was to quiet or
irritate them still farther. He informed them, from
time to time, of the progress of the debate, and men-
tioned by name (certainly, to put the best construc-
tion upon it, an extremely thoughtless proceeding)
those members who opposed the immediate con-
sideration of the petition; saying — "Mr. So-and-

so is now speaking against you." He told them
it was proposed to adjourn the question to the
following Tuesday, but that he did not like delays;
that "parliament might be previously prorogued,
and there would be an end of the affair." During
his harangues several members of the house warmly
expostulated with him on the imprudence of his con-
duct; but to no purpose. General Grant attempted
to draw him back, begging him "for God's sake
not to lead tiiese poor deluded people into danger;"
and Colonel Gordon (or, as other authorities say,
Colonel Murray, uncle to the Duke of Athol), a near
relative of his lordship's, demanded of him — "Do
you intend, my Lord George, to bring your rascally
adherents into the House of Commons? If you do,
the first man that enters, I will plunge my sword
not into his body, but yours.'" In this state did
matters continue until about nine o'clock at night,
when a troop of horse and infantry arrived. Lord
George then advised the mob to disperse quietly,
observing ' ' that now their gracious king was made
aware of the wishes and determination of his subjects,
he would no doubt compel his ministers to comply
with their demands." Those who attended from
purely religious motives, numbering, it is said, not
more than 600 or 700, immediately departed peace-
ably, first giving the magistrates and soldiers three
cheers. The remainder also retired about eleven
o'clock, after the adjournment of the house ; but
soon began to display the villanous designs which
had congregated them. Dividing themselves into
two bodies, one proceeded to the chapel of the
Sardinian ambassador in Duke Street, Lincoln's-Inn-
Fields, the other to that of the Bavarian ambassador
in War\vick Street, Golden Square, both of which
edifices they completely gutted, burning the furni-
ture, ornaments, &c., in heaps on the public street.
A party of guards arrived, but after the mischief
was over, who succeeded in capturing thirteen of the
rioters. In concluding our account of this eventful
day's proceedings, we must mention, that great
negligence was charged, and seemingly not without
reason, against government as well as the magistracy,
for the absence of ever}'thing like preparation for
preserving the peace — aware, as they perfectly were,
of the intended multitudinous procession.

Next day (Saturday) passed over without any
disturbance ; but this quiescence proved only a lull
before the storm. In the afternoon of Sunday, an
immense multitude met simultaneously, and evidently
by previous concert, in Moorfields, and raising the
slogan of "No Popeiy," "Down with the Papists,"
&c., immediately attacked and utterly demolished
the Catholic chapel, burning the altar, images,
pictures, &c., in the open street. Here again, the
guards arrived (to use an Iricism) in time to be too
late ; and encouraged by this circumstance, as well
as by the lenient deportment of the militar)-, who up
to this time had refrained from the use of either
sabre or fire-arms, the rioters hourly grew more
daring and outrageous. They renewed their violence
early on INIonday (the king's birth-day), by destroy-
ing a school-house and three dwelling-houses, with
a valuable librarj' belonging to Papists, in Rope-
makers' Alley. Separating their force into several
detachments, they proceeded into various quarters
of the city at once ; thus distracting the attention
of the authorities, who appeared to be paralyzed by
the fearful on-goings around them — losing all self-
possession, and of course their efficiency in checking
the career of the rioters. The houses of Sir George
Saville and several other public and private gentle-
men, together with several Popish chapels, quickly
fell a prey to pillage and flame. The violence of the

LORD GEORGE GORDON.

mob also received an accession of furj- this day from
two circmnstances — \iz. a proclamation offering a
reward of ;^500 for the discover}- of those concerned
in destro\-ing the Bavarian and Sardinian chapek ;
and the public committal to Newgate of three of the
supp)Osed ringleaders on those occasions.

It must here be recorded that early on the same
morning (Monday, 5th June) the Protestant Associa-
tion distributed a circular disclaiming all connection
with the rioters, and earnestly counselling all good
Protestants to maintain peace and good order.

Tuesday the 6th being the day appointed for the
consideration of the Protestant petition, a multitude
not less numerous than that of the pre%ious Friday
assembled round both houses of parliament, coming
in however, not in one body, but in small parties.
A disposition to outrage soon manifested itself^ and
Lord Sandwich, who fell into their hands, with
difficulty escaped with life, by the aid of the military,
his carriage being smashed to pieces. The House
of Peers, after several of their lordships had com-
mented on the unprecedented circumstances in which
they were placed, unanimously decided on the ab-
surdity of transacting business while in a state of
durance and restraint, and soon broke up, after ad-
journing proceedings till the Thursday following.
In the House of Commons, after several remarks
similar to those in the upper house, and the passing
of various resolutions to the same effect, a \-iolent
attack was made upon ministers by Mr. Burke, Mr.
Fox, and others of the opp)osition, on account of
the relaxed state of the police, which had left the
l^islature itself at the mercj' of a reckless mob.
Lord George Gordon said if the house would ap-
point a day for the discussion of the petition, and
appoint it to the satisfaction of the people, he had n*
doubt they would quietly disperse. Colonel Her-
bert remarked that although Lord George disclaimed
all connection with the rioters, it was strange that
he came into the house with their ensign of insurrec-
tion in his hat (a blue cockade), upon which his
lordship pulled it out. A committee was then ap-
pointed "to inquire into the causes of the riot," &:c,
and the house adjourned to Thursday. L'f)on the
breaking up of the house Lord George addressed
the multitude, told them what had been done, and
advised them to disperse quietly. In return, they
unharnessed his horses, and drew him in triumph
through the town.

In the meantime a ftirioos attack had been made
on the residence of Lord North in Downing Street,
which was only saved from destruction by the inter-
position of the military. In the evening the house
of Justice Hyde was surrounded, sacked, and all the
furniture, pictures, books, &c., burned before his
door. The rioters then directed their steps towards
Newgate, for the purpose of releasing their com-
panions in outrage, who were there confined. On
arriving at the gates they demanded admittance ;
which being refused by Mr. Akerman, the governor,
they forthwith proceeded to break his windows, and
to batter in the doors of the prison with pickaxes
and sledge-hammers. Flambeaus and other fire-
brands being procured, these were thrown into the
governor's house, which, along with the chapel
and other parts of the prison, was sf)eedily in flames.
The prison-doors were ako soon consumed, and the
mob rushing in set all the prisoners, to the number
of 300 (amongst whom were several imder sentence
of death), at liberty. One most remarkable circum-
stance attending this daring proceeding must not
be passed over in silence — that from a prison thus
enveloped in flames, and in the midst of a scene
of such uproar and confusion, such a number of

prisoners, many of them shut in cells to which access
was at all times most intricate and difficult, could
escape without the loss of a single life, or even the
fracture of a limb I But w-hat wUl appear perhaps
scarcely less astonishing, is the fact, that within a
very few days almost the whole of the individuals
thus unexpectedly liberated were recaptured, and
lodged either in their old or more secure quarters.

Still more emboldened by this reinforcement of
desperate confederates, the rioters proceeded in dif-
ferent detachments to the houses of Justice Cox and
Sir John Fielding, as also to the public office in
Bow Street, and the new prison, Clerkenwell — all
of which they broke in upon and gutted, liberating
the prisoners in the latter places, and thereby gain-
ing fresh numbers and strength. But the most daring
act of all was their attacking the splendid mansion
of Lord Chief-justice Mansfield, in Bloomsbury
Square. Having broken oi)en the doors and win-
dows, they proceeded, as was their custom, to fling
all the rich and costly fiimiture into the street, where
it was piled into heaps and burned amid the most
exulting yelk. The library, consisting of many
thousands of volumes, rare MSS., title-deeds, Sic,
together with a splendid assortment of pictures — all
were remorselessly destroyed. And all this passed,
too, in the presence of between 200 and jCxj soldiers,
and imder the eye of the lord chief-justice himself,
who calmly permitted this destruction of his pro-
perty, rather than expose the WTetched criminals to
the vengeance of the military. At last, seeing pre-
parations made to fire the premises, and not knowing
where the conflagration might terminate, a magistrate
read the riot act; but without efiiect. The military
were then reluctantly ordered to fire; but although
several men and women wrfere shot, the desperadoes
did not cease the work of destruction until nothing
but the bare and smoking walls were left standing.
At this time the British metropolis may be said to
have been entirely in the hands of a lawless, reckless,
and frenzied mob I The vilest of the rabble possessed
more power and authority than the king upon the
throne; the fiinctions of government were for a time
suspended; and the seat of l^islation had become
the theatre of anarchy and misrule. So confident
now were the rioters in their owm irresistible strength,
that on the afternoon of the above day they sent
notices round to the various prisons yet left standing,
to inform the prisoners at what hour they intended
to visit and liberate them! If any one incident con-
nected with a scene of such devastation, plunder, and
triumphant villany, could raise a smile on the face
of the reader or narrator, it would be the fact, that
the prisoners confined in the Fleet, sent to request
that they mig^t not be turned out of their lodgings
so late in the evening; to which a generous answer
was returned, that they would not be disturbed till
next day! In order not to be idle, however, the
considerate mob amused themselves during the rest
of the evening in burning the houses of Lord Petre
and about twenty other individuals of note — Pro-
testant as well as Catholic — and concluded the
labours of the day by ordering a general illumina-
tion in celebration of their triimiph — an order which
the inhabitants were actually compelled to obey!

On Wednesday this horrible scene of tumult and
devastation reached its acme. A party of the rioters
paid a \isit to Lord Mansfield's beautiful villa at
Caen-wood in the forenoon, and coolly began to
regale themselves with the contents of his larder and
wine-cellar, preparatory to their commencing the
usual work of destruction. Their orgies were inter-
rupted, however, by a p>arty of military, and they
Qod in all directions. It was not until the evening

LORD GEORGE GORDOX.

123

that the main body seriously renewed their diabolical
work; and the scene which ensued is described by
contemporary writers, wlio witnessed the proceed-
ings, as being too frightful for the power of language
to convey the slightest idea of. Detachments of
military, foot and horse, had gradually been drawing
in from different parts of the interior; the civic
authorities, who up to that time had been solely
occupied consulting and debating upon the course
they should pursue in the awful and unparalleled
circumstances in which they were placed, began to
gather resolution, to concentrate their force, and to
perceive the absolute necessity of acting with vigour
and decision — a necessity which every moment in-
creased. The strong arm of the law, which had so
long hung paralyzed over the heads of the wretched
criminals, once more became nerved, and prepared
to avenge the cause of justice, humanity, and social
order. The struggle, however, as may well be
conceived, was dreadful ; and we gladly borrow the
language of one who witnessed the awful spectacle
in detailing the events of that ever-memorable night.
The King's Bench, Fleet Prison, Borough Clink,
and Surrey Bridewell were all in flames at the same
moment, and their inhabitants let loose to assist in
the general havoc. No less than thii-ty-six fearful
conflagrations in different parts of the metropolis
were seen raging simultaneously, "licking tip every-
thing in their way," as a writer at the time ex-
pressively described it, and "hastening to meet each
other. "

"Let those," observes the writer before alluded
to, "call to their imagination flames ascending and
rolling in vast voluminous clouds from the King's
Bench and Fleet Prisons, the Surrey Bridewell, and
the toll-houses on Blackfriars Bridge: from houses in
flames in ever>' quarter of the city, and particularly
from the middle and lower end of Holborn, where
the premises of Messrs. Langdale and Son, eminent
distillers, were blazing as if the whole elements were
one continued flame; the cries of men, women, and
children, running up and down the street, with what-
ever, in their fright, they thought most necessary or
most precious; the tremendous roar of the infernal
miscreants inflamed with liquor, who aided the sly
incendiaries, whose sole aim was plunder; and the
repeated reports of the loaded musketry dealing
death and worse than death among the thronging
multitude !" But it was not what was doing only,
but what might yet be done, that roused the fears of
all classes. When they beheld the very outcasts of
society everywhere triumphant, and heard of their
attempting the Bank; threatening Doctoi-s-Commons,
the exchange, the pay-office ; in short, every re-
pository of treasure and office of record, men of every
persuasion and party bitterly lamented the rise and
progress of the bloody and fatal insurrection, and
execrated the authors of it. Had the Bank and
public offices been the first objects of attack, instead
of the jails and houses of private individuals, there
is not the smallest reason to doubt of their success.
The consequences of such an event to the nation
may well be imagined !

The regulars and militia poured into the city in
such numbers during the night of Wednesday and
the morning of Thursday, that, on the latter day,
order was in a great measure restored; but the alarm
of the inhabitants was so great that every door re-
rnained shut. So speedily and effectually, however,
did the strict exercise of authority subdue the spirit
of tumult, that on Friday, the 9th of June, the shops
once more were opened, and business resumed its
usual course.

So terminated the famous riots of 17S0 — an event

By association troops and guards,
By light horse, ....
Died in hospitals,
Prisoners under cure,

which will long be memorable in the history of our
country, and ought to remain a warning beacon to
future popular leaders, of the danger of exciting
the passions of the multitude for the accomplishment
of a particular purpose, under the idea that they can
stop the career of the monster they have evoked
ivhen the ivished-for end is attained. It was impossible
to ascertain correctly the exact number of the unhappy
beings mIiosc depravity, zeal, or curiosity hurried
them on to a fatal doom. The sword and the musket
proved not half so deadly a foe as their own inordinate
passions. Great numbers died from sheer inebria-
tion, especially at the distilleries of the unfortunate
Mr. Langdale, from which the unrectified spirits ran
down the middle of'the streets, was taken up in pail-
fuls, and held to the mouths of the deluded multi-
tude, many of whom dropped down dead on the
spot, and were burned or buried in the ruins.

The following is said to be a copy of the returns
made to Lord Amherst of the killed and wounded
by the military during the disturbances: —

• ^°9 Hilled.

lOI J

75
173

458

To this fatal list, which, it will be seen, is exclu-
sive of those who perished by accident or their own
folly or infatuation, may be added those whom the
vengeance of the law afterwards overtook. Eighty-
five were tried at the Old Bailey, of whom thirty-five
were capitally convicted, forty-three acquitted, seven-
teen respited, and eighteen executed. At St. Mar-
garet's Hill forty were tried under special commis-
•sion, of whom about twenty were executed. Besides
these, several of the rioters were afterwards from time
to time apprehended, tried, and executed in various
parts of the countiy. Amongst those convicted at
the Old Bailey, but afterwards respited, probably on
account of the immediate occasion for his services,
was the common hangman, Edward Dennis, the first
of his profession, we believe, who was dubbed with
the sobriqtiet of Jack Ketch. In concluding our
account of these riots, we may mention that similar
disturbances also broke out at the same time at
Hull, Bristol, Bath, and other places, but were sup-
pressed without almost any mischief, and no blood-
shed.

On Thursday the 8th, the commons met, accord-
ing to appointment, but as it was still thought neces-
sary to keep a guard of military round the house, a
state of investment incompatible with free and de-
liberative legislation, they immediately adjourned to
the 19th. On Friday a meeting of the privy-council
was held, when a warrant was issued for the appre-
hension of Lord George Gordon. This was forth-
with put into execution, and Lord George was
brought in a hackney-coach to the Horse Guards,
where he underwent a long examination, and was
after\vards committed a close prisoner to the Tower,
being escorted by a strong guard of horse and foot.
It is scarcely necessary- to state, before tracing the
subsequent career and fate of this singular individual,
that no repeal of the toleration act took place. The
question was taken up in the House of Commons on
the very first day after the recess, when all parties
were unanimous in reprobating the desired repeal,
and the "Protestant Petition," which had given
occasion, or been made the pretext, for so much
mischief and loss of life, accordingly fell to the
ground.

Having given such ample details of the cause, rise,
and progress of what some zealous Protestant writers

124

LORD GEORGE GORDON.

of the day termed, rather inconsistently, the "Popish
Riots," it would be equally tedious and supereroga-
tory to enter into a lengtliened account of the trial
of the individual upon whom government charged
the onus of the fatal events. The proceedings, as
may be imagined, engrossed the undivided attention
of the whole kingdom during their progress, but
almost the sole point of interest connected with them
now, after such a lapse of time, is the speech of the
celebrated Honourable Thomas Erskine, counsel for
the prisoner, which has been regarded as one of the
very highest of those flights of overpowering elo-
quence with which that remarkable man from time
to time astonished his audiences, and indeed the
whole world. The trial of Lord George Gordon
did not come on until the 5th of February, 1781;
the reason of this delay — nearly eight months — we
do not find explained. During his confinement Lord
George was frequently visited by his brother the duke,
and other illustrious individuals, and every attention
was paid to his comfort and convenience. He was
accompanied from the Tower to Westminster Hall
by tlic duke and a great number of other noble re-
latives. His counsel were Mr. (afterwards Lord)
Kenyon and the Honourable Thomas Erskine. The
charge against the prisoner was that of high treason
in attempting to raise and levy war and insurrection
against the king, &c. His lordship pleaded not
giiil/y. The trial commenced at nine o'clock on the
morning of Monday the 5th, and at a quarter past
five next morning the jury returned an unqualified
verdict of acquittal. Twenty-three witnesses were
examined for the crown, and sixteen for the prisoner.
The evidence, as may be imagined, was extremely
contradictory in its tendency, proceeding, as it did,
from individuals whose impressions as to the cause
and character of the fatal occurrences were so very
dissimilar — one party seeing in the conduct of Lord
George merely that of an unprincipled, callous-
hearted, and ambitious demagogue, reckless of con-
sequences to the well-being of society, provided he
obtained his own private ends; while another looked
upon him as an ill-used and unfortunate patriot, whose
exertions to maintain the stability of the Protestant
religion, and vindicate the rights and privileges of
the people, had been defeated by the outrages of a
reckless and brutal mob. By the latter party all the
evil consequences and disreputability of the tumults
were charged upon the government and civic authori-
ties, on account of the lax state of the police, and
the utter want of a properly-organized defensive
power in the metropolis. A third party (we mean
in the kingdom) there was, who viewed Lord George
merely as an object of compassion, attributing his,
certainly unusual, behaviour to an aberration of
intellect — an opinion which numerous subsequent
eccentricities in his conduct have induced many of
a later era to adopt.

The speech of Mr. Erskine was distingiiished for
that originality of style and boldness of manner which
were the chief characteristics of his forensic displays.
One very remarkal^le passage in it has been con-
sidered by his political friends and admirers as the
nc plus ultra of rhetorical tact and effective energy,
although we confess that, as a precedent, we would
reckon the employment of such terms more honoured
in the breach than the observance. In reviewing
Lord George's conduct an<l deportment during the
progress of the unhappy tumults, the orator abruptly
broke out with the following emphatic interjection:
— "I say, BY God, that man is a ruffian who will
dare to build upon such honest artless conduct as
an evidence of guilt!" The effect of this most
unexpected and unparalleled figure of oratory is

described by those who heard it to have been per-
fectly magical. The court, the jury, the bar, and
the spectators were for a while spell-bound with
astonishment and admiration. It is acknowledged
by all that the speech of Mr. Erskine on this occa-
sion was almost the very highest effort of his power-
ful and nervous eloquence. The speech of Mr.
Kenyon was likewise remarkable for its ability and
effect. Great rejoicings took place on account of
his lordship's ac([uittal amongst his partisans, par-
ticularly in Scotland. General illuminations were
lield in Edinburgh and Glasgow ; congratulatory
addresses were voted to him; and ^{^485 subscribed
to reimburse him for the expenses of his trial. Al-
though, however. Lord George continued in high
favour with tlie party just named, and took part in
most of the public discussions in parliament as usual,
his credit seems to have been irretrievably ruined
with all the moderate and sober-minded part of the
nation. He was studiously shunned by all his legis-
lative colleagues, and was in such disgrace at court,
that we find him detailing to his Protestant corres-
pondents at Edinburgh, in language of the deepest
mortification, his reception at a royal levee, where
the king coldly turned his back upon him, without
seeming to recognize him. Repeated efforts appear
to have been made by his relatives at this time to
induce him to withdraw from public life, but without
success; and his conduct became daily more eccen-
tric and embarrassing to his friends. It is impossible
indeed to account for it upon any other ground than
that of gradual aberration of mind.

In April, 1787, two prosecutions were brought
against Lord George at the instance of the crown;
one for preparing and presenting a pretended peti-
tion to himself from certain prisoners confined in
Newgate, praying him to intercede for them, and
prevent their being banished to Botanj Bay; the
other for a libel upon the Queen of France and
French ambassador. Mr. \Vilkins, the printer of
the petitions, was also proceeded against. Both
pleaded not guilty. It is a somewhat curious fact,
that on this occasion Mr. Erskine, Lord George's
former counsel, appeared against him. Lord George
acted as his own defendant, on the score of being
too poor to employ counsel. The Newgate petition,
evidently his lordship's production, was a mere
farrago of absurdity, treason, and blasphemy, reflect-
ing on the laws, railing at the crown-oflicers, and
condemning his majesty by large quotations from
the book of Moses. He was found guilty, as was
also Mr. Wilkins. Upon the second charge, the
gist of which was a design to create a misunderstand-
ing betwixt the two courts of France and England,
he was also found guilty. His speech on this last
occasion was so extravagant, and contained expres-
sions so indecorous, that the attorney-general told
him "he was a disgrace to the name of Briton."
The sentence upon him was severe enough : upon
the first verdict he was condemned to be imprisoned
two years — upon the second, a further imprisonment
of three years; at the expiration of which he was to
pay a fine of ;^500, to find two securities in ;!^2500
each, for his good behaviour for fourteen years; and
himself to be bound in a recognizance of ^^10,000.
In the interval, however, between the verdict and
the passing of the sentence, he took an opportunity
of escaping to Holland, where he landed in May.
Here, however, he was not allowed to remain long.
He was placed under arrest, and sent back from
Amsterdam to Harwich, where he was landed in
the latter end of July. From that place he pro-
ceeded to Birmingham, where he resided till De-
cember, having in the meantime become a proselyte

JAMES GORDON SIR JOHN WATSON GORDON.

125

to Judaism, and performing rigidly the prescribed
rites and duties of that faith. Information having
reached government of his place of residence, and
the increasing eccentricities of his conduct evidently
pointing him out as an improper person to be al-
lowed to go at large, a messenger was despatched
from London, who apprehended him and brought
liim to town, where he was lodged in Newgate.
I lis appearance in court when brought up to receive
the sentence he had previously eluded is described
as being miserable in the extreme. lie was wrapped
up in an old greatcoat, his beard hanging down on his
breast; whilst his studiously sanctimonious deport-
ment, and other traits of his conduct, too evidently
showed an aberration of intellect. He bowed in
silence, and with devout humility, on hearing his
sentence. Soon after his confinement, he got printed
and distributed a number of treasonable handbills,
copies of which he sent to the ministry with his name
attached to them. These, like his Prisoners' Petition,
were composed of extracts from Moses and the Pro-
phets, evidently bearing upon the unhappy condition
of the king, who was then in a state of mental alien-
ation.

In the following July, 1789, this singular and un-
happy being addressed a letter or petition to the
National Assembly of France, in which, after eulo-
gizing the progress of revolutionary principles, he
requests of them to interfere on his behalf with the
English government to get him liberated. Pie was
answered by that body, that they did not feel them-
selves at liberty to interfere; but he was visited in
prison by several of the most eminent revolutionists,
who assured his lordship of their best offices for
his enlargement. To the application of these indi-
viduals, however. Lord Grenville answered that their
entreaties could not be complied with. Nothing
further worthy of mention remains to be told in the
career of this unhappy man. After Lord Grenville's
answer he remained quietly in prison, occasionally
sending letters to the printer of the Public Advertiser,
written in the same half-frenzied style as his former
productions. In November, 1793, after being con-
fined ten months longer than the prescribed term of
his imprisonment, for want of the necessary security
for his enlargement, he expired in Newgate of a
fever, having been delirious for three days previous
to his death.

GORDON, J.A.MES, a member of the noble family
of Gordon, and distinguished for his erudition, was
born in the year 1543. Having been sent to Rome
for his education, he there became a Jesuit, while yet
in the twentieth year of his age; and such was his
extraordinary progress in learning, that in six years
afterwards (1569) he was created Doctor of Divinity.
He next became professor of languages and divinity,
in which capacity he distinguished himself in various
parts of Europe, particularly in Rome, Paris, and
Bordeaux. In these duties he was occupied for
nearly fifty years, during which time he acquired
much reputation for learning and acuteness. Gordon
was frequently deputed as a missionary to England
and Scotland, and was twice imprisoned for his zeal
in attempting to make converts. He was also, on
account of his superior abilities, often employed by
the general of his order in negotiating their affairs;
a duty for which his penetration and knowledge of
the worid especially qualified him.

Alegambe describes Gordon as a saint; but with
all his talents and learning he does not seem to
have had any very great pretensions to the honour
of canonization, since it is beyond doubt that he
led, notwithstanding Alegambe's account of him, an

exceedingly dissipated life. He, however, rigidly
practised all the austerities of his order, and, with
all his irregularities, rose eveiy morning at three
o'clock. His only writings are Controversiani?n
Fidei Epitome, in three parts or volumes; the first
printed at Limoges, in 161 2, the second at Paris,
and the third at Cologne, in 1620.

GORDON, Sir John Watson. Among the
distinguished painters whom Scotland has lately
produced in such abundance, and of whom she is
justly proud, a high place was occupied by the sub-
ject of the present memoir. He was born in Edin-
burgh, A.D. 1790, and was the son of Captain James
Watson of the royal navy. He was descended
from the Watsons of Overmains, a respectable
family of Berwickshire, on which account John Wat-
son, through his father, could claim kindred with
Sir Walter Scott; and through his mother, with
Principal Robertson the historian, and Falconer the
author of the Shipiureck. For what reason he as-
sumed the additional name of Gordon we are unable
to discover.

Having selected the art of painting as his future
occupation, John Watson Gordon entered the Trus-
tees' Academy, Edinburgh, and studied four years
under John Graham, the teacher of so many of our
eminent artists ; and here among others he had
Wilkie and Allan for his class-fellows. At first
it was uncertain what department of painting he
would select, and he tried several with a view to
discover in which of them he would be likely to ex-
cel. Of these, historical painting chiefly attracted
his liking, and would probably have decided his
choice, had he not by trial discovered the true bent
of his own genius. He resolved to become a por-
trait painter, and it was a happy election for his
excellence and his fame. Having made his choice,
he pursued it with the diligence and perseverance
that distinguished his character, and his future life
became mainly a record of the numerous portraits
he executed, and the universal recognition of their
excellence. His sitters were the principal citizens
of Edinburgh, and most eminent Scotsmen of the
day ; and of the latter class it is sufficient to men-
tion the names of Sir Walter Scott, the Rev. Dr.
Chalmers, Professors Wilson, Ferrier, and Munro,
Principal Lee, Dr. Brunton, Lord-president Boyle,
the Duke of Buccleuch, the Marquis of Dalhousie,
Professor Simpson, Sir George Clark, George Combe,
&c. &c. From his works alone could be formed
a large picture-gallery of the portraits of the most
eminent Scotsmen of the nineteenth century, arranged
in chronological order and classified in their different
departments. Nor was the admiration of these
portraits exclusively confined to our own country,
where they could be best recognized as striking and
faithful likenesses ; foreigners saw and appreciated
their excellence as works of art, and were reminded
of the portraits of Van Dyck or Velasquez. His
professional excellence and the peculiar characteristics
of his paintings are thus described by a contemporary
critic in the AtheniTuni: —

"Apparently almost heedless of colour, this artist
seized with extraordinary vigour the salient points
of a sitter's countenance, and gave them with the
force of life. It would seem that not even Reynolds
surpassed his brother knight in the swift and certain
manner of his practice. Very often his pictures were
little else than sketches on a large scale. This has
been especially the case of late years, and is remark-
ably so in the portraits now in the Royal Academy;
but even these display such admirable mastery of
form and knowledge of personal character, that they

126

PATRICK GORDON.

are more precious than most men's completed like-
nesses. Gordon's feeling for tone exhibited itself
in every work he produced, and really did, in some
degree, compensate by the richness of its manifesta-
tions, for the effect of what was with him something
approaching colour-blindness. The last-named short-
coming was less perceived in Edinburgh than in
the metropolis — an effect to be expected. It should
be said in his honour that he always painted in a
manly way ; never exaggerating or aiming at senti-
ment, he never fell into sentimentality. He could
put a figure on the canvas better than any of his
contemporaries who were portrait painters. The
characteristic love of the mass of his sitters for black
garments found no corrective in Gordon's mind or
taste; he not unfrequently sacrificed too much of the
general brilliancy of his pictures to the effectiveness
of the head; but that head was always worth looking
at when you got to it."

It was in 1827 that Sir John Watson Gordon first
began to exhibit his works in London at the Royal
Academy; and this practice he continued annually
without intermission until the close of his life, so that
five of his pieces were hung in the gallery in the
year in which he died. On the death of Raeburn
he was recognized as his successor, although their
style in national portraits was so different, for while
Raeburn idealized the Scottish character, the other
represented it exactly as he found it. In 1841 Wat-
son Gordon was elected associate of the Royal
Academy; and in 1850, on the death of Sir William
Allan, he was elected president of the Royal Scot-
tish Academy. This was an honour which naturally
devolved upon him by the silent claims of gratitude,
for the institution had been greatly indebted to his
patriotic exertions, especially in the formation of an
excellent gallery of paintings at a moderate cost- —
an advantage which it owed in a great measure to
his correct discriminating judgment. In the same
year he was appointed "limner" to her Majesty,
and received the honour of knighthood. At the
close of 1850 the most distinguished of Edinburgh
in art, science, and literature entertained Sir John
in the Waterloo Rooms, as a testimony of their ad-
miration and esteem, and a celebration of his elec-
tion as president of their Royal Academy; and in
185 1 he was elected academician by the Royal
Academy of London. In 1855 he sent two portraits
to the Universal Exposition of Paris, for which the
jury awarded him a first-class medal. Rut although
honours thus crowded upon him in his declining
years, the veteran of art still continued to keep the
field as if his career had only commenced: his in-
dustry was as great, his eye as correct, and his pen-
cil as firm and vigorous as ever, and he continued
to work until his last illness warned him that his
occupation had come to an end. That close was
sudden and unexpected, and after a short term of
suffering he died at Catherine Rank House, Edin-
burgh, on the 1st of June, 1864, at the age of seventy-
three. Except to his art, Sir John Watson (]ordon
was never married, but his urbanity and kindly dis-
position were everywhere acknowledged, while the
younger artists of .Scotland loved and venerated him
as a father. Amidst the regret of that chosen circle
by whom his memory will continue to be venerated
he passed away.

GORDON, General Patrick. Even upon so
remote an empire as Russia, which has grown into
the chief political power of our age, an important
influence has been exercised by Scotsmen. By one
of our nation (General Patrick Gordon) the power
of the Strelitzes was broken, and the throne of Peter

the Great securely established. By another, a Bar-
clay of Towie, but known in history as Prince
Barclay de Tolly, the mode of resistance to the
French invasion was planned, by which Napoleon's
design of universal conquest was fnistrated, and his
power irretrievably wounded. By another, Admiral
Greig, the navy of Russia was put into a state of
efficiency, and for the first time led to victory. It
is of the first of these personages that we present the
following brief notice.

Patrick Gordon was descended of a respectable
parentage on both sides, his father, the younger
brother of a younger house, being a grandson of
Gordon of Haddo, and his mother heiress of Auch-
leuchries, part of the barony of Belhevie, Aloerdeen-
shire, a possession, however, so overwhelmed by
mortgages, that, besides the advantages of gentle
birth, the pair had little else to bestow u]ion their
children. Patrick was born at Auchleuchries on
the 31st of March, 1635. Until he reached the age
of sixteen, he was educated at the country schools;
but when fit for a university education he was un-
willing to attend college, on account of his creed, his
mother having brought him up a Roman Catholic.
This circumstance, also, in connection with his im-
patience of parental supervision, and his being only
a younger son, made him resolve to go abroad in
quest of fortune, not caring to what country he might
direct his course, as he had no friend in any foreign
place. In this bold reckless spirit he embarked at
Aberdeen for Dantzig, and at the end of his voyage
resumed his studies at the college of the Jesuits at
Brauensberg; but finding the strictness of this place
still more intolerable than that of the paternal abode,
he resolved to return to Scotland, though he had
only the suit of clothes he wore, and seven rix-dollars
in his pocket, while he was vmable to speak Dutch.
Thus he "pilgrim'd it away all alone," meeting with
the due share of adventures and mischances attendant
on such a mode of travelling, and often through neces-
sity or caprice deflecting from the way, so that he
traversed a considerable part of Poland. On arriving
at Hamburg, still undecided as to what course of life
he should follow, he was easily persuaded to forego
his purpose of returning home, and to enlist as a
soldier in the Swedish service, where Scottish re-
cruits were in great demand.

Having thus decided in favour of a military life,
he was soon introduced to its hardships and dis-
appointments. His first service was in a campaign
against the Poles, where, after being twice severely
wounded, he was at last taken prisoner, and could
only obtain his liberty by enlisting in the service of
Poland. It was a Dugald Dalgetty transition, but
to Gordon the cause of quarrel between Sweden and
Poland seems to have been a matter of indifference;
and he marched with the Lithuanian army that drove
his late employers the Swedes out of their occupa-
tion of Warsaw. During the short siege he was
employed chiefly in learning the Polish language,
and studying the militarj' profession by volunteering
in every hazardous exploit. But while thus training
himself for his future distinguished career, he also
showed himself an adept in the levying of black mail,
which he seems to have considered a perquisite of
war that was neither dishonest nor unsoldierly.
Thus some peasants having taken refuge with their
property on an island of the Vistula, Gordon under-
took to insure their safety as long as the siege lasted
on their paying him a weekly pension of sixteen
guldens and four florins. His traffic for the recovery
of stolen cattle was still more reprehensible. Some
comrades in the camp, with whom he acted in
concert, would drive off the herds belonging to the

PATRICK GORDO.V.

127

nobility in the neighbourhood; and, in these cases,
Gordon was always ready, for a proper consideration,
to find and bring them back. Only a month after
the Swedes had been driven from Warsaw they re-
turned to it in greater force, and Gordon was taken
prisoner by some Brandenburg troopers. His career
might, in this case, have been ingloriously ended as
a deserter, had not fortune proved his friend, for he
was carried before his countryman and former com-
mander, General Douglas, who had now risen to the
rank of lieutenant field-marshal in the Swedish
army. The explanations and apologies of Gordon,
that he had been captured and forced into the Polish
service against his will, were favourably received;
and he consented once more to become a soldier of
the King of Sweden, and to ser\'e in a picked corps
of Scots which Douglas was about to organize as
a training-school for officers. This second service
under the Swedish banner lasted three years, and
during that time Gordon had ample opportunities,
which he was not slow to embrace, of establishing his
character for courage and military skill. He also
continued his practices of exacting tribute and lifting
cattle, in which his Scottish fellow-soldiers showed
themselves "to the manner born;" and if anjlhing
could excuse such unwarrantable doings, it was, that
their pay was not only small, but often in arrear,
so that they were frequently on the brink of starva-
tion. It was in this picarooning way indeed that
armies during war were chiefly maintained in the
seventeenth centurj'. But worse than these maraud-
ing exploits was a design, which, had it succeeded,
would have covered the perpetrators with infamy.
Gordon, as a Tory or Cavalier, could not but lament
the execution of Charles I. ; and, learning that an
ambassador from the English Commonwealth, named
Bradshaw, had arrived at an inn in the neighbour-
hood on his way to the Russian court, he conceived
from the name that this must be no other than the
man who presided over the court by which Charles
was tried and sentenced to execution. Fired at the
thought, Gordon and his associates resolved to put
him to death, and for that purpose set off at midnight
well armed to the inn. But before they reached it
they learned that several officers and about forty
dragoons had arrived to escort the ambassador to
Marienburg. Thus a plot as iniquitous as that by
which Dr. Dorislaus was assassinated in Holland,
was fortunately defeated.

Gordon, who had now attained the rank of ensign,
continued to signalize himself by dashing exploits
and hair-breadth escapes, until he was captured by
the Poles, and, knowing his daring character, they
urged him with every inducement to re-enter the
Polish ser\-ice. Even John Sobieski himself, the
heroic deliverer of Vienna, endeavoured to tempt
him with the offer of the command of a company of
dragoons stationed on the Sobieski estates. At last
Gordon, after being a prisoner eleven weeks, once
more deserted the Swedish service, and entered that
of Poland, on being promoted to the rank of quarter-
master. Thus his conduct hitherto had been "turn
and turn again" with a facility and frequency seldom
exhibited even by a mere soldier of fortune, and the
excuse which he makes in his journal for this last
instance is, that his main object "was to make his
own fortune, and that he had little chance to do this
among the Swedes, who had too many enemies to be
successful." His ser\-ices against the Russians and
Cossacks were now so distinguished that he was
promoted to the rank of captain of dragoons, and on
the restoration of peace was stationed at Warsaw
while the diet was sitting. But this inert life did
not suit Gordon's views, and while he was deliberat-

ing what standard he should next follow, two tempt-
ing offers were presented; the one was to take service
under the Austrians, and the other to become a
soldier of the Russian czar. The Austrian offer for
the time prevailed, and he was on his way to Vienna
when unfavourable reports of the Austrian service
made him pause, and ultimately fall back on that
of Russia. To Russia accordingly his route was
directed, and on reaching Moscow he was graciously
received by the czar, thanked for his kindness to the
Russian prisoners during the late war, and appointed
to the rank of major. But finding the pay small,
and the coarse manners and barbarous arrogance of
the Russians intolerable, he would have left the ser-
vice and the country altogether, had he not been
warned that such a proceeding would be regarded as
suspicious, and might subject him to the treatment
of a spy. He was committed to the countrj', and
there he found he must remain.

Among the many troubles with which Gordon had
to contend, and by which his life at this time was
embittered, was the difficulty of reducing the soldiers
to order and discipline. Another was the insub-
ordination and mal-practices of his own officers, by
which his best efforts were counteracted. One of his
captains, who assumed superior authority over the
soldiers, and treated them as beasts of burden, had
on one occasion caught some of them playing at
cards, and not only deprived them of all the money
they were using in their play, but imprisoned them
until they had paid a hea\"y ransom. Major Gordon,
on hearing of this tyrannical conduct, sent for the
captain, and denounced his proceedings, upon which
the other began to storm and become do^^^lright
mutinous. Percei\Tng that it was now to be a ques-
tion of superior force rather than authority, Gordon
seized the man by the head, threw him down, and
with a fresh, short, oaken cudgel so belaboured
his back and sides, that he was scarcely able
to rise, after which the major threatened to break
his neck if he played such tricks hereafter, and
packed him out of doors. It was a strange kind of
military punishment to inflict by one officer upon
another; but a Russian army at this time was little
better than a mob over which militarj' law slumbered
and slept. The captain brought his complaint next
day to the authorities, and Gordon got out of the
difficulty by a not very creditable shift; "I denied
all," he says in his journal, "according to the fashion
of this countrj', where there are not witnesses," and
the captain, finding that he could obtain no remed)',
was fain to quit the regiment. It thus appears that
our military adventurer was not too superior to the
people whom he helped to drill and civilize. Both
had points enough in common for the purposes of a
mutual understanding.

In 1662 Gordon, being now twenty-seven years of
age, rose to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. He now
resolved to lead a virtuous life, and after much de-
liberation and many prayers he concluded that the
best step to such a course was marriage, from which
his erratic life had hitherto debarred him. His
choice was then to be fi.xed, and for this purpose,
after passing all his female acquaintances in review
before his mind's eye, he selected as the object of his
addresses a young lady scarcely thirteen years of
age, who was handsome, amiable, and virtuous, the
daughter of a colonel who was high in favour with
the czar. The courtship was as summary and de-
cisive as the election. He called upon the young
lady when she was alone; and on her proposing to
send for her mamma, he assured her it was unneces-
sar)', as his business was with herself She gave him,
according to the custom of the countrj-, a small glass

I2S

PATRICK GORDON.

of brandy, with which he proposed to drink the
health of her lover; but when she assured him she
had none, and repeated her denial, he then came to
the point, by proposing that she should accept of
himself as her suitor. A modest gratified blush was
the answer, and thus a cordial agreement was estab-
lished between them which needed no further ex-
planation. An immediate marriage would have
followed, but that the lady's father was a prisoner to
the Poles a^nd on this account the union was not
celebrated until the beginning of 1665.

In the following year Colonel Gordon was em-
ployed not in a military but civd capacity, being sent
to England as envoy of the czar, to treat with
Charles II. on subjects connected with the commer-
cial intercourse between their respective subjects.
This was a new task for our Scottish adventurer, but
it was ably executed, and the visit enabled him to
renew his intercourse with several of his countrj-men
in London, and some of the most distinguished cava-
liers of the period. On his return to Russia in 1667
there occurs a gap in his diary ; but the displeasure
of the czar, who ordered him into confinement, and
refused to defray the expenses of his mission to Eng-
land, may explain the causes of the hiatus. He still,
however, retained his military rank and regiment,
as his services were too valuable to be dispensed
with; and while stationed in the Ukraine for seven
years, he signalized his courage and skill in subju-
gating the Cossacks of Little Russia. During this
interval the Czar Alexis died, and was succeeded
by Feodor; but both sovereigns were at one in re-
fusing permission, which Gordon repeatedly asked,
to quit the Russian service. At length an event
occurred in 1678 which, by offering him an oppor-
tunity of distinguishing himself, reconciled him to
his bondage. Tschigirin, the capital of the Zapor-
agian Cossacks, being besieged by the Turks and
Tartars, Gordon was sent to assist in its defence, as
chief engineer. The Russian garrison did not amount
to more than 12,000 soldiers, while the enemy, com-
manded by Kara Mustapha, the grand vizier, and the
Khan of the Crimea, mustered 100,000, pro\ided with
all the necessaries for a siege. Under such circum-
stances, a single attack might have sufficed to win
the city, had not Gordon so skilfully fortified it, that
the hosts of Turks and Tartars were successfully re-
sisted during four weeks of desperate onsets. The
governor was killed by the bursting of a shell, and
Gordon succeeded him, at the request of the garrison.
After inspiring them with his own dauntless spirit,
and repairing the damages of the fortifications as fast
as they occurred, the defence of Tschigirin was con-
tinued until neither city nor citadel could hope to
hold out much longer. In the meantime the Russian
army of relief was encamped in the neighbourhood,
but did nothing ; and when Gordon besought that
only 6000 men should be sent to reinforce him, with
which he promised to make good the defence, he was
ordered by the Russian general in reply to evacuate
the fortress. Rendered spiritless by this command,
the garrison only thought of abandoning the place,
and hearing volleys of musketry and loud outcries in
the streets, they fled pell-mell through the town
gates, leaving their commander to shift for himself
With his own hands he broke open the powder
magazine, threw in straw, boards, and other com-
bustible articles among the powder; and then, having
set fire to the nearest house, made for the camp of
the relieving army, which he reached through immi-
nent dangers both from friend and enemy. The Turks
entered and took possession of Tschigirin, but their
tnumph was soon marred, for the fire which Gordon
had kindled at his departure caused the powder

magazine to explode, by which 4000 Turks were
blown into the air. For his conduct in this defence
he was promoted to the rank of major-general, and
appointed to the chief command in Kiew, and in
1683 made a lieutenant-general. But let him rise as
he might, nothing could reconcile him to a residence
in Russia ; and his repeated petitions for leave of
absence that he might revisit Scotland, which were
always refused by the Russian court, without doubt
strengthened his desire for his native home. In the
meantime Czar Feodor died, leaving his successor
Peter, a boy only ten years of age, under the regency
of his sister Sophia; but although the new regent
and her minister treated Gordon with high consider-
ation, his services being deemed too valuable to be
dispensed with, he still remained an honoured pri-
soner at large. At length the death of Charles II.
of England, and the succession of James II. to the
British throne, made him appeal more urgently than
ever for his discharge from the Russian service, or
failing this, that a six months' leave of absence should
be granted to him; and after much demur and delay
his petition was favourably answered. But the per-
mission extended only to a short visit to Britain,
while his wife and children were to be retained in
Russia as hostages for his return.

Of this second return to his native land there is
little particularly to be noticed. Gordon had now
won for himself a name that was well known, and
his reception by all ranks, both in England and
Scotland, was worthy of his reputation. Such was
especially the case in his interviews with his majesty
James II., who inquired of him particularly the
nature of his military services, and the modes of con-
ducting war among the Russians, and wished to re-
tain him in his own emplo}-ment instead of sending
him back to Russia. That unhappy monarch could
not but be aware that the changes he contemplated
in the national religion could only be effected by the
sword, in which case it would be necessarj' to have
the bold and skilful on his side, and that in such an
issue the adherence of General Gordon would be
valuable, more especially as he was a devoted Papist.
The Russianized Scot, however, was obliged to re-
turn to his old service, according to the terms of agree-
ment, carrying with him a letter from James II. to
the Russian powers, of which the following extract
was the purport : — "Whereas, we are informed that
our trusty and well-beloved subject Patrick Gordon,
hath served your imperial majesties many years, and
nowserveth in the quality of lieutenant-general; who
now, by the decease of his father, is to inherit lands,
for which he is to perform service unto us; and we
having use for the service of such of our subjects as
have been bred up in military employments; we do,
therefore, desire of your imperial majesties that you
would dismiss the said Patrick Gordon, with his wife,
children, family, and effects, out of your dominions,
which we rather desire, because we know that your
great virtue hath procured from God the blessing of
a universal peace with all your neighbours. The
doing this will be an encouragement for men of
honour to repair to your ser\'ice, whenever you shall
have occasion for them; and whenever the oppor-
tunity is given us of doing you the like pleasure,
we shall heartily embrace it." This letter, however,
instead of effecting the release of Gordon from the
Russian service, only made his bondage more strict
and intolerable. Another device for securing his
liberty did not fare better: it was, his appointment
as envoy-extraordinarj- of the King of Great Britain
to the Russian court, by which James would be able
to recal him to England at his own pleasure. This
unsatisfactor)' negotiation between two gi^eat powers,

PATRICK GORDON.

129

which Gordon terms "a stage play," was at last
ended by his being sent to the war against the
Tartars in tlie Crimea. It was fortunate for him,
liowever, that he was not secured for the service of
James, whom no counsels could persuade, and whose
disasters no skill or courage could retrieve.

The situation of the Russian empire was now so
critical, that its fate seemed to hang upon the slightest
chance. It had two czars, of whom the elder was
an idiot unfit for the succession, while the younger,
Peter, was only seventeen years old. Over this
nominal sovereignty their sister Sophia, as regent,
exercised complete control, but she was in turn go-
verned by the Strelitzes — the janizaries of Russia —
who in such a state of government established their
own rule of military force and violence. There was
no prospect of safety for the country unless the selfish
and ambitious Sophia could be deposed, the incom-
petent czar set aside, and Peter raised to the supreme
and sole authority. Here was a sphere of action
which Gordon nobly occupied, and the success of
which will be imperishably inscribed in the history
of Russian greatness. The conflict commenced by
the flight of Peter to the monastery of Troitzka,
about forty miles from Moscow, in consequence of
the explosion of a conspiracy by wliich his life was
threatened; and when he issued orders to the troops
to come to his rescue, Sophia countermanded his
orders, and the troops remained in their canton-
ments. None obeyed the summons of Peter except
Gordon, now raised to the rank of general, and who
had a considerable force under his command. Aware
of the real state of affairs, and in defiance of the
countermands of the regency, he marched all night
with his regiments, and reached the monastery next
day, where Peter was still unprotected, and liable
every moment to death or deposition. Tiiis bold
movement of Gordon, in which he risked his head,
saved the Russian emp-re, and prepared the way for
its regeneration. Peter thus reinforced returned to
Moscow in triumph, Sophia was immured in a con-
vent, the chief conspirators banished or executed,
and the imbecile Ivan, the elder czar, having agreed
to resign his share of the empire, Peter himself was
recognized as sole Czar of Russia. From this mo-
ment Gordon became the most distinguished and
influential man in the empire; he was the valued
friend and counsellor of his imperial master; and the
latter showed, in his various reforms which he intro-
duced into Russia, that the instructions of his Scot-
tish preceptor were neither undervalued nor forgot.

The principal enemies of Russia at this time being
the Turks, the young czar in 1695 laid siege to Azof,
in which Peter's inexperience and impetuosity disre-
garded the prudent cautions of his Scottish general,
and was requited by the enemy with such severe
repulses as might have caused the siege to be raised
with disgrace, had not Gordon succeeded in repair-
ing the imperial blunders. As it was, the siege was
discontinued until the following year, and this time
the advices of Gordon had their due weight. Seeing
that there was little hope of taking Azof by the opera-
tion of mines, batteries, and other usual operations of
a siege which the council of war recommended, he
stated that the best way of taking the town would be
to carry on a whole rampart of earth along the front
of the town, which as they advanced would hourly
increase. "By having," he said, "ten or twelve
thousand men night and day at work, we shall
carry and roll as much earth before us as will not
only be sufficient to fill up the fosse, but will have
more over and above them than will exceed the
height of the town walls; by which means, in a few
weeks, we shall oblige the enemy to surrender, or
VOL. II.

we shall bury them alive." This tedious and me-
chanical mode of operation, so unlike the stirring
attempts of breaching and storming, was fortunately
adopted by Peter, and tlie extraordinary method of
taking towns was commenced : ten or twelve thou-
sand men were constantly employed, who threw the
earth from hand to hand like so many steps of a
stair, while the process was protected by strong
guards on the right, left, and rear. In this way the
mound silently crept city-ward, imtil, in five weeks,
it was close to the walls and ramparts, which it over-
topped, and by which the Russians had full com-
mand of the city below. Confounded at this strange
mode of attack, upon which the Turks had not
calculated, Azof surrendered. By this event a most
important acquisition was made by Russia, and to
render it more grateful, her loss during the process
did not amount to above 300 men. Czar Peter
returned in triumph to Moscow, and, besides other
distinctions, bestowed on General Gordon an estate
with ninety serfs.

The last and also the most important of Gordon's
military services in Russia, was the suppression of
the Strelitzes — an event but for which Peter would
have probably been dethroned, and the Russians
thrown back into their original barbarism. This
insolent soldiery, discontented at those reforms both
civil and military by which their power would be
subverted, and conceiving that the absence of the
czar on his travels through Western Europe was a
favourable opportunity for regaining their ascendency,
raised the standard of revolt, and resolved to march
upon Moscow. Gordon, who had been left second
in command to the general-in-chief by his impe-
rial master, and was at the head of 12,000 soldiers
stationed in Moscow, no sooner heard of this demon-
stration than he adopted the most vigorous measures
to check it ; but finding these ineffectual, he took
the field, resolving to crush the mutiny by force. In
the meantime the Strelitzes were not idle, and on
their officers refusing to lead them to Moscow, they
deposed them, elected other captains in their stead,
and commenced their march to the capital. On the
other hand, Gordon proceeded against them with
such celerity that he met them mid-way, and tried
the effect of negotiation, but in vain: to Moscow
they declared they were determined to march, or die
by the way. An engagement followed, but such
were the masterly dispositions of Gordon, that the
Strelitzes were defeated at every point, and driven
off the field beyond the power of rallying. The
leaders of the conspiracy and many of their followers
were taken prisoners, and the judicial severity of
their punishment so completely quelled this formi-
dable spirit of discontent, that even its murmuring
was now unheard. There was no longer the slightest
hope of the deposition of the czar, and the restora-
tion of Sophia or the widow of Ivan, under whom
the Strelitzes would have been once more the real
sovereigns of Russia. It was fortunate also that
Peter, alarmed at the tidings of the conspiracy, had
returned home, where he arrived in time to concert
new measures for the public safety. His first step
was to supersede these useless Strelitzes by new
troops, armed and disciplined in the best European
fashion, and he was soon at the head of armies by
which native discontent and foreign hostility could
be quelled, and his vast designs for the regeneration
of Russia carried out.

So important an event in the history of Russia as
the suppression of the Strelitzes occupied the larger
portion of the year 1698, and at the close of it the
brave old Scot was conscious that his last fight
was foutrht, and his career about to be ended. This

ROBERT GORDON.

he himself rivotcil hi the List entry of his journal,
dated December3ist, in the following solemn words:
— "Almighty God be praised for his gracious long-
suffering towards me in sparing my life so long.
Grant, gracious God, that I may make a good
use of the time that thou mayest be pleased yet to
grant me for repentance. This year I have felt a
sensible decrease of health and strength. Vet thy
will be done, gracious God." During the following
summer he was so weak as to be unable to leave his
bed, and he died on the 29th November, 1699.
During the last stage of his illness the grateful czar
had daily visited his old servant, friend, and pre-
ceptor; and when Gordon breatlied his last sigh,
Peter, wlio stood weeping by his bedside, closed his
eyes, and departed a mourner from the house of
mourning. Tiie interment was that which graces a
national benefactor. The long line was headed by
the czar; the chief nobles of his empire followed, and
after them the ambassadors of the principal powers
of Europe. The body was carried on the shoulders
of twenty-eight colonels, and twenty ladies of the
highest families in Muscovy followed in the train of
his widow. The remains were interred before the
high altar of the first chapel of stone which the
Roman Catholics were allowed to raise in Moscow,
and built chiefly by the bounty of the deceased; and
on the tomb the following inscription still arrests the
eye of the passenger: —

"Sacrae Tzareae Majestatis Militiae Generalis

Patricius Leopoldus Gordon

Xatus Anno Domini 1635 die 31 Martii

Denatus Anno Domini 1699 29 Novembris

Requicscat in Pace."

GORDON", Robert, of Straloch, an eminent
geographer and antiquary, was born at Kinmundy
in Aberdeenshire, on the 14th September, 1580.
He was the second son of Sir John Gordon of
Pitlurg, a gentleman who long stood high in the
favour of his sovereign James VI., as appears,
amongst other circumstances, from some curious
letters addressed to him by that monarch, in one of
which he is laid under contribution, though in the
most affectionate terms, for a horse for the king's
approaching marriage, and in another is warmly
invited to the baptism of the unfortunate Charles I.

Robert Gordon received the first rudiments of his
education at Aberdeen, and having passed the usual
course of the humanity, mathematical, and philoso-
phical classes, was the Jirs/ graduate of the Marischal
University, then recently founded by George Earl of
Marischal. In 1598, being in his eighteenth year,
he was sent to Paris to complete his education.
Here he remained for two years. On his father's
death, which happened in 1600, he returned to Scot-
land; and in 160S, having married a daughter of
Alexander Irvine of Lenturk, he bought the estate
of Straloch, ten miles north of Aberdeen, and now
devoted himself to the pursuit of his favourite studies
— geography, history, and the antiquities of Britain.
To the first of these he seems to have been especially
attached, and it was his perseverance, industry, and
accuracy in this science, then in an extremely rude
state, that first obtained him the celebrity which he
afterwards enjoyed. There were only at this time
three maps of Scotland in existence, all of them so
rude and inaccurate as to be wholly useless. The
inaccuracy of these sketches had been long known,
and was the subject of great and universal complaint.
Urged on by this, and the general dissatisfaction,
Mr. Gordon employed himself in making geographi-
cal surveys by actual mensuration ; a labour which
none of his predecessors had ever subjected them-
selves to. He has therefore the merit of beinrr the

first who ap])lied this indispensable but tedious and
laborious process for securing accuracy in topogra-
phical surveys to Scotland.

One consequence of Mr. Gordon's zeal and industry
in these patriotic pursuits, was a great extension of
his celebrity, which at length even reached the royal
ear. In 1641 King Charles was applied to by the .
celebrated map and atlas publishers, the Bleaus of
Amsterdam, for his patronage of an atlas of Scotland,
which they were then contemplating, and requesting
his majesty to appoint some qualified persons to assist
them with information for the intended work; and,
in especial, to arrange and amend certain geographic
sketches of one Timothy Pont,^ of which they had
been previously put in possession, but in a confused
and mutilated state. This task King Charles, in
the following flattering letter, devolved upon Mr.
Gordon. "Having lately seen certain charts of
divers shires of this our ancient kingdom, sent here
from Amsterdam, to be corrected and helpit in the
defects thereof, and being informed of your sufficiency
in that art, and of your love both to learning and to
the credit of your nation; we have therefore thought
fit hereby earnestly to entreat you to take so much
pains as to revise the said charts, and to help them
in such things as you find deficient thereuntil, that
they may be sent back by the direction of our
chancellor to Holland; which, as the same will be
honourable for yourself, so shall it do us good and
acceptable service, and if occasion present we shall
not be unmindful thereof. From our palace of
Ilolyrood House, the 8th October, 1641."

Mr. Gordon readily undertook the task thus im-
posed upon him, and in 1648 the atlas was published
with a dedication from ]\Ir. Gordon to Sir John
Scott of Scotstarvit, who had greatly encouraged
and forwarded the work. A second edition of this
atlas, which was long the standard book of reference
for Scotland and its numerous islands, was published
in 1655, and a third in 1664. It is now, of course,
superseded by later and more scientific surveys.

The work consists of forty-six maps, general and
particular, with ample descriptions and detached
treatises on the antiquities of Scotland. Of such
importance was this undertaking considered, that,
wild and disordered as the times were, Mr. Gordon
was during its progress made a special object of the
care and protection of the legislature. An act of
parliament was passed exempting him from all new
taxations, and relieving him from the quartering of
soldiers. To carry this law into effect, orders were
issued from time to time by the various commanders
of the forces in North Britain, discharging all officers
and soldiers, as well horse as foot, from troubling
or molesting, or quartering on Mr. Robert Gordon
of Straloch, his house, lands, or tenants, and from
levying any public dues on the said Mr. Robert
Gordon, or on any of his possessions.

The charts exclusively executed by Mr. Gordon
were: 1st. A chart of Great Britain and Ireland,
taken from Ptolemy and the most ancient Roman
authors. 2d. A map of ancient Scotland, as de-
scribed in the Roman itineraries. 3d. A map of
modern Scotland. 4th. A map of the county of
Fife, from actual survey and mensuration. 5th. A
map of the counties of Aberdeen and Banff, with
part of the county of Kincardine. 6th. A large
map or geographical view, taken from actual survey,
of the most inland provinces of Scotland lying be-
tween the river Tay and the Murray Frith. 7lh. A
large map, from actual survey, of the most northern,

' Son of Mr. Robert Pont, minister of the West Kirk
Edinburgh.

m-r

ROBERT GORDON.

mountainous, and inaccessible parts of Scotland,
including part of the island of Skye. To all of
these Mr. Gordon appended treatises, descriptive
of everything remarkable contained within their
various bounds — towns, castles, religious houses,
antiquities, rivers, lakes, &c., and occasionally in-
troducing some interesting accounts of the most
distinguished families in the different counties.

One of the treatises alluded to is particularly
curious, from its containing an attempt to overturn
the commonly received opinion as to the Ultima
Thule of the Romans. This tract, which is entitled
De Insula Thule Dissertatio, endeavours to show
that none of the Orkney or Shetland Islands, and
still less Iceland, answers to Ptolemy's chart of
Thule; and Mr. Gordon concludes by giving it
as his opinion that the island of Lewis, the most
westerly of the Hebrides, is the real Thule of the
ancient Romans. Besides these meritorious works,
Mr. Gordon wrote many detached pieces of much
interest and value; none of which, however, though
many e.xtracts have been made from them, have yet
been published. Amongst the most important of
these are, a critical letter in Latin to Mr. David
Buchanan, containing strictures on the histories of
Boyce, Buchanan, and Knox, and on Buchanan's
treatise De yure Regiii apitd Scotos; and a preface
intended to be prefixed to a new edition of Spottis-
wood's History. The last work of any importance
which he undertook was a Histojy of the Family of
Gordon. This work, however, is incorrect in many
important particulars, and in many instances erro-
neous with regard to its historical facts, especially
previous to the year 1403. When Mr. Gordon
undertook this work he was far advanced in years,
led a retired life, and had no ready access to those
documents and records which alone could have
insured accuracy, circumstances which may be ad-
mitted as some apology in the case of a man who
had already done so much, and had rendered such
important services to his countr)-. Mr. Gordon
finally closed a long and active life in August, 1661,
having then attained the eighty-first year of his age.
It is much to be regretted that he did not, as he
appears to have contemplated, write an account of
his own times, which comprise one of the most
important periods of Scottish history. There was
no one better fitted for this task, as well from the
talents which he possessed, as from the uncommon
opportunities which he enjoyed of studying the lead-
ing characters and events of these stirring times; for
his superior judgment, peaceable demeanour, and
generally judicious conduct, gained him the confid-
ence and esteem of all parties, and thus brought
him often in contact, as an adviser and mediator,
with the chief men of both the factions which then
distracted the state. With the view of compiling
such a work as has been alluded to, Mr. Gordon
had collected a vast quantity of interesting docu-
ments relative to the Montrose wars. These his son,
Mr. James Gordon, parson of Rothiemay, afterwards
employed in compiling such an account as his father
had contemplated. This latter work, which contains
the transactions of the northern part of Scotland
beyond the Forth from 1637 to 1643, after remain-
ing in MS. until 1841, was published by the Spalding
Club in three volumes 4to.

As has been already said, Mr. Gordon, though
residing in the very midst of civil war and commo-
tion, was not only permitted to live in quiet, and to
pursue his studies without interruption, but was
frequently summoned to attend the meetings of the
commissioners appointed by parliament and by the
General Assemblies of the church.

One of these invitations, from the Earl of Marischal
and General Middleton, besides showing the impor-
tance which was attached to Mr. Gordon's advice,
is sufficiently curious in itself It is addressed "to
the Right Honourable the Laird of Stralloch," and
runs as follows: — "Right Honourable: in regard we
are called to be here for the time, for taking course
for what may concern the public, &c., these are,
therefore, to desire that you will be here at Aber-
deen on Friday next, the 3d of October, 1645, when
we shall meet you there. So looking assuredly for
your meeting us, as you will testify your affection to
the business, and have us to remain your affectionate
friends. (Signed) Marisch.vl, John Middleton."

Another extract, still more interesting, from one
of many letters addressed to Mr. Gordon, by Lord
Gordon, craving his advice and assistance, will not
only show the deference which was paid to his can-
dour and judgment, but will also show how fully
they were appreciated by both parties. Lord Gor-
don, who was afterwards killed at Alford, after
earnestly soliciting a meeting for advice, adds, "If I
be too far engaged, or be not well advised, my
friends and I both may find the prejudice. In
conscience this is no draught, but a mere necessity,
which I hope you will consider. I do neither en\y
you in enjoying your furred gown nor the fireside, I
promise you, but do earnestly wish to see you."

Besides his other accomplishments Mr. Gordon
was a profound classical scholar, and wrote Latin
with much readiness and elegance.

GORDON, Rev. Robert, D.D. This acute
original thinker and eloquent preacher was bom in
Glencairn, Dumfriesshire, on the 5th of May, 1786.
His early opportunities for obtaining a superior
education appeared certain, as his father, a man of
considerable natural endowments, as well as high
religious worth, was parochial schoolmaster at Kirk-
land of Glencairn. This prospect, however, was
apparently extinguished when Robert was about six
years old, by the death of his father ; but it often
happens that such a bereavement, instead of discour-
aging, only braces a mind of native energy, and fits
it for future excellence by a stem apprenticeship of
effort and self-reliance. Besides this, he still pos-
sessed an able guide, so far as his school-boy studies
and the bias of his mind were concerned, in his
sur\i\'ing parent, of whom he was the only son; a
woman characterized in her limited circle by strong
intellect, as well as pious principles. How Robert
availed himself of these advantages was well attested
by the fact, that when he had scarcely reached his
sixteenth year he was appointed by the heritors of
Kirkland to the office of parish teacher, which his
father had occupied. Not only the excellence of his
scholarship, but also the steadiness and energy of his
character, must have been well established, when
they were allowed to outweigh such an immaturity
in point of years. The choice was justified; for
though so young, he conducted himself in such a
tr>ing position with the steadiness and gravity of
matured manhood ; and his pupils, several of whom
were older than himself, regarded him not only with
affection, but deep, dutiful respect.

As it was to the office of the ministry that the
wishes of Robert Gordon had been directed, he did
not long remain in that of a schoolmaster. Atten-
dance at the university was necessar)', and he re-
paired to Edinburgh, where, like many of those who
have become the most talented divines of the day,
he supported himself during his course of study at
the university by the scanty resources of tutorship;
and thus fought his way onward, step by step, until

132

ROBERT GORDON.

he reached the divinity-hall. In this rough fashion
not a few of the ablest linj^uists, as well as profound-
est thinkers of our church are formed for active
service. A situation as tutor in Perthshire occasioned
his removal from Edinburgh, and the prosecution
of his theological studies at .Marischal College, Aber-
deen, where he enrolled as a student in divinity in
1809, at the age of twenty-three. At this period,
also, he was a member of the Theological Society,
composed of theological students of the college, and
there formed acquaintanceships with several who
afterwards became distinguished ornaments in the
church, and with whom his intercourse continued
till the close of life. His appearances as a student
at this period are thus described by one of the mem-
bers. He "soon attracted much attention by his
power of reasoning and of expressing his thoughts
in nervous language. In fact there was a general
reluctance to encounter him in argimient, or to take
the opposite side of a question to that which he
supported. lie manifested both a great facility in
dealing with principles, and a great acuteness in
detecting the fallacies of an opponent. Still, his
example unquestionably exercised a very salutary
influence in stimulating the other members to prepare
themselves on questions to be discussed, so as not to
treat them in a superficial manner, as they were aware
that their reasonings and averments would have to
undergo a sifting process. His manner of debating,
too, characterized by great fairness, tended much
to correct a habit into which young controversialists
are apt to fall, viz. that of triumphing in small ad-
vantages, and of substituting empty declamation for
argument." While such was his intellectual char-
acter, his moral deportment was in admirable coin-
cidence and harmony. The same commemorator
of his early days thus continues : — "Modesty was a
quality by which he was eminently characterized at
the time of which we speak. He could bear his
part well in general society; but he always showed
much deference to his elders, especially if they had
other claims to respect. His early friends will re-
member that he used to manifest the deepest abhor-
rence of anything in the shape of falsehood, mean
selfishness, and hypocrisy, and a most withering con-
tempt of all false and hollow pretensions." In what
strong relief all these qualities of his youth were
brought out when Dr. Gordon entered into public
life, can be well remembered by those who enjoyed
his society.

The attendance of Mr. Gordon at the divinity-hall
extended over five sessions, partly at the university
of Edinburgh, but more especially at Aberdeen; and
with the study of theology, that of the exact sciences
occupied much of his attention. It was to these,
indeed, that his original bias tended, and their study
influenced his intellectual character both as a scholar
and theologian. He cared little for the produce of
imagination, and would at any time have preferred
a problem to a poem : instead of being contented to
see an idea looming in the distance and through the
mist, and taking it upon such doubtful security, he
must needs gauge it in all its length, breadth, and
thickness, before he could be satisfied. It was no
wonder, therefore, that he was so impassive to tran-
scendentalism, and that in after-years he character-
ized one of Coleridge's marvellous monologues, to
which he had listened with a countenance of mathe-
matical severity, as "all buff." This intellectual
tendency had made him a close and accurate meteoro-
logical observer ; had enabled him to discharge suc-
cessfully the duties of a factor as well as tutor to one
of his employers, and had pointed him out as the
fittest person to write the articles "Geography,"

"Euclid," and "Metcorolog}'," in the Edinburgh
Eucyclopcedia. It was also these powers of calcula-
tion, combined with capacity for the multifarious
details of business, that procured for him the tempt-
ing offer of an important situation in the East India
House. But all these capacities he devoted exclu-
sively to the service of the church ; and they were
manifested not only in his mode of teaching as an
investigator and expounder of the lessons of divine
truth, but the efficiency with which he managed those
financial operations connected with the church's wel-
fare that were committed to his care.

The first public situation which Robert Gordon
held was that of master in the academy of Perth;
but not long after, he was appointed minister to the
parish of Kinfauns, Perthshire. In this rural charge
he remained only four years, having been called in
1820 to the old chapel of ease in Buccleuch Street,
Edinburgh; and soon after to 'Che. quoad sacra church
of Hope Park, which was built for him. His ar-
rival in Edinburgh produced an unwonted stir, and
he was soon one of the most popular preachers of
the day. At this no one was so astonished as him-
self: his innate modesty could not perceive wherefore
he was so followed after; and while he shrunk from
such popularity as a misplaced and uncertain liking,
it only clung to him the more pertinaciously on that
account. His preaching, indeed, was in a style
that was all his own — it was religious truth in its
own native simplicity and distinctness, enforced with
all the impassioned earnestness of one pleading upon
a life-and-death question — theological speculation
without its coldness and abstraction, and oratory
without its meretricious ornaments. Few could
refuse to listen, or listening, fail to comprehend
such preaching, although it so much transcended,
both in expansiveness and depth, the usual standard
of pulpit ministrations. A volume of these sermons,
which he published, attested its true character, so
that the work went through several editions, and is
still prized as a standard production, while the most
intellectual of the inhabitants of Edinburgh became
part of his regular congregation. As might be ex-
pected, also, the diploma of Doctor in Divinity was
speedily conferred upon him. In 1825 he was trans-
lated from Hope Park to the new North Church,
and in 1830 to the High Church of Edinburgh.

During the whole course of Dr. Gordon's ministry
he was seldom to be found engaged in the contro-
versies of church courts; but when it was necessary
in any important question to express his sentiments,
they bore the stamp of his reflective conscientious
character, and were received with respect. Such
was the case in 1829, when the great question of
Catholic emancipation would not permit him to be
silent, and when he also found himself compelled
to dissent from most of his brethren. In spite of all
the warnings of history to the contrarj', the majority
had persuaded themselves into the fond belief that
Popery, which must be all or nothing, would be
contented with only a part; and that when its present
demands were conceded, the question would be
settled to all future time, and a vexatious controversy
for ever laid to rest. His prophetic declarations
upon this occasion, while they have been but too
well justified by succeeding events, were very dif-
ferent from that uncharital)le sweeping condemnation
with which it is so much the fashion to condemn every
item of Pojiery, and every individual holder of its
tenets. Addressing the presbytery of Edinburgh,
who had for the most part become enamoured of
the soothing system, he said: — "I know nothing in
the history of Popery, and I have been able to dis-
cover nothing in the manifestations of its spirit, that

ROBERT GORDON.

>33

will warrant me to hope that the removal of Catholic
disabilities will induce the priesthood of the Romish
church to remove the seal which they have dared
to put on the Word of God, and to permit us to
carry the Bible, without let or hindrance, among the
multitudes from whom they have hitherto excluded
it. I give them credit for a deeper and a stronger
attachment to their faith, than to suppose that any
political boon, or, as they think it, any act of politi-
cal justice on our part, will have any weight with
them in rendering them more willing to see their
flocks transferred to the guardianship of Protestant
pastors; nor can I conceive that they will do other-
wise than smile at our simplicity when we avow a
hope, that by conceding to them the privileges
which they now demand, we shall have disarmed
their hostility to our tenets, and drawn them over
to what they think our heresies and our delusions.
I should be disposed to draw the very opposite conclu-
sion. It is by their fidelity to their common cause
— their determined, persevering, united efforts — such
efforts as a religious union alone could make — that
they have compelled government to adopt the
measures now in progress for conceding to them
certain privileges. I say, compelled; for, after all
the attempts to explain it away, this is in reality the
acknowledgment of the highest political authority
in the empire. And are they so unskilful either in
spiritual or political tactics — so little able to avail
themselves of the vantage-ground on which this
measure, if successful, will place them — as to be less
careful of the union which has secured so important
a step towards the attainment of what must be the
wish and ultimate object of every consistent Catholic
— the supremacy of their system?" Such were his
sentiments upon the question of Catholic emancipa-
tion in 1829, and the events of the present day but
too well attest their soundness.

After this decided stand, which Dr. Gordon made
in opposition to the most esteemed and talented
of his brethren, events succeeded of still more im-
perious urgency, which dragged him from his peace-
ful seclusion, and sent him into the arena. These
were, the preludes to the disruption of the Church
of Scotland, and finally the disruption itself. Still,
however, his gentle spirit predominated, and through-
out the storm of controversy that raged for years,
his words were like oil upon the troubled waters
when their commotion is at the fiercest. So high,
however, was his intellectual standing, and so well
understood the uncompromising conscientiousness
of his principles, that this very gentleness, which
in an inferior or doubtful person might have gone
for nothing, only seemed, in the case of Dr. Gordon,
to give his opinions greater weight and ascendancy.
The public, that looked on in doubt and uncertainty,
were compelled to respect a cause which had such
a man for its advocate, and even the wavering of his
own party were confirmed when they saw his hearty
zeal in its behalf, and remembered his well-estab-
lished character for wisdom, circumspection, and
forbearance. Such was especially the case when
they beheld him accompanying the presbytery of
Uunkeld to the bar of the Court of Session in 1839,
to be censured for ordaining a minister to the parish
of Lethendy in opposition to a civil interdict. In
1 84 1 he presided as moderator of the General As-
sembly, and in this capacity it was his painful duty
— from which he did not shrink — to depose the seven
ministers of Strathbogie. In the same year Dr.
Gordon presided at the great meeting which was
held on the 25th of August in the West Church,
Edinburgh— a meeting limited expressly to those
office-bearers of the church who approved of its late

resistance to the civil power, and were willing to
persevere at every hazard ; and his address on that
solemn occasion, to about twelve hundred ministers
and elders assembled from every part of Scotland,
while he announced the principles for which they
were now called to contend, and his own settled
resolution to maintain them at whatever cost or
hazard, sunk deep into every heart. His next public
appearance was at the convocation held at Edinburgh
in November, 1842, in consequence of the judgment
pronounced by the House of Lords on what was
called the second Auchterarder case, in which it was
declared that the refusal of a people to a patron's
presentee was not only no bar to his enjoying the
temporalities of his parochial charge, but none also
to his being ordained as minister of the parish. It
was evident that the contest had come to such a
height that a separation between church and state
was inevitable, if each party still continued to hold
by its respective principles; and accordingly the con-
vocation was called for the purpose of considering
whether, and in what manner, the separation should
take place. These meetings extended over several
evenings, and were held in Roxburgh Church, where
between four and five hundred ministers gave their
attendance. It was at one of those meetings that a
speech of Dr. Gordon made a solemn impression
upon the hearts of his auditory ; and in the course
of it he so clearly defined and so distinctly announced
the duties of a church thus circumstanced, that his
statements form the best apology for the disruption
that afterwards ensued. "I set out," he said, "with
the principle, that the state, the supreme power
in the state, has an absolute, uncontrolled, uncon-
trollable dominion over civil things. Civil rulers
may exercise their power in a bad way- — they may
do what is clearly wrong ; but theirs is the power,
as an ordinance of God: to God they are responsible;
but I, as a subject of the realm, am bound to obey
them. In the next place, I hold that we have a
certain connection with the state, in which connec-
tion a certain temporal thing is concerned. They
were entitled to offer us these temporalities on any
conditions they chose at first. In the same way
they may come forward at any future period and
say, 'We have changed our mind:' they may pro-
pound new conditions to us ; and if we cannot agree
to these conditions, they may take back the tempor-
alities they gave us. But then it may be said, ' We
are not come to that ; the state does not insist yet
on the conditions to which we object.' It must be
admitted, however, that the judgment of the supreme
civil court is z. prima facie ^xovlwA. for the belief that
the state regards these conditions as binding, and
that these decisions, unless repudiated by the state,
must be so interpreted. W^e don't need them to
pass a new statute declaring what the conditions
are. The statute, as interpreted by the supreme
court, is virtually a new statute. It is thought by
some parties that the ecclesiastical courts will suc-
cumb to the decisions of the civil, and therefore that
the interference of the state will not be required;
it is therefore our duty to go to the state, and say
that we cannot and will not succumb. I cannot
understand how I, as an honest man, could retain
my temporalities on other conditions than those on
which they are offered me. A reverend gentleman
in the house spoke of voluntarily abandoning the
temporalities, and said that to do so would be to
act at a disadvantage. Now, I do not go out of the
Establishment voluntarily; I am forced to it by what
is infinitely more terrible to me than the soldier's
sword or the constable's baton — my own conscience.
I am persecuted into it. You may talk of main-

>34

ROBERT GORDON

taining the p^eople's pri\-ileges; I cannot maintain
them at the expense of honesty. Some may think
that the attachment of the people to our cause would
be much stronger if they saw our ministers thrust
out by Wolence, but that is not the sort of attachment
we desire. We wish the attachment of men con-
scientiously holding our views, for that is the only
kind of attachment which will stand the test to which
our people may be e.xp)osed. Any feeUng towards
a minister arising from indignation at personal vio-
lence offered to him would be of verj' short dura-
tion.''

Day by day events went onward until the moment
of trial arrived. And would a disruption in very
deed take place at last, and five hundred clergymen
be found so true to their promise, and so self-deny-
ing, as to lay down their comfortable state endow-
ments at the demand of what so many considered
a mere abstract principle? Xo, it is impKKsible :
martyrdom is only for a rough cheerless period of
society, and not for the sleek comfortable days of
this middle term of the nineteenth century- in which
our happy lot has been cast! So said statesmen;
so said the well-endowed dignitaries of the Church
of England; so said the moderate party of the Church
of Scotland, whose violence had precipitated matters
to this dangerous point But it was not among
them alone that there was either scornful scepticism
or sympathetic doubt; for among the most confirmed
of the outgoers also there was a painful appre-
hension that, even at the last moment, there might
be a wavering among their ranks, and a falling away
of many. Upon this point even Dr. Gordon too
had experienced moments of gloomy anticipation,
in which he feared that the promised disruption
would finally dwindle down into a trivial di^nt,
whose testimony would be unheard or unnoticed.
But still, the fact that he did not flinch for an instant
in his purpose, whether he might be accompanied
by many or by few, only places his high conscientious
disinterestedness in a stronger and fairer light. To
him, also, the sacrifice was accompanied with pe-
culiar aggravations. The clerical charge he held,
besides being one of the highest in Scotland, enabled
him, from its being a coUegiate one, to devote a
considerable portion of time to his favourite studies;
and he held also the lucrative office of collector of
the Widows' Fund, to which he had been appointed
in 1836. But high office, leisure, and emolument,
were to be foregone for the labour and precarious-
ness of a missionary life, burdened in his case by the
growing infirmities of age, and the maintenance of
a very large family of young children, who looked
wholly to him for suppKsrt, and whose interests would
be deeply compromised by the sacrifice. But he
rendered it cheerfully, and went forth with the rest;
and perhaps, as his eye glanced backward at the
long array of his brethren on their march to the new
place of meeting at Tanfield, and contrasted their
numbers wth his pre\'ious doubts and misgi^-ings,
the devout joy of the triumph swallowed up all re-
membrance of the sacrifice.

The remaining years of the life of Dr. Gordon
were spent in domestic comfort, as well as public
honour and usefulness. He threw himself into his
new sphere of increased duties with all the ardour
of his matured manhood, and the energy with which
these were discharged showed little or no abatement
of his former p>ower. If any change indeed was
perceptible, it was that his st^le of preaching be-
tokened the purifjing furnace of trial through which
his mind had passed, for his sermons had an increase
of apostolic simplicity and imction, which made
his pulpit ministrations even more effective than

-THOMAS GORDON.

before His studies also were more exclusively con-
fined to his pulpit ministrations ; and although he
might have lightened these labours by accepting
a colleague, he conscientiously p>ersisted in encoun-
tering the same amount that fell to the lot of his
younger brethren. His death, which occurred in
Northumberland Street, Edinburgh, on the 21st of
October, 1 85 3, in the sixty-eighth year of his age,
and thirtj-eighth of his ministry, was occasioned by
a stroke of paralysis.

Dr. Gordon was a member of the Royal Society
of Edinburgh, and of the Royal Scottish Society of
Arts ; he was also one of her majestVs master prin-
ters for Scotland. Besides the volume of sermons,
and the articles in the Encyclvpadia Britannica which
we have mentioned, he published nothing; but from
the care with which his discourses were written, a
series of them were deemed fit for the press, and
were accordingly published under the tide of Christ
as made kntnvn to tfu Ancient Church, in four octavo
volumes.

GrOEDON, Tho>l\s, an eminent party writer, and
translator of Tacitus, is supposed to have been bom
in the parish of Kells, in the stewartry of Kirkcud-
bright, about the end of the seventeenth century.
His father, the representative of an ancient family
descended from the Gordons of Kenmuir, was pro-
prietor of Gairloch in that parish. Thomas Gordon
is said to have received a university education in his
own country, and then to have gone to London as a
literary adventurer: joining these circumstances with
his avowed infidelity, it is probable that he was a
renegade student of divinity or licentiate — almost
always an unprincipled and odious character. In
London he supported himself at first as a teacher of
languages, and gradually became an author by pro-
fession. He is said to have been employed as a
political writer by the Earl of Oxford, in the support
of the Tory ministry of which that nobleman was
the head; but this hardly corresponds with the other
dates of his literar)' exertions, for Mr. Gordon
appears to have written nothing of which the title
has been commemorated tiU he formed an intimacy
with Mr. Trenchard; and on the 20th of January,
1720, commenced, in conjunction with that individ-
ual, a weekly political sheet called the Independent
Whig. If Gordon wrote in the reign of Queen
Anne, what was he doing in the course of the six
inter*"ening years? Nor is it of small importance to
his reputation that this point should be settled, as he
became a distinguished patriot and a supporter of
Sir Robert Walpole — the very reverse, in every
resf)ect, of what he is said to have been in the days
of Queen Anne's Tor\' ministry. It is our own
opinion that the latter allegation is not well founded;
it does not app>ear in the original memoir of Gordon
in the fiiographia Britannica, 1766, an article evi-
dently written by a person that must have known
him personally, or at least his surs-i^-ing family; that
sketch represents him in the more probable character
of a young man taken into emploj-ment by Mr.
Trenchard as an amanuensis, and subsequently so
much improved by the conversation and instructions
of his employer, as to be fitted to enter into a literary
partnership with him as an independent patriotic
writer. Thus we see much cause to relieve the
memory of this clever jierson from no small share of
the odium which has been cast upon it by subsequent
biographical writers.

Trenchard, the partner of Gordon, was a political
writer of some standing, and no small influence. It
was in consequence of a pamphlet firom his pen that
the parliament obliged King WUliam to send home.

THOMAS GORDON

WILLIAM GORDON.

135

Ills Dutch guards; a proceeding which is said to
have moved that grave monarch to tears, and ahnost
in(hiced him to go back to Holland himself. Mr.
Trenchard was the author of a work which appeared
in 1709, under the title of the A'attiral History of
Snpc-rsHtion, and held the office of commissioner of
the forfeited estates in Ireland. His acquaintance
with Gordon appears to have been commenced with-
out the formality of an introduction. "From a
perfect stranger to him," says the latter, "and without
any other recommendation than a casual coffee-house
acquaintance, and his own good opinion, he took
me into his favour and care, and into as high a
degree of intimacy as ever was shown by one man
to another. This was the more remarkable," con-
tinues Gordon, "and did me the greater honour, as
he was naturally as shy in making friendships as
he was eminently constant to those which he had
already made." The Independent Whig, which
seems to have been their first joint production, was
continued for a year, stopping in January, 172 1.
Before its conclusion, namely in November, 1720,
the two writers had begun a series of letters signed
"Cato," in the London, and afterwards in the British
yoiirnal, which was continued almost to the death
of Mr. Trenchard, an event that happened in De-
cember, 1723. A new edition of the Independetit
Whig, including a renewed series published by
Gordon after Mr. Trenchard's death, appeared in
two volumes i2mo. A similar collection of Catd's
Letters appeared in four volumes, and went into a
fourth edition in 1737.

Of the Lndepcndent ]Vhig Dr. Murray thus speaks
in his Literary History of Galloway: — "It is a for-
tunate circumstance that this work is knov/n only
by name; for it is disfigured by sentiments which
are deserving of great reprobation. It was more
immediately directed against the hierarchy of the
Church of England; but it was also meant, or at
least has a direct tendency, to undermine the very
foundation of a national religion, under any circum-
stances, and to bring the sacred profession, if not
religion itself, into contempt. The sacerdotal office,
according to this book, is not only not recommended
in Scripture, but is unnecessary and dangerous ;
ministers of the gospel have ever been the promoters
of corruption and ignorance, and distinguished by a
degree of arrogance, immorality, and a thirst after
secular power, that have rendered them destructive
of the public and private welfare of a nation. 'One
drop of priestcraft,' say they, 'is enough to con-
taminate the ocean.'

"The object of Catd's Letters," continues Dr.
Murray, "is' nearly the same with that of the Lndepen-
dent W/iig—vfiih. this difference, that its theological
and ecclesiastical discussions are much blended with
political disquisitions. It was indeed directed par-
ticularly against the South Sea scheme; the knaveiy
and absurdity of which our authors had the merit of
exposing at a time when almost the whole nation was
intoxicated with dreams of wealth and independence,
which it artfully cherished, and by which so many
were ruined and betrayed.

"Notwithstanding the insuperable objections we
have stated to the most of the principles of these
works, they are characterized, we must confess, by
no mean portion of talents and learning. The authors
seem always masters of the subjects of which they
treat, and their discussions are clear, close, and
vigorous.

"Like every person who in any way attempts to
undermine the welfare and interests of society, Gordon
and Trenchard laid claim to great purity of intention.
According to their own statement, they formed the

only two wise, patriotic, and independent men of the
age in which they lived. 'As these letters,' says
Gordon in his preface, ' were the work of no faction
or cabal, nor calculated for any lucrative or ambitious
ends, or to serve the purposes of any party whatso-
ever; but attacked falsehood and dishonesty in all
shapes and parties, without temporizing with any,
but doing justice to all, even to the weakest and
most unfashionable, and maintaining the principles
of liberty against the practices of most parties : so
they were dropped without any sordid composition,
and without any consideration, save that it was
judged that the public, after its terrible convulsions,
was again become calm and safe.' "

After the death of Mr. Trenchard, his widow,
after the manner of ladies in a more expressly com-
mercial rank of life, became the second wife of her
husband's journeyman and partner, Mr. Gordon —
apparently induced to take this step by the useful-
ness of Gordon in managing her affairs. By this
lady, who survived him, and was living in 1 766, he
had several children. His circumstances were now
very easy and agreeable, and he appears to have
contemplated tasks which required leisure, and pro-
mised to give him a permanent fame. A translation
of Tacitus executed by him (the third printed in the
English language), with discourses taken from foreign
commentators and translators of that historian, ap-
peared in 1728, two volumes folio; and the subscrip-
tion being patronized by Sir Robert Walpole, it
proved a very lucrative speculation. Of this work
one writer speaks as follows: — " No classic was ever
perhaps so miserably mangled. His (Gordon's) style
is extremely vulgar, yet affected, and abounds with
abrupt and inharmonious periods, totally destitute of
any resemblance to the original; while the translator
fancied he was giving a correct imitation."^ Another
writer adverts to it in very different tenns. "Though
it is now," says Dr. Murray,^ "in a great degree
superseded by the elegant translation of Mr. Murphy,
it is nevertheless a work of no inconsiderable degree
of merit. Mr. Gordon probably understood his
author better than any who have presented him to
the world in an English dress; and the only objec-
tion that has been made to the work, even by Murphy
himself, is, that he foolishly attempted to accommo-
date the English language to the elliptical and
epigrammatic style of the Roman historian." Gordon
afterwards published a translation of Sallust in the
same style as his version of Tacitus.

During the long period of Walpole's administra-
tion the subject of this memoir acted as his literary
supporter, enjoying in return either a regular pay or
the office of first commissioner of wine licenses.
After his death, which happened on the 28th of July,
1750, two collections of his fugitive writings appeared
under the respective titles oi A Cordial for Lew Spirits
and The Pillars of Priestcraft and Orthodoxy Shaken
—works which had better, both for his own fame
and the welfare of society, been suppressed. Finally,
a volume entitled Sermons 071 L^ractical Subjects ad-
dressed to Different Characters, appeared in 1 788.

GORDON, WiLLi.ur, of Earlston, a zealous
defender of the covenant, and this by inheritance as
well as principle, being lineally descended from Mr.
Alexander Gordon, who entertained some of the
followers of John Wickliffe, the first of the English
reformers— reading to them, in their secret meetings
in the wood of Airds, a New Testament translated
into English, of which he had got possession.

1 Chalmers' General Biographical Dictionary, xv-i. 107.
* Literary History o/Gallozvay, second edition, 182.

t36

NATHANIEL GOW,

As the subject of this notice, however, was — not-
withstanding his zeal in the cause of the covenant,
and his steady and warm friendship for those who
adhered to it — himself a retired and peaceful man,
little of any interest is left on record regarding him.
And, excepting in one of the last acts of his life, he
mingled little with the public transactions of the
period in which he lived. So far, however, as his
personal influence extended, he did not fail to ex-
hibit, both fearlessly and openly, the religious senti-
ments which he entertained. He would give no
lease of his lands to any one, whatever might be
offered, but on condition of their keeping family wor-
ship; and he was in the habit of meeting his tenants
at a place appointed every Sunday, and proceeding
with them to church. He had also acquired a re-
putation for his skill in solving cases of conscience,
of which some curious enough instances are to be
found in Wodrow's Analecta, a MS. work (now
printed) already more than once referred to in the
present publication. His first public appearance, in
connection with the faith to which he was so zeal-
ously attached, occurred in the year 1663, soon after
the restoration of Charles H. An episcopal incum-
bent having been appointed by the bishop to the
church of i3alry, to which Mr. Gordon had a right
of patronage, he resisted the appointment, on the
twofold ground of its being contrary to the religious
tenets of the congregation to admit an Episcopal
minister, and an invalidation of his own private right
as patron. For this contumacy he was charged to
appear before the council; but, not obeying the sum-
mons, he was soon after charged a second time, and
accused of keeping conventicles and private meetings
in his house, and ordered to forbear the same in time
coming. Disobeying this also, as he had done the first,
he was immediately after sentenced to banishment,
and ordered to quit the kingdom within a month, and
bound to live peaceably during that time, under a
penalty of £10,000. Still disobeying, Gordon was
now subjected to all the hardships and rigours of
persecution. He was turned out of his house by a
militar)- force, and compelled to wander up and down
the country like many others of his persecuted breth-
ren. In the meantime the battle of Bothwell Bridge
took place, and Gordon, unaware of the defeat of his
friends, was hastening to join the ranks, when he was
met, not far from the field of battle, by a party of
English dragoons, by whom, on refusing to surrender,
he was instantly killed. The troubles of the times
preventing his friends from removing his body to the
burial-place of his family, he was interred in the
churchyard of Glassford, where a pillar was after-
wards erected to his memory.

GOW, Nathaniel, who, as a violinist and com-
poser, well deser\-es a place in any work intended to
perpetuate the names of Scotsmen who have done
honour or service to their country, was the youngest
son of the celebrated Neil Gow. His mother's name
was Margaret Wiseman, and he was born at Inver,
near Dunkeld, Perthshire, on the 28th May, 1766.
Nathaniel and his three brothers, William, John, and
Andrew, having all given early indications of musical
talent, adopted music as a profession, and the violin,
on which their father had already gained so much
reputation, as the instrument to which their chief
study was to be directed. AH the brothers attained
considerable eminence, and some of them acquired
a fortune by the practice of this instrument; but view-
ing all the circumstances applicable to each, it will
not be looked on as invidious or partial, when we
say that Nathaniel must be considered the most
eminent of his family or name, not only as a per-

former and composer, but as having more than any
other advanced the cause and popularity of our na-
tional music during his time, and provided by his
publications a permanent repository of Scottish
music, the most complete of its kind hitherto given
to the world.

Nathaniel was indebted to his father for his first
instructions. He commenced on a small violin
commonly called a kit, on which his father Neil had
also made his first essay, and which is still preser\-ed
in the family. At an early age he was sent to Edin-
burgh, where he continued the study of the violin,
first under Robert M 'Intosh, or Red Rob, as he was
called, until the latter, from his celebrity, was called
up to London. He next took lessons from M 'Glashan,
better known by the appellation of King M 'Glashan,
which he acquired from his tall stately appearance
and the showy style in which he dressed; and who
besides was in high estimation as an excellent com-
poser of Scottish airs, and an able and spirited leader
of the fashionable bands. He studied the violoncello
under Joseph Reneagle, a name of some note in the
musical world, who, after a long residence in Edin-
burgh, was appointed to the professorship of music
at Oxford. With Reneagle he ever after maintained
the closest intimacy and friendship. The following
laconic letter from the professor in 1S21 illustrates
this: — "Dear Gow, I write this to request the favour
of you to give me all the particulars regarding the
ensuing coronation, viz. — Does the crown of Scot-
land go? Do the trumpeters go? Do you go? Does
Mrs. Gow go? If so, my wife and self will go; and
if you do not go, I will not go, nor my wife go."
Gow's first professional appearance, it is believed,
was in the band conducted by King M 'Glashan, in
which he played the violoncello. After the death of
M 'Glashan he continued under his elder brother
William Gow, who succeeded as leader, a situation
for which he was well fitted by his bold and spirited
style; but, having been cut off about the year 1791,
at the early age of forty, Nathaniel took his place,
and maintained it for nearly forty years with an
eclat and success far bej-ond anything that ever pre-
ceded or followed him.

So early as 1782, when he could not have been
more than sixteen years of age, Gow was appointed
one of his majesty's trampeters for Scotland, a situa-
tion which required only partial attendance and duty,
being called on only to officiate at royal proclama-
tions, and to accompany the justiciar)' judges on
their circuits for a few weeks, thrice in each year.
The salaiy is small, but it is made up by handsome
allowances for travelling expenses, so that in all it
may yield the holder about £10 per annum. This
situation he held to the day of his death, although,
during some of his later years he was forced to
employ a substitute, who drew a considerable portion
of the emoluments.

He had for many years previously, by assuming
the lead of the fashionable bands, become known
not only as an excellent violin player, but as a suc-
cessful teacher, and as having arranged and prepared
for publication the first three numbers of the collec-
tion of reels and strathspeys published by his father.
So much, however, and so quickly did he advance
in reputation after this, and so generally did he
become acquainted with the great and fashionable
world, that in 1796, without giving up or abating
his lucrative employment as leader, he commenced
business as a music-seller on an extensive scale, in
company with Mr. Wm. Shepherd; and for fif-
teen or sixteen years commanded the most exten-
sive business perhaps ever enjoyed by any house in
the line in Scotland, In 1813, however, after his

NATHANIEL GOW.

137

partner's death, the business was wound up, and
whatever profits he may have drawn during the sub-
sistence of the partnership, he was obliged to pay up
a considerable shortcoming at its close.

It was in 1799 that he continued the work com-
menced by his father and himself; and from that time
till 1824, in addition to the three first collections,
and two books of Slazv Airs, Dances, Waltzes, ice,
he published a fourth, fifth, and sbcth Collection of
StratJispcys and Reels; three volumes of Beauties,
being a republication of the best airs in the three
first collections, with additions — four volumes of a
Repository of Scots Slcruj Airs, StratJispeys, and Dances
— two volumes of Scots Vocal Melodies, and a Collec-
tion of Ancient Curious Scots Melodies, besides a
great many smaller publications, all arranged by
himself for the harp, pianoforte, violin, and violon-
cello. During the life of his father he was assisted
by him, and the first numbers were published
as the works of Neil Gow and Son. Many collec-
tions had been published previously by ingenious
individuals, the best of which perhaps was that of
Oswald; but Gow's collections, beyond all dispute,
are the most extensive and most complete ever sub-
mitted to the public; embracing not only almost all
that is good in others, but the greater part of the
compositions of Neil and Nathaniel Gow, and other
members of that musical family.

After an interval of a few years Gow commenced
music-seller once more, in company with his only son
Neil, a young man of amiable and cultivated mind,
who had received a finished education at Edinburgh
and Paris for the profession of surgeon, but who,
finding no favourable opening in that overstocked
calling, and having a talent and love for music, aban-
doned it and joined his father. This young gentle-
man, who was the composer of the beautiful melody
of Bonny Prince Charlie, and a great many others,
was not long spared to his father and friends, having
been cut off by a lingering disease in 1823. The
business was afterwards continued until 1827; but,
wanting a proper head — Gow himself being unable
to look after it — it d\\-indled away; and poor Gow,
after a long life of toil, during which he had gathered
considerable wealth, found himself a bankrupt at a
time when age and infirmity prevented him from
doing anything to retrieve his fortunes.

It is difficult to describe the influence, success, and
reputation of Nathaniel Gow during all the time he
conducted the fashionable bands in Edinburgh and
throughout Scotland; but certain it is, that in these
respects he stands at the head of all that ever trode
in the same department. Not only did he preside
at the peers' balls, Caledonian Hunt balls, and at the
parties of all the noble and fashionable of Edinburgh,
but at most of the great meetings and parties that
took place throughout Scotland; and in several in-
stances he was summoned to England. No expense
deterred individuals or public bodies from availing
themselves of his services; and it appears from his
memorandum-books, that parties frequently paid
him from one hundred to one hundred and fifty
guineas, for attending at Perth, Dumfries, Inverness,
&c., with his band. One of the first objects in the
formation of fashionable parties was to ascertain if
Gow was disengaged, and they would be fixed, post-
poned, or altered, to suit his leisure and convenience.
He ^•isited London frequently, although he resisted
many invitations to settle there peraianently. In
the year 1797, when in London, the Duke of
Gordon, then Marquis of Huntly, got up a fashion-
able ball for him, which was so well attended, that
after paying all expenses, ^^130 was handed over to
Mr. Gow. He was in the habit, too, during everj-

visit to the capital, of being honoured by invitations
to the private parties of his majesty George 1\\,
when Prince of Wales and prince-regent; on which
occasions he joined that prince, who was a respect-
able violoncello-player, in the performance of con-
certed pieces of the most esteemed composers. In
1822, when his majesty visited Scotland, Gow was
summoned, with a select portion of the musical
talent of Edinburgh, to Dalkeith Palace, and the
king evinced his enduring recollection of the music-
ian's visits to him in London, by quitting the banquet
table to speak to him; ordering at the same time a
goblet of generous wine to the musician, and ex-
pressing the delight he experienced not only on that,
but many former occasions, in listening to his per-
formances. Gow was overcome by his majesty's
familiar address, and all he could do was to mutter
in a choked manner, "God bless your majesty."
At the peers' ball and the Caledonian Hunt ball his
majesty took pleasure in expressing the satisfaction
he derived from Gow's music; so that when the latter
rendered his account for his band, he added, "My
own trouble at pleasure, or nothing, as his majesty's
approbation more than recompensed me."

Gow had an annual ball at Edinburgh during all
the time he was leader of the bands; and, until a
few years before his retirement, these were attended
by all the fashion and wealth of the countr}', there
being frequently above a thousand in the room, many
of whom, who were his patrons, did not stint their
contributions to the mere price of their tickets. He
received, besides, many compliments beyond the
mere charge for professional labour. At his ball
in 181 1 the Earl of Dalhousie, who was his stanch
supporter on all occasions, presented him with a
massive silver goblet, accompanied by the following
note: — "An old friend of Gow's requests his accept-
ance of a cup, in which to drink the health of the
thousands who would wish, but cannot attend him
to-night." He was presented with a fine violoncello
by Sir Peter Murray of Ochtertyre, and a valuable
Italian violin by Sir Alexander Don.

"While his evenings were occupied at the parties
of the great, his days were not spent in idleness.
He had as his pupils the children of. the first families
in the countr}' for the violin and pianoforte accom-
paniment; from whom he received the highest rate
of fees known at the time ; indeed, it appears from
his books, that at one time he went once a week to
the Duke of Buccleuch's at Dalkeith Palace, a dis-
tance of only six miles, and received two guineas each
lesson, besides travelling expenses.

Although engaged, as already said, in the most
extensively patronized musical establishment in Scot-
land, it is questionable if he ever at any time realized
profit from it, while it is certain that towards the
close he was a great loser; indeed, it can seldom be
otherwise where the proprietor has other avocations,
and leaves the management to his servants. But
from his balls, teaching, and playing, the emoluments
he derived were very great, and he was at one time
worth upwards of ;i^20,ckx>; but this was ultimately
swept away, and he was forced, while prostrated by
a malady from which he never recovered, to appeal
to his old patrons and the public for their support,
at a ball for his behoof in March, 1827, which he
did by the following circular: "When I formerly
addressed my kind patrons and the public, I had
no other claim than that which professional men
generally have, whose exertions are devoted to the
public amusement. By a patronage the most unvar)--
ing and flattering, I was placed in a situation of com-
fortable independence, and I looked forward without
apprehension to passing the decline of my days in

13S

XATIIAXIEL GOW

NEIL GOW.

the bosom of my family, with competence and with
happiness. Unfortunately for me, circumstances
have changed. By obligations for friends, and
losses in trade, my anxious savings have been
gradually wasted, till now, when almost bed-rid,
unable to leave my house or to follow my profession,
1 am forced to surrender the remnant of my means
to pay my just and lawful creditors. In this situa-
tion some generous friends have stepped forward and
persuaded me, that the recollection of my former
efforts to please may not be so entirely effaced as
to induce the public to think that my day of distress
should pass without notice or without sympathy."

The appeal was not in vain — the ball was crowded,
and handsome tokens of remembrance were sent by
many of his old friends, so that nearly £yy^ was
l^roduced. The ball was continued annually for
three years afterwards, and though not so great as
the first, they still yielded sufficient to prove the
deep sympathy of the public, and to afford him a
consolation and support in his hour of trial and sick-
ness. It should not be omitted that the noblemen
and gentlemen of the Caledonian Hunt, who had
during all his career been his warmest patrons,
voted ;f 50 per annum to him during his life ; and
we will be forgiven for lengthening this detail a
little by quoting one letter out of the many hundreds
received, which was from his ever-generous friend
Mr. Maule of Panmure: "Vour letter has given me
real uneasiness, but although Scotland forgot itself
in the case of Burns, I hope the present generation
will not allow a Gow to suffer for the want of those
comforts in his old age, to which his exertions for
so many years for their amusement and instruction
so well entitle him. My plan is this, that an
annuity of ;[^200 should be got by subscription, and
if the Duke of Athol, Lords Breadalbane, Kinnoul,
and Gray (all Perthshire noblemen), would put
their names at the top of the list, it would very soon
bj filled up ; this in addition to an annual ball at
lulinburgh, which ought to produce at least ;{^200
more, would still be but a moderate recompense for
the constant zeal, attention, and civility which you
have shown in the service of the public of Scotland
during a long period of years. I, for one, shall do
my part, because I never can forget the many happy
hours I have passed, enlivened by the addition of
your incomparaljle music." The subscription did
not take place, but Mr. Maule did his part indeed,
for every year brought a kind letter and a substantial
accompaniment.

In estimating the professional character of Na-
thaniel Gow, it will be more just to his memory to
consider his merits in that department which he made
his peculiar province, than as a general musician; for
although he was well acquainted with the composi-
tions of the great masters, and joined in their per-
formance, and taught them to his pupils, yet his
early aspirations, and his more mature delight and
study, were directed to the national music of Scot-
land. As a performer he had all the fire and spirit
of his celebrated father in the quick music, with
more refined taste, delicacy, and clearness of intona-
tion in the slow and plaintive melodies. To an
equally fine ear, and deep feeling of the beauties and
peculiarities of Scottish melody, lie added the advan-
tages of a more general cultivation of musical know-
ledge, with more varied and frequent opportunities
of hearing the most classical compositions executed
by the most able performers. These, while they
did not tempt him to sacrifice any of the character
or simplicity of his native music, enabled him to
give a taste and finish to the execution of it, which
placed him, by general and ungrudging consent, as

the master spirit of that branch or department which
he had selected, and in which, for a long course
of years, he walked in unapproachable triumph.

As a composer, his works remain to support his
claims. He has published in his collections, and
in sheets, upwards of two hundred original melodies
and dancing tunes, and left nearly a hundred in
manuscript ; which, along with his more recent col-
lections, became the property of Messrs. Robertson
of Princes Street, Edinburgh. Of these we may
only refer to a very few — his Caller Herring, ^^•hich
was so much admired that it was printed in London,
and imitated by celebrated composers — Sir George
Clerk, and Lady Charlotte Diirhain, as specimens
of his slow compositions — and to The Miller of
Drone, Largo's Fairy Dance, and Mrs. IVemyss of
Castlehill, to which last air the song of St. ]\itrick
ivas a Gentleman is sung, as specimens of his lively
pieces. There are many of our finest melodies of
which the composers are iinknoum; but we are
persuaded that few will contradict us when we say,
that from the number and talent of his compositions,
no knaiL'n Scottish composer, not even his celebrated
father, can contest the palm with him as the largest
and ablest contributor to the already great stock of
our national music.

Nathaniel Gow was a man of great shrewdness
and good understanding — generally of a lively com-
panionable turn, with a good deal of humour — very
courteous in his manners; though, especially latterly,
when misfortune and disease had soured him, a little
hasty in his temper. He was a dutiful and affectionate
son, as his father's letters abundantly prove; a kind
brother — having resigned his share of his father's suc-
cession to his sister, who wanted it more than he
did at the time; and indulgent and faithful in his
duties to his own family. In his person he was tall
and "buirdly" — and he dressed well, which, added
to a degree of courtliness of manner on occasions of
ceremony, gave him altogether a respectable and
stately appearance. His illness came to a crisis in
the beginning of 1831, and finally terminated in his
death, on the 17th of January of that year, at the age
of sixty-five. He was buried in the Grayfriars'
churchyard; but no stone points out to the stranger
where the Scottish minstrel sleeps.

He was twice married. By his first wife, Janet
Eraser, he had five daughters and one son; by his
second wife, Mary Hog, to whom he was married in
1 814, he had three sons and two daughters. A
spirited likeness of !Mr. Gow was painted by Mr.
John Syme of Edinburgh.

GOW, Neil, a celebrated violin player and com-
poser of Scottish airs, was the son of John Gow and
Catharine M'Ewan, and was born at Inver, near
Dunkeld, Perthshire, on the 22d of March, 1727.
He was intended by his parents for the trade of a
plaid weaver, but discovering an early propensity for
music he began the study of the violin himself, and
soon abandoned the shuttle for the bow. Up to the
age of thirteen he had no instructor; but about that
time he availed himself of some lessons from John
Cameron, a follower of the house of Grandtully, and
soon placed himself at the head of all the performers
in the country, although Perthshire then produced
more able reel and strathspey players than any
other county in Scotland. Before he reached man-
hood he had engaged in a public competition there,
and carried off the prize, which was decided by an
aged and blintl but skilful minstrel, who, in award-
ing it said, that "he could distinguish the stroke of
NeiVs bow among a hundred players." This ascen-
dency he ever after maintained, not only in his native

NEIL GOW.

139

place, but throughout Scotland, where it has been
universally admitted that, as a reel and strathspey
player, he had no superior, and indeed no rival in
his own time.

Neil Gow was the first of his family, so far as is
known, who rendered the name celebrated in our
national music; but his children afterwards proved
that, in their case at any rate, genius and talent were
hsreditary. Although Neil was bom, and lived the
whole of a long life, in a small village in the High-
lands of Perthshire, with no ambition for the honours
and advancement which, in general, are only to be
obtained by a residence in great cities; and although
he was in a manner a self-taught artist, and confined
his labours chiefly to what may be considered a sub-
ordinate branch of the profession of music; yet he
acquired a notoriety and renown beyond what was
destined to many able and scientific professors, of
whom hundreds have flourished and been forgotten
since his time, while his name continues, especially
in Scotland, familiar as a household word.

Many causes contributed to this. The chief ones,
no doubt, were his unquestioned skill in executing
the national music of Scotland, and the genius he
displayed in the composition of a great number of
beautiful melodies. But these were enhanced in no
small degi-ee by other accessory causes. There was
a peculiar spirit, and Celtic character and enthusiasm,
which he threw into his performances, and which
distinguished his bow amid the largest band. His
appearance, too, was prepossessing — his countenance
open, honest, and pleasing — his figure compact and
manly, which was shown to advantage in the tight
tartan knee-breeches and hose which he always
wore. There was also an openness and eccentricity
in his manner, which, while it was homely, easy,
and unaffected, was at the same time characterized
by great self-possession and downrightness; and being
accompanied by acute penetration into the character
and peculiarities of others, strong good sense, and
considerable quaintness and humour, and above all,
by a perfect honesty and integrity of thought and
action, placed him on a footing of familiarity and in-
dependence in the presence of the proudest of the
land, which perhaps no one in his situation ever at-
tained either before or since. Many who never heard
him play, and who are even unacquainted with his
compositions, fired by the accounts of those who
lived in his time, talk to this day of Neil Gow as if
they had tripped a thousand times to his spirit-stirring
and mirth-inspiring strains.

Living in the immediate neighbourhood of Dun-
keld House, he was early noticed and distinguished
by the Duke of Athol and his family, which was
soon followed by the patronage of the Duchess
of Gordon and the principal nobility and gentry
throughout Scotland. But while his permanent re-
sidence was at Inver, near Dunkeld, he was not only
employed at all the balls and fashionable parties in
the county, but was in almost constant requisition
at the great parties which took place at Perth, Cupar,
Dumfries, Edinburgh, and the principal towns in
Scotland. So necessary was he on such occasions,
and so much was his absence felt, that at one time,
when indisposition prevented him attending the
Cupar Hunt, the preses called on every lady and
gentleman present to "dedicate a bumper to the
better health of Neil Gow, a true Scottish character,
whose absence from the meeting no one could sufli-
ciently regret." We have already said that he lived
on terms of great familiarity with his superiors, in
whose presence he spoke his mind and cracked his
jokes, unawed by either their rank or wealth — indeed,
they generally delighted in drawing out his homely,

forcible, and humorous obse^^•ations; and while he,
in turn, allowed all good-humoured freedoms with
himself, he at the same time had sufficient independ-
ence to repel any undue exhibition of aristocratic
hauteur, and has brought the proud man to his cottage
with the white flag of peace and repentance, before he
would again consent to "wake the minstrel string"
in his halls. With the Duke of Athol and his family
a constant, kindly, and familiar intercourse was kept
up; indeed, so much did the duke keep his rank in
abeyance when Neil was concerned, that, when the
latter was sitting for his portrait to Sir Henry
Raeburn, his grace would accompany him to the
silting, and on leaving the artist, would proceed arm
in arm with the musician through Edinburgh, as
unreservedly as he would with one of the noble blood
of Hamilton or Argyle. The duke and duchess
walked one day with Neil to Stanley Hill, in the
neighbourhood of Dunkeld, when his grace began
pushing and struggling with him in a sportive humour,
until the latter at last fairly tumbled down the "brae."
The duchess, running to him, expressed her hope
that he was not hurt, to which he answered, "Nae-
thing to speak o', — I was the mair idiot to wrestle
wi' sic a fule !" at which they both laughed heartily.
The duke, Lord Lynedoch, and Lord Melville,
one day calling at Neil's house, were pressed
to take some shrub. Lord Mehnlle tasted it, and
was putting down the glass, when his host said, "Ye
maun tak' it out, my lord, it's very good, and came
frae my son Nathaniel — I ken ye're treasurer o' the
na\'y, but gin ye were treasurer o' the universe, ye
maunna leave a drap. " The duke at the same time
smelling his glass before he drank it, Neil said, "Ye
need na put it to your nose; ye have na better in
your ain cellar, for Nathaniel sends me naething but
the best." Being one day at Dunkeld House, Lady
Charlotte Drummond sat down to the piano-forte,
when Neil said to the duchess, "That lassie o' yours,
my leddy, has a gude ear." A gentleman present
said, "I thought, Neil, you had more manners than
to call her grace's daughter a lassie." To which our
musician replied, "What wud I ca' her? I never
heard she was a laddie;" which, while it more aston-
ished the gentleman, highly amused the noble parties
themselves. On another occasion in Athol House,
after supper was announced, a portion of the fashion-
able party lingered in the ball-room, unwilling to for-
sake the dance. Neil, who felt none of the fashion-
able indifference about supper and its accompani-
ments, soon lost patience, and addressing himself
to the ladies, cried out, "Gang doun to your supper,
ye daft limmers, and dinna hand me reelin' here, as
if hunger and drouth were unkent in the land — a
body can get naething dune for you." These say-
ings are not repeated so much to support any claim
to humour, as to illustrate the license which his re-
putation, popularity, and honest bluntness of char-
acter procured him among the highest of the land.

When at home, during the intersals of his profes-
sional labours, he was frequently visited by the
gentlemen of the county, as well as by strangers,
whose curiosity was excited by the notoriety of his
character. They would remain for hours with him,
in unconstrained conversation, and partaking of
whisky and honey, commonly called Athol brose,
or whatever else was going. Mr. Graham of
Orchill used to sit up whole nights with Neil Gow,
playing reels with him, and on one occasion Neil
exclaimed, "Troth, Orchill, you play weel; — be
thankfu'; if the French should overturn our countr}-,
you and I can win our bread, which is mair than
mony o' the great folk can say. " On one occasion,
when the Duchess of Gordon called for him, she

l40

NEIL COW.

complained of a giddiness and swimming in her head,
on which he said, "P'ailh, I ken something o' that
mysel', your grace; when I have been fou the night
afore, ye wad think that a bike o' bees were bizzing
in my bonnet tlie next morning."

In travelling he was fre(|uently spoken to by stran-
gers, to whom description had made his dress and
appearance familiar. At Hamilton, once, he was
accosted by two gentlemen, who begged to know his
name, which having told them, they immediately
said, "Oh! you are the very man we have come

from to see." "Am I?" replied Neil; "by my

saul, ye're the mair fules; I wadna gang half sae far
to see you." On another occasion, when crossing
in one of the passage-boats from Kirkcaldy to Leith,
several gentlemen entered into conversation with
him, and being strangers, instead of N'cil, as was
usual, they always adtlressed him as A/aster Gow.
When about to land, the Dunkeld carrier, happen-
ing to be on the pier said, "Ou, Neil, is this you?"
" Whisht, man," answered Neil, with a sly expression,
"let me land or ye ca' me Neil; I hae got naething
but Maister a' the way o'er."

There are few professions where persons are more
exposed or tempted to habits of indulgence in liquor,
than those whose calling it is to minister music to
the midnight and morning revel. The fatigue of
playing for hours in crowded and heated rooms — at
those times, too, which are usually devoted to sleep
— requires stimulants; and not a few have fallen
victims to habits acquired in such situations. But,
though exposed to these temptations as much as any
man ever was, Neil Gow was essentially sober and
temperate. He never indulged in vmmixed spirits,
and when at home, without company, seldom took
any drink but water. At the same time he was of
a social disposition, and delighted in the interchange
of friendly and hospitable intercourse; and it befits
not the truth of our chronicle to deny, that pnidence,
though often a conquerer, did not on every occasion
gain the race with good fellowship, or in plain words,
that Neil did not find, at the close of some friendly
sederunts, "the maut aboon the meal." At least
we would infer as much from an anecdote that has
been told of him. — Returning pretty early one morn-
ing from Rulhven works, where he had been attend-
ing a yearly ball, he was met with his fiddle under
his arm, near the bridge of Almond, by some of his
friends, who lamented the length of the road he had
to walk to Invcr, when Neil exclaimed, "Deil may
care for the length o' the road, it's only the breadth
o't that's fashin' me now." It was perhaps with
reference to the same occasion that a friend said to
him, "I suspect, Neil, ye've been the waur o' drink."
"The waur o' drink !" responded the musician; "na !
na ! I may have been fou, but I ne'er was the waur
o't." His son Nathaniel frequently sent him presents
of shrub and ale. In acknowledging one of them,
he wrote, "I received the box and twenty bottles of
ale, which is not good, — more hop than faith — too
strong o' the water, &c. My compliments to Meg,
and give her a guinea, and ask her which of the two
she would accept of first."

He was a man most exemplary in all the private
relations of life — a faithful husband, an affectionate
parent, and a generous friend. In more cases than
one he refused lands which were offered to him at a
trifling purchase, and which would have been worth
thousands to his successors, and chose the more
disinterested part, of giving money to the unfortunate
owners to enable them to purchase their lands back.
He not only had religion in his heart, but was
scrupulous in his external observances. He was
constant in his attendance at divine worship, and

had family prayers evening and morning in his own
house. In regard to his private character altogether,
we may quote from a very elegant biographical
sketch from the pen of Dr. Macknight, who knew
him well, and which appeared in the Scots jMagaziiie
in 1809: — "His moral and religious principles were
originally correct, rational, and heartfelt, and they
were never corrupted. His duty in the domestic
relations of life he uniformly fulfilled with exemplary
fidelity, generosity, and kindness. In short, by the
general integrity, prudence, and propriety of his
conduct, he deserved, and he lived and died possess-
ing, as large a portion of respect from his equals, and
of good-will from his superiors, as has ever fallen to
the lot of any man of his rank."

In a professional point of view Neil Gow is to be
judged according to circumstances. He never had
the advantage of great masters, and indeed was
almost entirely self-taught. It would be idle to
inquire what he might have been had he devoted
himself to the science as a study. He did not, so
far as is known, attempt the composition of difficult
or concerted pieces; and it is believed did not do
much even in the way of arrangement to his own
melodies. He was one of nature's musicians, and
confined himself to what genius can conceive and
execute, without the intervention of much science —
the composition of melodies : and, after all, melody
is the true test of musical genius; — no composi-
tion, however philosophical, learned, and elabo-
rate, can live, if it wants its divine inspiration; and
the science of Handel, Haydn, and Mozart would
not have rescued their names from oblivion, had the
soul of melody not sparkled like a gem through all
the cunning framework and arrangement of their
noble compositions. He composed a great number
of tunes, nearly a hundred of which are to be found
in the collections published by his son Nathaniel at
Edinburgh. The greater portion of them are of a
lively character, and suited for dancing, such as reels,
strathspeys, and quick-steps. It would not be in-
teresting in a notice like this to enumerate the titles
of so many compositions; but we may safely refer to
the beautiful air of Loeher?-och Side, to w^hich Burns
wrote his pathetic ballad of Oh! stay, s-wcet warbling
IVoodlark, stay, and which is equally effective as a
quick dancing tune — to the Lament for Abereairney,
and his Fareivell to Whisky — as specimens which
entitled him to take his place among the best-known
composers of Scottish music which our country has
produced.

As a performer of Scottish music on the violin,
we have already said that he was acknowledged to
have been the ablest of his day ; and we cannot do
better than once more quote from the biographic
sketch written by Dr. Macknight, himself a skilful
violinist, and wlio frequently heard Neil play, to
illustrate the peculiar character of his style: — "There
is perhaps no species whatever of music executed
on the violin, in which the characteristic expression
depends more on the power of the boiv, particularly
in what is called the upward or returning stroke, than
the Highland reel. Here accordingly was Gow's «
forte. His bow-hand, as a suitable instrument of his B
genius, was uncommonly powerful ; and when the ?
note produced by the up-bozv was often feeble and
indistinct in other hands, it was struck in his play-
ing with a strength and certainty which never failed
to surprise and delight the skilful hearer. As an
example may be mentioned his manner of striking
the tenor C in Athol House. To this extraordin-
ary power of the bow, in the hand of great original
genius, must be ascribed the singular felicity of ex-
pression which lie gave to all his music, and the

JAMES GRAHAM.

141

native Highland gout of certain tunes, such as Tiil-
loch Goruni, in which his taste and style of bowing
could never be exactly reached by any other per-
former. We may add the effect of the sudden shout,
with which he frequently accompanied his playing
in the quick tunes, and which seemed instantly to
electrify the dancers; inspiring them with new life and
energy, and rousing the spirits of the most inanimate.
Thus it has been well obsers'ed, ' the violin in his
hands sounded like the harp of Ossian, or the lyre
of Orpheus,' and gave reality to the poetic fictions
which describe the astonishing effects of their per-
formance."

Such was the estimation in which Xeil Gow was
held, that Sir Henry Raeburn, the most eminent
portrait painter then in Scotland, was employed first
to paint his portrait for the county-hall of Perth, and
afterwards separate portraits for the Duke of Athol,
Lord Gray, and the Honourable Mr. Maule of Pan-
mure, besides his portrait in possession of his grand-
daughter Mrs. Luke, and many copies scattered
through the country. His portrait has also been
introduced into the Vir^u of a Highland IVeddiiig,
by Mr. Allan, along with an admirable likeness of
his brother Donald, who was his steady and constant
violoncello.

Neil Gow was twice manned — first to Margaret
Wiseman, by whom he had five sons and three
daughters. Of these, three sons and two daughters
died before himself, but not before two of his sons,
William and Andrew, had acquired a reputation as
violin-players worthy of the name they bore ; the
former having succeeded M'Glashan as leader of the
fashionable bands at Edinburgh, and the latter hav-
ing acquired some wealth in London in prosecuting
his profession. He was kind and affectionate to all
his children, and during the last illness of his son
Andrew he brought him from London. On this
subject he wrote, "If the spring were a little ad-
vanced and warmer, I would have Andrew come
down by sea, and I will come to Edinburgh or Dun-
dee to conduct him home. We will have milk
which he can get warm from the cow, or fresh but-
ter, or whey, or chickens. He shall not want for
anything." Andrew's eyes were closed by his father
under the roof where he was born. Xeil Gow took
as his second wife Margaret Urquhart, by whom he
had no family, and who pre-deceased himself a few
years. He retained his faculties to the last, and
continued to play till within a year or two of his
death. About two years before that event he seemed
to feel the decay of his powers, and wrote to his son
Nathaniel: — "I received your kind invitation to
come over to you, but I think I will stay where I
am. It will not be long, for I am very sore failed."
He died at Inver, where he was born, on the 1st
of March, 1807, in the eightieth year of his age,
after acquiring a competence, which was divided
among his children. He left behind him two sons
and a daughter : John, who settled in London as
leader of the fashionable Scottish bands, and died
in 1827, after acquiring a large fortune; Nathaniel,
who settled in Edinburgh, and of whom we have
given a brief memoir ; and Margaret, who survived
her brothers. Neil Gow was buried in Little Dun-
keld Church, where a marble tablet was raised to
his memory by his sons John and Nathaniel.

GRAHAM, James, the celebrated Marquis of
Montrose, was born in the year 1612, and succeeded
to his father, John Earl of Montrose, in 1626, being
then only fourteen years of age. As he was the only
son of the family, he was persuaded by his friends to
marry soon after, which greatly retarded his educa-

tion. Preceptors were, however, brought into his
house, and by assiduous study he became a tolerable
proficient in the Latin and Greek languages. He
afterwards travelled into foreign parts, where he
spent some years in the attainment of modern lan-
guages, and practising the various exercises then in
vogue. He returned to Scotland about the year
1634, with the reputation of being one of the most
accomplished gentlemen of the age. Being a man
of large expectations, and meeting with a reception
at court which he considered not equal to his merits,
he, on the 15th of November, 1637, joined the
Tables at Edinburgh, to the great dismay of the
bishops, who, according to Guthrie, "thought it
time to prepare for a storm, when he engaged."
That the reader may be at no loss to understand our
narrative, it may not be improper here to inform him
that the Tables were committees for managing the
cause of the people in the contest they were at this
time engaged in with the court for their religion and
liberties: they were in number four — one for the no-
bility, another for the gentrj-, a third for the boroughs,
a fourth for the ministers; and there was a special
one, consisting of delegates from each of the four.
The Table of the nobility, we may also remark, con-
sisted of the Lords Rothes, Lindsay, Loudon, and
Montrose, the two latter of whom were unquestion-
ably the ablest and probably the most efficient mem-
bers. In point of zeal, indeed, at this period Mon-
trose seems to have exceeded all his fellows. When
Traquair published the king's proclamation approv-
ing of the Service Book, Montrose stood not only on
the scaffold beside Mr. Archibald Johnston while he
read the protestation in name of the Tables, but got
up, that he might overlook the crowd, upon the end
of a puncheon, which gave occasion to the prophetic
jest of Rothes, recorded with solemn gravity by Gor-
don of Straloch — "James, you will never be at rest
till you be lifted up there above your fellows in a
rope; which was after\vards," he adds, "accom-
plished in earnest in that same place, and some even
say that the same supporters of the scaffold were
made use of at Montrose's execution." The Tables
having prepared for renewing the national covenant,
it was sworn by all ranks assembled at Edinburgh
on the last of February, and 1st of March, 1638,
and, in a short time, generally throughout the king-
dom. In this celebrated transaction Montrose was
a leading actor. In preparing, swearing, and impos-
ing the covenant, especially in the last, no man seems
to have been more zealous. In the fullest confidence
of his faithfulness and zeal he had been nominated,
along \%'ith Alexander Henderson and David Dickson,
to proceed to Aberdeen, in order to persuade that re-
fractoiy city, the only opposing one in the kingdom,
to harmonize with the other parts of it; but they
made very few converts, and were, upon the whole,
treated in no friendly manner. The pulpits of Aber-
deen they found universally shut against them, nor
even in the open street did they meet with anything
like a respectful audience. This triumph of the
northern Episcopalians was carefully reported to
Charles by the Marquis of Huntly; and the monarch
was so much gratified by even this partial success of
his favourite system, that, at the ver)^ moment when
he was showing a disposition to give way to the
Covenanters, he wrote letters of thanks to the magis-
trates and doctors, promising them at all times his
favour and protection. Montrose soon after returned
to Edinburgh, and through the whole of the eventful
year 163S, to all appearance, acted most cordially in
favour of the covenant.

In the beginning of the year 1639, when the Cove-
nanters had finallv set the king at defiance by abolish-

142

TAMES GRAHAM.

ing Episcopacy, and were preparing to defend their
measures by force of arms, Montrose received another
commission to visit the Aberdonians, and to provide
against the probability of their stirring up an insur-
rection in the north when his majesty might be draw-
ing the public attention wholly towards the south.
\Vhile Montrose was preparing for this expedition,
having learned that a meeting of the Covenanters in
that quarter had been appointed at Turriff, and that
Huntly, who had taken possession of Aberdeen, had
written to his friends and followers to assemble for
the purpose of preventing the meeting, he resolved to
protect his friends, and insure their convocation in
spite of Huntly. For this purpose he collected only
a few of his friends upon whom he could depend,
and by one of those rapid movements by which he
was aftenvards so much distinguished, led them
across that wild moiintainous range that divides
Angus from Aberdeenshire; and, on the morning of
February the 14th, took possession of Turriff ere one
of the opposite party was aware of his having left
Angus. Huntly's van, beginning to arrive in the
forenoon, were astonished to find the place occupied
in a hostile manner, and retired to the broad ford of
Towie, about two miles to the south of Turriff, where
Huntly and his train from Aberdeen shortly after
joined them. Here it was debated whether they
should advance and attack the place, or withdraw for
the present; and being enjoined by his commission
from the king to act as yet only on the defensive,
Huntly himself dissolved the meeting, though it was
upwards of 20CO strong. This formidable array
only convinced Montrose that there was no time to
lose in preparing to meet it; and hastening ne.\t day
to his own countr)-, he began to raise and to array
troops, according to the commission he held from
the Tables. Seconded by the energ}- and patriotism
of the people, his activity was such, that in less than
a month he was at the head of a well-appointed
army of horse and foot, drawn from the immediate
neighbourhood, at the head of which he marched
directly north, and on the 29th of March approached
the town of Aberdeen. The doctors who had given
him so much trouble on his former mission did not
think fit to wait his coming on this occasion, and the
pulpits were at the service of any of his followers
who chose to occupy them. It is admitted on all
hands that Montrose on this first visit acted %\ilh
great moderation. Leaving a garrison in Aberdeen
under the Earl of Kiughom, he set out on the 1st of
April to meet the Marquis of Huntly, who had now
dismissed his followers and retired to one of his
castles. On the approach of Montrose, Huntly sent
his friend Gordon of Straloch to meet him and to
propose an armistice; and for this purpose a meeting
took place between the parties at the \lllage of
Lowess, about midway between Aberdeen and the
castle of Strathbogie. The stipulations under which
this meeting took place were strongly characteristic
of a semi-barbarous state of society. Each of the
parties was to be accompanied by eleven followers,
and those armed only with swords. Each party,
too, before meeting, sent an advance-guard to search
the other, in case any of the parties might have for-
gotten or overlooked this so far pacific arrangement.
After considerable time spent in rather passionate
conversation, it was agreed between them that Mon-
trose should march his army from Inverur\-, where it
was now encamped, to Aberdeen, leaving Huntly
and his countrj-men in the meantime unmolested.
Guthrie affirms that Huntly subscribed a writ sub-
stantially the same with the covenant. Other writers
contradict this, and say that he only signed a bond
of maintenance, a.s it was called, obliging himself to

maintain the king's authority and the laws and reli-
gion at that time established, which indeed app)ears
substantially the same with the covenant, though
the phrase "established religion "was somewhat equi-
vocal, and probably was the salvo, on this occasion,
of the marquis's conscience. Montrose, on his re-
turn to Aberdeen, without any of the formalities of
moral suasion, imposed the covenant, at the f)oint of
the sword, up>on the inhabitants of the town and
the surrounding country, who ver)' generally accepted
it, as there was no other way in which they could
escape the outrages of the soldierj*. As a contribu-
tion might have been troublesome to uplift, a hand-
some subsidy of 10,000 merks from the magistrates
was accepted as an equivalent. This is the only in-
stance with which we are acquainted in which the
covenant was really forced upon conscientious recu-
sants at the sword's point; and it is worthy of remark,
that the agent in the compulsion was one of the most
idolized of the opposite party. Ha\"ing thus, as he
supposed, completely quieted the country, Montrose
gave it in charge to the Erasers and the Forbeses,
and on the 13th of April marched for Edinburgh
with his whole army, lea\'ing the Aberdonians,
though they had put on a show of conformity, more
exasperated against the Covenanters than ever.
Scarcely had the army left the city than, to testify
their contempt and hatred of their late guests, the
ladies began to dress up their dogs with collars of
blue ribbons, calling them, in derision, Covenanters,
a joke for which they were, in the sequel, amply
repaid.

In the meantime the preparations of the king were
rapidly going forward, and by the 1st of May the
Marquis of Hamilton, his lieutenant, entered the
Firth of Forth, with a fleet of twenty-eight saU, hav-
ing on board 5000 foot-soldiers and a large quantity
of arms. This circumstance had no real effect but to
demonstrate the utter hopelessness of the king's cause
to all those who witnessed it; yet, operating upon
the highly excited feelings of the Gordons, they flew
to arms, though they had no proper leader, the Mar-
quis of Huntly being by this time a prisoner in Edin-
burgh Castle. Their first movement was an attack,
18th May, upon a meeting of Covenanters at Turriff,
which, being taken by surprise, was easily dispersed,
few persons being either killed or wounded on either
side. This was the first collision of the kind that
took place between the parties, the prologue, as it
were, to the sad drama that was to follow; and it
has ever since been remembered by the ludicrous ap-
pellation of "The Trot of Turriff." Proceeding to
Aberdeen, the Gordons, as the fruit of their victor)-,
quartered themselves upon their friends the citizens
of that loyal city, where they gave themselves up to
the most lawless license. Here they were met by
the historian Gordon of Straloch, who endeavoured
to reason them into more becoming conduct, but in
vain. Finding that they intended to attack the earl-
marischal, who was now resident at Dunnottar Castle,
Straloch hastened thither to mediate between them
and the earl, and, if possible, to prevent the effusion
of human blood. The Gordons followed rapidly on
his heels ; but having lain one night in the open
fields, and finding the earl-marischal determined to
oppose them, they at last hearkened to the advice of
Straloch, and agreed to disband themselves without
committing further outrages. Unhappily, however,
they had been joined at Durris by 1000 Highlanders,
under Lord Lewis Gordon, third son to the Marquis
of Huntly, who, though a mere boy, had made his
escape from his guardians, assumed the Highland
dress, and appeared at the head of these outrageous
loyalists for the interests of his father. This band of

JAMES GRAHAM.

143

looo heroes it was impossible to send home till they
hail indulged their patriotic feelings among the goods
and chattels of their supposed enemies, which they
did to such an extent as to provoke the deepest re-
sentment. The earl-marischal with his little army
advanced against them, and on the 23d of May
entered Aberdeen, thirty Highland barons making a
precipitate retreat before him.

For the suppression of these insurrections Montrose
had been again commissioned to the north with an
army of 4000 men, with which he entered Aberdeen
on the 25th of IVIay, only two days after the earl-
marischal. Having discovered by numerous inter-
cepted letters the real feelings of the inhabitants, and
that their former compliance with his demands had
been mere hypocrisy, practised for the purpose of
saving their goods, Montrose imposed upon them
another fine of 10,000 merks, his men at the same
time making free with whatever they thought fit to
take, no protections being granted, save to a very few
burgesses who were known to be genuine Covenanters.
In revenge for the affront put upon their blue ribbon
by the ladies, not one single dog upon which the
soldiers could lay their hands was left alive within
the wide circuit of Aberdeen. The Gordons, mean-
while, learning that the Frasers and the Forbeses
were advancing to join Montrose, crossed the Spey
with 1000 foot and upwards of 300 horse, and took
post on a field near Elgin, where the Frasers and
Forbeses lay with an army superior to theirs in
number. A parley ensued, and it was settled that
neither party should cross the Spey to injure the
other. Both parties of course sought their native
quarters; and the Gordons, sensible of their inability
to cope with Montrose, determined individually to
seek each his own safety. Having nothing else to
do, and possessing abundance of artillery, Montrose
resolved to reduce the principal strength belonging
to the party, and for this end had just sat down
before Gicht, the residence of Sir Robert Gordon,
when he learned that the Earl of Aboyne, second son
of the Marquis of Huntly, had arrived at Aberdeen
with three ships, having obtained from the king at
York a commission of lieutenancy over the whole
north of Scotland. He of course hasted back to
Aberdeen, where he arrived on the 5th of June.
Aboyne had not yet landed, but for what reason does
not appear. Alontrose left Aberdeen next day,
marching southward with all his forces, as did the
earl-marischal at the same time. Aboyne of course
landed, and raising his father's vassals and dependants,
to the number of 4000 men, took possession of Aber-
deen— at the cross of which he published the king's
proclamation, bestowing all the lands of the Cove-
nanters upon their opponents. He then proposed
to attack Montrose and the earl-marischal, marching
for this purpose along the sea-coast, ordering his
ships with the cannon and ammunition to attend his
progress. A west wind arising, drove the ships
with his artillery and ammunition out to sea, so that
he came in contact with Montrose and the earl-mar-
ischal advantageously posted on the Meagra Hill, a
little to the south of Stonehaven, without the means
of making any impression upon them. A few shots
from the field-pieces of Montrose so completely dis-
heartened the followers of Aboyne, that they fell
back upon Aberdeen in a state of utter confusion,
with the loss of half their number, leaving to the
Covenanters a bloodless victory. Aboyne was
rapidly followed by the victors; but with the gentle-
men who yet adhered to him he took post at the
Bridge of Dee, which he determined to defend, for
the preservation of Aberdeen. Montrose attacked
this position on the iSth of June, with his usual im-

petuosity, and it was maintained for a whole day
with great bravery. Ne.xt morning Montrose made
a movement as if he intended to cross the river
farther up; and the attention of the defenders being
thus distracted, Middleton made a desperate charge,
and carried the bridge in defiance of all opposition.
The routed and dispirited loyalists fled with the
utmost trepidation towards the town, and were
closely pursued by the victorious Covenanters.
Aberdeen was now again in the hands of the men of
whom it had more reason than ever to be afraid: it
had already endured repeated spoliations at the
hands of both parties, and was at last threatened
with indiscriminate pillage. At their first entry into
the town, June 19th, the troops behaved with great
rudeness; every person suspected of being engaged
in the last insurrection was thrown into prison, and
the general crj' of the army was to set the town on
fire. There was some disagreement, however,
among the chiefs respecting the execution of such a
severe measure, and next day the question was set
at rest by the news of the pacification of Ber\vick,
which had been concluded on the iSth, the day that
the parties had been so hotly engaged at the Bridge
of Dee. Montrose was probably not a little sorry
to be confined in the north quelling parties of High-
land royalists, when there was a probability of actions
of much greater importance taking place in another
quarter, upon which the eyes of all men were fixed
with a much more intense interest than they could
possibly be upon the rock of Dunnottar, the bog of
Gicht, or even the "brave town of Aberdeen."
Now that a settlement had taken place, he hastened
to the head-quarters, that he might have his propor-
tion of what was to be dealt out on the occasion,
whether it were public honours, public places, or
private emoluments.

It now struck the mind of the king that if he could
but gain over the nobility to his side, the opposition
of the lower classes would be rendered of little
efficacy; and that he might have an opportunity of
employing his royal eloquence for that purpose, he
invited fourteen of the most influential of the gran-
dees that had taken part against him to \^■ait upon
his court at Berwick, under the pretence of consulting
them on the measures he meant to adopt for promot-
ing the peace and the prosperity of the country.
Aware of his design, the states sent only three of
their number, Montrose, Loudon, and Lothian, to
make an apology for the non-appearance of the re-
mainder. The apology, however, was not accepted;
and by the king's special command they wrote for
the noblemen who had been named to follow them.
This the noblemen probably were not backward to
do; but a rumour being raised that he intended to
seize upon them, and send the whole prisoners to
London, the populace interfered, and, to prevent a
tumult, the journey was delayed. Charles was
highly offended with this conduct ; and being
strongly cautioned by his courtiers against trusting
himself among the unruly Scots, he departed for
England, brooding over his depressed cause and
the means of regaining that influence of which he
had been deprived by his subjects. Of those who
did wait upon him he succeeded in seducing only
one, the Earl of Montrose, who was disappointed in
being placed under General Leslie, and who had of
late become particularly jealous of Argvle. How
much reason Charles had to be proud of such an ac-
quisition we shall see in the sequel, though there can
be no doubt that the circumstance emboldened him
to proceed in his policy of only granting a set of
mock reforms to the Scottish people, with the secret
purpose of afterwards replacing the affairs of the

144

JAMES GRAHAM.

kingdom on the same footing as before. In the
spirit of this design the Earl of Traquair, who was
nominated his majesty's commissioner for holding
the stipulated parliament and General Assembly, was
directed to allow the abolition of Episcopacy, not as
unlawful, but for settling the present disorders, and
on no account to allow the smallest appearance of
the bishops concurring 'though several of them had
already done so and did concur) in the deed. He
was to consent to the covenant being subscribed as
it originally was in 15S0, "provided it be so con-
ceived that our subjects do not thereby be required
to abjure Episcopacy as a part of Poperj', or against
God's law." If the assembly required it to be ab-
jured, as contrary to the constitution of the Church
of Scotland, he was to y-ield rather than make a
breach : and the proceedings of the assembly at
Glasgow he was to ratify, not as deeds of that meet-
ing, all mention of which he was to avoid, but as
acts of this present assembly; and to make everj-thing
sure his own way when the assembly business was
closed, immediately before prayers, he was enjoined
to make protestation, in the fairest way possible, that
in respect of his majesty "not coming to the assembly
in person, and his instructions being hastily written,
many things may have occurred upon which he had
not his majesty's pleasure; therefore, in case anything
had escaped him, or been condescended upon preju-
judicial to his majesty's service, his majesty may be
heard for redress thereof in his own time and place."
By these and other devices of a similar character
Charles imagined that he could lawfully render the
whole proceedings of the assembly null and void at
any time he might think it proper to declare himself
Traquair seconded the views of his master with
great dexterity, and the assembly suspecting no bad
faith, even,-thing was amicably adjusted.

In the parliament that sat down on the last day of
August, 1639, the day after the rising of the General
Assembly, matters did not go quite so smoothly.
Episcopacy being abolished, and with it the civil
power of churchmen, the fourteen bishops, who had
formed the third estate of the kingdom in parliament,
were wanting. To fill up this deficiency, the other
two estates proposed, instead of the bishops, to elect
fourteen persons from the lower barons; but this was
protested against by the commissioner, and by and
by their proceedings were interrupted by an order
for their prorogation till the 2d day of June, 1640.
Against this prorogation the house protested as an
invasion of their rights; but they nevertheless gave
instant obedience, after they had appointed commis-
sioners to remonstrate with his majesty, and to sup-
plicate him for a revisal of his commands. Before
these commissioners found their way into the presence
of Charles, however, he had fully resolved upon re-
newing the war, and all the arguments they could
urge were of course unavailing. Charles, on this
occasion, certainly displayed a want of consideration
which was verj' extraordinar)-; he had emptied his
treasury by his last fruitless campaign, yet continued
his preparations against Scotland, though he could
not raise one penny but by illegal and desperate ex-
pedients, which alienated the hearts of his English
subjects more and more from him ever)' day. The
Scots were, at the same time, perfectly aware of
what was intended, and they made such preparations
as were in their power to avert the danger. As the
subject of this memoir, however, seems not to have
taken any particular or prominent part in these pre-
parations, we must pass them over, referring the
reader to the lives of those individuals who at this
time took the most active part in conducting public
affairs. Suffice it to say that, to oppose the army of

Charles, which he had with great difficulty increased
to 19,000 foot and 20CX) horse, the Scots had an army
of 23,000 foot, 3000 horse, and a considerable train
of artiller}-. Of this army Alexander Leslie was
again appointed commander-in-chief; Lord Almond,
brother to the Earl of Livingston, lieutenant-general;
W. Baillie, of the Lamington family, major-general;
Colonel A. Hamilton, general of artillery; Colonel
John Leslie, quartermaster-general; and A. Gibson,
younger, of Durie, commissar}--general. The nobles
in general had the rank of colonel, with the assist-
ance of veteran officers as lieutenant-colonels. Mon-
trose, though his disaffection to the cause was now
no secret, had still as formerly two regiments, one of
horse and another of foot. All these appointments
were made in the month of April, 1640, but except-
ing some smaller bodies for suppressing local risings
in the north, the army did not begin to assemble till
the middle of July, and it was not till the end of that
month that it was marched to Chouseley Wood, about
four miles to the west of Dunse, and within six ot
the border.

The Scots had from the beginning of these troubles
determined to carrj' the war, should war become
inevitable, into England. This was sound policy;
but as they did not wish to make war upon the
English people, who were suffering equally with
themselves, and were making the most praiseworthy
exertions to limit the royal prerogative, it required
no ordinar)' degree of prudence to carry it into exe-
cution. The leaders of the covenant, however, pos-
sessed powers fully adequate for the occasion. Not-
withstanding of their warlike preparations, which
were upon a scale equal to the magnitude of the en-
terprise, they continued to presers-e the most perfect
decorum, both of language and manner; and they
sent before the army two printed papers, the one
entitled "Six Considerations, manifesting theLawful-
ness of their Expedition into England," the other
"The Intentions of the i\rmy of the Kingdom of
Scotland declared to their Brethren of England."
In these papers, which for cogency of argument and
elegance of composition may safely be compared
with any similar productions of any age, they set
forth in strong but temperate language the nature,
the number, and the aggravations of their grievances.
Their representations coming in the proper time,
had the most powerful effect. If there was yet, at
the time the parliament was convened, in a majority
of the people some tenderness towards the power of
the monarch and the dignity of the prelates, ever)--
thing of the kind was now gone. The dissolution of
a parliament, which for twelve years had been so im-
patiently expected, and so firmly depended on for
at least a partial redress of grievances, and the in-
numerable oppressions that had been crowded into
the short space between that dissolution and this ap-
pearance on the part of the Scots, together with the
exorbitances of the convocation — that, contrary' to
all former precedent, had been allowed to sit, though
the parliament was dissolved — had so wrought upon
the minds of men, that the threatenings these re-
monstrances breathed against prelates were grateful .
to the English nation, and the sharp expressions ■
against the form and discipline of the Established ^
church gave no offence save to the few who com-
posed the court faction. So completely did these
declarations meet the general feeling, that the Scots
were expected with impatience, and ever\' accident
that retarded their march was regarded as hurtful
to the interests of the public. The northern
counties, which lay immediatelj' exposed to the
invasion, absolutely refused to lend money to pay
troops, or to furnish horses to mount the mus-.

JAMES GRAHAM.

145

queteers ; and the train-bands would not stir a foot
without pay.

Anxious to make good their professions, the Scots
were some time before they could advance, for want
of money. The small supplies with which they had
commenced operations being already nearly ex-
hausted, two of the most popular of the nobility,
along with Mr. Alexander Henderson and Secretary
Johnston, were sent back to Edinburgh to see what
could be done in the way of procuring gratuitous
supplies. As it would have been displeasing to the
English had the army been under the necessity of
cutting down trees for erecting huts, as had been the
practice in former times, when inroads were made
upon their border, the commissioners were instructed
to use their influence with their countrymen to pro-
vide as much cloth as would serve for tents during
their encampments in that country. It was late on
a Saturday night when the commissioners arrived in
Edinburgh, but the exhortations of the ministers
next day were so effectual, that on Monday the women
of Edinburgh alone produced webs of coarse linen,
vulgarly called ham, nearly sufiicient for tents to
the whole army; and the married men, with equal
promptitude, advanced the sum of ;^i20,ooo, with
a promise of remitting as much more in a few days,
which they did accordingly. Having obtained these
supplies and a considerable train of black cattle
and sheep to be used as provisions, the Scottish
army moved from Chouseley Wood towards Cold-
stream, where they intended to enter England by
a well-known ford over the Tweed. The river being
swollen, they were obliged to camp on a spacious plain
called Hirsel Haugh, till the flood should subside;
and here they first proved the cloth furnished them
for tents by the good women of Edinburgh. On
the 20th, the river having sunk to its ordinary level,
it was resolved that the army should march for-
ward. This, however, was considered so momen-
tous an affair, that not one of the leading men
would volunteer to be the first to set hostile feet
upon the English border; and it was left to the
lot to decide who should have the honour or the
demerit of doing so. The lot fell upon Mon-
trose, who, aware of his own defection, and afraid
of those suspicions with which he already saw him-
self regarded, eagerly laid hold of this opportunity
to lay them asleep. Plunging at once into the stream
he waded through to the other side without a single
attendant, but immediately returned to encourage
his men ; and a line of horse being planted on the
upper side of the ford to break the force of the stream,
the foot passed easily and safely, only one man being
drowned of the whole army. The commanders, like
Montrose, with the exception of those who com-
manded the horse employed to break the force of
the water, waded at the head of their respective regi-
ments, and though it was four o'clock, p.m. before
they began to pass, the whole were on the English
side before midnight. They encamped for that night
on a hill that had been occupied by a troop of Eng-
lish horse set to guard the ford, but which had fled
before the superior force of the Scottish army; large
fires were kindled in advance, which, says one of
the actors in the scene, "rose like so many heralds
proclaiming our crossing of the river, or rather like
so many prodigious comets foretelling the fall of this
ensuing storm upon our enemies in England;" con-
trary to the intentions of the Scots, "these fires so
terrified the country people, that they all fled with
bag and baggage towards the south parts of the coun-
try," according to the above author, "leaving their
desolate houses to the mercy of the army." Charles
left London to take command of his army, which

VOL. II.

had already rendezvoused at York, on the same day
the Scottish army crossed the Tweed. This army,
as we have stated above, was said to be 21,000
strong; but from the aversion of the people in gene-
ral to the service, there is reason to suppose that in
reality it fell far short of that number. The Earl
of Northumberland was nominated to the command,
but he felt, says an English historian, disgusted at
being called forth to act the most conspicuous part
in a business which no good man in the kingdom
relished; and taking advantage of a slight indisposi-
tion, he declared himself unfit to perform the duties
of his function. Strafford, of course, exercised the
supreme command, though only with the title of
lieutenant-general, not caring to assume that of
general, because of the envy and odium that attended
him. Lord Conway, who commanded under Straf-
ford, had been stationed at Newcastle with a strong
garrison to protect the town, which it was supposed
he miglit easily do, as it was fortified, and well stored
with provisions.

On the 2 1st the Scottish army marched in the
direction of Newcastle, and encamped for the night
on Millfield Race. On the 22d they proceeded to
the river Glen, where they were joined by about
7000 of their brethren, who had entered England
by Kelso. The whole marched the same night to
^iiddleton Haugh. On Thursday the 27th they
came in sight of Newcastle. During this whole
march the Scots acted up to their previous profes-
sions ; every Englishman that came into the camp
they caressed and loaded with kindness, and now
they despatched a dnmimer to Newcastle with two
letters, one to the mayor, and another to the military
governor of the city, demanding in the most civil
manner liberty to pass peaceably through, that they
might lay their petition at the feet of their sovereign.
The messenger was, however, sent back with his
letters unopened, because they were sealed ; and
before he reached the army in his return, the general
had deteiTTiined to pass the Tyne at Newbum, about
five or six miles above Newcastle. The principal
ford below the village of Newbum, as Avell as two
others, Conway had commanded by trenches, but
as the river was passable in many other places not
far distant, he had resolved on a retreat. Strafford,
however, who undervalued the Scots, was anxious
for a battle, if it were only to see what was the mettle
of the parties, and commanded him to abide at his
post. In approaching Newburn, General Leslie
and a few of the chief noblemen, riding a little in
advance, narrowly escaped being cut off by a party
of English horse that had crossed the Tyne for the
purpose of reconnoitring. At sight of each other,
both parties called a halt, and some more of the
Scottish horse appearing, the English judged it pru-
dent to retreat. The Scots during the night en-
camped on Hadden Law, a rising ground behind
Newbum, having a plain descent all the way down
to the water's edge. The English were encamped
on the opposite side of the Tyne, on a perfect level,
that extended behind them to the distance of more
than half a mile. The Scottish position was deficient
in water, but in return they had abundance of coal
from the pits in the neighbourhood, with which they
made great fires all around their camp, which tended
not a little to magnify their appearance to the enemy.
In the morning it was found that their camp over-
looked completely that of the English, and they were
able from the nature of the ground to plant their
cannon so as to command completely the trenches
cast up by the English at the fords. The morning
was spent coolly in making preparations, both parties
watering their horses at the river (the tide being up)

43

146

JAMES GRAHAM.

without molestation. As the river became fordable,
however, they became more jealous, and about mid-
day a Scottish officer watering his horse, and look-
ing steadily on the entrenchments on the opposite
side, was shot dead by an English sentinel. This
was the signal for battle : the Scottish batteries im-
mediately opened, and the trenches thrown up by
the English at the fords were soon rendered unten-
able. A few horsemen volunteers under a Major
Ballantyne, sent over the water to reconnoitre, with
orders only to fire at a distance, and to retreat if
necessary, found the whole of the breastworks aban-
doned. The general's guard, consisting of the College
of Justice's troop, commanded by Sir Thomas Hope,
with two regiments of foot, Crawfurd'sand Loudon's,
were then sent across; and a battery being opened at
the same time from a hill to the eastward, directly
upon the great body of the English horse on the
plain below, a retreat was sounded, the cannon were
withdrawn from the trenches, and the Scots passed
in full force without farther opposition. The Eng-
lish foot sought refuge in a wood, and the horse, in
covering their retreat, were attacked by a fresh body
of Scots, defeated with some loss, and their com-
manders made prisoners. The scattered parties es-
caped under cover of night, to carry dismay and
confusion into the main body. The loss was incon-
siderable, but the rout was complete. The English
horse, who but the day before had left Newcastle
with their swords drawn, threatening to kill each
a dozen of Covenanters, made their way into the
town in a state of the utmost disorder and dismay,
crying, as they rode full speed through the streets,
for a guide to Durham, and having strewed the roads
behind them with their arms, which they had thrown
away in their haste to escape. The Scottish army
rested that night upon the ground which the English
had occupied, one regiment being still on the north
side of the Tyne with the baggage, which the return
of the tide had prevented being brought across.
Despatches for the governor and mayor of Newcastle,
of the same respectful character as had been formerly
sent, were prepared on the morning of Saturday ;
but the committee learning that the garrison had
abandoned it during the night, and retired with Lord
Conway to join the main army at York, it was thought
proper to advance without ceremony. The army
accordingly moved to Whiggam, within two miles
of Newcastle, where they encamped for the night,
and next morning, Sunday the 30th of August, the
mayor sent an invitation to enter the town. The
troops were accordingly marched into a field near
the suburbs, after which the gates were thrown open,
and the committee, with the principal leaders, entered
the town in state. Sir Thomas Hope's troop marshal-
ling the way, and the laird of Westquarter's com-
pany of foot keeping the post at the end of the
bridge. The whole company were feasted at the house
of the mayor, who was astonished to observ^e that
they all drank his majesty's health. After dinner
the company repaired to the great church of St.
Nicholas, where a thanksgiving sermon was preached
by Mr. Henderson. In the town they found next
day between 40CXD and 5000 stand of arms, 5000
pounds weight of cheese, some hundreds of bolls of
pease and rye, a quantity of hard fish, with abund-
ance of beer; which had been provided for the
king's troops, but now was taken possession of by
his enemies.

Nothing could be more encouraging than tlie pro-
spects of the Covenanters at this time. The same
day in which they gained the victory at Newburn,
the castle of Dumbarton, then reckoned an impreg-
nable fortress, surrendered to their friends in Scot-

land, as did shortly after that of Edinburgh; and the
capture of Newcastle was speedily followed by the
acquisition of Durham, Tynemouth, and Shields.
The number and the splendour of these successes,
with the delightful anticipations which they naturally
called forth, could not fail to strike every pious mind
among the Scots; and a day was most appropriately
set apart by the army as a day of fasting and prayer,
in acknowledgment of their sense of the divine good-
ness. Strafford, who, from bad health, had not yet
come into action, was hastening to the combat when
he met his discomfited army at Durham ; and, from
the ill-timed haughtiness which he displayed, was
soon the only enemy his army was desirous to over-
come. His soldiers even went the length of vindi-
cating their conduct at Newburn ; affirming that no
man could wish success to the war against the Scots,
without at the same time wishing the enslavement
of England. The prudent magnanimity of the Scots,
who, far from being elated with the victoiy, deplored
the necessity of being obliged to shed the blood of
their English brethren, not only supported, but
heightened, the favourable opinion that had been
from the beginning entertained of them. Their
prisoners, too, they treated not only with civility,
but with such soothing and affectionate kindness
as insured their gratitude, and called forth the plau-
dits of the whole nation. Eager to profit by this
state of things, in restoring order and concord be-
tween the king and his people, the Scottish com-
mittee, on the 2d of September, sent a letter to the
Earl of Lanark, his majesty's secretary of state for
Scotland, inclosing a petition which they requested
him to lay before the king. To this petition, which
was couched in the most delicate terms, the king
returned an answer without loss of time, requiring
them to state in more plain terms the claims they
intended to make upon him ; informing them, at the
same time, that he had called a meeting of the peers
of England, to meet at York on the 24th instant.
This was an antiquated and scarcely legal assembly,
which Charles had called by his own authority to
supersede the necessity of again calling a parliament
— the only means by which the disorders of the
government could now be arrested, and which the
Scottish committee in their petition had requested
him to call immediately. To this communication
the committee replied: "that the sum of their de-
sires was, that his majesty would ratify the acts of
the last Scottish parliament, garrison the castle of
Edinburgh and the other fortresses only for the de-
fence and security of his subjects, free their country-
men in England and Ireland from further persecu-
tion for subscribing the covenant, and press them
no further with oaths and subscriptions not warranted
by law — bring to just censure the incendiaries who
had been the authors of these combustions — restore
the ships and goods that had been seized and con-
demned by his majesty's orders — repair the wrongs
and repay the losses that had been sustained — recall
the declaration that had been issued against them
as traitors — and, finally, remove, with the consent
of the parliament of England, the garrisons from
the borders, and all impediments to free trade, and
to the peace, the religion, and liberties of the two
kingdoms.

These demands were no doubt as unpalatable as
ever to Charles, but the consequences of his rashness
were now pressing him on all sides. His exchequer
was empty, his revenue anticipated, his army undis-
ciplined and disaffected, and himself surrounded by
people who scarcely deigned to disguise their dis-
pleasure at all his measures. In such extreme em-
barrassment the king clung, like a drowning man,

JAMES GRAHAM.

147

to any expedient which presented itself, rather than
again meet with the only friends who could effec-
tually relieve him — his parliament. There was unfor-
tunately, too, a secret jiarty among the Covenanters,
who, with all the pretensions to religion and to
jiatriotism they had put forth, were only seeking
their own aggrandisement, and were determined
never to admit any pacification that did not leave
them at the head of public affairs. Of these, among
the Scots, Montrose was the most conspicuous. We
have seen with what zeal he imposed the covenant
upon the recusant Abcrdonians. But since then he
had had a taste of royal favour at Berwick, and,
as it was likely to advance him above every other
Scotsman, his whole study ever since that memor-
able circumstance had been how he might best ad-
vance the royal interest. For this purpose he had
formed an association for restoring the king to an
unlimited exercise of all his prerogatives, which was
subscribed at Cumbernauld, on the sixth day of the
preceding July, by himself, the Earl of Wigton, the
Lords Fleming, Boyd, and Almond, who held the
place of lieutenant-general in the Covenanters'
army; and afterwards by the Earls Marischal, Marr,
Athol, Kinghorn, Perth, Kelly, Home, and Sea-
forth; and by the Lords Stewart, Erskine, Drum-
mond, Ker, and Napier. Though this association
was unknown at the time, the predilections of Mon-
trose were no secrets, and of course his credit among
his friends was rather on the decline ; but a circum-
stance now occurred which displayed his character
in the full light of day, and nearly extinguished any
little degree of respect that yet remained to him
among the members of the liberal party. It had
been laid down at the commencement of the cam-
paign, that no person in the army should communi-
cate with either the English court or army, but by
letters submitted to the inspection and approve I
of by the committee, under the pain of treason. In
obedience to this rule, when Sir James Mercer was
despatched with the petition to the king, a number
of letters from Scotsmen in the camp to their friends
in the royal army were submitted to the committee,
and delivered to him, to be carried to their proper
destination. Among these letters was one from
Montrose to Sir Richard Graham, which had been
read and allowed by the committee ; but when Sir
James Mercer delivered Sir Richard the letter, who
instantly opened it, an inclosed letter dropped out
and fell to the ground, which Sir James, politely
stooping to lift, found, to his astonishment, was ad-
dressed in the handwriting of Montrose to the king.
Certain that no such letter had been shown to the
committee, Sir James was at once convinced of what
had been for some time suspected, that Montrose
was betraying the cause in which he had been such
a fiery zealot ; and, on his arrival at Newcastle, in-
stantly communicated the circumstance to General
Leslie, who, at a meeting of the committee, of which
it was Montrose's turn to sit as president, that same
afternoon, moved that Sir James Mercer should be
called in and examined concerning the letters he had
carried to court. Sir James told an unvarnished
tale that would not admit of being denied; and Mon-
trose, with that constitutional hardihood which was
natural to him, finding no other resource, stood
boldly up and challenged any man to say that cor-
responding with the king was anything else than
paying duty to their common master. Leslie told
him that he had known princes lose their heads for
less. He had however too many associates to his
treason, to render it safe or rather prudent at the
present moment to treat him as convicted, and he
■was only enjoined to keep his chamber. While

Montrose was thus traitorously spiriting up the king
to stand up to all his usurpations, on the one side,
Strafford was no less busy on the other, knowing
that nothing could save him from the hands of pub-
lic justice but the king; nor could the king do so,
but by strengthening rather than abridging his prero-
gative. The voice of the nation, however, was dis-
tinctly raised, and there was nothing left for Charles
but compliance, real or apparent.

From this period forward we know of no portion
of history that has a more painful interest than that
of Charles I. Our limits, however, do not allow us
to enter into it farther than what may be necessary
to make the thread of our narrative intelligible.
The Scottish committee being sincerely desirous of
an accommodation, the preliminaries of a treaty
were, on their part, soon settled; and commissioners
from both sides being appointed, a meeting took
place, October 1st, at Ripon, half way between
the quarters of the two armies; where it was agreed
that all hostilities should cease on the 26th of the
same month. Charles was now necessitated to call
a parliament, and on his consenting to this, the peers
agreed to give their personal security to the city
of London for a sum of money sufficient to pay both
armies — for Charles had now the Scottish army to
subsist as well as his own — till such time as it was
expected the national grievances would be fully
settled by a parliament. The Scottish army was to
be stationary at Newcastle, and was to be paid at
the rate of ;i^850 a day; but the commission for
settling the terms of peace was transferred to London,
in order to attend the parliament, which was sum-
moned to meet on the 3d of November.

Unfortunately for the king, and latterly for the
cause of liberty, the Scots, who had attracted so
much notice, and conducted themselves with so
much prudence, were now no longer principals but
auxiliaries in the quarrel. The English parliament,
occupied with the grievances which had been so
long complained of, and profiting by the impression
which the successful resistance of the Scots had
made, were in no haste to forward the treaty ; so
that it was not finished till the month of August,
1641. The Scottish army all this time received
their stipulated daily pay, and the parliament further
gratified them with what they called a brotherly
assistance, the sum of ;,^300,ooo as a compensation
for the losses they had sustained in the war, of which
;^8o,000 was paid down as a first instalment. The
king, so long as he had the smallest hope of manag-
ing the English parliament, was in as little haste as
anybody to wind up the negotiations, and, in the
meantime, was exerting all his king-craft to corrupt
the commissioners. Montrose, we have seen, he
had already gained. Rothes, whose attachment to
the covenant lay also in disgust and hatred of the
opposite party, was likewise gained, by the promise
of a rich marriage, and a lucrative situation near the
king's person. A fever, however, cut him off, and
saved him from disgracing himself in the manner he
had intended. Aware that he was not able to subdue
the English parliament, Charles, amidst all his in-
triguing, gave up everything to the Scots, and
announced his intention of meeting with his parlia-
ment in Edinburgh by the month of August. This
parliament had sat down on the 19th of November,
1640, and having re-appointed the committee, ad-
joumed till the 14th of January, 1641; when it again
met, re-appointed the committee, and adjourned till
the 13th of April. The committee had no sooner
sat down, than the Cumbernauld bond was brought
before them. It had been all this while kept a
secret, though the general conversation of those who

148

JAMES GRAHAM.

were engaged in it had excited strong suspicions
of some such thing being in existence. The first
H'jtice of this bond seoius to have dropped from
I>3rd Boyd on his deathbed; but the full discovery
was ma<le by the Lord Ahnond to the Earl of Arg)le,
who reported it to the committee of parhamcnt.
The committee then cited before them Montrose,
and so many of the bonders as happened to be at
home at the tinie — who acknowledj^ed the bond, and
?•■ • ' to justify it, though by no means to the
■ >f the committee, many of the members
, ■ ,. L-re eager to proceed capitally against the

utfcndcrx Motives the most mercenary and mean,
however, distracted their deliberations, and impeded
the couric of even-handed justice; the bond was
deiivereti uj) and burnetl; the parties declared in
writing that no evil was intentlcd; and the matter
was hushed.

At a meeting of the committee, May 26t]i, pro-
bably as a set-off against the Cumbernauld bond,
Mr. John Graham, minister at Auchterarder, was
challenged for a sjieech uttered by him to the pre-
judice of the Earl of Arg>le. He acknowledged
the speech, and gave for his authority Mr. Robert
Murray, minister of Methvfti, who, being present,
gave for his author the Earl of Montrose. ^Iontrose
condescended on the speech, the time, and the place.
The place was in Argyle's own tent, at the ford of
Lyon; the time, when the Earl of Athol and eight
other gentlemen were there made prisoners; the
speech was to this effect — that they [the parliament]
had consulted both lawyers and divines anent depos-
ing the king, and were resolved that it might be
done in three cases: — 1st, Desertion — 2d, Invasion —
3d, Vendition ; adding, that they thought to have
done it at the last sitting of parliament, and would
do it at the next. For this speech Montrose gave
for witness John Stuart, commissary of Dunkeld,
one of the gentlemen who were present in the tent ;
and undertook to produce him, which he did four
days afterwards. Stuart, before the committee,
subscribed a paper bearing all that Montrose had
said in his name, and was sent by the committee to
the castle. In the cattle he signed another paper,
wherein he cleared Argylc, owned that he himself
had forged the speech out of malice against his lord-
ship; and that, by the advice of ^Iontrose, Lord
Napier, Sir George .Stirling of Keir, and Sir Andrew
Stuart of Blackball, he had sent a copy of the speech,
under his hand, to the king by Captain Walter
Stuart. Argyle, thus imjillcaled in a charge of the
most dangerous nature, was uuder the necessity of
presenting Stuart before the justiciary, where, upon
the clearest evidence, lie was found guilty, con-
demned, and executed.

On the nth of June, Montrose, Lord Xapier, Sir
George Stirling, and Sir Andrew Stuart of Black-
hall were cited before the committee, and after ex-
amination committed close prisoners to the castle,
where they remained till towards the close of the
year. Parliament, according to adjournment, having
met on the 15th of July, letters were read excusing his
m.-ijesty's attendance till the 15th of August, when it
was resolved to sit till the coming of his majesty, and
to have everything in readiness against the day of his
arrival. Montrose was in the meantime summoned to
appear before parliament, on the I3tli day of August.
He rcfjucstcd that he might be allowed advocates
for consultation, which was granted. So much, how-
ever, was he hated at the time, that no advocate
of any note would come fonvard in his behalf, and
from sheer necessity he was obliged to send for Mr.
John (afterwards Sir John) Gilmour, then a man of
no consideration, but in consequence of being Mon-

trose's counsel, after\vards held in high estimation,
and employed in the succeeding reign for promoting
the despotic measures of the court. On the 13th of
August Montrose appeared before the parliament,
and having replied to his charge, was continued to
the 24lh, and remanded to prison. At the same
time summonses were issued against the Lord Napier
and the lairds of Keir and Blackball, to appear be-
fore the parliament on the 28th. On the I4lh his
majesty arrived in Edinburgh, having visited in his
way the Scottish army at Newcastle, and dined with
General Leslie. On the 17th he came to the parlia-
ment, and sat there every day afterwards till he had
accomplished, as he supposed, the purposes of his
journey. The king, perfectly aware, or rather per-
fectly determined to break with the parliament of
England, had no object in view by this visit except
to gain over the leaders of the Scots, that they might
either join him against the parliament, or at least
stand neuter till he had reduced England, when he
knew he could mould Scotland as he thought fit.
He, of course, granted everything they requested.
The Earl of Montrose appeared again before the
parliament on the 24th of August, and was continued
(/e noi'o, as were also the Lord Napier and the lairds
of Keir and Blackball, on the 2Sth. In this state
they all remained till, in return for the king's con-
cessions, they were set at liberty in the beginning of
the year 1642.

Though in prison, Montrose had done all that he
possibly could to stir up an insurrection in favour of
the king while he was in Scotland; and he had also
exerted himself, though unsuccessfully, to procure the
disgrace of the Marquis of Hamilton and the Earl of
Lanark, both of whom he seems bitterly to have
envied, and to have hated almost as heartily as he
did Argyle. It was probably owing to this that
upon his liberation he retired to his own house, in
the country, living privately till the spring of 1643;
when the queen returning from Holland, he hasted
to wait upon her at Burlington, and acccompanied
her to York. He embraced this ojiportunity again
to press on the queen, as he had formerly done on the
king, what he was pleased to denominate the dan-
gerous policy of the Covenanters, and solicited a
commission to raise an army and to suppress them
by force of arms, as he w-as certain his majesty would
never be able to bring them to his measures by any
other means. The Marquis of Hamilton thwarted
him, however, for the present, and he again returned
home.

Having been unsuccessful in so many attempts to
serve the king, and his services being now absolutely
rejected, it might have been supposed that Montrose
would either have returned to his old friends, or that
he would have withdrawn himself as far as it was
possible from pulilic life. But he was animated by
a ^m^\i of deadly hatred against the party with whom
he had acted, and he had within him a restless spirit
of ambition, which nothing could satisfy but the
suprenie direction in all public managements: an
ambition, the unprincipled exercise of which rendered
him, from the very outset of his career, the "evil
genius," first of the Covenanters, and latterly of the
miserably misled monarch whom he laboured ap-
parently to serve, and whom he affected to adore.
By suggesting the plot against Argyle and Hamilton,
known in history by the name of the "Incident,"
during the sitting of the parliament with Charles at its
head in Edinburgh, he checked at once the tide of con-
fidence between him and his parliament, which was
rapidly returning to even more than a reasonable
height, and created numberless suspicions and surmis-
ings through all the three kingdoms, that could never

JAMES GRAHAM.

149

again be laid while he was in life; and by betraying
the secrets of the Covenanters he led the unwary
monarch into such an extravagant notion of the
proofs of treason which might be established against
some members of the lower house, that, forgetting
the dignity of his place, he came to the parliament
house in person to demand five of its members, who,
he said, had been guilty of treason; an unhappy
failure, which laid the broad foundation of his total
ruin. With ceaseless activity Montrose, at the same
time, tampered with the leaders of the covenant, who,
anxious to bring him back to their cause, held out
the prospect of not only a pardon, but of their giving
him the post of lieutenant-general. Under the pre-
tence of soothing some difficulties of conscience, he
sought a conference with the celebrated preacher Mr.
Ilcnilerson, that he might pry into the secrets of his
former friends, which he had no sooner obtained,
tlian he hastened to lay the whole before his majesty
in a new accusation, and as offering additional mo-
tives for his majesty issuing out against them com-
missions of fire and sword.

The king, having now disengaged himself from
the controlling influence of the Marquis of Hamilton,
entered into an arrangement, in terms of which the
Earl of Antrim, who was at the time waiting upon
his majesty, undertook to transport into Scotland a
few thousands of his Irish retainers, at whose head,
and with the assistance of a band of Highland
royalists, Montrose was to attempt the subversion of
the existing Scottish government. The time ap-
pointed for the execution of this scheme was the be-
ginning of April, 1644. Arms and ammunition were
in the meantime to be imported from the Continent,
and a small auxiliary force procured from the King
of Denmark.

As the time approached, Montrose, raised to the
rank of marquis, left Oxford with the royal commis-
sion to be lieutenant-general for Scotland, under
Prince Rupert, and accompanied by about loo cava-
liers, mostly his personal friends. To these he
added a small body of militia in passing through the
northern counties of England, and on the I3tli of
April entered Scotland on the western border; and
pushing into Dumfries, he there erected his standard,
and proposed to wait till he should hear of the ar-
rival of his Irish auxiliaries. In two days, however,
he was under the necessity of making a precipitate
retreat to Carlisle. This so speedy catastrophe did
not tend to exalt the character of Montrose among
the English cavaliers, who had pretty generally been
of opinion that a diversion in Scotland in the then
state of the country was utterly impracticable.
Montrose, however, had lost nothing of his self-con-
fidence, and he applied to Prince Rupert for 1000
horse, with which he promised to cut his way through
all that Scotland could oppose to him. This the
prince promised he should have, though he probably
never intended any such thing, for he regarded him
in no other light than that of a very wrong-headed
enthusiast. Even his more particular friends, ap-
palled by the reports of the state of matters in the
north, began to melt from his side, and he was uni-
versally advised to give up his commission, and re-
serve himself for a more favourable opportunity. The
spirit of Scotland was at this time decidedly warlike.
Leslie was in England with a large army of Scots-
men, who shortly after performed a prominent part
at the decisive battle of Marston Moor. There
was an army in the north, which had supjiressed the
insurrection of the Gordons, and sent Haddo and
Logic to the block; and the Earl of Callendar,
formerly Lord Almond, was ordered instantly to
raise 5000 men for the sujipression of Montrose.

The commission of the General Assembly of the
church in the meantime proceeded against the latter
nobleman with a sentence of excommunication,
which was pronounced in the High Church of Edin-
burgh, on the 26th day of April, scarcely more
than ten days after he had set hostile foot on
Scottish giound. Not knowing well what to do,
Montrose made an attack upon a small party of
Covenanters in Morpeth, whom he drove out of the
town, and secured the castle. He also captured a
small fort at the mouth of the Tyne, and stored
Newcastle plentifully with corn from Alnwick and
other places around. He was requested by Prince
Rupert to come up to the battle of Marston Moor,
but on his way thither met the prince fleeing from
that disastrous field.

He now determined to throw himself into the
Highlands, where he still had high hopes of assist-
ance and success. Making choice of two persons
only for his companions. Sir William Rollock and
Colonel Sibbald, he disguised himself and rode as
Sibbald's groom, and in this manner, taking the most
wild and unfrequented ways, they arrived, after rid-
ing four days, at Tullibalton, near the foot of the
Grampians, the house of his friend Patrick Graham
of Inchbrackie, where he halted for some days, pass-
ing his time through the night in an obscure cottage,
and in the day among the neighbouring mountains.
His two companions in the meantime were despatched
to collect intelligence respecting the state of the
country, and privately to warn his friends. The
accounts procured by his emissaries were of the most
distressing kind, the Covenanters being ever)-wherc
in great strength, and the cavaliers in a state of the
most complete dejection. In a few days, however,
a letter was brought by a Highlander to Inchbrackie,
with a request that it might be conveyed to the
Marquis of Montrose, wherever he might be. This
was a letter from Alexander M'ColI, alias M 'Donald,
a distinguished warrior, who had been intrusted
with the charge of his retainers by the Marquis of
Antrim, with a request that he, Montrose, would
come and take the command of the small but veteran
band. This small division had about a month be-
fore landed in the Sound of Mull, had besieged,
taken, and garrisoned three castles on the island of
that name, and aftenvards sailing for the mainland
had disembarked in Knoydart, where they attempted
to raise some of the clans. Argyle, in the meantime,
coming round to that quarter with some ships of
war, had taken and destroyed their vessels, so that
they had no means of escape ; and, with a strong
party of the enemy hanging on their rear, were pro-
ceeding into the interior in the hope of being assisted
by some of the loyal clans. Montrose wrote an im-
mediate answer as if from Carlisle, and appointed
a day not very distant when he would meet them at
Blair of Athol, which he selected as the most proper
place of meeting, from the enmity which he knew
the men of Athol had to Arg>le. On the appointed
day, attended by Inchbrackie, both dressed in the
costume of ordinary Highlanders and on foot, he
travelled from Tullibalton to the place of meeting,
and to his great joy found 1200 Irishmen quartered
on the spot. They had already been joined by small
bodies of Highlanders, and the men of Athol seemed
ready to rise almost to a man. When Montrose
presented himself to them, though he exhibited his
majesty's commission to act as lieutenant-general,
the Irish, from the meanness of his appearance, coul i
scarcely believe that he was the man he gave him-
self out to be. But the Highlanders, who received
him with the warmest demonstrations of respect and
affection, put the matter beyond doubt, and he was

JAMES GRAHAM.

130

}i i;!cl with the hi^jhcst enthusiasm. He was joined
•,:. ..une day by the whole of the .\thol Hi^jhlanders,
la^luding the Stuarts, the Robertsons, and other
sinaller clans, to the number of 800, so that his anny
was alx)ve 2000 men. .Vware that Aryyle was in
l)ursuit of the Irish, he led his army tlie next day
iicross the hills towards Strathearn, where ho ex-
pected reinforcements. Passing the castle of Wieni,
the seat of the clan Menzies, he commenced his career
by burning and ravaging all the neighbouring lands,
in revenge for the harsh treatment of one of his mes-
sengers by the family, to strike a salutary terror into
all who might be disposed to offer him violence, and
to gratify his followers, whose principal object he
well knew was plunder. Passing through Glen
Almond next day, an advanced party of his troops
were surprised with the appearance of a large body
of men drawn up on the hill of Buckenty. These
were men of Menteith raised by order of the com-
mittee of estates at Edinburgh, marching to the gene-
ral rendezvous at Perth, under the command of Lord
Kilpont, eldest son of the Earl of Menteith. Being
mostly Highlanders and officered by gentlemen of
the family of Montrose, or of the kindred clan Drum-
mond, they were easily persuaded to place themselves
under the royal standard, which increased his force
to 3000 men.

Resolving to attack Perth, where some raw levies
were assembled under the command of Lord Elcho,
Montrose continued his march all night, intending
to take the place by surprise. Lord Elcho, however,
had been warned of his approach, and had drawn
his men to the outside of the town, intending to
hazard a battle for its defence. In crossing the
Tippemjuir, a wild field about five miles from Perth,
Montrose came in sight of the enemy, upwards of
6cxx) in number, drawn up in one long line, with
horse at either end. Lord Elcho himself led the
right wing. Sir James Scott of Rossie, the only man
in the army who had ever seen service, the left; and
the Earl of Tullibardine the main body. Montrose
drew out his little army also in one long line, three
men deep. The Irish, who were veteran troops, he
placed in the centre; the Highlanders he placed on
the wings to oppose the horse, being armed with
swords, Lochaber axes, and long clubs. He him-
self led the right wing, that he might be opposed to
Sir James Scott, who was an officer of good reputa-
tion, having served in the wars abroad — from the
Lords Elcho and Tullibardine he appreliended little
danger. The Covenanters' horse fled at the first
onset, being overpowered, according to Wishart, by
a shower of stones, but more probably induced by
the treachery of Lord Drumniond and his friend
Gask. The flight of the horse tlircw the ill-disci-
plined foot into irremediable confusion, and they
followed in such breathless haste, that many expired
through fatigue and fear, without even the mark of
a wound. Eew were slain in the engagement, but
there were upwards of 300 killed in the pursuit.
Montrose had not a single man killed, and only two
wounded. The whole of the artillery and baggage
of the vanquished fell into the hands of the victors;
and Lord Drummond, whose treachery had chiefly
occasioned the rout, joined Montrose as soon as the
aflair was over. Montrose entered Perth the same
night, where he levied a subsidy of 9000 mcrks, and
stipulated for free quarters to his army for four days.
They remained only three, but in these three they
supplied themselves with whatever they wanted,
whether it were clothes, arms, food, money, or
ammunition. The stoutest young men were also im-
pressed into the ranks, and all the horses seized with-
out exception.

On the 4th of September Montrose crossed the
Tay, and proceeded through Angus for Aberdeen-
shire. The first night of his march he halted at
Collace, where Lord Kilpont was murdered by Stuart
of Ardvorlich, who struck down a sentinel with the
same weapon with which he had stabbed his lord-
ship, and made his escape. Proceeding to Dundee
Montrose summoned the town ; but it was occupied
by a number of the Fife troops, and refused to sur-
render. The approach of the Earl of Argyle with
a body of troops prevented Montrose from ventur-
ing upon a siege. Proceeding towards Aberdeen,
the Aberdonians, alarmed at his approach, sent off
the public money and their most valuable effects
to Dunnottar, and having a force of upwards of 2000
men, they threw up some fortifications at the Bridge
of Dee, for the defence of the city. Montrose how-
ever remembered the Bridge of Dee, and, avoiding
it, crossed the water by a ford at the mills of Drum,
which rendered all their preparations vain. A sum-
mons was sent into the town to surrender, and the
Covenanters' army being on the march, the mes-
sengers who brought the summons were hospitably
entertained and dismissed. By some accident the
drummer on his return was killed; on which Mon-
trose ordered preparations for an immediate attack,
and issued the inhuman orders to give no quarter.
Lord Burleigh and Lewis Gordon, a son of Huntly's,
led the right and left wings of the Covenanters,
which consisted of horse and the levies of Aberdeen-
shire, a majority of whom were indifferent in the
cause. The centre was composed of the Fife sol-
diers, and those who had joined them from principle.
Montrose, still deficient in cavalry, had mixed his
musketeers with his horse, and waited for the Cove-
nanters. Lord Lewis Gordon, who had forced a
number of the Gordons to engage in opposition to
the inclination and orders of his father, rushed pre-
cipitately forward with the left wing, which, by a
steady fire of musketry, was suddenly checked, and
before it could be rallied totally routed. The right
wing experienced a similar fate, but the centre stood
firm and maintained its post against the whole force
of the enemy for two hours. It too at length gave
way, and, fleeing into the town, was hotly pursued
by the victors, who killed without exception every
man they met; and for four days the town was given
up to indiscriminate plunder. Montrose, lodging
with his old acquaintance Skipper Anderson, allowed
his Irishmen to take their full freedom of riot and de-
bauchery. "Seeing a man well cled," says Spald-
ing, "they would tirr him to save his clothes un-
spoiled, and syne kill him. Some women they
pressed to deflour, and some they took perforce to
serve them in the camp. The wife durst not cry
nor weep at her husband's slaughter before her eyes,
nor the daughter for the father, which if they did,
and were heard, they were presently slain also."
The approach of Argyle put an end to these horrors.
Expecting to be joined by the INIarquis of Huntly's
retainers, Montrose hasted to Inverary, but the
breach of faith in carrying the marquis forcibly to
Edinburgh after a safe-conduct being granted was
not forgotten ; and Argyle too being at hand, his
ranks were but little augmented in this quarter.
When he approached the Spey he found the boats
removed to the northern side, and the whole force
of Moray assembled to dispute his passage. With-
out a moment's hesitation he dashed into the wilds
of Badenoch, where, with diminished numbers, for
the Highlanders had gone home to store their plun-
der, he could defy the approach of any enemy.
Here he was confined for some days by sickness
from over-fatigue, but a few days restored him to

JAMES GRAHAM.

151

wonted vigour, when lie descended again into Athol
to recruit, M 'Donald having gone on the same
errand into the Highlands. From Athol Montrose
passed into Angus, where he wasted the estates of
Lord Cowper, and plundered the place of Drum, in
which were deposited all the valuables belonging to
the town of Montrose and the surrounding country;
there also he obtained a supply of arms, and some
pieces of artillery. Argjde with a greatly superior
force was following his footsteps; but, destitute of
military talents, he could neither bring him to an
engagement, nor interrupt his progress. Having
supplied his wants in Angus, and recruited his army,
Montrose suddenly repassed the Grampians, and,
spreading ruin around him, made another attempt
to raise the Gordons. Disappointed still, he turned
to the castle of Fyvie, where he was surprised by
Argyle and Lothian, and, but for the most miserable
mismanagement, must have been taken. After sus-
taining two assaults from very superior numbers, he
eluded them by stratagem, and ere they were aware
was again lost in the wilds of Badenoch. Argyle,
sensible perhaps of his inferiority, returned to Edin-
burgh and threw up his commission.

Montrose, now left to act as he thought proper,
having raised, in his retreat through Badenoch, por-
tions of the clans M 'Donald and Cameron, and been
joined by the Stuarts of Appin, whom his friend
Alister M'Coll had raised for him, he, with the con-
sent and by the advice of his associates, prepared
to lay waste the territory of his hated rival Argjle.
For this purpose he separated his army into two
divisions: the one consisting of the levies from Loch-
aber and Knoydart, under John Muidartach, the
captain of the Clanronalds, entered by the head of
Argyle; the other under his own direction, by the
banks of Loch Tay and Glen Dochart. The coun-
try on both tracts belonging either to Argj-le or his
relajtives was destroyed without mercy. Li this
■work of destruction Montrose was assisted by the
clans of M'Gregor and M'Nab; who, whatever might
be said of their loyalty, were, the former of them
especially, as dexterous at foraying and fire-raising
as the most accomplished troop in his service. For
upwards of six weeks was this devastation prolonged.
Every person capable of bearing a weapon was mur-
dered, every house was razed, castles excepted, which
they were not able for the want of artillery to master.
Trusting to the poverty and difficulty of the passes
into his country, Argyle seems never to have antici-
pated such a visit till the marauders were within a
few miles of his castle of Inverary, when he instantly
took boat and sailed for the Lowlands, leaving all
behind to the uncontrolled sway of these insatiate
spoilers, who "left not a four-footed beast in his
hale lands," nor, as they imagined, a man able to
bear arms. Having rendered the country a desert,
they bent their way towards Inverness, by Lochaber,
to meet the Earl of Seaforth, who, with the strength
of Ross, Sutherland, and Caithness, occupied that
important station.

Argyle in the meantime having met with General
Baillie at Dumbarton, and concerted a plan with
him, hastened back to the Highlands, and collect-
ing his fugitive vassals and dependants, followed
at a distance the steps of his enemy, intending to
be ready to attack him in the rear when Baillie, as
had been agreed between them, should advance to
take him in front. Montrose was marching through
Abertarf, in the great glen of Albin, when he was
surprised with intelligence that Argyle was at Inver-
lochy with an army of at least double the number
of that which he himself commanded; and aware
that Baillie and Hurry were both before him, was

at no loss to conjecture his intentions. AVithout a
moment's hesitation, however, he determined to turn
back, and taking his antagonist by surprise, cut him
off at one blow, after which he should be able to
deal with the enemy that was in his front as circum-
stances should direct. For this purpose he placed
a guard upon the level road down the great glen of
Albin, which he had just traversed, that no tidings
of his movements might be carried back, and, mov-
ing up the narrow glen formed by the Tarf, crossed
the hills of Lairee Thurard. Descending thence
into the lonely vale at the head of the Spey, and
traversing Glen Roy, he crossed another range of
mountains, came in upon the water of Spean, and,
skirting the lofty Ben Nevis, was at Inverlochy,
within half a mile of Argyle, before the least hint
of his purpose had transpired; having killed every
person they met with, of whom they had the smallest
suspicion of carrying tidings of their approach, and
the x-oute they had chosen being so unusual a one.
Though they rested through the night in the clear
moonlight in sight of their camp, the Campbells
supposed them to be only an assemblage of the coun-
try people come forth to protect their property ; and
they do not seem to have thought upon Montrose,
till, with the rising sun and his usual flourisl» of
trumpets, he debouched from the glen of the Nevis,
with the rapidity of a mountain torrent. Argj-le,
who was lame of an arm at the time, had gone on
board one of his vessels on the lake during the night,
but a considerable portion of his troops that lay on
the farther side of that lake he had not thought it
necessary to bring over to their fellows. His cousin,
however, Campbell of Auchinbreck, a man of con-
siderable military experience, who had been sent
for from Ireland for the purpose of leading this
array of the Campbells, marshalled them in the best
order circumstances would permit; but they fled at
once before the wild yell of their antagonists; and,
without even attempting to defend themselves, were
driven into the lake, or cut down along its shores.
On the part of Montrose, only three privates were
killed and about 200 wounded, among whom was
Sir Thomas Ogilvy, who died a few days after. On
the part of Argyle, upwards of 1500 were slain,
among whom were a great number of the chief men
of the Campbells. This victory, which was certainly
most complete, was gained upon Sunday the 2d
of February, 1645 ; and if, as there are abundant
grounds for believing, the letter of Montrose concern-
ing it to the king was the means of causing him to
break off the treaty of Uxbridge, when he had de-
tennined to accept of the conditions offered him,
it was more unfortunate than any defeat could pos-
sibly have been.

Instead of following his rival Argyle to Edinburgh,
and demonstrating, as he somewhat quaintly boasted
in his letter to the king, that the country was really
conquered, and in danger of being called by his
name, Montrose resumed his march to the north-
east, and, after approaching Inverness, which he
durst not attempt, made another foray through
Morayland; where, under pretence of calling forth
all manner of men between the ages of sixteen and
sixty, to serve the king, he burned and plundered
the 'country, firing the cobbles of the fishermen, and
cutting their nets in pieces. Elgin was saved from
burning by the payment of 4000 merks, and its fair
of Fasten's Eve, one of the greatest in the north of
Scotland, was that year not held. The greater jiart
of the inhabitants fled, with their wives, their children,
and their best goods, to the castle of Sp}-nie, which
only afforded an excuse for plundering the town of
what was left. The laird of Grant's people, who

'52

JAMES GRAMA^r.

had newly joined Montrose, no doubt for the express
purpose, were particularly active in the plundering
of Elgin, "breaking down beds, boards, insight,
and plenishing, and leaving nothing that was tursable
[portable] uncarried away." Leaving the Grants
tiius honourably employed for the king in Elgin,
Montro-ie with the main botly of his army proceeded
on the 4th of March to the bog of Gight, sending
before him across the Spey the Farquharsons of
IJraemar to plunder the town of Cullen, which they
did without mercy. Grant having deserted his stand-
anl and thus become an assistant in rotjbery, as
might naturally have been expected in this sort of
warfare, the garrison of Inverness sent out a party
to his house at Elchies, which they completely
despoiled, carrying off plate, jewels, wearing ap-
parel, and other articles; after which they plundered
the lands of Coxtoun, because the laird had followed
Montrose along with the Lord Gordon. This com-
pelled all the gentlemen of that quarter to go back
for the protection of their own estates, Montrose
taking their parole to continue faithful to the king,
or at least never to join the Covenanters. This the
most i)art of them kept as religiously as he had done
the oath of the covenant. At the bog of Gight he
los» his eldest .son, a youth of sixteen, who had
accompanied him through all this desultory cam-
])aign ; and dying here, was buried in the church of
liellie.

Having received a reinforcement of 500 foot and
160 horse, which was all that Lord Gordon was able
to raise among his father's vassals, Montrose moved
from the bog of Gight, intending to swoop down upon
the Lowlands through BanlTshire and Angus. In
passing the house of Cullen he plundered it of ever)'
article of plate and furniture, and would have set it
on fire, but that the countess (the Earl of Findlater
biing in Edinburgh) redeemed it for fifteen days by
]iaying 5000 merks in hand and promising 15,000
more. From Cullen he proceeded to Boyne, which he
I)lundered of every article, spoiling even the minister's
books, and setting every "biggin" on fire. The laird
himself kept safe in the craig of Boyne; but his whole
lands were destroyed. In Banff he left neither goods
nor arms, and every man whom his followers met in the
streets they stripped to the skin. In the neighbour-
hood of Turriff he destroyed sixty ploughs belonging
to the Viscount Frendraught, with all the movable
propertyof the three parishes of In vcrkeithny, Forgue,
and I)rumlade. He was met by a deputation from
Aberdeen, who "declare<l the hail people, man and
woman, through plain fear of the Irishes, was fleeing
away if his honour did not give them assurance of
safety and protection. I le forbade them to be feared,
for this foot army, wherein the Irishes were, should not
come near Aberdeen by eight miles." And "this,"
.Spalding exultingly exclaims, "along with some
other friendly promises, truly and nobly he kept!"
'I'hough he ha<l promised to keep the Irishes at due
distance, he sent one of his most trusty chieftains,
Nathaniel Gordon, along with Donald l'"arquharson
and about eighty well-horsed gentlemen, into Aber-
deen, to seize some stores belonging to the estates,
and to look out for Baillie, whom he cxjiectetl by
that route. These having partly executed their
commissic)n, sat down to enjoy themselves, and were
surprised by General Hurry, who, with 160 horse
and foot, secured the gates and avenues of the town,
and, falling upon the unsuspecting cavaliers, killed
many of tliem as they sat at their wine, and seized
all their horses. Among those that were slain was
Don.ild Farquharson, "one of the noblest captains,"
according to Spalding, "amongst all the Highlanders
of Scotland." Hurry retired at his leisure, unmo-

lested, carrj'ing with him a number of prisoners,
who, as traitors to the covenant, were sent to Edin-
burgh. Among these prisoners was the second son
of Montrose, now Lord Graham, a young boy at-
tending the schools, who along with his pedagogue
was imprisoned in the castle of Edinburgh. The
corpse of Donald Farquharson "was found next day
in the streets stripped naked, for they tirred from off
his body a rich suit which he had put on only the
samen day. Major-general M 'Donald was sent in
on the Saturday afternoon with looo Irishes, horse
and foot, to bury Donald, which they did on Sab-
bath in the laird of Drum's Isle." During these
two days, though the Aberdonians were in great
terror, ^I 'Donald seems to have kept his " Irishes" in
tolerably good order, "not doing wrong, or suffering
much wrong to be done, except to one or two Cove-
nanters that were plundered;" but on Monday, when
he had left Aberdeen to meet Montrose at Duriss,
"a number of the Irish rogues lay lurking behind
him, abusing and fearing the town's people, taking
their cloaks, plaids, and purses from them on the
streets. Xo merchant's booth durst be opened; the
stable doors were broken up in the night, and the
horses taken out; but the major, hearing this, returns
that samen Monday back, and drove all thir rascals
with sore skins out of the town before him; and
so both Aberdeens were clear both of him and them,
by God's providence, who looked both for fire and
plundering — yet he took up his cloth and other
commodities, amounting to the sum of ^{^10,000 and
above, to be cloathing to him and his soldiers, and
caused the town to become obliged to pay the mer-
chants, by raising of a taxation for that affect, whilk
they were glad to do to be quit of their company."
On the same Sunday, the 17th of March, Montrose
burned the parish of Duriss, "the hail laigh biggins
and corns, and spoiled the hail ground of nolt, sheep,
and other guids." The lands of Craigievar, lying
in the parish of Fintry, and the minister's house of
Fintrj', were served in the same manner the same
day. He proceeded on the 20th to Dunnottar, where
he summoned the earl-marischal to "come out of
the castle and join him in the king's service." On
receipt of the earl's answer "that he would not fight
against his country," he sent a party who plundered
and burned the whole lands of Dunnottar. They
set fire at the same time to the town of Stonehaven
and to all the fishing-boats that lay in the harbour.
The lands of Fetteresso, including an extensive and
finely ornamented deer-park, the village of Cowie,
and the minister's manse of Dunnottar, shared the
same fate.

After so many burnings and such reckless plunder-
ing, it must by this time have become necessary for
Montrose to shift his quarters. Rapine, indeed,
was almost the sole object of his followers; and when
they had cither too much or too little of it, they were
sure to leave him. The north having been repeatedly
gone over, he seems at last to have meditated a de-
scent upon the south. A pitched battle with Baillie
and Ilurr)', who were stationed at Brechin with a
considerable army, he seems also to have thought a
necessary preliminary to his further progress. For
this purpose he came to Fettercairn, only eight miles
from their camp, where he purposed to rest till they
should by some movement indicate their strength
and their intentions. Baillie and Hurry were both
good officers, and they had a force more than suffi-
cient to cope with Montrose; but they were hampered
in all their movements by a parliamentary committee
sent along with them, without whose advice or suffrage
they were not allowed to act. In consequence of this
their conduct was not at all times of a very soldier-

JAMES GRAHAM.

IS3

like character, nor their motions so prompt as they
ought to have been ; Montrose, however, was but a
short time in his new quarters when Hurr}% who was
general of the horse, came out with 600 of his troopers
to inspect his situation, and, if possible, ascertain his
real strength. Montrose, apprised of his approach,
drew out all the horse he had, about 200, whom he
placed on an eminence in front of his camp, with a
strong body of musketeers concealed in a hollow
behind them. Hurr)- made a dash at the horse, but
met ^vith such a warm reception from the concealed
musketeers as made him quickly retreat. Hurr\-, how-
ever, who was a brave soldier, placed himself in the
rear of his retreating squadron, and brought them
safely back to the camp \\-ith verj- little damage. This
encounter kept both parties quiet for some days, and
induced Montrose to attempt getting into the Low-
lands without fighting Baillie, as he had originally pro-
posed. For this end he sent back the Gordons, that
they might be ready to defend their own countr\', in
case Baillie should attempt to wreak his vengeance
upon them, after he had thus gotten the slip. He then
skirted along the Grampians with the remainder of
his army towards Dunkeld. Baillie made no attempt
directly to stop him, but preserved such a position
as prevented him making his intended descent.
After being for two days thus opposed to each other
on the opposite banks of the Isla, Montrose sent a
trumpeter, challenging Baillie to fight, either coming
over the water to the north, or allowing him to come
over to the south; it being understood that no moles-
tation was to be given to either till fairly clear of
the water, or till he declared himself ready to fight.
Baillie made a reply, which it had been well for his
o\vn reputation and for his covmtrj', that he had at
all times continued to act upon. He would look,
he said, to his own business, and did not require
other men to teach him to fight. Both armies then
resumed their march, and respectively arrived at
Dunkeld and Perth nearly at the same time.

Finding that he could not pass Baillie without a
battle, and being informed by his scouts that he had
left Perth and gone to the pass of Stirling, Montrose,
as an interim employment, that would help to pass
the time, and encourage his followers by the abund-
ance of spoil it would afford, determined on a \isit
to Dundee — a place that was strenuous for the cove-
nant, and which had haughtily refused to admit him
after the battle of Tippermuir. Sending off his
baggage and the less efficient of his men to Brechin,
on the 3d day of April he led 150 horse with 600
picked musketeers against that city; and continuing
his march all night, arived before it by ten o'clock
on the forenoon of the 4th. Montrose immediately
gave the place up to military execution; and, per-
haps, for a kind of salvo to his credit, retired to the
top of Dundee Law, lea\-ing the command to Lord
Gordon and Alister M'Coll. The attack was made
at three different places simultaneously, and all of
them in a few minutes were successful. The town
was set on fire in various places. The most revolt-
ing scenes of outrage and rapine followed. The
abundance of spoil, however, of the most alluring
description, happily diverted the robbers from indulg-
ing in butcher}-; and, ere they were aware, Baillie
and Hurrj- were both at their heels. Had Montrose
been in the to\vn, the whole would have been sur-
prised and cut off in the midst of their revel; but
from his post on the hill he was apprised of the
approach of the enemy just in time to recall his men;
the greater part of them being so drunk that it was
with difficult}' they could be brought forth at the one
extremity- of the town as Baillie and Hurr\" entered
at the other. Placin:r the weakest and most inebri-

ated in the front, while he himself with the horse
and the best of the musketeers brought up the rear,
Montrose marched directly to Arbroath; and from
want of unity of plan and cf spirit in the two com-
manders opposed to him, brought off the whole with
but a trifling loss. He reached Arbroath, seventeen
miles east of Dundee, long before day. Here, how-
ever, he could not rest without e.xposing himself and
his army to certain destruction ; and anxious to regain
the mountains, where alone he judged himself safe
from his pursuers, he wheeled about in a north-west-
erly direction, right athwart the county of Forfar,
and, before morning, crossed the South Esk at
Cariston Castle, where he was only three miles from
the Grampians. The march which in the two nights
and a day this army had performed, could not be
much short of seventy miles, and they must now
have been in great want of rest. Baillie, who had
taken post for the night at Forfar, intending in the
morning to fall dovm upon Montrose at Arbroath,
where he calculated upon his halting, no sooner
learned the manner in which he had eluded him,
than, determined to overtake him, he marched from
Forfar with such haste that his horse were in sight of
Montrose ere that general was apprised that he was
pursued. His men were in such a profound sleep,
that it was not without difficult}- they were awakened ;
but they were no sooner roused than they fled into
the recesses of Glenesk, and Baillie abandoned the
pursuit. The part of Montrose's troops that had
been with the baggage sent to Brechin had also by
this time taken refuge among the Grampians, and
in the course of next day joined their companions.

The parliamentar}- committee seem now to have
regarded Montrose as a sort of predatory outlaw,
whom it was vain to pursue among the mountains,
and if they could confine him to these mountains,
which he had already laid in many places waste,
they seem for a time to have been %villing to be satis-
fied. Baillie was accordingly stationed at Perth to
defend the passes into the southern shires, and Hurry
was to defend, if possible, the northern counties from
that spoliation to which they had been oftener than
once subjected. Montrose's followers, in the mean-
time, going home to deposit their plunder as usual,
his numerical force was for a time considerably re-
duced. He, however, came as far south as Crieff,
for the purpose of meeting with his nephew, the
master of Napier, Viscount Abo}-ne, Stirling of Keir,
and Hay of Dalgett}-, who, with a few horse, had
left their friends in England for the purpose of join-
ing with him. Here Baillie attacked him, and
chased him into the fastnesses at the head of Strath-
earn; whence, next day, April the 19th, he pro-
ceeded through Balquhidder to Menteith, where he
had the good fortune to meet with his friends at the
ford of Cardross. Here he had certainly been cut
off from the Highlands, but that M'Coll had broken
do^vn upon the lordship of Cupar-Angus, killed the
minister of Cupar, and was laying waste the whole
lands of Lord Balmerinoch, which attracted the
attention of Baillie. Montrose, in the meantime,
learning that Hurr}- was too many for his friends in
the north, marched through Strath Tay and Athol,
raising the Highlanders ever}-\vhere as he went along;
and, before Hurry was aware that he had crossed the
Grampians, suddenly appeared behind his position
at Strathbogie. Though thus taken by surprise,
Huny-made his retreat good to Inverness; and being
reinforced by the troops l}'ing there, marched back
the next day to Nairn, ■with the design of attacking
Montrose, who, he learned, was posted at the village
of .-Vuldeam. Montrose would now have avoided a
battle; but that he knew Baillie would soon be up.

154

JAMES GRAHAM.

when he would have both Hum* and Baillie to con-
tend with. It was on the 9th of May. 1645, that
the two armies came in sijiht of each other. Mon-
trose, who was deficient in numbers, made an ad-
mirable disposition of his troops. One division,
consisting of the Gordons and the horse, he placed
on the left, to the south of the village; the other,
comprehending the Irish and the Highlanders, he
arranged on the right, amitlst the gardens and in-
closurcs, to the north. The former he commanded
in person with Lord Gordon under him; the latter
was given to M'ColL Hunr\-, unacquainted with
the / ' ' '. on his best troops to the attack of

the . main body, which was inclosed in

im; es, and where he was exposed to the

fire oi auiiion which he had no means of silencing.
M'ColI, however, who was no general, provoked by
the taunts of his assailants, came out of his fastnesses,
and overcome by superiority of numbers and discip-
line, was speedily put to the rouL Montrose, who
was watching an opportunity, no sooner perceived
Hunt's men disordered by their success, than with
his unbroken strength he attacked them in flank.
This unexp)ected attack, however, was received with
great steadiness by Lothian's, Loudon's, and Bu-
chanan's regiments, who fell where they fought; and
the day might perhaps have been retained, or at least
left doubtful, had not Colonel Drummond, one of
Hurry's own officers, by a treacherous manceuvre,
wheeled his horse into the midst of the foot, and
trampled them down whUe they were at the hottest
of the engagement with the enemy. In this battle, as
in all of Montrose's, the carnage was horrid; between
20CX> and 3CX» were killed, few or none being made
prisoners. Sixteen colours, \vith all the baggage
and ammunition, fell into the hands of the \-ictors.
Hurry, though an unprincipled mercenary', had ab-
stainetl from wasting by fire and sword the posses-
sions of the anti-covenanters, and consequently had
provoked no retaliations; but Montrose, more fero-
cious than ever, ravaged the whole district anew,
committing to the tlames the gleanings he had in
his former rapacious and merciless visitations been
compelled to leave, through incapacity to destroy.
Nairn and Elgin were plundered, and the chief
houses set on fire; Cullen was totally laid in ashes,
and " sic lands as were left unbumed up before were
now burned up." Hurrj-, in the meantime, was
allowed the quiet possession of Inverness.

On the very day that Hurry was defeated at Auld-
earn, Baillie had come to Caim-a-mount on his
way to join him. He had just ravaged Athol, and
the Highlanders were on their way for its rescue,
when he was ordered to the north; and by the Caim-
a-mount came to Cromar, where he learned the fate
of his colleague at Auldearn. On the 19th of May
he broke up his camp at Cromar, ha%'ing peremptory-
orders to hazard a battle. He himself had experience
sufficient to itvstruct him in the danger of leading a
few raw and dispirited troops against an army of so
much experience and so much confidence as that of
Montrose; but having no alternative, he marched to
Cochlarachie, whence he could discern Montrose's
army, in number, as he supposed, nearly equal to hL>
own, encamp)ed among some inclosures in the neigh-
bourhood of that town. The same night he was
joined by Hurry, with loo horse, the remnants of
the army that had fought at Auldearn, with whom
he had fought his way through Montrose's verj- lines.
Next morning he expected to have had an encoimter,
but to his surprise Montrose was fled. He was fol-
lowed at some distance by Baillie, but he took up an
impregnable position in Badenoch, where he awaited
the return of M 'Coll and his reinforcements, having

it in his power to draw from the interior of that wild
district abundant supplies. Baillie, on the contrary,
could not find subsistence, and withdrew to Inverness
to recruit his commissariat; which, having accom-
plished, he came south and encamped at Newton in
the Garioch.

Montrose, in the meantime, penetrated as far as
Newtyle in Angus, anticipating an easy victory over
the Earl of Crawford, who lay at the distance of only
a few miles, with a new army, composed of draughts
from the old, for the protection of the Lowlands.
When on the point of surprising this force, he was
called to march to the assistance of the Gordons,
whose lands Baillie was cruelly ravaging. On the
last day of June he came up with Baillie, advantage-
ously posted near the kirk of Keith, and, declining
to attack him, sent a message that he would fight
him on plain ground. Baillie still wished to choose
his own time and his own way of fighting; and Mon-
trose recrossed the Don, as if he designed to fall back
upon the Lowlands. This had the desired effect,
and Baillie was com{>elled by his overseeing com-
mittee to pursue. On the 2d of July the two armies
again met. Montrose had taken post on a small hill
behind the village of Alford, ■with a marsh in his rear.
He had with him the greater part of the Gordons,
the whole of the Irish, the M 'Donalds of Glengarry
and Clanronald, the M'Phersons firom Badenoch,
and some small septs from Athol, the whole amount-
ing to 3000 men. Baillie, on the other hand, had
only 1300 foot, many of them raw men, with a few
troops of Lord Balcarras' and Halket's horse regi-
ment Montrose, ha%-ing double the number of
infantry to BaUlie, drew up his army in lines sis file
deep, with two bodies of reserve. Baillie formed
also in line, but only three file deep, and he had no
reser\-e. Balcarras, who commanded the horse,
which were di\-ided into three squadrons, charged
gallantly \vith two; but the third, when ordered to
attack in flank, drew up behind their comrades,
where they stood till the others were broken by the
Gordons. The foot, commanded by Baillie in per-
son, fought desperately, refusing to j-ield even after
the horse had fled; nor was it tUl Montrose had
brought up his reserve that the hltle band was over-
powered and finally discomfited. The \-ictor)- was
complete; but Montrose had to lament the death of
Lord Gordon, whose fiineral he celebrated shortly
after the engagement with great mUitar)- p)omp at
Aberdeen. No sooner had he accomplished this than
he sent a party into Buchan, which had hitherto,
from its insular situation, escaped the calamitous
\Tsitations that had fallen upon most places in the
north, to bring away all the horses, for the purpose of
furnishing out a body of cavalrv-. It was also pro-
posed to send 20CO men into Strathnaver, to bring
the Marquis of Huntly safely home through the
hostile clans that lay in his way. Hearing of the
army that was assembling against him at Perth, how-
ever, he laid aside that project, and hastened south
, to the little town of Fordun in Kincardineshire, where
he waited for M'Coll, who verj' soon arrived with
700 M 'Leans, and the whole of the Clanronalds,
amounting to 5C» men, at the head of whom was
John Muidartach, who is celebrated in the High-
lands to this day for his singular exploits. Graham
I of Inchbrackie brought the Athol Highlanders in
full force, with the M'Gregors, the M'Nabs, the
I Stuarts of Appin, the Farquharsons of Braemar, with
' many other clans of smaller number and inferior note.
I With this force, which mustered between 50CO and
I 60CO men, about the end of July, Montrose came
I down upon Perth, where he understood the parUa-
[ ment was then assembled, hoping to be able to dis-

JAMES GRAHAM.

155

perse their army before it came to any head, or even
to cut off the whole members of the government.
After he had made frequent flourishes as if he meant
to attack them, the army at Perth, being consider-
ably strengthened, moved forward to offer him battle,
when he once more betook himself to the hills to
wait for reinforcements. Having received all the
reinforcements he was likely to get, and much
more than he could expect to keep for any length of
time without action and plunder, he marched back
again, offering the army of Perth battle, which they
did not accept. Not daring to attack their position,
he passed to Kinross, hoping to draw them into a
situation where they could be attacked with advan-
tage, or to escape them altogether and make his way
into England. Baillie followed him by Lindores,
Rossie, and Burleigh, and was joined upon his march
by the three Fife regiments.

From Kinross Montrose suddenly took his route
for Stirling bridge; and in passing down the vale of
the Devon burned Castle Campbell, the beautiful
seat of the Earl of Argyle ; he burned also all the
houses in the parishes of Dollar and Muckhart; and
while he and his chief officers were feasted sumptu-
ously by the Earl of Marr, his Irish auxiliaries plun-
dered the town of Alloa. Stirling being at this time
visited by the plague, Montrose did not approach it,
but, going further up the river, crossed the Forth at
the ford of Frew. Baillie's anny marched close upon
his track down the Devon, passed the Forth by the
bridge of Stirling, and on the 14th of August was
led forward to Denny, where it crossed the Carron,
and from thence to a place called Hollan-bush, about
four miles to the east of Kilsyth, where it encamped
for the night. In the whole warfare that had been
waged with Montrose, the game had been played
into his hand, and on this occasion it was more so
than ever. He had taken up his ground with mature
deliberation, and he had prepared his men by refresh-
ments and by every possible means for the encounter.
The Covenanters, on the other hand, after a toilsome
march across the country, took up a position which
the general was not allowed to retain. Contraiy to
his own judgment he was ordered to occupy a hill
which the enemy, if they had chosen so to do, could
have occupied before him. The orders of the com-
mittee, however, were obeyed, the change of ground
was made; and while it was making a company of
cuirassiers drew from JNIontrose a remark, "that
the cowardly rascals durst not face them till they
were cased in iron. To show our contempt of them,
let us fight them in our shirts." With that he threw
off his coat and waistcoat, tucked up the sleeves of
his shirt like a butcher going to kill cattle, at the
same time drawing his sword with ferocious resolu-
tion. The proposal was received with applause, the
cavalry threw off their upper garments, and tucked
up their sleeves; the foot stripped themselves naked,
even to the feet, and in this state were ready to rush
upon their opponents before they could take up the
places assigned them. The consequence was, the
battle was a mere massacre — a race of fourteen miles,
in which space 6000 men were cut down and slain.

The victory of Kilsyth gave to Montrose almost
the entire power of Scotland ; there was not the
shadow of an army to oppose him; nor was there in
the kingdom any authority that could direct one if
there had. What he had formerly boasted in his
letter to Charles would now most certainly have been
realized had he possessed either moral or political
influence. He possessed neither. His power lay
entirely in the sword, and it was a consequence of
the savage warfare which he had \\-aged, that he was
most odious to his countr}-men in general, few of

whom loved him, and still fewer dared to trust him.
Notwithstanding the submissions he received from all
quarters, there was nothing that with propriety he
could have done but to have taken refuge for another
quarter of a year in the wilds of Badenoch. He was
gratified, however, with submissions from many quar-
ters during the days he remained at Glasgow and
Bothwell, at both of which places he fancied himself
in the exercise of regal authority. He had now his
commission as lieutenant-governor of Scotland and
general of all his majesty's forces there. He was
empowered to raise and command forces in Scotland,
to march, if expedient, into England, and act against
such Scottish subjects as were in rebellion there; also
to exercise unlimited power over the kingdom of
Scotland, to pardon or condemn state-prisoners as
he pleased, and to confer the honour of knighthood
on whom he would. By another commission he was
empowered to call a parliament at Glasgow on the
2Sth of October next, where he, as royal commis-
sioner, might consult with the king's friends regarding
the further prosecution of the war, and the settlement
of the kingdom. He proceeded to knight his asso-
ciate M 'Donald, and he summoned the parliament
which was never to meet. His mountaineers re-
quested liberty, which, if he had refused, they would
have taken, to depart with their plunder. The Gor-
dons retired with their chief in disgust, and Alister,
now Sir Alister M'Coll, as there was no longer an
army in Scotland, seized the opportunity to renew
his spoliations and revenge his private feuds in Ar-
gyleshire.

To save his army from total annihilation, Montrose
turned his views to the south. Hume, Ro.xburgh,
and Traquair had spoken favourably of the royal
cause, and he expected to have been joined by them
with their followers, and a body of horse which the
king had despatched to his assistance imder Lord
Digby and Sir Marmaduke Langdale. This party,
however, was totally routed in coming through York-
shire. A party which these two leaders attempted
to raise in Lancashire was finally dispersed on Car-
lisle sands a short time before Montrose set out to
effect a junction with them; and while he waited near
the borders for the promised aid of the three neigh-
bouring earls, David Leslie surprised him at Philip-
haugh, near Selkirk, giving him as complete an
overthrow as he had ever given to the feeblest of his
opponents, on the 13th of September, 1645. One
thousand royali.sts were left dead on the field; and
one hundred of the Irish, taken prisoners, according
to an ordinance of the parliaments of both kingdoms,
were afterwards shot. Montrose made his escape
from the field \\ith a few followers, and reached Athol
in safety, where he was able still to raise about 400
men. Huntly had now left his concealment; but he
could not be prevailed on to join Montrose. Dis-
appointed in his attempts to gain Huntly, Montrose
returned by Braemar into Athol, and thence to
Lennox, where he quartered for some time on the
lands of the Buchanans, and hovered about Glasgow,
till the execution of his three friends, Sir William
RoUock, Sir Philip Nisbet, and Alexander 0gil\7,
younger of Inverquharity, gave him warning to with-
draw to a safer neighbourhood. He accordingly
once more withdrew to Athol. In the month of
December he laid siege to Inverness, before which
he lay for several weeks, till Middleton came upon
him with a small force, when he fled into Ross-shire.
The spring of 1646 he spent in marching and coun-
termarching, constantly endeavouring to excite a
simultaneous rising among the Highland septs, but
constantly unsuccessful. On the last day of May he
was informed of the king's surrender to the Scottish

156

JAMES GRAHAM.

army, and at the ?;amc time received his majesty's
order to disband his forces and withdraw from the
kinijdom. Throuj^h the influence of the Duke of
Hamilton, whose personal enemy he had been, he
procuretl an indemnity for his followers, with liberty
for himself to remain one month at his own house
for settling his affairs, and afterwards to retire to the
Continent. He embarked in a small vessel for Nor-
way on the 3d of September, 1646, taking his chap-
lain Dr. Wishart along with him, for whose servant
he passed during the voyage, being afraid of his
enemies capturing him on the passage.

From Norway he proceeded to Paris, where he en-
deavoured to cultivate the acquaintance of Henrietta
Maria, the queen, and to instigate various expedi-
tions to Britain in favour of his now captive sovereign.
It was not, however, thought expedient by either
Charles or his consort to employ him again in behalf
of the royal cause, on account of the invincible hatred
with which he was regarded by all classes of his
countrymen. In consequence of this he went into
Germany, and offered his ser\'ices to the emperor,
who honoured him with the rank of marischal, and
gave him a commission to raise a regiment. He was
busied in levying this corps when he received the
news of the king's death, which deeply affected him.
He was cheered, however, by a message soon after
to repair to the son of the late king, afterwards
Charles 11., at the Hague, for the purpose of re-
ceiving a commission for a new invasion of his native
countr)-. With a view to this expedition he under-
took a tour through several of the northern states of
Europe under the character of ambassador for the
King of Great Britain, and so ardently did he ad-
vocate the cause of depressed loyalty, that he received
a considerable sum of money from the King of Den-
mark, 1500 stand of arms from the Queen of Sweden,
fis'e large vessels from the Duke of Holstein, and
from the state of Holstein and Hamburg between
600 and 700 men. Having selected the remote
islands of Orkney as the safest point of rendezvous,
he despatched a part of his troops thither so early as
September, 1649; but of 1200 whom he embarked,
only 200 landed in Orkney, the rest perishing by
shipwreck.

It was about this time that, in an overflowing fit
of loyalty, he is alleged to have superintended the
disgraceful assassination of Dorislaus, the envoy of
the English parliament at the Hague; on which ac-
count young Charles was under the necessity of
leaving Holland. When Montrose arrived in the
Orkneys in the month of March, 1650, with the
small remainder of his forces, he found that, from a
difference between the Karls of Morton and Kinnoul,
to the latter of whom he had himself granted a com-
mission to be commander, but the former of whom
claimed the right to command in virtue of his being
lord of the islands, there had been no progress made
in the business. He brought along with him only
500 foreigners, officered by Scotsmen, which, with
the 200 formerly sent, gave him only 700 men. To
these, by the aid of several loyal gentlemen, he w^as
able to add about 8co Orcadians, who, from their
unwarlike habits, and their disinclination to the ser-
vice, added little to his effective strength. After a
residence in Orkney of three weeks he embarked the
whole of his forces, 1500 in number, at the Holm
Sound, the most part of them in fishing-boats, and
landed in safety near John O'Groat's House. Caith-
ness, Sutherland, and Ross had been exempted in
the late disturbances from those ravages that had
overtaken every place south of Inverness, and Mon-
trose calculated on a regiment from each of them.
For this purpose he had brought a great banner

along with him, on which was painted the corpse of
Charles I., the head being separated from the trunk,
with the motto that was used for the murdered
Darnley, "Judge and avenge my cause, O Lord."
It had no effect, however, upon the simple natives of
these regions, except to excite their aversion, and
they everywhere fled before him.

In order to secure a retreat to the Orkneys, the
castle of Dunbeath was taken possession of, and
strongly garrisoned by Montrose. Five hundred men
were also sent forward to occupy the hill of Ord,
which they accomplished just as the Earl of Suther-
land was advancing to take possession of it. Suther-
land retired rapidly before him, leaving his houses
of Dunnechin, Shelbo, Skibo, and Dornoch under
strong garrisons for the protection of his lands.
Montrose, mortified to find in Sutherland the same
aversion to him as in Caithness, and confident of his
strength and of the distance of his enemies, sent a
message to the Earl of Sutherland, threatening to
subject his estates to military execution if he con-
tinued to neglect his duty and the royal cause.
Colonel Strachan had, however, by this time reached
Tain, where he met with his lordship and his friends
the Rosses and Munroes, to the amount of 500 or 600
men. Here it was detennined that Sutherland should
get behind Montrose, so as to prevent his retreat to
the north, while Strachan with four troops of horse,
assisted by the Rosses and Munroes, should march
up in his front. When within two miles of him
they concealed themselves in a field of broom, and
sent out scouts to observe the motions and calculate
the strength he had brought along with him. Find-
ing that Montrose had just sent out a party of forty
horse, it was resolved that the whole should keep
hid in the broom, one troop of horse excepted, which
might lead him to think he had no more to contend
with. This had the desired effect. Montrose took
no pains to strengthen his position, but placing his
horse a little in advance, waited their approach on a
piece of low ground close by the mouth of the river
Kyle. Strachan then marshalled his little party for
the attack, dividing the whole into four parts, the
first of which he commanded in person; and it was
his intention that, while he himself rode up with his
party, so as to confirm the enemy in the notion that
there were no more to oppose, the remaining parties
should come up in quick succession, and at once
overwhelm him with the announcement that he was
surprised by a large army. The plan was completely
successful. Montrose no sooner saw the strength of
the Presbyterians, than, alaimed for the safety of his
foot, he ordered them to retire to a craggy hill behind
his position. Strachan, however, made such haste
that, though it was ver}' bad riding ground, he over-
took the retiring invaders before they could reach
their place of refuge. The mercenaries alone showed
any disposition to resist — the rest threw down their
arms without so much as firing a shot. Montrose
fought with desperate valour, but to no avail. He
could only save himself by flight. The carnage,
considering the number of the combatants, was
dreadful. Several hundreds were slain, and upwards
of 400 taken prisoners. On the part of the victors
only two men were wounded and one dro\\Tied. The
principal standard of the enemy, and all Montrose's
papers, fell into the hands of the victors.

Montrose, who fled from the field upon his friend
the young Viscount Frendraught's horse, his own
being killed in the battle, rode for some space with
a friend or two who made their escape along with
him; but the ground becoming bad, he abandoned
in succession his horse, his friends, and his cloak,
star, and sword, and exchanging clothes with a

REV. JAMES GRAHAME.

157

Highland rustic, toiled along the valley on foot.
Ignorant of the locality of the country, he knew not
so much as where he was going, except that he
believed he was leaving his enemies behind him, in
which he was fatally mistaken. His pursuers had
found in succession his horse, his cloak, and his
sword, by which they conjectured that he had fled
into Assynt; and accordingly the proprietor, Neil
Macleod, was enjoined to apprehend any stranger
he might find upon his ground. Parties were im-
mediately sent out, and by one of them he was
apprehended, along with an officer of the name of
Sinclair. The laird of Assynt had served under
Montrose, but was now alike regardless of the pro-
mises and the threatenings of his old commander.
The fugitive was unrelentingly delivered up to Gen-
eral Leslie, and by Strachan and Halket conducted,
in the same mean habit in which he was taken,
towards Edinburgh. At the house of the laird of
Grange, near Dundee, he had a change of raiment,
and by the assistance of an old lady had very nearly
elTected his escape. He had been excommunicated
by the church and forfeited by the parliament so far
back as 1644, and now sentence was pronounced
against him before he was brought to Edinburgh.
His reception in the capital was that of a condemned
traitor, and many barbarous indignities were heaped
upon him; in braving which he became, what he
could never otherwise have been, in some degree an
object of popular sympathy. He was executed on
Tuesday, the 21st of May, 1650, in a dress the most
splendid that he could command, and with the
history of his achievements tied round his neck;
defending with his latest breath his exertions in
behalf of distressed royalty, and declaring that his
conscience was completely at rest. His limbs were
afterwards exposed with useless barbarity at the gates
of the principal towns in Scotland.

Montrose appeared to Cardinal Du Retz as a hero
fit for the pages of Plutarch, being inspired by all
the ideas and sentiments which animated the classic
personages whom that writer has commemorated.
He certainly is entitled to the praise of great military
genius, of uncompromising ardour of purpose, and
of a boldness both in the conception and execution
of great designs, such as are rarely found in any class
of men. It is not to be denied, however, that
ambition was nearly his highest principle of action,
and that the attainment of his objects was too often
sought at the expense of humanity. As might be
expected, his memory was too much cherished by his
own party, and unreasonably detested by the other;
but historical truth now dictates that he had both
his glorious and his dark features, all of which were
alike the characteristics of a great and pregnant
mind, soaring beyond the sphere assigned to it, but
hardly knowing how to pursue greatness in con-
sistency with virtue.

GRAHAME, Rev. James, the author of The
Sdbbatk and other poems, was bom in Glasgow on
the 22d of April, 1765. He was the son of Mr.
Thomas Grahame, writer in that city, a gentleman
at the head of the legal profession there, and who
held a high place in the esteem of his fellow-citizens
for strict integrity and many amiable qualities. His
mother was a woman of very uncommon understand-
ing; and it may be well supposed that the young
bard owed much of that amiable disposition which
distinguished him in after-life to the mild and bene-
volent tuition of his parents. From them also he
imbibed those ultra-liberal opinions on politics,
which, on the first breaking out of the French re-
volution of 17S9, found so many supporters in this

country, and which Mr. Grahame no doubt adopted
under a sincere impression that the diffusion of such
opinions was likely to benefit the human race. He
was educated at the grammar-school and university
of Glasgow. At this time his father possessed a
beautiful villa on the romantic banks of the Cart,
near Glasgow, to which the family removed during
the summer months; and it is pleasing to remark the
delight with which James Grahame, in after-years,
looked back upon the youthful days spent there.
In the Birds of Scotland we have the following
pleasing remembrances, which show that these days
were still green in his memory:

" I love thee, pretty bird! for 'twas thy nest
Which first, unhclpcd by older eyes, I found;
The very spot I think I now behold!
Forth from my low-roofed home I wandered blythe
Down to thy side, sweet Cart, where cross the stream
A range of stones, below a shallow ford,
Stood in the place of the now-spanning arch;
Up from that ford a little bank there was,
With alder copse and willow overgrown.
Now worn away by mining winter floods;
There at a bramble root, sunk in the grass.
The hidden prize, of withered field-straws formed,
Well lined with many a coil of hair and moss,
And in it laid five red-veined spheres, I found."

James Grahame eminently distinguished himself
both at school and college ; and we have an early
notice of his poetical genius having displayed itself
in some Latin verses, which, considering his age,
were thought remarkable for their elegance. At
this period he was noted among his companions for
the activity of his habits, and the frolicsome gaiety
of his disposition ; his character, however, seems to
have undergone a change, and his constitution to
have received a shock, in consequence of a blow in-
flicted in wantonness on the back of his head, which
ever afterwards entailed upon him occasional attacks
of headache and stupor; and there seems to be little
doubt that this blow was ultimately the cause of his
death. After passing through a regular academical
course of education at the university of Glasgow,
during which he attended a series of lectures de-
livered by the celebrated Professor Millar, whose,
opinions on politics were by no means calculated
to alter those which his pupil had derived from his
father, he was removed to Edinburgh in the year
1784, where he commenced the study of law under
the tuition of his cousin, Mr. Laurence Hill, writer
to the signet. This was a destination wholly foreign
to his character and inclination; his own wishes would
have led him to the clerical profession, which was
more congenial to his tastes than the busy turmoil
of legal avocations; but young Grahame passively
acquiesced in the arrangement which his father had
made, more from considerations connected with his
own means of advancing him in the legal profession,
than from regard to the peculiarities of his son's dis-
position and character.

After having finished his apprenticeship he was
admitted a member of the Society of Writers to the
Signet in the year 1791. His prospects of success
in business were very considerable, in consequence
of the influence possessed by his father and his other
relations; but the death of his father towards the
close of the year 1 791 seems to have freed him from
the restraint which bound him to his profession, and
he resumed his original desire of entering the church.
For a time, however, the persuasion of his friends
induced him to relinquish his intention of taking
holy orders; and at length, in the year 1795, in
the hope that the avocations of the bar would prove
more congenial to his taste, and allow him, during
the vacations, greater leisure to indulge his literary
propensities, than the more irksome details of the

158

JAMES CRAIIAME.

other branch of the profession, he became a member
of the Faculty of Advocates.

James Grahame, while yet at the university, printed
and circulated among his friends a collection of
poetical pieces. Of this work no trace is now left
except in the memory of the members of his own
family, and it is only curious as it seems to have
contained a rough draught of those sketches which
he after\vards published under the title of the Rural
Calendar. It was in the year 1797 that these pieces
appeared in their amended form. Being on a visit
to a friend in Kelso when the Kelso Mail was com-
menced, he contributed them anonymously to that
newspaper; he afterwards published them, greatly
enlarged and improved, in the i2mo edition of his
works, in 1S07. In the year 1801 he published a
dramatic poem, entitled Mary Queen of Scotland;
but his talents were by no means dramatic; and
although this production was a great favourite of his
own, it is only deser\'ing of attention as containing
some beautiful descriptive passages.

In the year 1802 Mr. Grahame was married to
Miss Grahame, eldest daughter of Richard Grahame,
Esq., Annan, a woman of masculine understanding
and very elegant accomplishments. She at first en-
deavoured to discourage her husband's poetical pro-
pensities, from the idea that they interfered with his
professional duties; but on the discovery that he was
the author of The Sal>bath, she no longer attempted,
or %vished, to oppose the original bias of his mind.
The Sahliath was published not only anonymously,
but the poet even concealed its existence from his
dearest relations. The mode which he took to com-
municate it to his wife presents a very pleasing pic-
ture of his diffident and amiable disposition. In
relating this anecdote we shall use the words of one
who was very intimate with the poet and his family.
"On its publication he brought the book home with
him, and left it on the parlour table. Returning
soon after he found Mrs. Grahame engaged in its

{)erusal ; but without venturing to ask her opinion,
le continued to walk up and down the room in
breathless anxiety, till she burst out in the warmest
eulogium on the performance; adding, 'Ah James,
if you could but produce a poem like this.' The
acknowledgment of the authorship, and the pleasure
of making the disclosure under such circumstances,
may be easily imagined." The Sabbath was sub-
jected to a severe ordeal of criticism in the Edinburgh
Jieineii); but the critic afterwards made ample atone-
ment to the wounded feelings of the poet and his
friends, in reviewing his subsequent work, the British
Georgics — an example which one cannot but wish
that Lord Byron had imitated, by expressing some
contrition for the wanton and cruel attack made in
liis English Eards and Scotch Rezdeiuers on tlie
gentle and amiable poet of The Sabbath.

About the year 1806 Mr. Grahame published a
well-written pamphlet on the subject of the introduc-
tion of jury trial in civil causes in Scotland, entitled
Thoughts on Trial by Jury. This was a favourite
project of his paity in politics about the beginning
of the present century; and during the Whig ad-
ministration of 1806-7 '1 Ij'll was brought into par-
liament by the ministry for the purpose of extending
that mode of trial to Scotland. That bill fell on the
change of administration; but some years afterwards
a bill having the same object was carried through
parliament by the succeeding administration ; and
in 1816 jury trial in civil causes was introduced under
certain modifications, and has since been made a
permanent part of the civil judicial procedure in
this country.

But for the bad health to which he was occasion-

ally subject, ^^r. Grahame might have enjoyed much
happiness, surrounded as he was by his family, to
whom he was devotedly attached, and mixing dur-
ing the winter months on familiar tenns with the
intellectual and polished society which Edinburgh
at all times affords, and which, at the time alluded
to, was peculiarly brilliant; while, to vaiy the scene,
he usually spent the summer either at Kirkhill, on
the banks of the Esk, or at some other rural retire-
ment. It was at Kirkhill, surrounded with some
of the loveliest scenery in Scotland, that he composed
77/1? Bi)-ds of Scotland. But in spite of the happi-
ness which such a state of literary ease was calculated
to afford, Mr. Grahame still looked with longing to
the condition of a country clergyman — a vocation
which his imagination had invested with many
charms. The authority already referred to mentions
a circumstance strongly indicative of the constant
current of his thoughts: — "The writer will never
forget the eager longing with which he surveyed the
humble church of Borthwick on a fine summer even-
ing, wdien the sun's last rays had gilded the land-
scape, and rendered every object in nature more
sweet and impressive. He cast a look of delighted
complacency around the peaceful scene, and said,
with an accent of regret, ' I wish such a place as that
had fallen to my lot.' And when it was remarked
that continued retirement might become wearisome,
'Oh ! no,' he replied, 'it would be delightful to live
a life of usefulness among a simple people, unmolested
with petty cares and ceremonies.' At length, yield-
ing to his long cherished wish, he entered holy orders
as a clerg}'man of the Church of England. After
having spent the summer months of 1808 at a plea-
sant villa in the neighbourhood of Annan, where
he composed the British Georgics, he proceeded to
England in the spring following ; and after encoun-
tering some difficulty, was ordained by Dr. Bathurst,
Bishop of Norwich, on Trinity Sunday, being the
28th of May, 1809. That good prelate was so much
delighted with Mr. Grahame, that he was anxious
to persuade him to remain in his diocese; but Mr.
Grahame was prevented from acceding to this re-
quest by the prevalence of fever and ague in the
district. He resided for some weeks after his ordina-
tion at the city of Chester ; and there he obtained
the curacy of Shefton in Gloucestershire, which he
held from July until the month of March in the fol-
lowing year, when he was called to Scotland by
family affairs. The accomplishment of his long
cherished and ardent desire to enter the clerical
profession does not seem to have afforded him that
full measure of happiness which he anticipated.
This was partly to be attributed to broken health;
and perhaps, also, to a natural restlessness of dis-
position, but more particularly to the change having
been too long defeiTed. Indications of this fact may
be traced m the following beautiful lines in the Bri-
tish Georgics, which show how deep])' he loved and
how fondly he regretted leaving his native land: —

"How pleasant came thy rushing, silver Tweed,
Upon mine ear, when, after roaming long
In southern plains, I've reached thy lovely banks!
How bright, renowned Sark, thy little stream,
Like ray of column'd light chasing a shower,
Would cross my homeward path! how sweet the sounds
When I, to hear the Doric tongue's reply.
Would ask thy well-known name.

And must I leave,
Dear land, thy bonny braes, thy dales,
Each haunted by its wizard-stream, o'erhung
With all the varied charms of bush and tree;
Thy towering hills, the lineament sublime,
Unchanged, of Nature's face, which wont to fill
The eye of Wallace, as he musing plann'd
The grand emprise of setting Scotland free?
And must I leave the friends of youthful years.

JOHN GR-\HAM.

159

And mc Ji rr.y he^rt ar.e-x- ::• take :r.e ?-.i:np

Of forei^ fnendships in a •':re:5T, lar.i?

Yes, I 171 ."< y love ihe rQu~;c vl iirar.ge l-ngr-£S

And mould my heart anew to take the stamp

Of foreign friendships in a foreign land;

Bat to my pardied mouth's roof cleave this ux^iie.

My fancy fade into the yellow leaf^

And this oft-panang heart forget to throb.

It, Scotland, d>ee and thine I e'er forget."

On his return to Scotland he was an nnsnccessM
candidate for Sl George's Episcopal Chapel, Edin-
bunrh. This disappointment was severely felt by his
friends, who, fondly attached to him, and admiring
him much as a preacher, were exceedingly anxious
to have him settled amongst them; but he bore
the frustration of his hopes without a murmur. In
August, 1 8 10, he was appointed interim curate to
the chapelry of St. Margaret, Durham, where his
eloquence as a preacher quickly collected a crowded
congregation; and after having ofiBciated there for a
few months, he obtained the curacy of Sedgefield, in
the same diocese. Having been affected with oppres-
sive asthma and violent headaches, he was induced
to try the effect of a change to his native air; and
after sf>ending a few days in Edinburgh with his
only surviving sister, Mrs. Archibald J^rahame, he,
along with his wife, who had joined him in Edin-
burgh, proceeded to Glasgow, where he expired tn'o
days after his arrival He died at \Mutehill, the
residence of his eldest brother, Mr. Robert Grahame
of WTiitehill, on the 14th of September, 181 1, in the
forty- seventh year of his age, leaving two sons and a
daughter.

The most characteristic feature in the mind of
James Grahame was a keen and refined sensibility,
which, while it in some measure incapacitated him
for encountering the hardships and enduring the as-
perities of life, and gave the appearance of vacillation
to his conduct, at the same time rendered him sensi-
tively alive to the intellectual pleasures of the world,
and shed an amiable purity over his character and
manners. It is deeply to be r^retted that the
wishes of his father should have thrown an impedi-
ment in the way of his embracing at the outset of
life that profession which was so congenial to the
benign gentleness of his disposition. Possessed of a
pleasing and intellectual fund of conversation, there
was about him an infantine simplicity of character,
which rendered him alternately the companion of
Francis Homer, and of Je&ey, Cockbum, Brougham,
and his other distinguished contemporari^ and
the delight of his own children, in whose most
playftil gambols he would often join. His per-
sonal appearance was particularly striking; his dark
complexion harmonizing well with his finely-formed
and expressive features, over which there hung a
deep shade of languor and pensiveness; his figure
was tall, and while discharging the duties of his
sacred oflttce his air and manner were truly apostolic

GRAHAM, John, Viscount of Dundee, was the
elder son of Sir William Graham of Claverhouse, an
Kiate ■with an old castle attached near Dundee.
The fiunilj" of Claveriiouse was a branch of that of
Montrose, and the mother of the subject of this me-
moir was Lady Jean Cam^e, third daughter of John,
first Earl of Xorthesk. Young Graham was educated
between 1660 and 1670, at St. Andrew's aniversity,
where he distinguished himself by a proficiency in
mathematics, by an enthusiastic passion for Highland
poetry, and the zeal inherited from his family in be-
half of the then established order of things in church
and stale. His abilities recommended him to the
attention of Archbishop Sharp, whose death he
afterwards revenged by so many severities. He

commenced his military career as a volunteer in the
French service, and when the British war ^-ith
Holland was concluded, became a comet in the
guards of the Prince of Orange, whose life he saved
at the battle of Seneff, in the year 1674; a service
for which he was rewarded by recei\ing a captain's
commission in the same corps. One of the Scottish
regiments in the service of the States shortly after
becoming vacant, Graham, frx>m the favour of the
prince, and his interest with the court of England,
was induced to offer himself as a candidate for it. It
was, however, carried against him, in consequence
of which he determined to abandon the Dutch service,
and in 1677 he returned to Scotland, bringing with
him particular reconnmendations from the Prince of
Orange to King Charles, who appointed him captain
to the first of three troops of horse which he was
raising at that tim^ for enforcing compliance with
the established religion. Of all who were employed
in this odious service Captain Graham was the most
indefatigable and unrelenting. His dragoons were
styled by the less serious part of the people, />i<r
riding elders of the church; and recusancy was the
great crime they had it in charge to repress. Con-
venticles, as they were called, the peaceable asem-
bUes of the people in the open fields, to hear firom
their own ministers the word of God, were the objects
against which Clavers, as his name was usually con-
tracted, had it in charge to wage an exterminating war-
£ire; and to discover and bring to punishment such as
frequented them, he spared not to practise the most
det^table cruelties. But though the subject of this
memoir was the most forward and violent, he was
not the sole persecutor of the field-preachers and
their adherents. In every quarter of the cotmtry,
particularly in the shire of Fife, and in the southern
and western counties — there was a Sharp, an Earls-
hall, a Johnston, a BarmatjTie, a Grierson, an
Oglethorpe, or a Main, with each a host of inferior
tyrants, who acted under him as spies and informers
— ^in consequence of whose procedure no man was
for a moment safe in his life or his property, either
in house or in field, at home or abroad. Arms, of
course, were necessarily resorted to by the sufferers,
and a party of them falling in by accident with the
primate Sharp, in the beginning of May, 1679, put
him to death, which excited the fears, and of course
the rage, of the whole of the dominant party to the
highest pitch of extravagance; and in pursuit of the
actors in that afiair, and to put down all conventicles
by the way, Claverhouse and his dragoons, with a
party of foot, were immediately sent to the west.

Meanwhile a party in arms had assembled in Evan-
dale, to the number of eighty persons, with Robert
Hamilton of Preston at their head, and came to
Rutherglen on the 29th of May, the anniversary of
the restoration. There they extinguished the bonfires
that were blazing in honour of the day — and having
burned the act of supremacy, the declaration, &c.,
and published at the market-cross of that burgh a
short t^timony against all these acts, since known by
the name of the Rutherglen Declaration, they returned
to Evandale. Sermon ha\ing been aimounced by
some of their preachers on the approaching Sunday,
June the 1st, in the neighbourhood of London Hill,
Claverhouse, who it appears was either in Glasgow
or its neighbourhood at the time, and had information
both of what they had done and of what they in-
tended to do, followed almost upon their heels, and
on Saturday the 3i5t of May surprised and made
prisoners, in the neighbourhood of Hamilton, Mr.
John King and seventeen persons on their way to
join the meeting at Loudon HilL Tying his prison-
ers together, two and two, and driving them before

JOHN GRAHAM.

him like cattle, to be witnesses to the murder of
their brethrvin, he hasted on Sunday morning early,
by the way of Strathaven, to surprise them before
they should have time to be fully assembled. The
ser\'ice, however, was begun by Mr. Thomas Douglas,
who had been an actor in the publication of the
Rutherglen Declaration on the preceding Thursday,
before he could come up; and having notice of his
approach, about 50 horsemen and from 150 to
200 foot left the meeting, and met their perse-
cutors at Drumclog, where, being united in heart
and mind, and properly conducted, they in a few
minutes routed the royaj troops. Claverhouse him-
self narrowly escaped, with the loss of his colours,
between thirty and forty of his men, and all his
prisoners. Of the countrj- people there were not
above three kdled and but few wounded. Claverhouse
fled hurriedly to Glasgow, where he had left Lord
Ross with a number of troops; and, had the Cove-
nanters pursued him, they might have been masters
of the city the same day. They waited, however,
till next day before they attacked Glasgow; and the
streets having been barricaded, they were repulsed
with considerable loss by the troops, who were thus
enabled to fight under cover. As the countrj-men
took up ground at no great distance, and as their
numbers were rapidly augmenting, Claverhouse and
Lord Ross did not think it prudent to attempt keep-
ing possession of Glasgow, but on the 3d of June
retreated towards Stirling, carrj-ing along with them
in carts a number of the wounded countrymen tliat
had fallen into their hands, and on Larbert Muir, in
the neighbourhood of Falkirk, were joined by a body
of the king's forces under the Elarl of Linlithgow.
Still they did not think themselves a match for the
Covenanters, and wrote to the councU that it was
the general sense of the officers that his majesty
should be written to for assistance from England
without loss of lime.

The Duke of Monmouth was in consequence ap-
pointed to the command of the army; the whole of
the militia were called out, and two regiments of
dragoons, under Oglethorpe and Main, then in sum-
mer quarters in the north of England, ordered to join
them. On the 17th Monmouth arrived at Edinburgh.
He joined the army, which had been increased to
upwards of lo,oco men, on the 19th, and on Sunday
the 22d confronted the p>oor insurgents in their ori-
ginal encampment upon Hamilton >Iuir, who, instead
of making preparations to receive an enemy, were
quarrelling about the manner in which their grievances
should be stated, or whether they were to supplicate
or to fight; yet a part of the countr)-men, with some

Bieces of cannon stationed to defend the passage of
othwell Bridge, behaved with the coolness of veteran
troops. After having maintained the unequal con-
flict for upwards of an hour, this little band of heroes
were obliged to retreat for the want of ammunition.
Monmouth's whole force crossed by the bridge, and
it was no longer a battle but a disorderly rout, ever)'
indiN-idual shifting for himself in the way he thought
best. Claverhouse requested that he might be
allowed to sack and bum Glasgow, Hamilton, Strath-
aven, and the adjacent country', for the counte-
nance they had given to the rebels, as he termed
them, but in reality for the sake of spoil, and to
gratify a spirit of revenge for the affront he sustained
at Drumclog. This, however, the duke had too
much humanity to permit. But he had abundant
room for satiating his revenge afterwards, being sent
into the west with the most absolute powers; which
he exercised in such a maimer as has made his very
name an execration to this day.

In 1682 Claverhouse was appointed sheriff of

Wigton, in which office his brother, David Graham,
was joined with him the year following. To particu-
larize the murders and the "robberies committed by
the brothers in the e.\ercise of their ci^■il and military
callings would require a volume. Ensnaring oathis
and healths Claverhouse himself had ever at his
finger ends; and if any refused these, they were in-
stantly dragged to prison, provided there was a pros-
pect of making anything out of them in the way of
money; otherwise they had the advantage of being
killed on the spot, though sometimes not without
being ^•ictims of the most refined cruelty. This was
particularly the case with regard to John Brown,
styled the Christian Carrier, whom Claverhouse laid
hold of in a summer morning in 16S5, going to his
work in the fields. Intending to kill this innocent
and worthy person, the persecutor brought him back
to his own house, and subjected him to a long ex-
amination before his wife and family. Being solidly
and seriously answered, he tauntingly inquired at his
prisoner if he was a preacher; and in the same
spirit, when answered in the negative, remarked, ' • If
he had never preached meikle, he had prayed in his
time;" informing him at the same time that he was
instantly to die. The poor unoffending victim ad-
dressed himself to the dut)- of prayer, along with his
family, with all the fervour of a devout mind in the
immediate prospect of eternity, and thrice by Claver-
house was interrupted by the remark, that he had
got time to pray, but was beginning to preach. With
one simple reply, that he knew neither the nature of
pra\ing nor preaching, the good man went on and ,
concluded his address without the smallest confiision.
He was then commanded to take farewell of his wife
and children, which he did with the most resigned
composure, kissing them indi\-idually, and wisliing
all purchased and promised blessings, along with his
own, to be multiplied up>on them. A volley from six
of the troopers then scattered his head in fragments
upon the ground; \vhen Claverhouse, mounting his
horse, as if to insult the sorrows of the woman whom
he had thus wickedly made a widow, asked her what
she thought of her husband now. "I thought ever
much of him," was the reply, "and now as much as
ever." "It were justice," said he, "to lay thee be-
side him." "If ye were permitted,'" said the much
injured woman, "I doubt not but your cruelty would
carry you that length; but how ^viLl you make answer
for this morning's work?"' ' ' To man I can be answer-
able," said the audacious tyrant, "and for God, I
will take him in mine own hand;" and putting spurs
to his horse, galloped off, leaving the widow with
her bereaved babes and the corpse of her murdered
husband without a friend or neighbour that was not
at some miles distance. The poor woman, borrow-
ing strength from her despair, meantime set do^^Ti
her infant on the ground, gathered and tied up the
scattered brains of her husband, straighted his body,
wrapping it up in her plaid, and, with her infants
arotmd her, sat down and wept over him. Claver-
house had in the year previous to this been consti-
tuted captain of the royal regiment of horse, was
sworn a pri\y-coimcLLlor, and had a gift from the king
of the estate of Dudhope, and along with it the
office of constable of Dundee, then in the hands of
Lauderdale, upon pa}ing a sum of money to the
chancellor.

On the accession of James VII. he was left out of
the priN-)--council, on pretence that, ha\ing married
into the family of Dundonald, it was not fit that he
should be intrusted with the king's secrets. He
was very soon, however, restored to his place in
the council, had the rank of brigadier-general be-
stowed oa him in 16S6, and sometime aftervvards

JOHN GRAHAM ROBERT GRAHAM.

i6i

that of major-general. On the I2th of November,
i6SS, being then with the king in London, he
was created a peer, by the title of Viscount of
Dundee and Lord Graham of Claverhouse. This
was a week after William Prince of Orange had
landed to reverse the order of things under which
his lordship had reaped so much honour and prefer-
ment. When his majesty withdrew to Rochester,
Lord Dundee strongly dissuaded him from leaving
the kingdom, promising to collect 10,000 of his dis-
banded soldiers to march through England, driving
the Prince of Orange before him. Happily for the
country, and perhaps for Dundee himself, his advice
was not taken, and still meditating mischief, he came
to Edinburgh, bringing a troop of sixty horse along
with him, which had deserted from his regiment in
England. The westland men, however, who had
come into the city of Edinburgh to protect the con-
vention till regularly authorized troops should be
raised, had their eye upon him, as one who ought
to be called to account for the many slaughters he
had committed; and suspecting that he intended, by
the help of his dragoons, to add that of the Lords
Crawford and Cardross to the number, they mounted
guard upon the lodgings of these two noblemen.
This seemed to give great uneasiness to the Lord
Dundee, who in the convention which he attended
only for a few days, was always putting the question,
what was meant by bringing in the rabble; which
not being answered to his lordship's mind, he thought
it prudent to retire from the city. General Mackay
with fifteen troops of horse, by orders from the con-
vention, pursued him through the shires of Perth,
Angus, Aberdeen, Buchan, Banff, Moray, and Nairn.
On the 1st of May, 16S9, Dundee, with 150 horse,
joined Macdonald of Keppoch, who with 900 men
had invested Inverness, partly because they had pro-
claimed the Prince of Orange king, and partly for
assisting the MTntoshes, with whom he was at odds.
The town, however, compromised the matter by a
gift to Keppoch of 2000 dollars, Dundee acting the
part of a mediator between them. He offered him-
self in the same character to M'Litosh; but the chief-
tain refused to submit to his dictation, for which
they drove away his cattle, and divided them, — part
to the use of the army, and part to Keppoch's
tenants. After having subsisted upon this booty
along with Keppoch for upwards of six weeks, he,
with his 150 horse, came unexpectedly upon the
town of Perth, where he made some prisoners, seized
upon a number of horses, and appropriated 9000
marks of the king's cess and excise. From Perth he
marched upon Dundee, but the citizens shut their
gates against him; and, unable to force an entrance,
he turned aside to his own house at Dudhope. After
occupying this mansion two nights he returned to
Keppoch, whence, after a residence of six weeks, he
marched into Badenoch to meet General Mackay
and the laird of Grant, who had an army of nearly
2000 foot and upwards of 200 horse. Mackay and
Grant, though superior in numbers, retreated before
him till they had passed Strathbogie. Dundee pur-
sued with great ardour till he came to Edinglassy,
where he learned that Mackay had received consider-
able reinforcements: after resting a few days he re-
turned to Keppoch. Here, besides recniits from
L-eland, he was joined by Macdonald of the Isles
with 500 men, by Alacdonaldof Glengary, the captain
of Clanronald, Sir John Maclean, Cameronof Lochiel,
and others, each with a body of retainers eager to
be led against the Sassenach, for the sake of their
expatriated sovereign. Thus reinforced with an
army of 2500 men, he advanced upon Blair in Athol.
General Mackay, being at Perth, hasted to meet him
VOL. II.

with an army of 3000 foot and two troops of horse.
Marching through the pass of Killiecrankie, he found
Dundee with his army posted on an eminence, ready
to attack him as he emerged from that dangerous
defile. Having little choice of position Mackay drew
up his men in line, three deep, as they could clear
the defile, having a narrow plain before them, and
behind them the craggy eminences they had just
passed, and the deep and rapid water of Garry.
Dundee's army was formed in dense masses, accord-
ing to their clans, on an opposite eminence; whence
about an hour before sunset they descended, in their
shirts and doublets, with the violence of their own
mountain torrents; and, though they received three
fires, which killed a great number of them, before
they reached Mackay's lines, their attack was such
as in the course of a few minutes threw nearly his
whole force into irretrievable confusion. One or
two of his regiments happily stood unbroken; and.
while he hasted with these to secure an orderly re-
treat, Dundee rode up at full speed to lead on the
Macdonalds, to complete the victory: but as he was
pointing them on to the attack, a random shot struck
him below the annpit, and he fell from his horse
mortally wounded. He was carried into a neigh-
bouring cottage, where he died the same night, July
27, 1689. In his grave were buried the fruits of his
victory, and for a time the best hopes of his party,
who, while they eulogized his character in the lan-
guage of unmeasured panegyric, could not help
seeing that the cause of legitimacy in Scotland per-
ished with him. It is hardly necessaiy to remark,
that this anticipation was fully justified by the event.
Lord Dundee was married to the Honourable Jean
Cochrane, third and youngest daughter of Lord
William Cochrane, brother to the Earl of Dundonald,
by whom he had issue one son, who died in infancy.
Of his character, after the brief detail which we have
given of his actions, it is scarcely necessary to speak
more particularly. That he was free from many of
the debasing vices which disgraced the greater part
of his associates we have seen no reason to doubt; but
if he was less sensual he was more haughty, more
perseveringly active and more uniformly and un-
relentingly cruel in the exercise of those illegal
powers which he was called upon by a most unprin-
cipled court to exercise, than all his coadjutors put
together.

GRAHAM, Ror.ERT. This excellent botanist,
who did so much in reviving the study of botany
and making it a popular science, was the third son
of Dr. Robert Graham, afterwards Moir of Leckie,
and was born at Stirling on the 3d of December,
1786. Being educated for his father's profession,
he commenced his public life as a physician, and
practised for some time in Glasgow. Before the year
1 81 8 there was no separate chair of botany in the
university of that city, the want being partially sup-
plied by the professor of anatomy, who read a course
of lectures on the subject during the summer season.
In the year above-mentioned the government estab-
lished a separate professorship for botany, and Dr.
Graham was promoted to the office. In this, how-
ever, he did not long remain, for the chair of botany
in the university of Edinburgh having become vacant.
Dr. Graham entered the competition for the charge,
and was the successful candidate. He was also ap-
pointed physician to the infinnarj', and conservator
to the botanical garden of Edinburgh. Upon this
latter office he bestowed such care and attention,
that to his exertions the garden is chiefly indebted
for its present distinguished excellence.

Although on his appointment to the professorship

46

THOMAS GRAHAM.

in Glasgow in iSiS, Dr. Graham's knov. iLtlj^e of
botany wai little alxive the average of his brethren,
while the general apathy to the science gave liim
little encouragement to ni.-ilure his knowledge of it,
the case was liilTcrent when he was translated to
Ihe capital of Scotland. There a scientific and in-
tellectual spirit was in the full flush of vigorous
manhood, and while he felt that mere ordinary ex-
cellence was of no account, the life-stir arountl him
insuiretl him with its enthusiasm, lie devoted him-
sell to the science in earnest, and — what was more —
communicated his ardour to his pupils; and imder
the electric touch the study of botany acquired fresh
popularity not only among the lovers of scientific
research, but the fair and fasliionable world, tlie
members of which thronged to his lectures in the
garden, and dissected the beautiful lloral specimens
by which his lessons were illustrated. A favourite
mode of teaching his students also pron\oted their
progress; it consisted of excursions with them during
the summer months to distant parts of the country,
where nature opened before them the botanical
volume illuminated with its richest illustrations.
In this manner he perambulated with his class some
of the most important districts of Scotland, England,
Wales, and Ireland; antl while he examined and
cx])lained their various floral productions, he was
induced from the knowledge he thus acquired to

Ereparc materials for a /•'/oni of Great Britain, \\hich,
owever, he did not live to publish. His published
works consist chiefly of accounts of new and rare
plants which flowered in the botanic gardens of
Edinburgh, and notices of his excursions and other
papers: these he published in the Edinburgh Ncio
Philosophical Magazine, CnrtWs Botanical Magazine,
and Hooker's Companion to the Botanical Magazine.
The muscular frame and vigorous constitution of
Professor Graham seemed to insure a healthy old
age and prolonged life of usefulness, which, however,
were not realized. His health broke down several
years before his death, and he died on the 7th of
August, 1845, of an encephaloid tumour, which oc-
cupied the back part of the thorax, and pressed upon
the great vessels of the heart. An enthusiast in his
department of science, an able and suggestive teacher,
frank in his manners and kind-hearted in disposition,
his death was lamented not only by his pupils, but
a large circle of friends, to whom his many amiable
qualities had endeared him.

GRAHAM, Tho.MAS, Lord I.ynedoch. This
venerable warrior was descended from a common
ancestor with the Dukes of Montrose. He was the
third son of Thomas Graham of Balg(jwan in Perth-
shire, by Lady Christian lIo])e, fourth daughter of
Charles, first Karl of Hopetoun, and was born A. I).
1750. He had thus reache<l his ninely-fourlh year
when he died, a jieriod of life which few who have
undergone the hardsiiips and privations of trying
cam])aigns are privileged to attain.

Nothing in the early course of Thomas Graham
indicated that he would become not only a soldier,
but a skilful and successful one. liy the death of his
two elder brothers he became the heir and represen-
tative of the family; and by his marriage with Mary
Cathcart, daughter of the ninth Lord Catlicart, his
affections were so completely occui>ie(l and his home
endeared, that he had reached his forty-second year,
with the character of an amiable country gentleman,
whose highest object was the welfare of his tenants
and the hajjpincss of all around him. But all at
once this trantjuil life was brought to a close by
the death of Mrs. Graham in 1 792, after .she had
been married eighteen years; and her husband, who

loved her with a surpassing affection, was inconsolable
at her death. The bereavement was also still far-
ther imbittered by the circumstance of their marriage
having been without offspring, so that no child was
left behind to cheer the solitude of his dwelling and
restore to him the look and accents of the departed.
He felt as if he had sustained a loss for which nothing
could compensate; but instead of having recourse to
the miserable remedy of the suicide, he resolved at
the age of forty-three to devote himself to a military
life, where he might find, not a soldier's glory, for
which at this time he cared not, but a soldier's early
grave, the refuge best fitted for a weary and broken
heart. Who would have thought that a feeling so
tender and domestic was to produce the victor of
Barossa? It is to this commencement of his military
life that Sir Walter Scott so touchingly alludes, while
describing the chief heroes of the Peninsular war, iu
his Vision of Don Roderick: —

"Nor be his praise o'erpast who strove to hide

Beneath the warrior's vest affection's wound,
Whose wish, Heaven for his country's weal denied;

Danger and fate he sought, but glory found.
From clime to clime, where'er war's trumpets sound,

The wanderer went; yet, Caledonia! still
Thine was his thought in march and tented ground;

He dreamed 'mid alpine cliffs of Athole's hill,
And heard in Ebro's roar his Lynedoch's lovely rill."

This choice of a military life was made after the
consolations of travel had been tried and found in-
effectual. The bereaved man had wandered through
France ; but neither its beautiful scenery, nor gay
society, nor even the wild events of its revolution,
could abstract his mind from its own sorrows. He
then became a pilgrim on the shores of the Mediter-
ranean, and passed over to Gibraltar; and it was in
the society of the officers there that his choice ap-
pears to have been first adopted. lie offered him-
self as a volunteer to Lord Hood, then about to sail
to the south of P'rance, and by the latter he was
received with welcome. At the commencement of
the revolutionary war in 1793 Graham landed with
the British troops at Toulon, and officiated there as
extra aide-de-camp to Lord Mulgrave, the general
in command. In the numerous encounters with the
enemy that distinguished this memorable siege, the
new volunteer threw himself among the foremost;
and on one occasion, when a British soldier fell at
the head of the attacking column, Mr. Graham
snatched up the musket of the dead man, and took
his place. When Toulon was evacuated by the
British and Spanish troops, Graham, now a pledged
soldier, returned to Scotland, and raised the first
battalion of the 90th regiment, in which he was
appointed lieutenant-colonel. With this corps he
]iassed the summer of 1795, and was afterward trans-
ferred to Gibraltar, where he received the rank of
full colonel in the army. The dulness of garrison
duty, however, within a sphere so limited as the
rock of Gibraltar, was only fitted to aggravate the
disease for which Graham was seeking relief, and
therefore he sought and easily obtained permission
to join the Austrian army, at that time employed
against the Trench on the Rhine. Here he bore a
part in the disastrous campaign of the sunnner of
1796, and was afterwards shut up with the troops of
the brave old Wurmser in Mantua, which was in-
vested by the Man of Destiny, at that time known
by the simple title of General Bonaparte. The siege
was so tedious, that here Colonel Graham fell into
the same malady that had compelled him to abandon
Gibraltar; and he resolved to leave the garrison in
which he scned as a volunteer, for more stirring
occupation. I'"or this purpose he silently stole out of
Mantua on the night of the 24th of December, 1796,

THOMAS GRAHAM.

163

amidst a torrent of rain, and accompanied by only one
attendant. It was a truly perilous exit; for all the
water communications with the lake formed by the
Mincio, on which Mantua is situated, were in pos-
session of the French, so that the lake itself was to
be crossed in a boat, which stranded repeatedly uj)on
the little islands, and was every moment in danger
of swamping. After groping through the midnight
darkness and storm, the landing-place was at last
reached ; and here a new series of dangers com-
menced. The country round was trodden into mire
and studded with swamps, among which the travel-
lers floundered at hap-hazard; and when morning
dawned Colonel Graham, who wore his British
uniform, was in danger of being arrested or shot by
the enemy's pickets. He concealed himself during
the day, and travelled only at night, until he reached
a river, for the crossing of which he hired a boat,
intending to risk a landing, where he would pro-
bably have been shot by the French sentinels, had
they not been previously driven from their posts by
a heavy rain. He thus crossed the river in safety,
and finally reached the army of the Archduke
Charles, where he continued till the pacification of
1797 by the treaty of Campo Formio, in which
France dictated to Austria the terms of a conqueror
and master. This termination of the war in Ger-
many released Graham from his temporary volunteer
service, and accordingly he returned to his old quar-
ters in Gibraltar.

The rapid current of events quickly called Colonel
Graham once more into the field. His first employ-
ment was in the reduction of Minorca, under the
command of Sir Charles Stuart, who bore honour-
able testimony to the valuable services of his brave
assistant. After this island had been won, Graham
repaired to Sicily, and was of such use in retarding
the falling fortunes of the King and Queen of Naples,
that they testified their sense of his merits by re-
peated acknowledgments. He was afterwards em-
ployed in an event of the highest importance to the
naval supremacy of our country: this was the reduc-
tion of Malta, which had been basely surrendered to
Napoleon by the Maltese knights on the loth of
June, 1793, while he was on his way to the conquest
of Egypt, and which he had garrisoned as a key to
the future conquest of India. The strength of fort
and rampart was such, that had the gates been merely
kept shut, even Napoleon himself, at the head of his
victorious legions, could never have entered, so that
he only became master of the place because there
were traitors within to open them. An assault upon
this mighty ocean fortress was hopeless, garrisoned
as it was by such troops; and nothing could be done
except by a blockade from the land, while our ships
of war intercepted every aid that could arrive to it
by sea. In consequence of this decision, Graham,
now holding the local rank of brigadier-general, in-
vested the approaches to Malta with a small army,
sufficient for skirmish and observation. This slow
process was successful, for, after a blockade of two
years, Malta surrendered to the British in September,
iSoo. It is true, indeed, that this cession was made
to Major-general Pigot, who had previously arrived
with reinforcements, and by whom the account of the
surrender was sent home; but the despatch bore full
testimony to the able and successful arrangements of
(iraham during the protracted siege. No sooner had
the latter arrived in England at the termination than
he found the whole land ringing with the Egyptian
campaign, and the successful struggles by which the
military glory of Britain, so long held in abeyance,
had been recalled to its standards. But what chiefly
concerned Graham personally was the gallant deeds

of his own regiment, the 90th, which, in conjunction
with the 92d, had formed the advanced guard of the
British army on their landing at Aboukir. Eager to
join his brave fellows, and partake of their glory and
danger, he bade a hurried adieu to England; but on
arriving in Egypt he found his presence unnecessary,
as the whole French army had capitulated. He
therefore left the country for a tour through Turkey,
during which he stayed for some time at Constanti-
nople, and afterwards, in consequence of the peace
of iSoi, he visited F" ranee and its capital. The next
movement of Graham was to Ireland with his regi-
ment, where he continued from 1803 to 1805, at the
end of which his place of military service was trans-
ferred to the West Indies. Here he remained three
years, but without that active employment which still
continued to be the breath of his nostrils. At last a
prospect of occupation occurred in 1808, in consc
quence of Sir John Moore being appointed to the
command of the armament sent to the coast of
Sweden ; and having obtained permission to ac-
company Sir John as aide-de-camp, Graham joined
the expedition. It ended, as is well known, in
nothing, owing to the Quixotic freak of the Swedish
king, who, instead of acting on the defensive, and
fighting for life itself in his own territories, thought
of nothing less than rushing full tilt against the whole
power of Napoleon; and on the refusal of Moore to
co-operate with him, by taking the Russian empire
as his share of the universal melee, he attempted to
throw the British general into prison, so that the
latter was obliged to hasten home with his reinforce-
ments without the opportunity of striking a single
stroke. In this way Graham, after all his hopes,
had only obtained a short trip to the Baltic, which
was anything but a pleasant one. On the return of
Sir John to England he was forthwith commissioned
upon his eventful expedition to Spain, and to that
land of stirring adventure and change Colonel Graham
accompanied him, still acting as his aide-de-camp. He
therefore participated in all the disastrous incidents
of that most unfortunate campaign without the op-
portunity of obtaining a commander's full share in
the glory with which its termination was crowned.
But all that could be won by an aide-de-camp he
merited and secured. He was affectionately remem-
bered by Moore in his dying moments at Comnna,
and one of the last questions of the expiring hero
was, "Are Colonel Graham and all my aides-de-camp
well?" The services indeed which the colonel ren-
dered to the army during its retreat were such that
Sheridan thus described them in his place in parlia-
ment: "In the hour of peril Graham was their best
adviser; in the hour of disaster Graham was their
surest consolation." After a long and laborious nui
before the French columns in hot pursuit, Graham
embarked with the army at Corunna, after it had
dealt such a parting blow at the pursuers as sent
them reeling backwards. But he was soon to return
to Spain under better auspices, and there achieve a
victory that should be wholly his own.

This change, so gratifying to the heart of Colonel
Graham, did not occur until nearly three years after-
wards. During the interval, however, he was again
to be connected with those unlucky expeditions. of
which, it might be thought, he had already obtained
somewhat more than his proper quota. This was
the Walcheren expedition, in which he held the com-
mand of a division, having been previously raised to
the rank of major-general. It was a useless and
hopeless campaign against malaria and pestilence; so
that, during the siege of Flushing he was attacked
by the prevalent fever that so fearfully thinned the
British ranks, and obliged to return home. On his

i64

THOMAS GRAHAM.

recovery he was sent, with the brevet rank of lieu-
tenant-yeneral, to Spain, to take the commami of
the liritish and rortug\iese troops in Cadiz. Tlie
situation of this important city was extremely preca-
rious. Hemg one of the few remaining bulwarks of
Spani^h indeiJemlence, its possession was keenly con-
tested by the French; and a large army under Soult
had so closely invested it that its capture was daily
anticipated. One of those rapid transitions, how-
ever, with which that war so largely abounded,
avcrtetl the downfal of the city. 'Ihis was the in-
vasion of Kstremadura, conducted by Soult in person
at the head of 20,cxx) of the besieging force, leaving
Victor, with the rest of the French army, to continue
the siege. Soult's brief camjiaign was one of the
most brilliant episodes of the Spanish war; he cap-
tured Olivenza, routed Mendi/abal at Badajoz, and
obtained that powerful fortress by surrender, after
which successes he prepared to return in all haste,
anil resume the siege of Cadiz. But during his brief
absence Graham had been as alert and ready for
action as himself; and, judging the opportunity best
fitted for the purpose, he resolved to raise the siege
by an attack upon N'ictor. With the British and
Portuguese under his command, he embarked on the
2lst of Februar)', iSii, and landed at Tarifa on the
day following. They then pushed forward on their
route for Algesiras; but as they had no better road
than a mule-path, the artillery had to be transported
by sea; and, owing to contrary winds, which delayed
its arrival, the attack, which was intended to be
made on the aSth, was delayed for a week longer.
And even this was the least of Graham's difficulties
in advancing to action. On the aglh he was joined
by La Pena with 10,000 Spaniards, who forthwith
took the command, as if for the sole purpose of show-
ing his incapacity to hold it. Graham too soon
discovered the impracticability of such a colleague,
who sometimes unreasonably hung back, and at other
times drove on as if the French were already de-
feated and in full flight. So inexplicable, indeed,
were his movements, that the British officers sus-
pected that treachery had been ingrafted upon his
natural stupidity and obstinacy. At length the
combined but ill-assorted army reached the me-
morable heights of Barossa, and Victor sallied
from his lines to give them battle, liven at that
critical moment La I'ena must needs blunder by re-
quiring Graham to alter his excellent position from
the heights to the wood of Bermcya, towards the
sca-coxst; and when the latter, in compliance, com-
menced the movement. La Pena immediately fol-
lowed, thus leaving the ridge of Barossa, the key of
the army's position, undefended. Victtir, who saw
this change with astonishment, instantly moved his
force of 9000 French veterans an<I Ajurteen guns to
take possession of the heights. They advanced to
•he onset, and, meeting with some of the Spanish
•oops who had not yet left the hill, they attacked
d routed them in an instant. The fugitives directed
•r headlong flight to the British division, already
'otion among the difficulties of the wood, and
*.ed that the heights were won, and the enemy
r heels. Justly might Graham at this moment
ft his worse than useless allies to their fate,
ight only of a retreat. But this neither
daring spirit nor wann-hearted generosity.
wn forces, upon which he could fully rely,
to give battle to the enemy, notwith-
advantages of their new position, and
ss of the emergency. His artillery,
^n guns, was instantly wheeled round
on the enemy, already descending
\ile his infantry, hastily formed into

two columns, was led to the charge. Under these
untoward circumstances was commenced the battle
of Barossa.

It is not our purpose to enter into the minute par-
ticulars of this conflict, forming, as it did, only an
episode of the war. The double onset of the British
lines was made with the utmost bravery, and met by
the French with equal courage, so that for some time
the hot and heady charges that were given and re-
ceived on either side kept the battle in suspense over
the whole field. At length a gallant charge of one
of these lines, composed of the Syih and 28th regi-
ments, broke the division of General Laval, that was
opposed to it, and drove it back so successfully that
they were unable to rally, while the capture of two
guns and an eagle attested the success of the victors.
The other British column, under General Dilkes,
was equally biave and equally fortunate. This di-
vision, composed of the guards and two regiments,
mounted the brow of the hill, and was met half-way
by the columns of General Ruffin. A desperate
struggle ensued, that ended in the French being
driven up to the height, and afterwards down the
slope on the opposite side, with great slaughter.
It was in vain that they rallied with their wonted
promptitude, and united their two discomfited di-
visions into a single compact body for the pui"pose
of abiding a new conflict: as fast as they formed, the
well-served British artillery tore their ranks, the 200
German horse in the British service followed the
cannonade with a decisive charge, and at last the
enemy yielded, with the loss of six guns and more
than 2000 killed and wounded. And now Cadiz
might have been saved had La Pena been true to his
country. But this miserable imbecile, or traitor, or
both, with his army of fully 13,000 Spaniards, looked
on and did nothing, while Graham, with his small
force of 4000 infantry and 200 cavalry, bore the whole
brunt of the battle, and achieved a glorious victory.
Even when the French were put to flight, had La
Pena let loose upon them his Soo dragoons and
powerful horse-artillery, he might have completed
the defeat of the enemy without their chance of
rallying. But as it was, Victor fell back upon his
old position undisturbed, and the return of Soult,
which occurred soon afterwards, made the battle of
Barossa useless, except as a stirring incentive to the
British during the rest of the campaign. Thus had
the Spaniards served Moore, and Wellington himself,
as well as Graham: let their generous allies fight as
bravely as they pleased, they still in every case re-
fused to co-operate, or even did their best to make
the services of their defenders useless. W'as it
Spanish pride, that could endure no glory but its
own ; or Spanish bigotry, that would not suffer a
heretic general to be victorious ! In the meantime,
General Graham, unable to follow up his success, or
even to maintain his ground single-handed, was
obliged to return to the Isle of St. Leon. But this
retrograde movement, which he made after victory,
as well as his advance before it, were equally com-
mended by Wellington, who was too well able, from
his own experience in Spain, to judge of the necessity
of such seemingly inconsistent changes. The affair
of Barossa was also justly appreciated by parliament,
so that the thanks of both houses were voted to the
general and his gallant companions in arms. In the
reply of the veteran on this occasion, after stating
his high estimation of the honour conferred on him,
he added, "I have formerly often heard you, sir,
eloquently and impressively deliver the thanks of the
house to officers present, and never without an anxious
wish that I might one day receive this most enviable
mark of my country's regard. This honest ambition

THOMAS GRAHAM JAMES GRAINGER.

165

is now fully gratified, and I am more than ever bound
to try to merit the good opinion of tiie house."

Having been relieved from his military duties at
Cadiz in the summer of i8i i, General Graham joined
the army under the Duke of Wellington, where he
was appointed second in command. But a complaint
in his eyes by the use of a telescope in the glaring
atmosphere of Spain, and frequent writing by candle-
light, obliged him to quit the army while it was
employed in the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo. He re-
turned to England, where he obtained a cure, after
which he rejoined the British forces in the Peninsula,
and commanded the left wing at the battle of Vit-
toria. His able services during this conllict were
honourably mentioned in the despatch of Wellington
on the occasion. After this he continued to share
in the subsequent movements of the campaign, and
commanded at the siege of St. Sebastian, where he
obtained possession both of the town and castle —
the former by capitulation, and the latter by storm.
He also commanded the left wing of the British army
when it crossed the Bidassoa into the territory of
France, upon which he succeeded in obtaining a
footing after a desperate resistance. In the follow-
ing year (1814) he was appointed commander of the
British forces in Holland, where he made an unsuc-
cessful siege of Bergen-op-Zoom. It was no wonder
that he should have failed against a fortress so strong,
and so bravely and skilfully defended. Sir Thomas
Graham had already shown that he was a brave,
prompt, and effective soldier, fitted for all the emer-
gencies of an open field, and able to win a decisive
victory, even under untoward circumstances. But
he had not learned war as a science; and to conduct
such a siege would have required a thorough ac-
quaintanceship with the whole mathematics of mili-
tary service. It was only by such men as Bonaparte
or Wellington that Mantua could have been reduced
to a surrender, or Badajoz taken by storm. His
failure at Bergen-op-Zoom, however, neither de-
tracted from the estimation in which he was held,
nor the public honours that awaited him; and in
May, 1S14, after having received the thanks of par-
liament, he was raised to the peerage by the title of
Baron Lynedoch of Balgowan in Perthshire, with a
pension of ;i^2O0O. He had previously, during his
course of service, been created a Knight Grand Cross
of the order of the Bath, and afterwards a Knight
Grand Cross of the order of St. Michael and St.
George. He was also a Knight of the Tower and
Sword in Portugal. But the return of peace also
brought with it an honour of an exclusively peaceful
character; this was the lord-rectorship of the univer-
sity of Glasgow, which was conferred in full senate
by the votes of the enthusiastic students upon the
chivalrous victor of Barossa.

The course of Lord Lynedoch's life was now one
of unobtrusive tranquillity. He had sought nothing
more than forgetfulness amidst the din of war, and
found in it rank and fame. In 182 1 he received the
full rank of general; in 1826 he was removed to the
colonelcy of the 14th foot; and in 1829 he was ap-
pointed governor of Dumbarton Castle — an office
with a salary of only £i'Jo attached to it; but still it
has always been accounted of high honour in our
country. "Sir William Wallace," said the valet of
the Duke of Argyle, "was governor of it in the old
wars of the English, and his grace is governor just
now. It is always intrusted to the best man in Scot-
land."

The latter part of the life of Lord Lynedoch, as
the infirmities of old age grew upon him, was spent
chiefly in Italy; but the visit of her majesty Queen
Victoria to his native country so roused the ardour

of the loyal old hero, that he hastened from Switzer-
land to pay his respects to her in person, in the
ancient capital of her Scottish ancestors. This was
the last public event of his life. He died at his re-
sidence in Stratton Street, London, on the iSth of
December, 1843, in the ninety-fourth year of his age.
As he was childless, his titles became extinct with
his death, and his estates were inherited by his
nephew.

GRAINGER, James, a physician and poet of
some eminence, was born in Dunse, about the year
1723. After receiving such education as his native
town afforded, he came to Edinburgh, and was bound
apprentice to a Mr. Lauder, a surgeon. While in
the employment of this gentleman he studied the
various branches of medicine; and having qualified
himself for practice, joined the army, and served as
surgeon to Lieutenant Pulteney's regiment of foot,
during the rebellion in Scotland of 1745. On the
conclusion of the war Grainger went in the same
capacity to Germany, but again returned to England
at the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle. He now sold his
commission, and entered upon practice in London,
but without much success. In 1753 he published a
treatise in Latin on some diseases peculiar to the
army, entitled Ilistoria Febris Iiito-initlcntis Ar>/ia-
tonnu, 1746, 1747, 1748. In the medical know-
ledge, however, which this work contained, and
which evinced much learning and skill, together with
acuteness of observation, he was, unfortunately for
his interest, anticipated by Sir John Pringle in his
celebrated work on the diseases of the army.

During Dr. Grainger's residence in London he
became intimately acquainted with many of the men
of genius then resident there; amongst these were
Shenstone, Dr. Percy, Glover, Dr. Johnson, and Sir
Joshua Reynolds; by all of whom he was much
esteemed for his amiable manners, and respected for
his talents.

The poetical genius of Dr. Grainger was first
made known by his publishing an Ode on Solitude,
which met with a favourable reception, and was,
although now perhaps but little known, much praised
by the reviewers of the day. His want of profes-
sional success now compelled him to look to his
literary talents for that support which his medical
practice denied him, and he endeavoured to eke
out a scanty livelihood by writing for booksellers;
and in this way he was employed by Mr. Miller in
compiling the second volume of JSIattlaiuVs History
of Scotland from the materials left by the latter at
his death.

In 1758 he published a translation of the Elegies
of Tdmllus. This work was severely handled in the
critical reviews, where it was allowed none of the
merit which in reality it possesses.

Dr. Grainger now got involved in a controversy
with Smollett, with whom he had formerly been on
terms of friendship. The cause of their difference is
not now known, but if it bore any proportion to the
severity with which Smollett on all occasions treated
his quondam friend it must have been a serious one.
He abused Dr. Grainger in every possible shape,
availed himself of eveiy opportunity of reviling and
humiliating him, and pursued his system of hostility
with the most unrelenting bitterness.

Soon after the publication of the Elegies, Dr.
Grainger went out as a physician to the island of
St. Christopher's, where an advantageous settlement
had been offered him. On the voyage out he formed
an acquaintance, in his professional capacity, with
the wife and daughter of Matthew Burt, Esq., the
governor of St. Christopher's; the latter of whom

i66

COLQUHOUN GRANT.

he married soon after his arrival on the island,
llavinjj thus formed a connection with some of the
princijjal familici, he there commenced his career
with ever>' prospect of success. To his medical

avocn*- ' • ■ ! -1 those of a planter, and by

ili.-ir I realized an independency.

On ■ I the war Dr. Grainger re-

tumol Jof a »liuri tune to England. While there,
he jHihlisheil (1764) the result of his West India
, u entitled T/u Sugar-iaiie.

1 :,h praised at the time, and

L , : .any passages of great beauty;

but without arraigning the authoPs talents, since his
subject precluded anything like sentiment or dignity,
it cann(jt be considered in any other light than as
an ill-juilgetl attempt to elevate things in themselves
mean and wholly unadapted for poetrj-.

In the same year (1764) he also published ''An
Essay on the nwre Common West India Diseaes, and
the Remedies -ti'hieh that Country itself Produces; to
which are added, some Hints on the Management
of Negroes." Besides these works. Dr. Grainger
was the author of an exceedingly pleasing ballad,
entitled Bryan and Pereene. After a short residence
in England he returned to St. Christopher's, where
he died on the 24th December, 1767, of one of those
epidemic fevers so common in the West Indies.

GRANT, Brigadier-general CoLQUHOUN. Of
the many remarkable officers whom the Peninsular
war called into notice, not the least distinguished was
the subject of this memoir. Although eminent also
for dauntless courage and high militar)- talents, it was
not by deeds in the battle-field that his best distinc-
tions were won: it was rather by sernces upon which
the arrangements of a campaign generally depend,
and by which its success is insured. As such impor-
tant services are seldom noticed or properly appre-
ciated among the stirring records of war, this will
apologize for our dwelling exclusively, in the follow-
ing life of General Grant, upon his capacity as chief
of the intelligence department of the army that was
commanded by Wellington in Spain and Portugal.

The stirring spirit of this young hero was so im-
patient in boyhood for military enterprise and adven-
ture, that his mother could no longer retain him at
school; and Grant, before he had completed his
fifteenth year, entered the army. Through the kind-
ness of his friend General James Grant he obtained
an ensigncy in the l ith regiment of foot, and through
the same kind friend he obtained leave of absence
to complete his education at an academy near London,
until he joineil his regiment as lieutenant. He
served as an officer in the West Indies, and in active
service against the enemy; he was also on the staff of
Sir George Prevost, by whom he was very highly
esteemed. Having thus fairly commenced his mili-
tar)- career, and given proof of his courage and talents,
a field for their development was amply afforded in
the Peninsular war, with a commander who could
appreciate his worth; and under Wellington he suc-
cessively attained the grades of captain, major, and
colonel, with the office of chief of the intelligence
department of the army. The qualifications of
Colonel Grant for such a critical and important
charge were so great that nature seemed expressly
to have formed him for holding it. In him, the his-
torian of the Peninsular war declares, "the utmoit
daring was so mixed with subtlety of genius, and
both so tempered by discretion, that it was hard to
say which quality predominated." He had also ad-
mirably qualified himself for the peculiar service in
which he was engaged, and the country in which he
was to act. He had not only a singular talent for

the acquisition of languages, but the several dialects
of a language, and was thus able to adapt his con-
versation to the natives of ever)- province in Spain.
He was also intimately acquainted with their customs,
songs, and music, and with all their habits and pre-
judices; he was an enthusiastic admirer of the Spanish
character; he was conversant with the writings of
the best authors of the nation; and he even danced
the national dances of the people to perfection.
When to all this it is added that he was of amiable
disposition and strict morality, we need not wonder
that he became such a favourite every%vhere with the
peasantr)- and priesthood of Spain. So great was
their enthusiasm for "Granto Bueno," as they called
him, that ever)' one was eager to protect him, and to
bring him intelligence of the enemy without fee or
reward. Such was Colonel Grant, who was kno\\"n
and esteemed along the whole of the Spanish frontier.
But strangely enough it happened that there was
another British officer of the same name and rank as
himself, and employed in the same service, which
might have led to confusion but for a distinction of
the Spaniards, with whom he was highly unpopular,
so that while Colquhoun Grant obtained among them
the endearing name of Granto Bueno, the other was
characterized as Granto Malo.

The services which Colquhoun Grant had per-
formed in the Peninsular war pre%'ious to the capture
of Badajoz, and the effects they had produced upon
the progress of the British army in Spain, it would
not be easy to exaggerate. He shunned no danger
in procuring intelligence of the enemy's movements,
and when surrounded by their posts he was always
secure, through the devoted love of the Spaniards, and
his own matchless courage, dexterity, and coolness.
"In collecting accurate information of the French
army," his brother-in-law Sir James M'Grigor in-
forms us, "he was occasionally in the rear of the
French army, where he obtained exact intelligence,
not only of their number and equipment, but of the
description of their troops, the manner in which their
cavalry was mounted, the number and equipment of
their guns, the state of their supplies, &c. He was
acquainted notonly^.^^th the character of each superior
officer, but of that of each commandant of battalion.
The hairbreadth escapes which he had were nume-
rous; sleeping frequently in the fields under any
shelter, or, as it frequently happened, without any,
and in all kinds of weather, which he had done for
two or three years. But, as he said, he always felt
secure when in Spain, where one padre or peasant
passed him on to another, all emulous to serve, and in
admiration of the character of, the 'Granto Bueno. "^
Although thus placed in a situation where disguise
and dissimulation are so often needed, and where
the moral feelings are so apt to become blunted, the
strangest circumstance of all is, that Colonel Grant
still continued to preseive his integrity uncorrupted
and his honour unsullied. He scorned the sneaking
subterfuges of the spy, and discharged the duties of
his office as an open enemy against enemies. We
are told by General Sir William Napier, the historian,
that "Colquhoun Grant, though he repeatedly pene-
trated the enemy's line, and even passed days in
their cantonments, '^i'as akuays in uniform, trusting
entirely to his personal resources, and with reason,
for his sagacity, courage, and quickness were tndy
remarkable, scarcely to be matched."

After the storming of Badajoz by the British in
181 2, and the advance of Marmont on Beiro, the
situation of Wellington was full of difficulty. Ciudad
Rodrigo, from the improvidence of the Spanish army,
was in danger of being taken by a ccnip de main, and
Almeida also, on account of its weakness, was ex-

COLQUHOUN GRANT.

167

posed to the same fate. Resolving in this case to
attack the enemy and drive them out of Beiro,
Wellington had sent Grant from Badajoz to obtain
exact information of the condition and purposes of
Marmont. It was a task of danger, and on that ac-
count all the more tempting to the astute scout-
master, who set off to the encampment of Marmont
attended only by Leon, a faithful Spanish peasant
who had served him in many similar enterprises.
Even in his uniform Grant abode three days in the
French camps, during which time he obtained exact
information of Marmont's object, and his preparations
for action, all of which he transmitted from day to
day by Spanish agents to Wellington. On the third
night his diligence was disagreeably interrupted by the
following French order, which was brought to him
by some Spanish peasants: — "The notorious Grant
is within the circle of cantonments; the soldiers are
to strive for his capture, and guards will be placed
in a circle round the army." This notice was
enough; he glided from the French encampment,
and before daylight entered the village of Huerta,
close to a ford on the Tormes where there was a
French battalion, while on the other bank of the
river cavalry videttes were patrolling backward and
forward for the space of three hundred yards, but
meeting always at the ford. The peasants brought
him with his horse behind the gable of a house which
concealed him from the infantry, and was near the
ford; and standing on a heap of loose stones, they
spread their large cloaks to hide him from the vi-
dettes, until the latter w^ere separated by the full ex-
tent of their beat. Now was the time ! and dashing
through the ford between them, he received their
cross-fire without injury, and safely reached a wood,
where he was joined by his attendant Leon. But
still safety was not his main object. The French
officers had talked of storming Rodrigo, and scaling-
ladders had been prepared for the purpose — and he
must learn whether Marmont would make this at-
tempt, or march for the Tagus. He also wished to
discover the real amount of the French forces. Con-
cealing himself on a wooded hill near Tamames,
where the road branched off to the passes and to
Rodrigo, he watched the march of the French army,
noted every battalion and gun as it passed by, and
finding that the march was towards Rodrigo, he en-
tered Tamames, and found that they had left most of
their scaling-ladders there. It was evident that there
was no real design to attempt the storming of Ro-
drigo, and this intelligence transmitted to Welling-
ton relieved the painful uncertainty of the latter, and
left him free for the operations he had contemplated.
Still, something more was to be ascertained, and
to learn this Grant exposed himself to fresh danger.
It was necessary to discover whether the further
march of Marmont was to be by Guarda upon
Coimbra, or by Sabugal upon Castello Branco; and
to be satisfied in this matter the colonel preceded
the marshal in crossing the Coa, and took his station
upon the lower ridge of a pass through which the
P>ench must march if their route was for Castello
Branco. But the utmost of human wisdom will
sometimes be at fault. In selecting his station as the
fittest for inspection. Grant had calculated on being
concealed by the dwarf oaks ; but from the higher
ridge the enemy discovered him with their glasses,
and Leon raised the alarm, "The French! the
trench ! " A hot pursuit commenced. In vain the
fugitive repeatedly doubled above, below, and round
about; he was met by horse and foot at every turn-
ing, and at last was caught, while the faithful Leon,
who had sunk exhausted, was killed before his eyes,
in spite of his master's entreaties that he should be

spared. Grant was brought to Marmont, whose
head-quarters were at Salamanca, and who was de-
lighted with the capture of so important an enemy;
but at first he treated the colonel harshly, and said,
jiointing to his uniform of a British officer, "It is
fortunate for you, sir, that you wear that bit of red
over your shoulders; if you had not, I would have
hung you on a gallows twenty feet high." From
the identity of name he confounded his prisoner with
Malo Graitto, or thought they were only one and
the same person. Grant replied, "Marshal, you
know I am your prisoner; and recollect, I have given
you my parole, but hitherto I have not been treated
as an officer on parole." Still mistaking the colonel's
identity, Marmont gruffly ordered the French officer
to lead the captive to a quarter appointed for him,
which was strictly guarded. Not only was a French
sentinel stationed at his door, but a French officer
placed in his room. But though thus ignominiously
treated as a spy, the French officers, who admired
his wonderful adventures and escapes, made his
captivity a light one; and the principal inhabitants
of Salamanca, who hated the French, and admired
Grant for the trouble he occasioned them, were his
frequent visitors. One of these was Dr. Curtis,
head of the Irish college of Salamanca; and Marmont,
thinking, from this close intimacy, that he must be the
depository of many of Grant's secrets, sent for him,
and threatened him if he refused to reveal them.
The following dialogue ensued between the soldier
and the priest. "You often visit the English colonel ? "
"I do." "How is that possible without having
some purpose, some business therein?" "The holy
Catholic religion, which you, marshal, and I pro-
fess, enjoins us to succour the distressed, to visit the
sick and the prisoner, and to administer comfort and
consolation to them." This was too comprehensive
a charity in the eyes of the marshal, who rejoined,
"He is not of your religion; he is a heretic, a Pro-
testant." The priest answered, "We are both
Christians, we follow the precepts of our Saviour;
and he is my countryman." "That is false," cried
Marmont, "he is a Scot and you an Irishman, and
you shall immediately go to prison unless you reveal
to me secrets which I am informed the English
colonel has confided to you, and which it is material
to the interests of the emperor that I should be put
in possession of" Although he did not throw Dr.
Curtis into prison as he threatened, he expelled him
from his college, and took possession of his furniture
and a valuable library.

While Grant was thus a prisoner at Salamanca,
he was still indefatigable in his particular duties; and
being allowed, when the weather was favourable, to
walk out, he conveyed in little twisted pieces of paper,
by the alert Spanish peasants who were known to
him, such important information concerning the state
and designs of the French anny as greatly to facili-
tate the movements of Wellington. These zealous
emissaries were often in his way; they were organized
for this dangerous occupation by the .Spanish priests,
and their services were bountifully rewarded by the
British commander. At last Marmont resolved to
send his prisoner to Bayonne, and pretending extra-
ordinary kindness to Grant, obtained from him a
special parole that he would not avail himself of a
rescue by the Partidas while on his way through Spain
to France. Such a demand, and an escort of 300
men and six gims by which he was accompanied,
showed the dread which the prisoner had inspired,
and the apprehensions that were entertained of at-
tempts for his recapture. But with the escort Mar-
mont also sent a letter to the governor of Bayonne,
in which, still confounding the two Grants, he char-

l6S

COLQUHOUN GRANT.

actcrizcil the prisoner as a most dangerous s))y, whom
lie would have executed on the spot but for some-
thing,' like a uniform which he wore; and desiring the
governor to put him in irons at Bayonne, and thus
forward him to I'aris. In the meantime the captivity
of Colonel Grant had been a subject of vexation to
Wellington, who fre^juently alluded to it in his con-
versations with Sir JamesM'Grigor. He regretted that
Grant had given his parole, as he had ollered 20<X)
dolbrs to anv guerilla chief who should liberate him;
and he lamented the cessation of that valuable intelli-
gence with which the colonel had been wont to fur-
nish him as a heavy calamity. "Sir, the loss of a
brigade," he said, "could scarcely have been more
felt by me; I am quite in the dark about the move-
ments' of the enemy, and as to the reinforcements
which they expected." Only the day after, when
M'Grigor visited him again, Wellington exclaimed,
"Grant is a ver)- extraordinan.- fellow ! a very re-
markable character! What think you of him at
this moment, when a prisoner, sending me informa-
tion?" He showed the doctor two twisted bits of
paper which a Spanish peasant had brought him
that morning, and added, "The information coming
from Grant I know it is correct, and is most valu-
able." His lordship had written to Marshal Mar-
mont requesting the exchange of Colonel Grant, for
whom he had offered any of his prisoners of the rank
of colonel, and read the marshal s courteous answer,
assuring him the request would be complied with.
But on the doctor expressing great joy at this, Wel-
lington, with a sarcastic smile, assured him there
wx> not one word of truth in the answer, and for

Sroof showetl him an intercepted despatch from
tarmont to the minister of war at Paris, describing
Colonel Grant as the most dangerous of spies, and
suggesting that he should be put under the strictest
surveillance of the police as soon as he was conveyed
to the French capital.

Accompanied by an escort strong enough to prevent
a rescue. Grant was conveyed to Bayonne, conversing
on the way with the French officers, of whom he soon
became an especial favourite, and amusing them
with accounts of his various exploits and escapes, of
which they could never hear enough. It is suspected,
indeed, that they would not have been sorry though
he should make one escape more, and were remiss
enough in their watch to give him an opportunity of
attempting it. But Grant's experience taught him
that the proper place would be Bayonne itself. He
also had discovered the treacherous orders which
Marmont had sent to the governor of that city, so
that he considered his parole cancelled, and at the
utmost it was only in force until he reached the
French territorv'. At Bayonne, therefore, and while
all were busy in procuring billets. Colonel Grant
walked off to the place whence the diligence
started, took his seat to Paris as an American, and
even joined the party of General Souham, at that
time on his way from Spain to the French capital;
and while he was thus beyond suspicion as the
travelling companion of a distinguished French com-
mander, and journeying comfortably to Paris, his
presence was missed at Bayonne, and parties of horse
and foot were exploring the town and scouring the
country in a fruitless search for the fugitive. But of
all places, who could have thought that he would
have deliberately gone to Paris to escape the risks
of pursuit or detection? It wxs like the case of Fer-
gusson, sumamed the Plotter, who, when the officers
of government were in chase of him, walked into
Newgate prison under pretext of searching for a friend
among the inmates, and there remained safe and un-
suspected until the heat of the hue andcrj'had abated.

On arriving in Paris Colonel Grant repaired to the
house of Mr. M'Pherson, an eminent jeweller and
worthy Highlander, of whose great kindness to his
count rj-men he had often heard, and who had made
a narrow escape during the French revolution from
the tender mercies of Robespierre. Here he re-
mained untroubled, went about to all public places,
especially to military reviews, and associated freely
with all classes of society ; and being thus in the
very centre of militarj- and political intelligence, he
transmitted to the head-quarters of our army in Spain
such important tidings as could not have been else-
where or otherwise obtained. The importance which
Wellington attached to these communications was
thus expressed to Sir James M'Grigor, on a day
when his lordship was making up the mail for Eng-
land: "Your brother-in-law is certainly one of the
most extraordinary men I ever met with; even now,
when he is in Paris, he contrives to send me informa-
tion of the greatest moment to our government. I
am now sending information of his to ministers of
the utmost value about the French armies in every
quarter, information which will surprise them, and
which they cannot by possibility get in any other
way, and, what is more, which I am quite sure is
perfectly correct."

Having thus collected such knowledge at the
fountain-head, and made it so available for use,
Colonel Grant discovered that Paris would soon
become too hot for him. Aware of this, he changed
his appearance, remained quiet, discontinued going
to reviews and public places, and obtained a fresh
passport in the name of an American gentleman
who had died a few hours before in Paris. But
finding that the police were awake and in quest of
him, he left Paris, and made for the coast, where
he learned that a British man-of-war was stationed.
By a promise of ten napoleons he induced a French
boatman to convey him to the place where the ship
was stationed; but the boatman, either from fear or
malice, stopped short when he had nearly reached
the spot, rowed back to the port he had left, and
coolly demanded the whole fare. To have yielded
would have exhausted all the money he had, and per-
haps have consigned him to a French prison on suspi-
cion; but Grant was too bold and war}- either to be
entrapped or bullied. He paid the fellow only one
napoleon, rebuking him at the same time for his mis-
conduct ; and when the other threatened a reference to
the police, the colonel threatened to denounce him as
aiding the escape of a prisoner of war, of which the
high boat-fare demanded would be a sufficient proof.
Confounded by this logic, the boatman slunk away.
After fresh dangers of detection Colonel Grant hired
the services of another fisherman ; but while their
boat was passing the mouth of the harbour, suspicion
was roused, and a shot from the battery compelled
them to bring-to until a party of soldiers had come
out and boarded them. In this emergency the old
fisherman, when he lowered his sail, enveloped Grant
within it, and coiled it to the mast, so that the
colonel escaped the exploration of the searchers, al-
though they probed every suspected comer and ob-
ject in the boat with the points of their swords.
Believing that all was right, they graciously accepted
a present of some fish; and to protect the fisherman
from the English, they described precisely the exact
spot where the vessel lay — the ver)- information which
the fisherman most needed. He and the colonel rowed
by night according to the direction, and early in the
morning Grant stood in safety upon the deck of a
British seventy-four. As soon as he arrived in England,
in order to vindicate beyond contradiction the pro-
priety of his escape, he obtained permission to select a

COLQUIIOUN GRANT -

French ofnccr for exchange; but in gohig to prison
for that purpose he was surprised to hnd the fisher-
man and his son, whom the British had captured,
notwithstanchng a written protection wliich he had
given to tliem. Grant, whose generosity and be-
nevolence were equal to his remarkable talents, in-
stantly procured their liberation, and sent then: to
France with a sum of money. He then returned to
his duties in the Peninsula; so that after a short
interval of four months from his capture he was again
watching the proceedings of the army of Marmont.

From these instances an estimate may be formed
of the value of Grant's services in the Peninsular
^\•ar, the risk at which they were performed, and his
wonderful dexterity and presence of mind in extri-
cating himself from every difficulty. That campaign
was an Iliad, in which, let whosoever might be the
Ajax and the Diomed, he was the Ulysses. On the
return of Napoleon from Elba, the Duke of Welling-
ton immediately called Grant from the military col-
lege at Farnham to Belgium, to take charge of the
intelligence department ; and with that sagacity
which ever distinguished Grant in the choice of his
agents, he selected a man and his wife admirably
fitted for the office to go to Paris as spies. There
tliey obtained access by some means or other to the
bureau de la guerre, whence they obtained sure and
valuable intelligence, which Grant transmitted to the
duke. One of these communications, dated 15th
June, among other inferior matters, contained the
following important tidings: " Les 7-outes sont aicom-
brces de troupes et de materiel, les officiers de toiites
grades parlent haiit que la grande battaille sera livree
avant trois joui-sy Here was intelligence which, if
received in time, would have prevented the surprise
of the allies, and enabled Wellington to transfer the
great conflict from Waterloo to the banks of the
Sambre, where the victory might have been won
with less hazard and loss. But this important missive,
which the duke should have received on the l6th,
did not reach him till the i8th of June, at eleven
o'clock, just w'hen the battle of Waterloo was com-
mencing. This delay, however, was not the fault of
Colonel Grant, but of an intermediate authority, who
should have transmitted the note from Grant to head-
quarters, but who on his own authority delayed it,
believing either that the intelligence was false, or of
little importance. How strange that an event so im-
portant to the world at large should have depended
on such a contingency !

When the allied armies occupied Paris, the ser-
vices of Grant were again in requisition. In the par-
tition of the spoils of w-ar the allies showed great
dexterity in appropriating to themselves the lion's
share — a circumstance which excited the discontent
of the British army — who complained of the Duke
of Wellington's remissness about their interests.
Their complaints, however, were premature, as
Colonel Grant was secretly on the watch, and he and
his agents were taking note of every article that
was being removed from the British allotment. He
thus enabled the duke to receive restitution in money
for all that was abstracted, and the British soldiers
were saved from any loss.

When the European war had ended. Grant went
to India, and served as brigadier-general in the first
Burmese war, in command of a movable column
upon Arracan. But there he was stricken by fever,
the effects of which were aggravated by a mortified
spirit, for his services had not been recognized ac-
cording to their deserts. He returned to Europe,
and died at Aix-la-Chapelle, where a monument is
erected in the Protestant burying-ground to his
memor)'. "He was by no means," says Sir James

.SIR FRANCIS GRANT.

169

M'Grigor, "the least distinguished for military
talents of the many distinguished men who served
with the Peninsular army. Equal to most officers of
that army in military capacity, he far surj^assed every
one I ever met for the milder virtues of the Chris-
tian soldier, and for all that was amiable, kind, and
benevolent in disposition." The same testimony to
his personal virtues is borne by his friend Lieutenant-
general Sir William Napier, the historian of the
Peninsular war, who has been careful to record some
of the most distinguished of his achievements. We
extract also from the appendix to M'Grigor's Auto-
biography the following brief notice of a brother of
the suliject of this memoir, which shows that heroic
and military worth did not exclusively belong to a
single member of the family : —

"In this place it will perhaps be considered an
interesting and graceful act by his countrymen to
couple with the name of Colonel Colquhoun Grant
that of his brother. Colonel Alexander Grant, who
so much distinguished himself in those Indian wars —
particularly that of the Mahratta — which were the
foundation of the fame of the Duke of Wellington.
Passing over many of the numerous actions and as-
saults in which he gained the applause of his superior
officers and the confidence of his soldiers, it may be
remarked that the military tact and individual ex-
ploits of Brigade-major Grant were specially con-
spicuous; and at the battle of Assaye they have been
widely admitted to have contributed in no small de-
gree to the decision of that memorable day. It was
at his suggestion that the decisive charge of cavalry
was made which saved the gallant 74th regiment from
being annihilated; and his subsequent ubiquity in
the field, together with his personal exertions where-
ever the enemy appeared to be collecting, obtained
for him the admiration of all who witnessed them.
In the heat of the action, and in competition with
the gallant Captain Scale of the 19th dragoons, he
was the first to come up with the German officer
Pholman — a favourite leader in Scindia's army —
and cut him off his horse. On his return to England
he received from his sovereign the dignity of C.B.,
but died prematurely, his constitution, though natu-
rally vigorous, being broken down by his numerous
campaigns."

GRANT, Sir Francis, of Cullen, a judge and
political writer, was the son of Archibald Grant of
Bellinton,' in the north of Scotland, a cadet of the
family of Grant of Grant, the various branches of
which, at that period, joined the same political
party which was supported by the subject of this
memoir. Pie was born about the year 1660, and
received the elementary part of his education at one
of the universities of Aberdeen. He was destined
for the profession of the law ; and as at that period
there were no regular institutions for the attainment
of legal knowledge in Scotland, and the eminent
schools of law on the Continent furnished admirable
instruction in the civil law of Rome, on which the
principles of the greater part of the Scottish system
are founded — along with most of the aspirants at the
Scottish bar, Mr. Grant pursued his professional
studies at Leyden, where he had the good fortune
to be under the auspices of the illustrious commen-
tator John Voet ; an advantage by which he is said
to have so far profited, that the great civilian retained
and expressed for years afterwards a high opinion

' Such is his paternity, as given in Haig and Brunton's His-
tory pf the College 0/ Justice, on the authority of Milne's
genealogical MS. Wodrow, in one of his miscellaneous
manuscripts, says he understood him to be the son of a

clergyman.

I70

SIR FRANXIS GRANT.

of his diligence and attainments, and recomniended
to his other students the ex.-imi)le of his yount; Scot-
tish pupil. He seems indeed to have borne ihrouj^h
his whole life a character remarkable for docility,
mixiesty, and unobtrusive firmness, which procured
him the countenance and respect of his seniors, and
brouijht him honours to which he did not apparently
aspire. Immeiliately on his return to Scotland, and
in consequence of the exhibition of his qualifications
at the trial preparatory to his passing at the bar, we
find him attracting the notice of Sir George M'Ken-
lie, then lonl-advocate, at the head of the Scottish
bar, and in the full enjoyment of his wide-spread
reputation; a circumstance creditable to the feelings
of bath, anil which must have been peculiarly grati-
fying to the younger man, from the circumstance of
his early displaying a determined opposition to the
political measures of the lord-advocate. Mr. Grant
was only twenty-eight years of age when he took
an active part in that memorable convention which
sat in the earlier part of the year 16S9, to decide
on the claims of the Prince of Orange; and when
older politicians vacillated, and looked to accident
for the direction of their future conduct, he boldly
adopted his line of politics, and argued strongly, and
it would appear not without effect, that the only fit
course to pursue was to bestow on the prince the
full right of sovereignty, with those limitations only
which a care for the integrity of the constitution
might dictate, and without any insidious provisions
which might afterwards distract the nation by a re-
currence of the claims of the house of Stuart. His
zeal for the cause he liad adopted prompted him at
that juncture to pui)lish a small controversial work,
which he called The Loyalist's Reasons for his giving
OheJunce and sivearing Allegiance to the Present
Government, as being obliged thereto, by (it being
founded on) the Imws of God, A\jture, and Xations,
and Cn'il, by F. G. In the freedom of modem
political discussion the arguments which were pro-
duced as reasons for a change of government would
appear a little singular; the whole is a point of law
tightly argued, as if fitted to meet the eye of a cool
and skilful judge, who has nothing to do but to dis-
cover its accordance or dis.agr<.-ement witli the letter
of the law. The ground, however, upon which he
has met his adversaries is strictly of their own choos-
ing, and the atlvocate for a revolution seems to have
adhered with all due strictness to relevancy and sound
law. He founds his arguments on certain postulates,
from which, and the facts of the case, he deduces
that King James had forfeited his superiority by
committing a grand feudal delict against his vassals;
and tiie throne being thus vacated, he shows, in
several tlieses, that the Prince of Orange had made
a conrpiest of the same, and had relinquished its dis-
posal Ui the country, and the country, having tluis
the choice of a ruler, ought to bestow the govern-
ment on the generous conqueror. The whole is
wound up by several corollaries, in a strictly syllo-
gistic form. The reasonings are those of an acute
lawyer, well interspersed with authorities from the
civil and feudal law; and it may easily be presumed
that such reasoning, when a[)plied judiciously and
coolly to the subject, had more effect on the restricted
intellect of the age, than the eloquence of Dalryniple,
or the energy of Hamilton. Indeed, the effect of the
work in reconciling the feudalized minds of the Scot-
tish gentry to the alteration, is said to have been
Practical and apparent; and while the author received
onours and emoluments from the crown, his prud-
ence and firmness made him respected by the party
he had opposed.

The tide of Mr. Grant's fortune continued to flow

with steadiness from the period of this successful
attempt in the political world, and he was constantly
in the eye of government as a tnistworthy person,
whose services might be useful for furthering its
measures in those precarious times. With such
views a baronetcy was bestowed on him, unex-
pectedly and without solicitation, in the year 1705,
preparatory to the general discussion of the union
of the kingdoms; and after the consummation of that
measure he was raised to the bench, where he took
his seat as Lord Cullen in the year 1709. He is
said to have added to the numberless controversial
pamphlets on the union ; and if certain pamphlets
called Essays on Remai'ing the Auitional Prejudices
against a Union, to which some one has attached
his name, be really from his pen (which, from the
circumstance under wliich they bear to have been
written, is rather doubtful), they show him to have
entered into the subject with a liberality of judgment
and an extent of information seldom exhibited in
such controversies, and to have possessed a peculiarly
acute foresight of the advantages of an interchange
of commerce and privileges. Lord Cullen was a
warm friend to the Church of Scotland, a raaintainer
of its pristine purity, and of what is more essential
than the form, or even the doctrine, of any church,
the means of preserving its moral influence on the
character and habits of the people. "He was,"
says Wodrow, "very useful for the executing of the
laws against immorality." The power of the judi-
cature of a nation over its morality is a subject to
which he seems to have long paid much attention.
We find him in the year I7Ch3 publishing a tract en-
titled "^ Brief Account of the Rise, Nature, and Pro-
gress of the Societies for the Reformation of Planners,
(S^r., in England, with a Preface exhorting the Use
of such Societies in Scotland." This pamphlet em-
bodies an account of the institution and regulation
of these societies by the Rev. Josiah Woodward,
which the publisher recommends should be imitated
in Scotland. The subject is a delicate and difficult
one to a person who looks forward to a strict and
impartial administration of the law as a judge, a duty
which it is dangerous to combine with that of a dis-
cretionary avww inoriim; but, as a private individual,
he proposes, as a just and salutary restraint, that
such societies should "pretend to no authority or
judicatory power, but to consult and endeavour, in
subserviency to the magistracy, to promote the exe-
cution of the law by the respective magistrates;"
a species of institution often followed by well-mean-
ing men, but which is not without danger. This
tract is curious from its having been published for
gratis distribution, and as perhaps the earliest prac-
tically moral tract which was published for such a
purpose in Scotland. The strict religious feeling
of the author afterwards displays itself in a pamphlet,
called '^ A Short History of the Sabbath, containing
some few Grounds for its Morality, and Cases about
its Observance; with a brief Answer to, or Anticipa-
tion of, several Objections against both;" published
in 1705- This production aims its attacks at what
the author says are improperly termed the innocent
recreations of the Sabbath. It has all the qualifica-
tions which are necessary to make it be received
within the strictest definition of a polemical pam-
phlet: authorities are gathered together from all quar-
ters of the world ; the sacred text is abundantly
adduced ; and laboured parallels are introduced, in
some cases where there is little doubt of the applica-
tion, in others where it is somewhat difficult to dis-
cover it. Controversial tracts are frequently the
most interesting productions of any age: they are
the ebullition of the feeling of the time. Called out,

SIR FRANCIS GRANT-

MRS. GRANT.

171

generally, by the excitement of a critical state of
affairs, and ungiiardeil by the thouglu and reflection
bestowed on a lengthened work, tliey are, next to
speeches accurately reported, the best evidence pos-
terity possesses of the character of a public writer.
Those which we have already referred to are anony-
mous; but we have every reason to believe they have
been attributed to the proper quarter.

Lord CuUen liad as his companions on the bench,
Cockburn of Ormiston, M'Kenzie of Royston, Er-
skine of Dun, and Pringle of Newhall, under the
presidency of Sir Hew Dalrymple, son to the cele-
brated Viscount Stair. In the course of seventeen
years, during which he filled the responsible station
of a judge, and the more than ordinarily responsible
situation of a Scottish judge, he is asserted by his
friends to have been impartial in the interpretation
of the laws, vigilant in their application, and a pro-
tector of the poor and persecuted; and, what is more
conducive to the credit of the assertion, no enemy
has contradicted it. A character of his manner and
qualifications is thus given in rather obscure terms
by Wodrow: — "Ilis style is dark and intricate, and
so were his pleadings at the bar and his discourses
on the bench. One of his fellow-senators tells me
he was a living library, and the most ready in cita-
tion. When the lords wanted anything in the civil
or canon law to be cast up, or acts of parliament,
he never failed them, but turned to the place. He
seemed a little ambulatory in his judgment as to
church government, but was a man of great piety
and devotion, wonderfully serious in prayer and
learning the word." It is not improbable that by
the terms "dark and intricate," the historian means
what would now be expressed by "profound and
subtle." The confidence which his friends, and the
country in general, reposed in his generosity and
justice, is said to have been so deeply felt, that on
his intimating an intention to dispose of his paternal
estate, and invest the proceeds, along with his pro-
fessional gains, in some other manner, many decayed
families offered their shattered estates for his pur-
chase, in the hope that his legal skill, and undeviat-
ing equity, might be the means of securing to them
some small remnant of the price — the condition of
incumbrance to which they had been long subjected,
and the improbability of their being enabled, by the
intricate courses of the feudal law, to adjust the
various securities, forbidding them to expect such a
result by any other measure. On this occasion he
purchased the estate of Monymusk, still the property
of his descendants, and it is nobly recorded of him
that he used his legal acuteness in classing the vari-
ous demands against the estate, and compromising
with the creditors, so as to be enabled to secure a
considerable surplus sum to the vender of a property
which was burdened to an amount considerably
above its value.

Although acute, however, in his management of
the business of others. Lord CuUen has borne the
reputation of having been a most remiss and careless
manager of his own affairs ; a defect which seems
to have been perceived and rectified by his more
prudent and calculating spouse, who bore on her
own shoulders the whole burden of the family matters.
It is narrated that this sagacious lady, finding that
the ordinary care which most men bestow on their
own business was ineffectual in drawing her husband's
attention to the proper legal security of his property,
was in the habit, in any case where her mind mis-
gave her as to the probable effect of any measure
she wished to adopt, of getting the matter represented
to him in the form of a "case," on which his opinion
was requested as a lawyer.

This excellent and useful man died at Edinburgh
on the 23d of March, 1726, of an illness which lasted
only two days, but which, from its commencement,
was considered mortal, and thus prepared him to
meet a speedy death. His friend Wodrow, stating
that the physician had given information of his mor-
tal illness to Lord Cullen's brother-in-law, Mr. For-
dyce, thus records the closing scene: — "Mr. Fordyce
went to him, and signified so much. My lord, after
he had told him, smiled and put forth his hand and
took my informer by the hand, and said, Brother,
you have brought me the best news ever I heard,
and signified he was desirous for death, and how
welcome a message this was. He had no great pain,
and spoke to the edification of all who came to see
him, and that day, and till Wednesday at twelve,
when he died, was without a cloud, and in full as-
surance of faith. "^

Besides the works already mentioned, Lord Cullen
published Law, Religion, and Education, considered
in three Essays, and A Key to the Plot, by Reflections
on the Rebellion of i"]!^. He left behind him three
sons and five daughters. His eldest son. Sir Archi-
bald, for some time represented the shire of Aber-
deen in parliament. The second, William, was a
distinguished ornament of the Scottish bar. He was
at one time procurator to the church, and principal
clerk to the General Assembly. In 1737 he was
appointed solicitor-general, and in 1738 lord-advo-
cate, an office which he held during the rebellion of
1745; a period which must have tried the virtue of
the occupier of such a situation, but which has left
him the credit of having, in the words of Lord
Woodhouselee, performed his duties, "regulated
by a principle of equity, tempering the strictness of
the law." He succeeded Grant of Elchies on the
bench in 1754, taking his seat as Lord Prestongrange,
and aftenvards became lord justice-clerk. He was
one of the commissioners for improving the fisheries
and manufactures of Scotland, and afterwards one
of the commissioners for the annexed estates. He
died at Bath in 1 764.

GRANT, Mrs., of Laggan. This amiable and
talented authoress, in whom a manly intellect was
so happily blended with woman's gentleness and
delicate feeling, was born at Glasgow on the 2 1st of
February, 1755. Her father, Duncan M 'Vicar, was
an officer in the British army; her mother was a
descendant of the ancient family of Stewart of In-
vernahyle in Argyleshire. A short time after she
was born her father accompanied his regiment to
America, with the intention of settling there ; and
soon after this was effected, he was joined by his wife
and infant daughter, the latter being scarcely three
years old. As New York, the place of her resid-
ence, was at this time thinly peopled, especially in
the rural districts, where the settlers dwelt miles
apart from each other, the early opportunities of
education which Mrs. Grant possessed were such as
to furnish little hope of future literary excellence.
But, happily for her, she had a careful instructor in
her mother, besides whom she had no other; and
she so profited by domestic tuition, that she quickly
learned to read, and before her sixth year was finished
had perused the whole of the Old Testament, and
was well acquainted with its contents. It was the
home teaching of Scotland at this period trans-
planted into the back-settlements of America. She
also acquired about the same time a knowledge of
the Dutch language, in consequence of residing for
some months with a family of Dutch colonists. Not

' Wodrow's Aiiatt'cta, MS. v. 175.— Adv. Lib.

MRS. GRANT.

long after, she learnetl to write, solely from chance
lessons which she receivetl in penmanshij) from the
sergeant of a Scottish rej^iment. Obscrviiit^ also the
cajjerness of his pupil for knowledge, he presented
her with an appropriate Scottish soldier's gift — even
the poem of ll'ailiiiir, by Blind Harry, the patriotic
Homer of .Scotland. The quaint and almost for-
gotten language in which this work is written, as
well as its obsolete orthography, would have made
it a scaled book to the half-Scottish half-American
little maiden, had it not been for the kindness of the
sergeant, who taught her to decipher the words and
understand the meaning of the old heroic minstrel.
From tliis source she mainly derived that enthusi-
astic love of her native country which ever afterwards
was a distinguishing feature in her character. An-
other epic, which had a still higher influence in the
formation of her mind, followed. This was Milton's
PiiraJise Lost, which she received from an officer in
her father's regiment, who marked her love of read-
ing; anil this sublime production, which has daunted
so many youthful readers at the outset, she studied
with eagerness and pleasure. The expansion of in-
tellect and improvement of taste which the careful
perusal of the great English bard imparted to her
conversation were so conspicuous, that the most dis-
tinguished of the New 'S'ork society, young though
she was, were jiroud to cultivate her acquaintance.
The chief of these was Madame Schuyler, a lady
with who^e excellence and worth she afterwards
made the British public sympathize, in her Memoirs
of an American LaJy.

We have already mentioned that Mr. M 'Vicar,
the father of Mrs. Grant, had repaired to America
chiefly for the purpose of becoming a settler in one
of its colonies. This he effected in the state of Ver-
mont, where he received a grant of land, to which
he made large additions by purchase, while his worth
and ingratiating manners secured him the esteem
not only of the settlers, but the native Indian tribes.
But this career of prosperity was internipted by ill
health, so that he was obligeil to return to his native
country in 176S, bringing with him his wife and
daughter, the latter having now reacheil the age of
thirteen. A few years after, Mr. M 'Vicar was ap-
pointed barrack-master of l'"ort Augustus. Unfor-
tunately for him, he had been obliged to leave
America in such haste as to have no opportunity to
dispose of his property; and, on the breaking out of
the American war, the whole was confiscated by the
new republican government, so that he was reduced
to his limited pay of barrack-master. At the same
station of Kort Augustus was the Rev. James Grant,
the military chaplain, an acconjplished scholar, of
amiable manners, and connected with some of the
most respectable families of the district, between
whom and Miss M 'Vicar an acf[uaintancesliip of
kindre<l disposition ripened into jjermanent affection.
Soon afterwards they were married, in consequence
ofthcap|)ointment of Mr. Grant, in 1779, to the ])arish
of Laggan in Inverness-shire — a union from which
the suiiject of our memoir received her literary name
and designation.

On becoming the wife of a Highland minister Mrs.
Grant addressed herself in good earnest to become
useful among the peo|>le of the parish. But a diffi-
culty o])posed her progress at the outset. Although
a Mac, she was not a Highlander; and she was
ignorant of Gaelic, that most essential of passports
to a Highland heart. Undeterred, however, by an
obstacle which few Lowlanders have ever sur-
mounted, slie commenced the study of that most
difficult of all languages, and made such progress
that she was soon able to converse readily with the

people in their own beloved tongue. In the woods
of America she had been early trained to the labour
of such a necessary task, by mastering the old Saxon
Scotch of Blind Harry's Wallace. Along with the
Celtic language she studied the manners and feelings
of the Highlanders, and was soon able to identify
herself with the people among whom her lot had been
cast. They, on their ]5art, appreciated these kind
labours of a stranger with true liigliland enthusiasm,
and felt that she was their own countrywoman in
heart and soul, as well as in tongue and lineage. In
this way tranquil years passed on in Laggan, and
Mrs. Grant, the mother of twelve children, seemed
little likely to commence a new life as an authoress,
and obtain distinction in the literary world. But
such was her 'u^cini, and stern misfortune and neces-
sity were to be tlje instruments of its accomplishment.
After four successive deaths in her family, her husband
died, and she was left a helpless widow, with eight
children dependent ujjon her exertions, while the
manse, so long her happy home, must be left to the
successor of her husband. In taking account also
of her worldly affairs, she found that she was worth
less than nothing; for the scale of H ighland and clerical
hospitality by which her household had hitherto been
regulated, rather exceeded than equalled the amount
of stipend, so that she found herself somewhat, though
not greatl}', in debt. But strong in her trust on that
Providence which had been with her from earliest
infancy, she confronted her new necessities, and her
first step was to take charge of a small farm in the
neighbourhood of Laggan. This expedient soon
failed, and in 1S03 she removed to the neighbour-
hood of Stirling. Something was necessary to be
done, and that speedily; but the great difficulty lay
in the choice. At last the friends of Mrs. Grant
suggested the idea of authorship. She had written
many verses which they had greatly admired in
manuscript, and these, collected into a printed
volume, might be equally acceptable to the public
at large. Her poems, indeed, had been hasty pro-
ductions, of which she had hitherto made small
account, and it was with no little urgency that she
was persuaded to try the experiment of publishing.
She had not even a collection of these poems in her
possession, as she generally sent them to her numer-
ous correspondents, without retaining a copy for
herself. The work was announced to be published
by subscription, and so well did her friends exert
themselves, that 3000 subscribers were soon procured.
This puljlicalion, which appeared in 1S03, although
favourably received by the public, was scarcely cal-
culated to make any lasting impression, or stamp the
character of Mrs. Grant as a genuine poetess; and
accordingly, it has long ago disappeared from among
those works of the period which the present genera-
tion cares to read. Its profits, however, enabled
her to discharge those debts which had been con-
tracted at Laggan, and which had continued to
weigh upon her mind. But fresh domestic diffi-
culties occurred. Her eldest daughter had been sent
to Bristol for the cure of a consumptive complaint,
which was attended with heavy expense; and one of
her sons, who had got an appointment to India
tlirough the kindness of her friend Mr. Charles
Grant, chairman of the India House, required the
necessary outfit. The success that attended the
former attempt suggested a fresh trial of authorship,
and Mrs. Grant was advised by her friends to collect
and publish her letters. These had been written in
the manse of Laggan to her correspondents over a
course of years, and were so full of Highland scenery,
character, and legends, expressed in the happiest
style of epistolary composition, that, even with the

MRS. GRANT

SIR WILLIAM GRANT.

173

omission of whatever was private or confidential, it
was thought they would form an acceptable work to
the reading public. She allowed herself to be jjcr-
suaded, and the result was her best and most popular
production, the Letters from the Moiditains, ^\•hich
was published in 1S06. This work went through
many editions, and was so justly appreciated among
the talented and influential men of the day, as to
procure for her many distinguished friends, among
whom maybe enumerated Sir William Grant, master
of the rolls, Sir William Farquhar, and Bishop
Porteous. The only other works which she sub-
sequently published were. Memoirs of an American
Lady, and Essays on the Superstitions of the High-
landers of Scotland; and it is enough to say that they
did not detract from the reputation she had already
won. Her productions are thus characterized by Sir
Walter Scott, a judge well fitted to estimate them:
— "Her literary works, although composed amidst
misfortune and privation, are written at once with
simplicity and force; and uniformly bear the stamp
of a virtuous and courageous mind, recommending
to the reader that patience and fortitude which the
writer herself practised in such an eminent degree.
Her writings, deservedly popular in her own country,
derive their success from the happy manner in which,
addressing themselves to the national pride of the
Scottish people, they breathe a spirit at once of
patriotism, and of that candour which renders patriot-
ism unselfish and liberal. We have no hesitation
in attesting our belief that Mrs. Grant's writings have
produced a strong and salutary effect upon her coun-
trymen, who not only found recorded in them much
of national history and antiquities, which would other-
wise have been forgotten, but found them combined
with the soundest and the best lessons of vh-tue and
morality."

In 1810 Mrs. Grant removed from Stirling to
Edinburgh, where she resided during the rest of her
life. But still domestic calamities pursued her, and
all her children died successively, except her youngest
son, who survived her. In the midst of these afflic-
tions, so trying to the affectionate heart of a widowed
mother, it is gratifying to add that she was not wholly
unaided in the struggle. Pier talents and her worth
had surrounded her with a circle of aflectionate
friends, who in the worst hour were ready not only
with sympathy but aid. In 1825 an application was
made in her behalf for a pension from government,
subscribed by Sir Walter Scott, Francis Jeffrey,
Mackenzie (the Man of Feeling), Sir William Ar-
buthnot, Sir Robert Liston, and Principal Baird,
which was cordially granted by George IV. At first
it amounted to only £^0, but was afterwards increased
to ^100 per annum; and this, with several legacies
from deceased friends, enabled her to spend the last
years of her life not only in comfort, but comparative
affluence. But those for whose sake she most wished
to have obtained it had one by one been snatched
away! She was also at this period an invalid; for,
nearly seven years before the pension was obtained,
she had a fall in descending a stair, from the effects
of which she was confined almost wholly to her house
during the rest of her life. But still she was resigned,
and even happy; and her frequent study of the Bible
during her hours of leisure, as well as her conversa-
tion with intimate friends, betokened the sure foun-
dation upon which her comfort was established.
Thus she lived, honoured and beloved, till the eighty-
fourth year of her age, when a cold, that increased
into influenza, ended her days on the 7th of Novem-
ber, 1838, and her remains were interred in the new
cemetery of the parish church of St. Cuthbert's.
Her chief talent lay in conversation, in which she

was unrivalled, and hence the high fame she ac-
quired among the literary circles of the day. That
voice has passed away of which her works were but
an echo, and thus the works themselves are now
rated beneath their merits. Still, however, the
Letters from the Mountains will continue to attest
the high talent of their writer, and be perused with
pleasure and profit.

GRANT, Sir William. This able lawyer was
a descendant of the Grants of Beldornie, a sept of the
parent clan. His father, originally a farmer, was
afterwards appointed collector of customs in the Isle
of Man, an office which he held till his death. His
son William, the subject of this notice, was bom at
Elchies in Morayshire, in 1754, and was educated
at the grammar-school of Klgin, along with his
younger brother, who aftervvards became collector
at Martinico. William did not forget, when he had
attained distinction, the place in ^\hich he had been
trained, so that, thirty years afterwards, when the
school w^as to be rebuilt, he was one of its earliest
contributors. His education was completed at the
old college of Aberdeen. In the choice of a profes-
sion, which was that of law, he was directed by the
advice of his uncle, a merchant, who had been so
successful in England that he was enabled to pur-
chase the estate of Elchies, on which he had been
born. After the usual course of study at Aberdeen
had been finished, William Grant went to London,
and was entered at Lincoln's Inn. At the age of
twenty-five, although he had not yet been called to
the English bar, he was considered competent for
colonial practice, and was appointed attorney-general
of Canada. In this new office his professional talents
soon brought him into universal esteem. He also
showed that he understood the adage of ta7)i Marti
qitam Mercuric; for on Quebec being besieged by
the American army under Montgomery, the attorney-
general became a bold and active captain of volun-
teers, and continued to perform military' duty until
the siege was ended. After this he continued to
discharge his civil duties for several years ; but
finding the position of Canada too critical, as well
as colonial practice too limited for his aspirations,
he resigned his office of attorney-general; and on re-
turning to London he entered with full ardour upon a
more favourable arena in the courts of Westminster,
after having been commissioned in 1787 to practise
as an English barrister. His commencement, how-
ever, was so unpropitious as to bring all his energy
and resolution into full exercise, and nerve them
with double vigour ; for however eminent he had
been at the bar of Quebec, he found himself an
utter stranger in London, while his shy retiring
habits gave little promise that such a difficulty
would be easily obviated. Fortunately, one of
those incidents occurred by which the reserve of
modest merit is often broken through, and the
possessor dragged out to the sphere which he ought
to occupy. Mr. Grant, after having gone the circuit
year after year without obtaining a single brief,
happened at length to be retained in some appeals
from the Court of Session in Scotland to the House
of Lords. He discharged his duty so ably on this
occasion, and evinced such legal talent and force of
reasoning, as to extort the highest approbation from
the stern Lord-chancellor Thurlow, a man by no
means profuse in compliments. He eagerly asked
the name of the speaker; and having learned it he
said to a friend, "Be not surprised if that young
man should one day occupy this seat." It is thought
that Grant might ultimately have fulfilled this pre-
diction had he been willing to encounter the respon-

174

SIR WILLIAM GRANT DAVIP GREGORY

jji.i^ ,;.,;.-_ r.f the chancellorship. Thurlow's ap-
pr not end in empty compliment; he

in- -elf in the fortunes of the talented but

unbctricnJcd stranger, and in consequence of his
advice Grant left the practice of common law for
that of equity, as being better fitted for his studies
and habits.

From this period his career was one of honour
and success, and his first step was a seat in parlia-
ment, havinc; been returned for Shaftesbury at the
gc: -I in 1790. On entering the house he

nu. npt to attract notice as a political

or ' rrither lay in private consultations

ai. -re his sagacity, good sense, and

e\ - were seen and appreciated by

the mj^: cnu .cut ui his colleagues. Of these espe-
cially was Mr. Pitt, of whom he was a firm and
effecli^e supporter. On one occasion, in the year
1 791, his colonial experience was of great service to
the premier. The subject before the House for
discussion was a new code of laws for the province
of Canada, and on this question he enforced the
proposal of Pitt with such incontrovertible arguments,
drawn from his own knowledge and^ practice as
attorney-general of the colony, that even Fox was
gratified, and all but convinced. Another occasion
on which Grant signalized himself in the House of
Commons occurred in the following year, when he
defended the measures of the ministr)- upon the
subject of the Russian armament. At the beginning
of 1 794 he was returned to jxirliament by the borough
of \Ve-! mi Titter, and at the same time appointed
S"! 1 to the queen, and in 1796 he was

c!. ;n parliament for the county of Banff.

In ijwj li-- >^as apfxjinted chief-justice of Chester,
and in the year following he was made solicitor-
general, on which occasion he received the usual
honour of knighthood. In iSoi he was honoured
with his la<;t and highest promotion of master of the
rolls. T' ' not to his sup-

port of • -• state, but the

high ch_: . - ^ for himself as

lawyer and judge, in which ail parties coincided.
He continued to represent the county of Banff until
1812, when the parliament was dissolved, and to fill
the office of master of the rolls till 1817, at which
period he was anxious to retire from public life,
before age had unfitted him for its duties or im-
pairctl his intellectual vigour. On the 24th Decem-
ber, therefore, he fulfilled this resolution of self-
denial by tendering his resignation of the mastership,
on " ' ' - ' ^S other well-

d' >m the bar of

til • ^ ~ ^ t, the speaker

appointed for the otcaiion: — " 1 he promptitude and
wisdom of your decisions have been as highly con-
ducive to the benefit of the suitors, as they have been
eminently promotive of the general administration of
equity. In the performance of your important and
arduous duties you have exhibited an uninterrupted
equanimity, and dLsplayei a temp>er never disturbed,
and a patience never wearietl; you have evinced a
uniform and impartial attention to those engaged in
the diichari^c of their professional duties here, and
who have had the opportunity, and enjoyed the
advantage, of observing that conduct in the dispensa-
tion of justice which has been conspicuously calcu-
lated to excite emulation, and to form an illustrious
example for imitation."

During the sixteen years of life that were still
continuetl to him. Sir William Grant abstained from
public affairs, devoting himself wholly to intellectual
recreations, and the society of congenial company,
in the neighbourhood of Walthamstow, and during

the two last years of his life at Barton House, Daw-
lish, the residence of his sister, the widow of Admiral
Schanck. He was never married. His death
occurred on the 25th of May, 1832, when he had
reached the age of seventy-eight years.

GREGORY, D.wiD, the able commentator on
Newton's Principa, and Savilian professor of astro-
nomy at Oxford, was bom at Aberdeen on the 24th
of June, 1661. His father, Mr. Da\id Gr^ory,
brother of the inventor of the reflecting telescope, had
been educated as a merchant, and spent a consider-
able time in Holland; but by the death of his elder
brother he became heir to the estate of Kinnairdie,
and from a predilection for the mathematics and ex-
f>erimental philosophy, he soon afterwards renounced
all commercial employments, devoting himself en-
tirely to the cultivation of science. The peculiarity
of Mr. Gregory's pursuits caused him to be noted
through the whole country, and as he was the first
f>erson in Scotland who possessed a barometer, from
which he derived an extensive knowledge of the
weather, it was believed that he held intercourse
with the beings of another world. So widely had
this belief been circulated, that a deputation from
the presb)-tery waited on him, and it was only one
fortunate circumstance that saved him from under-
going a formal trial for ■witchcraft. He had from
choice acquired an extensive knowledge of the
healing art, his opinion was held in the highest
estimation, and as he practised in all cases without
fee, he was of great use in the district where he lived.
It was this circumstance alone that prevented the
reverend members of the presbytery from calling
him to account for his suf)erior intelligence. His son
David, the subject of this sketch, studied for a con-
siderable time at Aberdeen, but completed his educa-
tion at Edinburgh. In 16S4, when he was only
twenty-three years of age, he made his first appear-
ance as an author in a Latin work concerning the
dimensions of figures, printed in Edinburgh, and en-
titled Exercitatioms Geomeirica. The same year in
which this work was published he was called to the
mathematical chair in Edinburgh Collie, which he
held with the greatest honour for seven years. Here
he delivered some lectures on optics, which formed
the substance of a work on that science of acknow-
ledged excellence. Here also Gregory was first con-
vinced of the infinite superiority of Newton's phil-
osophy, and was the first who dared openly to teach
the doctrines of the Priticipia in a public seminary.
This circumstance will ever attach honour to the
name of Gregory; for let it be remembered that in
those days this was a daring innovation; and Cam-
bridge university, in which Newton had been edu-
cated, was the very last in the kingdom to admit the
truth of what is now regarded by all as the true sj's-
tem of the world. Whiston, in his Memoirs of his
oivn Tinii, bewails this in '"the very anguish of his
heart, " calling the men of science at O.xford and Cam-
bridge poor wretches when compared with those at the
Scottish universities. In the year 1 691 Gregory went to
London, as there had been circulated a report that Dr.
Edmond Bernard, Savilian professor at Oxford, was
about to resign, which promised a very desirable of)en-
ing for the young mathematician. On his arrival in
London he was kindly received by Newton, who had
formed a very high opinion of him, as we learn from
a letter written by Sir Isaac to Mr. Flamstead, the
astronomer-roj-al. Newton had intended to make
Flamstead a visit at Greenwich observatory, with a
view to introduce Gregor}-, but was prevented by in-
disposition, and sent a letter with Gregory by way
of introduction. ' ' The bearer hereof is Mr. Gregory,

DAVID GREGORY.

K5

mathematical professor at Edinburgh College, Scot-
land. I intended to have given you a visit along
with him, but cannot; you will find him a very in-
genious person, a good mathematician, worthy of
your acquaintance." Gregory could not fail to be
highly gratified by the friendship of two of the
greatest men of the age, and most particularly emi-
nent in that department of science which he culti-
vated with so much zeal and success. Such a mind
as Newton's was not likely to form an opinion of any
individual on a vague conjecture of his ability, and
the opinion once established would not be liable to
change; accordingly, we find that his attachment to
the interests of the young mathematician were only
terminated by death. In a letter addressed a con-
siderable time afterwards to the same amiable per-
sonage, he writes thus : "But I had rather have them
(talking of Flamstead's observations upon Saturn, for
five years, which Xewton wished from him) for the
next twelve or fifteen years — if you and I live not
long enough, Mr. Gregory and Mr. Halley are young
men."

Gregory's visit to London was important to his
future fame as a mathematician. He was elected a
fellow of the Royal Society, and afterwards contri-
buted many valuable papers to their Transactions.
At the head of these must be mentioned that which
he delivered on his first introduction to their meet-
ings— a solution of the famous Florentine problem —
which had been sent as a challenge to the British
mathematicians. Gregory's solution, which is ex-
tremely beautiful, will be found in the number of the
Philosophical Transactions for January, 1694. On
the 8th of Februar)% 1692, David Gregory was made*
Master of Arts of Baliol College, Oxford ; and on
the 1 8th of the same month he received the degree
of Doctor of Physic. At this time he stood candi-
date with Dr. Halley for the Savilian professorship
of astronomy at Oxford. Gregory had a formidable
rival to contend with, as great interest was used for
Halley at court, and he had besides rendered himself
eminent by his numerous and important discoveries.
Gregory in all likelihood would not have obtained
this situation, notv/ithstanding the zealous interces-
sion of Newton and Flamstead, had it not been for
a circumstance which is stated by Whiston in his
Memoirs of his own Time, as follows : "Halley being
thought of as successor to the mathematical chair at
Oxford, Bishop Stillingfleet was desired to recom-
mend him at court; but hearing that he was a scep-
tic and a contemner of religion, the bishop scrupled
to be concerned till his chaplain, Mr. Bentley, should
talk with him about it, which he did ; but Halley
was so sincere in his infidelity, that he would not so
much as pretend to believe the Christian religion,
though he was likely to lose a professorship by it —
which he did, and it was given to Dr. Gregory."
To the honour of science let it be mentioned, that
this circumstance, which opposed the interest of these
two mathematicians so directly to each other, instead
of becoming the cause of those petty jealousies or
animosities which in such cases so commonly occur,
was in the present instance the foundation on which
was raised a firm and lasting friendship. Nor is
it perhaps too bold to suspect that the liberality dis-
played in this instance by these two eminent men
proceeded not so much from themselves as from the
science which they cultivated in common. The
scruples of Stillingfleet in time lost their efficacy, and
Gregory had soon after the pleasure of having Dr.
Halley as his colleague, he having succeeded Dr.
Wallis in the Savilian chair of geometr\'.

In 1695 he published at Oxford a very valuable
work on the reflection and refraction of spherical sur-

faces. This work is valuable, as it contains the first
hint for a practical method of improving the refract-
ing telescope, and destroying the chromatic defect of
these instruments. The difficulty to be avoided in
those telescopes which operate by glasses instead of
mirrors lies in procuring a large field of view, and
at the same time retaining distinctness of vision.
Gregory drew an analogy from the construction of
the eye, and by referring, to the method by which
this was effected in nature, gave the hint that the
same principle might be applied in practice. This,
perhaps, paved the way for the achromatic glasses
— one of the finest triumphs of modern science. A
simplicity pervades the whole work truly character-
istic of the author's mind. But the work on which
the fame of David Gregory must ultimately depend
was published in 1702, entitled Elements 0/ Physical
and Geometrical Astroiwmy. This work was a sort
of digest of Newton's Principia. Great originality
was shown in the illustrations, and the arrangement
was so adapted as to show the progress the science
had made in its various gradations towards perfection;
and it was allowed by Newton himself that Gregory's
work was an excellent view of his system.

Sir Henry Savile had projected a design of print-
ing a uniform series of the ancient mathematicians;
in pursuance of which Gregory published an edition
of Euclid, and in conjunction with Dr. Halley he
commenced the Conies of Apollonius ; but scarcely
had he entered upon this interesting undertaking
when death put a period to his existence. He de-
parted this life in 1701, at INIaidenhead, in Berkshire,
where it is believed his body is interred. His wife
erected a monument at Oxford to his memory, with
a very simple and elegant inscription. Of the talents
of Dr. Gregory ample testimony is borne by the
works which he bequeathed to posterity, and of his
worth as a private individual by the respect in which
he was held by his contemporaries Flamstead, Keil,
Halley, and, above all. Sir Isaac Newton, who held
him in the highest estimation. Of Newton's respect
for him we shall add one other instance : Sir Isaac
had intrusted Gregory with a copy of his Principia
in manuscript, on which Gregory wrote a commen-
tar)', of the benefit of which the great author availed
himself in the second edition. Dr. John Gregory
presented a manuscript copy of this to the university
of Edinburgh, in the library of which it is carefully
preserved. Of his posthumous works two deserve
particularly to be noticed: one on practical geometiy,
published by Mr. Colin Maclaurin, and a small trea-
tise on the nature and arithmetic of logarithms, sub-
joined to Keil's Euclid, which contains a simple and
comprehensive view of the subject.

An anecdote is told of David Gregory of Kin-
nairdie. Dr. Gregory's father, which it would not,
perhaps, be altogether proper to omit. He had, as
was remarked at the beginning, a turn for mathe-
matical and mechanical subjects, and during Queen
Anne's wars had contrived a metliod to increase the
effect of field-ordnance. He sent it to the Savilian
professor, his son, wishing his opinion, together with
Sir I. Newton's. Gregory showed it to Newton,
who advised him earnestly to destroy it, as said
Newton, "Any invention of that kind, if it even
were effectual, would soon become known to the
enemy, so that it would only increase the horrors
of war." There is every reason to think that the
professor followed Newton's advice, as the machine
was never afterwards to be found.

It is a more singular circumstance, and indeed
without parallel in the scientific history of Scotland,
that this old gentleman lived to see three of his sons
professors at the same time, viz. David, the subject

i:6

JAMES GREGORY.

of the present sketch ; James, who succeeded his
brother in the chair of mathematics at Edinburgh ;
and Charles, professor of mathematics in the uni-
versity of Sl Andrews.

GREGORY, J\MK>, whoMi valuable discoveries
ser»-cvl vj much to ai;cclcrate the pro<jress of the
mathematical an J physical sciences in the seventeenth
century, was born in 1638, at Drumoak, in Aber-
deenshire, where his father, the Rev. John Gregor>%
was minister. Little is known of James Gregor>''s
father, but from some slight notice of him in the

■ f the General -Assembly; and whatever

genius of the subject of this memoir was
by inheritance seems to have descended
iioiu ilie mother. It is an ob5er\ation of more than
one distinguished philosopher, that "he never knew
a man of talent whose mother was not a superior
woman;" and a more happy instance of the truth
of this remark could not be found than that of James
Gregor)'. Mrs. Gregory seems to have descended
from a family of mathematicians. Her father was
Mr. David Anderson of Finghaugh, whose brother,
.Alexander Anderson, was professor of mathematics
(about the beginning of the seventeenth centur))
in the university of Paris, and he himself was long
noted for his application to mathematical and me-
chanical subjects. The Rev. John Gregory died
when the subject of this article was yet in his boy-
liooil, and left the care of the education of James
to David, an elder brother, and the survis-ing parent.
The mother having observed the e.xpanding powers
of his mind, and their tendency to mathematical
reasoning, gave these early indications of his genius
all possible encouragement, by instructing him herself
in the elements of geometry'. Having received the
rudiments of his classical education at the grammar-
school of -Aberdeen, he completed the usual course
of studies at Marischal College. For a considerable
time after leaving the university, James Gregory-
devoted his attention to the science of optics. The
celebrated French philosopher Descartes had pub-
lished his work on Dioptrics the year before Gregory-
was bom, nor had any advances been made in that
science until James Gregory published the result
of his labours in a work printed at Ix)ndon, in 1663,
entitled " Optics Promoted, or tfu Mysteries of Re-
flected and Refracted Rays Demonstrated by the Ele-
ments of Geometry: to which is added, an AppendLx,
exhibiting a Solution of some of the most difficult
Problems in Astronomy." In this work, which
forms an era in the history of the science of that
century which its author so eminently adorned, and
which was published when he was only twenty-four,
there was first given to the world a description of
the reflecting telescope, of which Gregory is the in-
disputable inventor. He proposed to himself no
other advantage from using mirrors instead of glasses
in the construction of telescopes, than to correct the
error arising from the spherical figure of the lenses,
and by forming the reflectors of a parabolic figure,
to bring the rays of light into a perfect foctis, being
ignorant of the far greater error arising from the
unequal refrangibility of the rays of light, which it
was reserv'ed for Newton afterwards to discover.
Gregory went to London a year after the publica-
tion of his work on optics, with a view to the con-
struction of his telesco{)e, and was introduced to Mr.
Rieves, an optical instrument maker, by Mr. Collins,
secretary to the Royal Society. Rieves could not
finish the mirrors on the tool so as to preserve the
figure, and so unsuccessful was the trial of the new
telescope that the inventor was deterred from making
any farther attempts towards its improvement, nor

were these reflectors ever mounted in a tube. Sir
I. Newton objected to this telescope, that the hole
in the centre of the large sp)eculum would be the
cause of the loss of so much light, and invented one
in which this defect was remedied. The Gregorian
form is universally preferred to the Newtonian
when the instrument is of moderate size, the former
possessing some material advantages ; yet the latter
was always employed by Dr. Herschel in those
large instruments by which the field of discovery
has been so much extended. Although the in-
ventor of the reflecting telescope has received all
the honour which posterity can bestow, yet it is
lamentable to think that he never had the satisfac-
tion of seeing an instrument completed in his own
lifetime. It is only necessary to remark farther, on
this subject, that some papers of great interest passed
between Gregory and Sir Isaac Newton concerning
the reflecting telescope, which may be consulted
with advantage by those who would wish to investi-
gate the subject His work on optics contains, be-
sides the discovery of the reflecting telescope, that
of the law of refraction. Descartes had made a
similar discovery long ere this, but Gregorj- had not
heard of it till his own work was ready for publica-
tion— to which circumstance he alludes in his pre-
face. Playfair, in considering this subject, very
justly remarks, that "though the optics of Descartes
had been published twenty-five years, Gregor)- had
not heard of the discovery of the law of refraction,
and had found it out only by his own efforts— happy
in being able, by the fertility of his genius, to supply
the defects of an insulated and remote situation."*
The method in which Gregory investigated the law
of refraction is truly remarkable, not only for its
singular elegance, but originality ; and the series of
exf>eriment3 which he instituted for the purpose of
demonstration, affords an indelible proof of the
accuracy of his obserA-ations. It is truly remarkable
that the calculations by this law differ so little from
those obtained by the most accurate experiments.
There is yet another discover)- of the ver)- highest
importance to the science of astronomy, which is
falsely, and, we would hope, unknowingly attributed
to another philosopher, whose manifold brilliant
discoveries throw an additional lustre over the coun-
trj- which gave him birth. We allude to the em-
ployment of the transits of Mercurj- and ^'enus in
the determination of the sun's parallax, the merit
of which is always ascribed to Dr. HaUey, even by
that eminent astronomer Laplace. But it is plainly
pointed out in the scholium to the aSth proposition
of Gregory's work, published many years prior to
Halley's supposed discover)-. The imiversit)- of
Padua was at this time in high repute for mathe-
matical learning, and Gregor)- repaired thither from
London, about the end of 1667, for the purpose of
prosecuting his favourite study. Here he published
a Latin work on the areas of the circle and h)-per-
bola, determined by an infinitely convei^ng series ;
a second edition of which he afterwards published
at Venice, with an apf>endix on the transmutation
of curs-es. Mr. Collins, who always showed himself
zealous in Gregory's favour, introduced this work
to the notice of the Royal Society of London, of
which he was secretary. This work received the
commendation of that distinguished nobleman Lord
Brounker, and Dr. Wallis, the celebrated inventor
of the arithmetic of infinites. Gregory's attention
was once more drawn to the squaring of curses, by
the method of converging series, on account of re-

' Pbyfair's " Dissertation," in the SMppUment to t/te Ency-
clopeedia Britannica, pan ist, page 25, eth edition.

JAMES GREGORY.

i^^

ceiving an instance of the case of the circle in a
letter from his friend Collins, who informed him
that Newton had discovered a general method for
all curves, mechanical and geometrical. Gregory
speedily returned to Collins a method for the same
purpose, which he was advised by his brother David
to publish. Gregory refused to do this, and that
from the most honourable motive : as Newton was
the original inventor, he deemed it unfair to publish
it until Sir Isaac should give his method to the
public. Soon after, he returned to London, and
from his celebrity as a mathematician he was chosen
a fellow of the Royal Society. He read before the
society the account of a dispute in Italy concerning
the motion of the earth, wdiich Riciolli and his fol-
lowers had denied; besides many other valuable com-
munications. Huygens had attacked Gregory's me-
thod of quadrature in a journal of that period, to
which he replied in the Philosophical Transactions.
The dispute was carried on with great warmth by
both, and from Gregory's defence it would appear
he was a man of warm temperament, but acute and
penetrating genius. Of the merits of either, in this
dispute, it would be out of place here to enter into
detail. Leibnitz, who considered the subject with
attention, and whose capacity of discernment in such
matters cannot be questioned, is of opinion that
although Huygens did not point out errors in the
work of Gregor}', yet he obtained some of the results
by a much simpler method.

The small work Exercitationes GeometriccB, pub-
lished by Gregory at London in 1 668, consisted of
twenty-six pages, containing however a good deal
of important matter. Nowhere do we learn more
of the real private character of Gregory than in the
preface and appendix to this little work. He speaks
in explicit terms of his dispute with Huygens, com-
plains of the injustice done him by that philosopher
and some others of his contemporaries ; and we are
led to conclude from them that he was a man who,
from a consciousness of his own powers, was jealous
of either a rival or improver of any invention or dis-
covery with which he was connected. The same
year in which he published this last work he was
chosen professor of mathematics in the university
of St. Andrews. The year following he married
Miss Mary Jamesone, daughter of Mr. George Jame-
sone, the painter whom Walpole has designated the
Vandyke of Scotland. By his wife he had a son and
two daughters. The son, James, was grandfather
of Dr. Gregory, author of the TheoreticcE Medicinu:,
and professor of the theory of medicine in the uni-
versity of Edinburgh. James Gregory remained at
St. Andrews for six years, when he was called to
fill the mathematical chair in the university of Edin-
burgh. During his residence at St. Andrews he
wrote a satire on a work of Mr. George Sinclair's,
formerly professor of natural philosophy in Glasgow,
but who had been dismissed on account of some
political heresies. Dr. Gregory did not live to en-
joy the chair in Edinburgh more than one year ; for
returning home late one evening in October, 1675,
after showing some of his students the satellites of
Jupiter, he was suddenly struck blind, and three
days afterwards expired. Thus, at the early age of
thirty-seven, in the vigour of manhood, was put a
melancholy termination to the life of James Gregory.
Of the character of this great man little can be
said. His knowledge of mathematical and physical
science was very extensive ; acuteness of discrimina-
tion and originality of thought are conspicuous in
all his works; and he seems to have possessed a
considerable degree of independence and warmth of
temper.
VOL. 11.

GREGORY, J.\MES, M.D., an eminent modem
medical teacher, was the eldest son of Dr. John
Gregory, equally celebrated as a medical teacher,
by the Honourable Elizabeth Forbes, daughter of
William, thirteenth Lord Forbes. He was bom in
1753, at Aberdeen, where his father then practised
as a physician. Being removed in boyhood to Edin-
burgh, where his father succeeded Dr. Rutherford
as professor of the practice of physic, he received
his academical and professional education in that
city, and in 1774 took his degree as Doctor of Medi-
cine, his thesis being De Morbis Call Mntatioiie
Medendis. An education conducted under the most
favourable circumstances had improved in the utmost
possible degree the excellent natural talents of Dr.
Gregory, though he had the misfortune to lose his
father before its conclusion. Notwithstanding the
latter event, he was appointed in 1776, when only
twenty-three years of age, to the chair of the theory
of physic in the Edinburgh university. As a text-
book for his lectures he published in 1780-2 his
CoHspectns Medicince Theorcliccr, which soon became
a work of standard reputation over all Europe, not
only in consequence of its scientific merits, but the
singular felicity of the classical language in which it
was written.

In consequence of the death of Dr. CuUen, the
subject of this memoir was appointed, in 1 790, to
the most important medical professorship in the
university, that of the practice of physic ; an office
upon which unprecedented lustre had been conferred
by his predecessor ; but which for thirty-one years
he sustained with even greater distinction. During
this long period the fame which his talents had
acquired attracted students to Edinburgh from all
parts of the world, all of whom returned to their
homes with a feeling of reverence for his character,
more nearly resembling that \\hich the disciples of
antiquity felt for their instmctors, than anything
which is generally experienced in the present situa-
tion of society. Descended by the father's side from
a long and memorable line of ancestors, among
whom the friend and contemporary of Newton is
numbered, and by the mother's from one of the oldest
baronial families in the countr}-, the character of
Dr. Gregory was early formed upon an elevated
model, and throughout his whole life he combined,
in a degree seldom equalled, the studies and acquire-
ments of a man of science, with the tastes and honour-
able feelings of a high-bom gentleman. By these
peculiarities, joined to the point and brilliancy of
his conversation, and his almost romantic generosity
of nature, he made the most favourable impression
upon all who came in contact with him.

Dr. Gregorj- had early bent his acute and discrimin-
ating mind to the study of metaphysics, and in 1792
he published a volume, entitled Philosophical and
Literary Essays, in which is to be found one of the
most original'and forcible refutations of the doctrine
of necessity which has ever appeared. His reputa-
tion as a Latinist was unrivalled in Scotland in his
own day ; and the numerous inscriptions which he
was consequently requested to write in this tongue
were characterized by extraordinary beauty of expres-
sion and arrangement. His only philological pub-
lication, however, is a Dissertation on the Theory
0/ the Moods of I'erbs, which appears in the Trans-
actions of the Royal Society of Edinl>in-gh, 1 790. Dr.
Gregory's eminence as a man of science, and his fame
throughout Europe, were testified by his being one
of the few British honoured with a seat in the Insti-
tute of France.

While officiating for nearly fifty years as a medical
teacher, Dr. Gregor)- carried on an extensive and

47

irS

JOHN GREGORY.

lucrative practice in Eiiiiiburtjh. As a physician he
enjoyed the lii{jhcst reputation, notwithstanding a
certain severe sincerity, and occasional brusqmru of
manner, which characterized him in this capacity.
It is probalile that, but for the pressure of his ])ro-
fessional cntjagements, he might have oftener eni-
ployctl his pen both in the improvement of medical
knowledge and in general literature. His only
nie<Jical publication, besiilcs his matchless Conspectus,
was an ctlition of CuUen's First Litu-s of the Practice
of Physic, 2 vols. 8vo. It is with reluctance we advert
to a series of publications of a dilTcrent kind, which
Dr. Gregory allowed himself to issue, and which it
must be the wish of every generous mind to forget
as soon as possible. They consistetl of a variety of
pamphlets, in which he gave vent to feelings that
could not fail to e.xcite the indignation of various
members of his own profession; the most remarkable
being a memorial addressed, in iSoo, to the man-
agers of the Royal Infirmary of Ktlinburgh, com-
plaining of the younger members of the College of
Surgeons being there allowed to perform operations.
A list of these productions is given in the preface to
Mr. John Bell's Letters on Professional Characters
and Manners, i8lo, and we shall not therefore allude
further to the subject than to say that the language
employed in several of them affords a most striking
view of one of the parado.xes occasionally found in
human character, the co-existence in the same bosom
of sentiments of chivalrous honour and benevolence,
with the most inveterate hostility towards individuals.
Dr. Gregory died at his house in St. Andrew's
Square, Edinburgh, April 2, 1821, leaving a large
family, chielly in adolescence.

GREGORY, Dr. John, a distinguished phy-
sician of the eighteenth century, was descended from
a family of illustrious men, whose names and dis-
coveries will ever form a brilliant page in the history
of the literature of Scotland. Many of the members
of this family held professorships in the most dis-
tinguished universities both in this and the southern
kingdom; and we may turn to the name of Gregory
for those who raised Scotland to an equal rank with
any other nation in the scientific world. John
Gregory was born at Aberdeen, on the 3d of June,
1724, being the youngest of the three children of
James Gregory, professor of medicine in King's
College there. This professor of medicine was a
son of James Gregory, the celebrated inventor of the
reflecting telesco|)e.

When John Gregory was seven years of age he
lost his father, and the charge of his education de-
volved upon his elder brother, James, who succeeded
his father in the professorship, lie acquired his
knowledge of classical literature at the grammar-
school of Aberdeen, where he applied himself with
much success to the study of the Greek and Latin
languages. He completed a course of languages and
philosophy at King's College, Aberdeen, under the
immediate care of Principal Ch.ilmers, his grandfather
by the mother's siile. He studied with great success
under Mr. Thomas Gordon, the i^rofessor of philo-
sophy in that college; and, to the honour of both, a
friendly correspondence w.is then commenced, which
wai maintained till the end of Gregory's life. In
noticing those to whom Gregory was indebted for
his early education, it would be unpardonable to
pass over the name of Dr. Reid, his cousin-german;
the same whose Inquiry into the Human Mind forms
so conspicuous a feature in the history of the intel-
lectual philosophy of the eigliteenth century; — and
here we may remark the existence of that family
spirit for mathematical reasoning, which ha.s so long

been entailed on the name of Gregory. The essay
on quantity and the chapter on the geometry of
visibles prove this eminently in Dr. Reid; and the
success with which Gregory studied under Mr.
Gordon can leave no doubt of its existence in him.
In 1 74 1 Gregory lost his elder brother George, a
young man concerning whom there was entertained
the highest expectation; and the year following John
and his mother removed from Aberdeen to Edin-
burgh. He studied three years at Edinburgh under
Monro, Sinclair, and Rutherford; and on his first
coming to Edinburgh, he became a member of the
Medical Society there, which was the cause of an
intimacy between him and Mark Akenside, author
of The Pleasures of Imagination.

The university of Leyden was at this time in very
high reputation, and Gregory repaired thither, after
having studied at Edinburgh for three years. Here
he had as his preceptors three of the most eminent
men of the age — Goubius, Royen, and Albinus; he
also cultivated the acquaintance of some fellow-
students who afterwards became eminent in the
literary and political world; amongst whom the most
eminent were John Wilkes, Esq., and the Honour-
able Charles Townshend. While prosecuting his
studies at Leyden, John Gregory was honoured with
an unsolicited degree of Doctor of Medicine from
King's College, Aberdeen; and after two years' re-
sidence on the Continent he returned to his native
country, and was immediately called to fill the chair
of philosophy in that seminary where he had first
been nurtured, and which lately had conferred on
him so great a mark of her regard. He lectured for
three years at Aberdeen on the mathematics, and
moral and natural philosophy; when, in 1749) from
a desire to devote himself to the practice of medicine,
he resigned, and took a few weeks' tour on the Con-
tinent, of which the chief object seems to have been
amusement. Three years after the resignation of his
professorship Dr. Gregory married Miss Elizabeth
Forbes, daughter of Lord Forbes, a lady of extra-
ordinaiy wit, beauty, and intellectual endowment.

The field of medical practice in Aberdeen was
already almost entirely preoccupied by men of the
first eminence in their profession, and the share
which fell to Dr. Gregory was not sufficient to occupy
his active mind. He went to London in 1754, and
his fame as a physician and as a literary man being
already far extended, he had no difficulty in being
introduced to the first society. Here it was that the
foundation was first laid of that friendship which
existed between him and Lord Lyttleton. It was at
this period also that he became acquainted with
Lady Wortley Montague and her husband. This
lady kept assemblies, or conversaziones, to which
the first characters of the kingdom resorted. By
her he was introduced to all the most eminent men
in the kingdom for taste or genius; yet he is indebted
to her for a favour of a far higher order — the con-
tinuance to his posterity of that friendship she had
ever shown towards himself. About this period Dr.
Gregory was chosen fellow of the Royal Society of
London, and his practice was daily increasing. Dr.
James Gregory, professor of medicine in King's
College, Aberdeen, to whose care Gregory owed so
much, died in 1755, which created a vacancy in that
chair. Dr. John Gregory was elected in his own
absence, and, being a situation which suited his in-
clination, he accepted it. There were many circum-
stances which would render a return to his native
country agreeable. He was to be restored to the
bosom of the friends of his infancy, he was to be
engaged in the duties of a profession in which he
felt the highest interest, and to the enjoyment of the

\

'■^'^'v

BOKN 1724 -DIED 1773.

BLACKIF. fc SON. OLAriGOW JiUiHJiDKGU i- LCMDOS

I;

.i>j ;

JOHN GREGORY WILLIAM GREGORY.

society of Reid, Bcattie, Campbell, and Gerard.
He entered on the duties of his new office in the
beginning of 1756.

A literary club met weekly in a tavern in Aber-
deen, which was originally projected by Drs. Reid
and Gregor)'. It was called the Wise Club, and its
members consisted of the professors of both Marischal
and King's College, besides the literary and scientific
gentlemen about Aberdeen. An essay was read each
night by one of the members in rotation. Most of
the distinguishing features of the philosophical sys-
tems of Gregory and his colleagues, who have been
already mentioned, were first delivered in this society.
Gregory's work on the faculties of man and other
animals was first composed as essays for the W^ise
Club, but afterwards arranged and published under
the patronage of his friend Lord Lyttleton — the first
instance in which Gregory appeared to the world as
an author. This work, which was published in
London, 1764, was entitled^ Comparative Vie7u 0/
the State and Faculties of Ala)!, with those of the
Animal World.

Dr. Gregory remained in the chair of medicine in
Aberdeen for eight years, when, with a view to the
increase of his practice, he removed to Edinburgh,
and two years afterwards was appointed successor to
Dr. Rutherford in the university there as professor
of the practice of physic, and in the same year, 1766,
he succeeded Dr. Whyt as first physician to his
majesty in Scotland. Dr. Gregory lectured for three
years solely on the practice of physic; but at that
time an agreement was entered into by his honoured
colleague Dr. Cullen — the celebrated author of the
system of nosology which goes by his name — that
they should lecture in turn on the theory and prac-
tice of medicine, which was continued for many
years. None of Dr. Gregoiy's lectures were ever
written, except a few introductory ones on the duties
and qualifications of a physician; which probably
would not have made their appearance, had it not
been the circumstance of one of his students offering
a written copy taken from notes to a bookseller for
sale, which induced Gregory to publish the work,
the profits of which he gave to a poor and deserving
student. This will always be a standard work among
medical men, and will ever remain a lasting monu-
ment of the author's profound research, energ)' of
mind, and liberality of opinion. Nothing could so
effectually convince us as the perusal of this work,
of the truth of one of his observations — "that the
profession of medicine requires a more comprehensive
mind than any other." This work was published in
1770, and the same year he published his Elements
of the Practice of Physic, a work which was intended
as a text-book for his pupils, and was excellent as
far as it went, but never was completed.

The amiable and accomplished wife of Dr. Gregory
lived only with him nine years, during which period
he enjoyed all the pleasure which domestic happiness
could afford. He regretted her death exceedingly;
and, as he says himself, he for the amusement of his
solitary hours wrote that inimitable little work — A
Fathers Legacy to his Daughters. In this work he
feelingly states, that while he endeavours to point
out to them what they should be, he draws but a
very faint and imperfect picture of what their mother
was.

Gregory inherited from his mother a disease, with
which he had from the age of eighteen been fre-
quently attacked. This was the gout, of which his
mother died suddenly while sitting at table. The
doctor often spoke of this to his friends, and one day,
when talking with Dr. James Gregory, his son (author
of the Conspectus Theoreticie J\Iedicina), it was ob-

179

served by the latter, that as he had not had an attack
these three years past, it was likely the next would
be pretty severe. Dr. Gregory was'not pleased with
this remark of his son, but unfortunately the predic-
tion was true. Dr. Gregory had gone to bed in his
usual health on the 9th of February, 1773, and seems
to have died in his sleep, as he was found in the
morning without the slightest appearance of dis-
composure of feature or limb. Dr. Beattie laments
him pathetically in the concluding stanzas of the
Alinstrel: —

"Art thou, my Gregory, for ever fled,
And am I left to unavailing woe;
When fortune's storms assail this weary head

Where cares long since have shed untimely snow!
Ah! now for ever whither shall I go?
No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers,

Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow,
My hopes to cherish and allay my fears.
'Tis meet that I should mourn — flow forth afresh my tears."

Dr. Gregory was considerably above the middle
size, and although he could not be called handsome,
yet 'he was formed in good proportion. He was
slow in his motion, and had a stoop forward. His
eye and countenance had a rather dull appearance
until they were lighted up by conversation. His
conversation was lively and always interesting; and
although he had seen much of the world, he was
never given to that miserable refuge of weak minds
— story-telling. In his lecturing he struck the golden
mean between formal deliver}* and the ease of con-
versation. He left two sons and two daughters: Dr.
James Gregoiy, who was the able successor of his
father in the university of Edinburgh ; William
Gregor}', rector of St. Mar}''s, Bentham; Dorothea,
the wife of the Rev. A. Allison, of Baliol College;
and Margaret, wife of J. Forbes, Esq., of Blackford.

GREGORY, Dr. William. It has often hap-
pened with some unfortunate branch of the human
family, that the more it was trodden down by per-
secution and oppression, the more highly it has risen
and prospered — that even every attempt to exter-
minate it only seems to increase its numbers. Such
has been eminently the case with the unfortunate
clan of Macgregor. Hunted from their homes, they
have taken root and multiplied wherever they might
find a resting-place; and although their very name
was proscribed, as if to hold it were a crime, it has
won distinction not only by itself, but under every
form into which it has been modified. Such has
especially been the case with those of the condemned
race who endeavoured to find safety under the semi-
transparent name of Gregory. For nearly two cen-
turies it has supplied eminent professors to several
of our universities, and won for itself a renown in
science which perhaps no other collective name has
surpassed.

The subject of our present notice was the fourth
son of James Gregory, professor of the practice of
physic in the university of Edinburgh. He com-
pleted his medical studies, and graduated at Edin-
burgh in 1S28; but, having in early life acquired a
strong predilection for the study of chemistry, it
possessed him so wholly, that he relinquished all
views of practice as a physician. The correctness
of his choice was shown when but a young man, by
his introducing a process for making the muriate of
morphia, which is still, we believe, generally fol-
lowed. He thus had the merit of introducing into
use a very valuable remedy. Soon after completing
his curriculum at the university, he went to the
Continent, for the purpose of prosecuting the study
of chemistry, to which he had resolved to devote
himself; and after spending some time at the con-

iSo

WILLIAM GREGORY.

tinental schools, he returned to Edinburgh, and
established himself as an extra-academical lecturer
in chemistry. Here his merits soon brouglit him
into notice, so that he was appointed lecturer in
chemistry in the Andersonian University of Glasgow,
where he succeeded Mr. Graham, who had been
translated to University College, London. Having
afterwards found a more favourajjle opening in Dublin,
Dr. W. Gregory removed afterwards to that city,
and lectured in one of its medical schools. In 1839
he was appointed to the professorship of medicine
and chemistry in King's College, Aberdeen — a chair
which had been t'llled by more than one of his dis-
tinguished ancestors; ami in 1844 he was elected
I)rofessor of chemistry in the university of Edinburgh
by the town-council of that city, who are the patrons
of the university.

The need of such a man for the science to which
he w.as so exclusively devoted, and in which he so
greatly excelled, is thus stated by the writer of his
obituary in the Edinburgh Philosophical yoiirnal: —
"At the time of Dr. Gregory's graduation in 1828,
but when he had already made up his mind to aim
at distinction only as a chemist and teacher of
chemistry, the greater part of what we now regard
as the first principles of this science had been brought
to light within the recollection of the passing genera-
tion. This may be said of the system of Lavoisier,
of I'riestley, and Cavendish, founded on the experi-
ments which determined the constitution of air and
of water, and the nature of combustion ; of the re-
searclies of black and of Watt on the nature of
carbonic acid and the properties of steam ; of the
laws of crystallography, ascertained by Haiiy ; of
the atomic theory, originating with Dalton; of the
analysis of the alkalies, and discovery of the nature
of chlorine, by Davy; and of all the applications of
chemistry to illustrate the processes of assimilation,
nutrition, resjjiration, and excretion, both in vege-
tai)les and animals; and likewise of the application
of these processes to illustrate the results of examina-
tion of the memorials of the former inhabitants of
the globe made known to us by geology. In
order," the writer adds, "to bring within a reason-
al)le compass the instruction to be given on subjects
of such extent and interest. Dr. Gregory early saw
the necessity of a greater subdivision of the science
than had previously been adopted; and in the preface
to his Oiilliitis of Chemistry, published in 1845, he
assigned his reasons for the division of the fondcr-
ahUs from the imponderables, and the exclusion of
the former elementary subjects — i.e. of heat, light,
electricity, and magnetism — from the study of the
ponderables, or proper chemical elements, whether
solid, fluid, or gaseous, and their compounds; and if
his health had enabled him to execute what at one
time he had in view — a separate and complete course
of each of these, the whole of the instruction delivered
from that chair would jirobably have been more
complete tiian from any other scientific chair in
ICurope. Hut when the subject of chemistry is
nearly confined to the ponderable elements, the
stu<ly of the imponderables must be held as pre-
liminary to that subject, and as being usually made
l):irt of natural jihilosophy, and ]iart also of natural
liistory. (Jn the other hand, several of the a|)])!ica-
tions of chemical science to the arts are of late years
provided for by the professorshijis of agriculture and
of technology."

This aim of Dr. Gregorj'to comprise and illustrate
the science of chemistry in all its various depart-
ments, if a too ambitious, was also certainly a noble
one, and that he failed in it could scarcely be im-
puted as his fault. That the attempt had been

commenced in good earnest is evident from his volume
of Outlines, where it appears that two-thirds of his
course of lectures were devoted to organic, as dis-
tinguished from inorganic, substances. The import-
ance of the first-mentioned in all the departments of
medicine is sufficiently apparent, and the novelty of
tiieir introduction was equal to their importance.
This plan appeared to him the right way of treating
the science of chemistry, and he was aware that
these were better understood upon the Continent
than at home. He therefore especially attached
himself to the celebrated Professor Liebig of Giessen,
whom he assisted in several courses of his experi-
ments, and several of whose publications he trans-
lated and edited at their author's desire. The last
and best of these translations was the Familiar Letters
on Chemistry and its Applications, w^hich obtained
the following eulogium from its distinguished author:
— "From his intimate familiarity with chemical
science, and especially with the physiological sub-
jects here treated, I am confident that the task could
not have been intrusted to better hands than those
of my friend Dr. Gregory. " The intercourse of these
two distinguished men of science continued to the
last. With Baron Liebig he was also joint-editor of
posthumous editions of Dr. Edward Turner's Ele-
ments of Chemistry.

From the foregoing account it will be rightly
surmised that Dr. Gregoiy was more intent in teach-
ing what was already known in chemistry than in
hazarding fresh theories, or attempting new fields of
discovery. Such was his love of the science in-
dependent of self, that he was more earnest to
communicate the knowledge of it to others, than
aggrandize his own reputation by becoming a dis-
coverer; and for this he was admirably qualified, as
he had carefully made himself acquainted with the
history of the whole science up to his own day — a
fact of which his elementary work entitled Outlines
of Chemistry, the best rt'jv/wc'' of chemistry, especially
in the organic department, which exists in the English
language, is a convincing proof. In the same spirit
he was better known by his writings on the subject,
than by his attempts in the laboratory. The chief
of these consisted of communications on pyroxanthine,
a solid volatile product of the destructive distillation
of wood; on a compound of sulphur and nitrogen;
and on the decomposition products of uric acid;
whilst to practical chemistry he contributed improved
processes for the preparation of hydrochloric acid,
oxide of silver, and muriate of morphia. Nor was
he by any means averse to the patient labour of ob-
servation and experiment: — "Whether he was right
or not," says one of his admirers, "in some of his
views of specific difference [in diatomes\ they were
not arrived at by hasty examination. Some people
who find perhaps only one or two examples of one
of his species in a slide, would be ready to jump to
the conclusion that he was content to decide upon
too scanty materials. But, in such cases, he per-
severed through hundreds of slides — often mounted
only to be subsequently destroyed, until he had com-
pleted his investigation. He kept a record of every-
thing of interest in every slide he examined, and the
amount of labour is perfectly astonishing."

The constitution of Dr. Gregory, naturally a de-
licate one, was at the prime of life assailed by an
acute disease, under repeated attacks of which he
suffered for several years; and from these he sought
relief sometimes by change of scene, and sometimes
by cliange of study, in the last of 'which the micro-
sc()]>e was in frequent use. His death occurred on the
24th of April, 1858, in the fifty-fourth year of his
age; and it speaks highly both for his talents and

SIR SAMUEL GREIG

ALEXANDER GREY.

iSi

industry that already he had both learned and
achieved so much in the science to whicli lie was so
zealously devoted. Of his personal character we
extract the following paragraph from the biographical
notice of him in the Edinburgh Philosophical jfoin-iial,
from which the foregoing statements are derived: —
"Dr. Gregory retained throughout life the same
simplicity and earnestness of character which had
distinguished him as a zealous and devoted student
of natural science. Incapable of deceit himself, he
was unwilling to ascribe any such intention to those
from whom he received what they held out as scien-
tific facts; and hence, in the opinion of many of his
friends, he was too credulous as to the evidence of
certain alleged principles of science. His know-
ledge of the modern languages was such as to enable
him to enjoy the society of several scientific friends
both in Germany and France, and he often enjoyed
better health in those countries than in this; but his
naturally candid and benevolent disposition attached
him strongly to his native city and his friends in
Scotland. Under much and varied suffering from
disease he was uniformly and remarkably patient and
cheerful." To this short account we have only to
add, that at his decease Dr. Gregory left behind him
a widow and an only son, the latter named after his
friend Baron Liebig.

GREIG, Sir Samuel, a distinguished naval
officer in the Russian service, was born 30th Novem-
her, 1735, in the village of Inverkeithing in the
county of Fife. Having entered the royal navy at
an early period of life, he soon became eminent
for his skill in naval affairs, and remarkable for his
zeal and attention to the discharge of his duty —
qualities which speedily raised him to the rank of
lieutenant, and ultimately opened up to him the
brilliant career which he afterwards pursued.

The court of Russia having requested the govern-
ment of Great Britain to send out some British naval
officers of skill to improve the marine of that coun-
try. Lieutenant Greig had the honour of being se-
lected as one. His superior abilities here also soon
attracted the notice of the Russian government, and
he was speedily promoted to the rank of captain,
the reward of his indefatigable services in improving
or rather creating the Russian fleet, which had been
previously in the most deplorable state of dilapidation.

On a war some time after breaking out between
the Russians and the Turks, Captain Greig was sent
under the command of Count Oriow, with a fleet to
the Mediterranean. The Turkish fleet which they
met here was much superior to the Russian in force,
the former consisting of fifteen ships of the line, the
latter of no more than ten. After a severe and san-
guinary but indecisive battle, the Turkish fleet re-
tired during the night close into the island of Scio,
where they were protected by the batteries on land.
Notwithstanding the formidable position which the
enemy had taken up, the Russian admiral determined
to pursue, and if possible destroy them by means
of his fire-ships. Captain Greig's well-known skill
and intrepidity pointed him out as the fittest person
in the fleet to conduct this dangerous enterprise, and
he was accordingly appointed to the command. At
one o'clock in the morning Captain Greig bore down
upon the enemy with his fire-ships, and although
greatly harassed by the cowardice of the crews of
these vessels, whom he had to keep at their duty by
the terrors of sword and pistol, succeeded in totally
destroying the Turkish fleet. Captain Greig, on this
occasion assisted by another British officer, a Lieu-
tenant Drysdale, who acted under him, set the match
to the fire-ships with his own hands. This perilous

duty performed, he and Dr>'sdalc leaped overboard
and swam to their own boats, under a tremendous
fire from the Turks, and at the imminent hazard
besides of being destroyed by the explosion of their
own fire-ships. The Russian fleet following up this
success, now attacked the town and Ijatteries on
shore, and by nine o'clock in the morning there was
scarcely a vestige remaining of either town, fortifica-
tions, or fleet. Por this important service Captain
Greig, who had been appointed commodore on his
being placed in command of the fire-ships, was im-
mediately promoted by Count Orlow to the rank of
admiral, an appointment which was confirmed by an
express from the Empress of Russia. A peace was
soon afterwards concluded between the two powers,
but this circumstance did not lessen the importance
of Admiral Greig's services to the government by
which he was employed. He continued indefatig-
able in his exertions in improving the Russian fleet,
remodelling its code of discipline, and by his example
infusing a spirit into every department of its economy,
which finally made it one of the most formidable
marines in Europe.

These important services were fully appreciated
by the empress, who rewarded them by promoting
Greig to the high rank of admiral of all the Russias,
and governor of Cronstadt. Not satisfied with this,
she loaded him with honours, bestowing upon him
the different orders of the empire, viz. St. Andrew,
St. Alexander Newskie, St. George, St. Vlodomir,
and St. Anne.

Admiral Greig next distinguished himself against
the Swedes, whose fleet he blocked up in port, whilst
he himself rode triumphantly in the open seas of the
Baltic. Here he was attacked by a violent fever,
and having been carried to Revel, died on the 26th
of October, i ySSj on board of his own ship, the Rotis-
law, after a few days' illness, in the fifty-third year
of his age. As soon as the empress heard of his ill-
ness, she, in the utmost anxiety about a life so valu-
able to herself and her empire, instantly sent for her
first physician. Dr. Rogerson, and ordered him to
proceed immediately to Revel and to do everything
in his power for the admiral's recovery. Dr. Roger-
son obeyed, but all his skill was unavailing.

The ceremonial of the admiral's funeral was con-
ducted with the utmost pomp and magnificence.
For some days before it took place the body was
exposed in state in the hall of the admiralty, and
was afterwards conveyed to the grave on a splendid
funeral bier drawn by six horses, covered with black
cloth, and attended in public procession by an im-
mense concourse of nobility, clergy, and naval and
military officers of all ranks ; the whole escorted by
large bodies of troops, in different divisions; with
tolling of bells and firing of cannon from the ram-
parts and fleet : everything in short was calculated
to express the sorrow of an empire for the loss of one
of its most useful and greatest men.

GREY, Alexander, a surgeon in the sersdce of
the Honourable East India Company, and founder
of an hospital for the sick poor of the town and
county of Elgin, was the son of Deacon Alexander
Grey, a respectable and ingenious tradesman of
Elgin, who exercised the united crafts of a wheel-
wright and watchmaker, and of Janet Sutherland,
of whose brother, Dr. Sutherland, the following
anecdote is related by some of the oldest inhabitants
of Elgin. It is said that the King of Prussia, Fre-
derick William I., being desirous to have his family
inoculated with small-pox, applied in England for a
surgeon to repair to Berlin for that purpose. Though
this was an honourable and probably lucrative mis-

l82

ALEXANDER GREV WILLIAM GUILD.

sion, yet from the severe and arbitrary character of
the iiing, it was regarded by many as a perilous un-
dertaking to the individual, as it was not impossible
that he might lose some of his princely patients, and
be made ajiswerable for the disaster. Sutherland,
at all hazards, offered his services, was successful in
the treatment of his royal patients, and was hand-
somely rewarded. On his return to England his
expedition probably brought him more into public
notice; for we afterwards find him an >LD. residing
and practising as a physician at 15ath, until he lost
his sight, when he came to Elgin, and lived with the
Greys for some years previous to 1775, when he died.

Deacon Grey had a family of three sons and two
daughters, and by his own industry and some pecu-
niary assistance from Dr. Sutherland, he was enabled
to give them a better education than most others in
their station. Alexander, the subject of this memoir,
born in 175 1, was the youngest of the family. In-
duced by the advice or success of his uncle, he made
choice of the medical profession, and was appren-
ticed for the usual term of three years to Dr. Thomas
Stephen, a jihysician of great respectability in Elgin.
He afterwards attended the medical classes in the
college of Edinburgh, and having completed his
education he obtained the appointment of an assist-
ant-surgeonship on the Bengal establishment. Itdocs
not appear that he was distinguished either by his
professional skill or literary acciuirements from the
greater proportion of his professional brethren in the
t.ost. \Vhen advanced in life, he married a lady
much younger than himself, and this ill-assorted
match caused him much vexation, and embittered
his few remaining years. They had no children,
and as there w.-is no congeniality in their dispositions
nor agreement in their habits, they separated some
time before Dr. Grey's death, which happened in
1S08. liy economical habits he amassed a consider-
able fortune, and it is the manner in which he dis-
posed of it that gives him a claim to be ranked among
distinguished Scotsmen.

It is no improbable supposition that, in visiting
the indigent patients of the humane physician under
whom he commenced his professional studies, his
youthful mind was impressed with the neglected and
uncomfortable condition of the sick poor of his
native town, and that when he found himself a man
of wealth without family, the recollection of their
situation recurred, and he formed the benevolent
resolution of devoting the bulk of his fortune to the
endowment of an hospital for their relief lie
beiiueathed for this purpose, in the first instance,
;{^20,ooo, besides about ^ 7cxx> available at the deaths
of certain annuitants, and ;^4000 pounds more,
liable to another contingency. Erom various causes,
over which the trustees appointed by the deed of
settlement had no control, considerable delay was
occasioned in realizing the funds, and the hospital
■was not opened fjr the reception of patients until
the beginning of 1819. It is an elegant building of
two stories, in the Grecian style, after a design by
James Gillespie, Esq., architect, and is erected on a
rising ground to the west of Elgin. The funds are
under the management of the member of parliament
for the county, the sheriff-depute, and the two clergy-
men of the Established church, ex officio, with three
life directors named by the founder in the deed of
settlement. A physician and surgeon appointed by
the trustees at fi.xed salaries attend daily in the
hospital. For several years there was a prejudice
against the institution among the class for whom it
was founded; but this gradually wore off, and the
public are now fully alive to and freely avail them-
selves of the advantages it affords.

Mr. Grey did not limit his beneficence to the
founding and endowing of the hospital which will
transmit his name to future generations ; he be-
queathed the annual interest of ;^2000 to "the
reputed old maids in the town of Elgin, daughters
of respectable but decayed families." This charity
is placed under the managment of the two clergymen
and the physicians of the town of Elgin, and it is
suggested that, to be useful, it ought not to extend
beyond eight or ten individuals. At the death of
Mrs. Grey a farther sum of £iooQ was to fall into
this fund. The annual interest of £~iQOO was settled
on the widow during her life, and it was directed
that at her death ;^4000 of the principal should be
appropriated to the building of a new church in the
town of Elgin, under the inspection of the two
clergymen of the town, and that the interest of this
sum should be applied to the use of the hospital
until a church should be required. This is the
contingency already referred to; and as a durable
and handsome new church, of dimensions sufficient to
accommodate the population of the town and parish,
had been previously erected by the heritors at an
expense exceeding ;^8ooo, the funds of the hospital,
in all probability, will for a long time have the ad-
vantage of the interest of this bequest. Grey w as
kind and even liberal to his relatives during his
life; and to his sister, the only member of his family
who survived him, he left a handsome annuity, with
legacies to all her family unprovided for at her death.
On the whole he seems to have been a warm-hearted
and benevolent man; but being disappointed in the
happiness which he expected from his matrimonial
connection, his temper was soured, and a consider-
able degree of peevishness and distrust is evident
throughout the whole of his deed of settlement.
Whatever were his failings, his memory will be
cherished by the thousands of poor for whom he has
provided medical succour in the hour of distress;
while the public at large cannot fail to remember
w^ith respect a man who displayed so much benevo-
lence and judgment in the disposal of the gifts of
fortune.

GUILD, William, an eminent divine, was the
son of a wealthy tradesman in Aberdeen, where he
was bora in the year 1586. He received his educa-
tion at Marischal College, then recently founded;
and, while still very young, and before taking orders,
published at London a work entitled The A'eio
Sacrifice of Christiati Incense, and another soon
after, called The only Way to Salvation. His first
pastoral charge was over the parish of King Edward,
in the presbytery of Turriff and synod of Aberdeen.
He here acquired both the affections of his flock
and an extended reputation as a man of learning and
address, so that, when King James visited Scotland
in 16 1 7, Bishop Andrews, who accompanied his
majesty as an assistant in his schemes for the estab-
lishment of Episcopacy, paid great attention to this
retired northern clergyman, and took much of his
advice regarding the proper method of accomplishing
the object in view. Mr. Guild acknowledged his
sense of the bishop's condescension, by dedicating
to him in the following year his excellent w^ork, en-
titled Moses Unvailcd, which points out the figures
in the Old Testament allusive to the Messiah. This
was a branch of theological literature which Mr.
Guild had made peculiarly his own province, as he
evinced further in the course of a few years, by his
work entitled I'he Ilannony of the Prophets.

In 1610 Mr. Guild was married to Catharine
Rolland, daughter of Rolland of Disblair, by whom
he had no issue. Not long after the royal visit above

WILLIAM GUILD JAMES GUTIIRIK.

183

alluded to, he was appointed one of the king's chap-
lains. The degree of Doctor of Divinity was also
conferred upon him. From his retirement at King
Edward, he sent out various theological works of
popular utility, and at the same time solid learning
and merit. Of these his Ignis Fahtits, against the
doctrine of Purgatory, Popish Glorying in Aniiqiiily
turned to their Shame, and his CompenJ of the Con-
troz'ersies of Religion, are particularly noticed by his
biographers. In the meantime he displayed many
marks of attachment to his native city, particularly
by endowing an hospital for the incorporated trades,
which is described by Mr. Kennedy, the historian
of Aberdeen, as in his day enjoying a revenue of about
;^iOOO, and affording relief to upwards of a hundred
individuals annually. In 163 1 he was preferred to
one of the pulpits of that city, and took his place
amongst as learned and able a body of local clergy
as could be shown at that time in any part of either
South or North Britain. His distinction among the
Aberdeen doctors, as they were called, in the con-
troversy which they maintained against the Cove-
nanters, was testified by his being their representative
at the General Assembly of 1638, when the system
of church government to which he and his brethren
were attached was abolished. The views and
practice of Dr. Guild in this trj'ing crisis seem to
have been alike moderate ; and he accordingly ap-
pears to have escaped much of that persecution
which befell his brethren. He endeavoured to heal
the animosities of the two parties, or rather to
moderate the ardour of the Covenanters, to whom
he was conscientiously opposed, by publishing A
Friendly and Faithful Advice to the Nobility, Gentry,
and others ; but this, it is to be feared, had little
effect. In 1640, notwithstanding his position in
regard to the popular cause, he was chosen principal
of King's College, and in June, 1641, he preached
his last sermon as a clergyman of the city. The
king about this time signified his approbation of
Dr. Guild's services, by bestowing upon him "a free
gift of his house and garden, which had formerly
been the residence of the bishop." The reverend
principal, in his turn, distributed the whole proceeds
of the gift in charity.

Dr. Guild continued to act as principal of King's
College till he was deposed by Monk in 165 1, after
which he resided in Aberdeen as a private individual.
In his retirement he appears to have written several
works — The Sealed Book Opened, or an explanation
of the Apocalypse, and The iVovelty of Popery Dis-
covered, which was published at Aberdeen in 1656;
and An Explication of the Song of Solomon, which
appeared two years after in London. He also
exerted himself during this interval in improving
the Trades Hospital, and in other charitable pursuits.
Upon these incorporations he bestowed a house on
the south side of Castle Street (in Aberdeen), the
yearly rents of which he directed to be applied as
bursaries, to such of the sons of members as might be
inclined to prosecute an academical course of educa-
tion in the Marischal College; and of this fund, we are
informed by Mr. Kennedy, six or eight young men
generally participate every year. As an appropriate
conclusion to a life so remarkably distinguished by
acts of beneficence, Dr. Guild, in his will dated
1657, bequeathed seven thousand merks, to be se-
cured on land, and the yearly profit to be applied
to the maintenance of poor orphans. By the same
document he destined his library to the university
of St. Andrews, excepting one manuscript, supposed
to be the original of the memorable letter from the
states of Bohemia and Moravia to the council of
Constance in 1415, relative to John Huss and Jerome

of Prague: this curious paper he bequeathed to the
university of Edinburgh, where it is still faithfully
preserved. Dr. Guild died in August, 1657, aged
about seventy-one years. A manuscript work which
he left was transmitted by his widow to Dr. John
Owen, to whom it was designed to have been dedi-
cated, and who published it at Oxford in 1659, under
the title of The Throne of David; or an Fxpositioti
of Second [Book of] Samuel. Mrs. Guild, having no
children upon whom to bestow her wealth, dedicated
it to the education of young men and other benevo-
lent purposes; and it appears that her foundations
lately maintained six students of philosophy, four
scholars at the public school, two students of divinity,
six poor widows, and six poor men's children.

GUTHKIE, J.\MES, one of the most zealous of
the Protesters, as they were called, during the re-
ligious troubles of the seventeenth century, was the
son of the laird of Guthrie, an ancient and highly
respectable family. Guthrie was educated at St.
Andrews, Avhere, having gone through the regular
course of classical learning, he commenced teacher
of philosophy, and was much esteemed, as well for
the equanimity of his temper as for his erudition.
His religious principles in the earlier part of his life
are said to have been highly prelatical, and of
course opposite to those which he aftenvards
adopted, and for M-hich, in the spirit of a martyr,
he afterwards died. His conversion from the forms
in which he was first bred is attributed principally
to the influence of Mr. Samuel Rutherford, minister
of Anwoth, himself a zealous and able defender of
the Scottish church, with whom he had many op-
portunities of conversing.

In 1638 Mr. Guthrie was appointed minister of
Lauder, where he remained for several years, and
where he had already become so celebrated as to be
appointed one of the several ministers selected by
the committee of estates, then sitting in Edinburgh,
to wait upon the unfortunate Charles I. at Newcastle,
when it was learned that the unhappy monarch had
delivered himself up to the Scottish army encamped
at Newark.

In 1649 Mr. Guthrie v/as translated from Lauder
to Stirling, where he remained until his death.
While in this charge he continued to distinguish
himself by the zeal and boldness with which he de-
fended the covenant, and opposed the resolutions in
favour of the king (Charles II.) He was now con-
sidered leader of the Protesters, a party opposed to
monarchy, and to certain indulgences proposed by
the sovereign and sanctioned by the committee of
estates, and who were thus contra-distinguished from
the Resolutioners, which comprehended the greater
part of the more moderate of the clergy.

Mr. Guthrie had in the meantime created himself
a powerful enemy in the Earl of Middleton, by pro-
posing to the commission of the General Assembly
to excommunicate him for his hostility to the church;
the proposal was entertained, and Guthrie himself
was employed to carry it into execution in a public
manner in the church of Stirling. It is related by
those who were certainly no friends to Guthrie, re-
garding this circumstance, that on the morning of
the Sabbath on which the sentence of excommuni-
cation was to be carried into effect against Middleton,
a messenger, a nobleman it is said, arrived at Mr.
Guthrie's house with a letter from the king, earnestly
requesting him to delay the sentence for that Sabbath.
The bearer, waiting until he had read the letter,
demanded an answer. Guthrie is said to have re-
plied, "You had better come to church and hear
sermon, and after that you shall have your answer."

lS4

JAMES GUTHRIE WILLIAM GUTHRIE.

The messenger complied; but what was his surprise,
when he heart! the sentence pronounced in the usual
course of things, as if no negotiation regarding it had
taken place. On the dismission of the congregation
he is said to have taken horse and departed in the
utmost indignation, and without seeking any further
inter\'iew with Guthrie. It is certain that a letter
was delivered to Guthrie, of the tenor and under the
circumstances just mentioned, but it was not from
the king, but, according to Wodrow, on the authority
of his father, who had every opportunity of knowing
the fact, from a nobleman. Who this nobleman was,
however, he does not state, nor does he take it upon
him to say even that it was written by the king's
order, or that he was in any way privy to it. How-
ever this may be, it is stated further, on the authority
just alluded to, that the letter in question was put
into Mr. Guthrie's hands in the hall of his own house,
after he had got his gown on, and was about to
proceed to church, the last bell having just ceased
ringing; having little time to decide on the contents
of the letter, he gave no positive answer to the mes-
senger, nor came under any promise to postpone the
sentence of excommunication : with this exception
the circumstance took place as already related.

Soon after the Restoration Mr. Guthrie and some
others of his brethren, who had assembled at Edin-
burgh for the purpose of drawing up a supplication
to his majesty, and who had already rendered them-
selves exceedingly obnoxious to the corrupt govern-
ment, were apprehended and lodged in the castle of
Edinburgh; from thence Mr. Guthrie was removed
to Dundee, and afterwards brought back again to
Edinburgh, where he was finally placed on trial for
high treason, on the 20th of February, l66i; and,
notwithstanding an able and ingenious defence, was
condemned to death, a result in no small degree
owing to the dislike which Middleton bore him for
his ofiiciousness in the matter of his excommunica-
tion, and which that nobleman had not forgotten.

It is said that Guthrie had been long impressed
with the belief that he should die by the hands of
the executioner, and many singular circumstances
which he himself noted from time to time, and
pointed out to his friends, strengthened him in this
melancholy belief. Amongst these it is related, that
when he came to Edinburgh to sign the solemn
league and covenant, the first person he met as he
entered at the West Port was the public executioner.
On this occasion, struck with the singularity of the
circumstance, and looking upon it as another intima-
tion of the fate which awaited him, he openly ex-
pressed his conviction that he would one day suffer
for the things contained in that document which he
had come to subscribe.

Whilst under sentence of death Guthrie conducted
himself with all the heroism of a martyr. Sincere
and enthusiastic in the cause which he had espoused,
he did not shrink from the last penalty to which his
adherence to it could subject him, but, on the con-
trary, met it with cheerfulness and magnanimity.
On the night before his execution he sup])ed with
some friends, and conducted himself throughout the
repast as if he had been in his own house. He ate
heartily, and after supper asked for cheese — a luxury
which he had been long forbidden by his physicians;
saying jocularly, that he need not now fear gravel,
the complaint for which he had been restricted from
it. Soon after supper he retired to bed, and slept
soundly till four o clock in the morning, when he
raised himself up and prayed fervently. On the
night before he wrote some letters to his friends,
and sealed them with his coat of arms, but while the
wax was yet soft, he turned the seal round and round

so as to mar the impression, and when asked why
he did so, replied that he had now nothing to do
with these vanities. A little before coming out of
the tolbooth to proceed to execution, his wife, em-
bracing him, said, "Now, my heart," her usual way
of addressing him, "your time is drawing nigh, and
I must take my last farewell of you." "Ay, you
must," he answered, "for henceforth I know no
man after the flesh." Before being brought out to
suffer, a request was made to the authorities by his
friends to allow him to w^ear his hat on the way to
the scaffold, and also that they would not pinion him
until he reached the place of execution. Both re-
quests were at first denied; the former absolutely,
because, as was alleged, the Marquis of ArgAle, who
had been executed a short while before, had worn
his hat, in going to the scaffold, in a manner markedly
indicative of defiance and contempt, and which had
given much offence. To the latter request, that he
might not be pinioned, they gave way so far, on a
representation being made that he could not walk
without his staff, on account of erj-sipelas in one of
his legs, as to allow him so much freedom in his
arms as to enable him to make use of that support,
but they would not altogether dispense with that
fatal preparation. Having ascended the scaffold,
he delivered with a calm and serene countenance an
impressive address to those around him; justified all
for which he was about to suffer, and recommended
all who heard him to adhere firmly to the covenant.
After hanging for some time, his head was struck
off, and placed on the Netherbow Port, where it
remained for seven and twenty years, when it was
taken down and buried by a Mr. Alexander Hamil-
ton at the hazard of his own life. The body, after
being beheaded, was carried to the Old Kirk, where
it was dressed by a number of ladies who waited its
arrival for that purpose; many of whom, besides,
dipped their napkins in his blood, that they might
preserve them as memorials of so admired a martyr.
While these gentlewomen were in the act of dis-
charging this pious duty, a young gentleman sud-
denly appeared amongst them, and without any
explanation proceeded to pour out a bottle of rich
perfume on the dead body. "God bless you, sir,
for this labour of love," said one of the ladies, and
then, without uttering a word, this singular visitor
departed. He was, however, afterwards discovered
to be a surgeon in Edinburgh named George Stirling.
Guthrie was executed on the 1st June, 1661.

GUTHRIE, William, the author of the well-
known work entitled The Christia7i^s Great Interest,
was born at Pitforthy in Forfarshire, in the year
1620. His father was proprietor of that estate, and
was a cadet of the family of that ilk. He had five
sons, of whom it is remarkable that four devoted
themselves to the ministrj'. Of these William was
the eldest.

The rank and estate of Mr. Guthrie enabled him
to educate his sons liberally for the profession which
so many of them had chosen from their early years.
William, with whom alone we are at present con-
cerned, made while very young such advances in
classical literature as to give high hopes of future
eminence. His academical education was conducted
at St. Andrews university under the immediate
direction of his relation Mr. James Guthrie, after-
wards the heroic martyr in the cause of civil and
religious liberty, and subject of the preceding notice.
The records of the university for this period are un-
fortunately lost, so that the time of his matricula-
tion, or any other information respecting his advance-
ment or proficiency, cannot be obtained from that

WILLIAM GUTHRIE.

i8s

source. We know, however, tliat after comjilcting
the philosophical curriculum he took the cief^ree of
Master of Arts, and then devoted his attention to
the -Study of divinity under Mr. Samuel Rutherford.
At length he applied to the presbytery of St. Amlrew's
for license, and having gone through the usual
"tryalls," he obtained it in August, 1642. Soon
afterwards he left St. Andrews, carrying with him a
letter of recommendation from the professors, in
which they expressed a high opinion of his character
and talents.

Mr. Guthrie was now engaged by the Larl of
Loudon as tutor to his son Lord Mauchlin. In that
situation he remained till his ordination as first
minister of Fenwick — a parish which had till that
time formed part of that of Kilmarnock. Lord Boyd,
the superior of the latter — a stanch royalist and a
supporter of the association formed at Cumbernauld
in favour of the king in 1641 — had also the patronage
of Fenwick. This nobleman was most decidedly
averse to Mr. Guthrie's appointment — from what
reasons does not appear, although we may be allowed
to conjecture that it arose either from IVIr. Guthrie's
decided principles, or from the steady attachment of
the Loudon family to the Presbyterian interest. Some
of the parishioners, however, had heard him preach
a preparation sermon in the church of Galston, be-
came his warmest advocates, and were supported in
their solicitations by the influence of the heritors.
Mr. Guthrie was after some delay ordained minister
of the parish on the 7th of November, 1644.

The difficulties which Mr. Guthrie had to en-
counter when he entered upon his charge were
neither few nor unimportant. From the former
large extent of the parish of Kilmarnock, the nature
of the country, and the badness, in many cases the
total want, of roads, a large mass of the people must
have entirely wanted the benefits of religious in-
struction. He left no plan untried to improve their
condition in that respect. By every means m his
power he allured the ignorant or the vicious: to some
he even gave bribes to attend the church; others in
more remote districts he visited as if incidentally
travelling through their country, or even sometimes
in the disguise of a sportsman; in such cases, says
the author of ths Sco^s IVort/iies, "he gained some
to a religious life whom he could have had little in-
fluence upon in a minister's dress."

In August, 1645, Afr. Guthrie married Agnes,
daughter of David Campbell of Skeldon in Ayrshire,
but he was soon called to leave his happy home by
his appointment as a chaplain to the army. He
continued with them till the battle of Dunbar was
fought and lost: after it he retired with the troops to
Stirling; from thence he went to Edinburgh, where
we find him dating his letters about six weeks after-
wards. The last remove was viewed by the clergy
with considerable jealousy; and their suspicions of
an "intended compliance," intimated to him in a
letter from Mr. Samuel Rutherford, must have been
a source of much distress and embarrassment to him.
That such -was not his intention his subsequent con-
duct showed, nor was it any part of Cromwell's
policy to convert the Scottish clergy by torture or
imprisonment. LTpon entering the metropolis he
intimated that he did not wish to interfere with the
religion of the country, and that those ministers who
had taken refuge in the castle might resume their
functions in their respective parishes.

But while Cromwell had determined to leave the
clergy and people of Scotland to their own free-will
in matters of religion, it is lamentable to observe that
they split into factions, which were the cause of
some violent and unchristian exhibitions. When

they divided into the grand parties of Resolutioners
and Remonstraters or Protesters, Mr. Guthrie joined
the latter: but he displayed little of that animosity
which so unfortunately distinguished many of his
brethren. He preached with those whose political
opinions differed from his own, and earnestly engaged
in every measure which might restore the peace of
the church. But while we cannot but lament their
existence, these dissensions do not seem to have been
unfavourable to the growth of religion in the country.
On the contrary, both Law and Kirkton inform us
that "there was great good done by the preaching
of the gospel" during that period, "more than was
observed to have been for twenty or thirty years. "
We have some notices of public disputes which took
place during the protectorate — particularly of one
at Cupar in 1652, between a regimental chaplain and
a Presbyterian clergyman. "■ It is highly probable
that this freedom of debate, and the consequent
liberty of professing any religious sentiments, may
have been one great cause of so remarkable a revival.

From this period to the Restoration few interesting'
events present themselves to the reader of Scottish
history. We do not find any notice of Mr. Guthrie
till the year 1661, when all the fabric which the
Presbyterians had raised during the reign of Charles I.
was destroyed at one blow. Of the exaggerated
benefits anticipated from the restoration of his son
every one who has read our national history is aware.
Charles II. was permitted to return to the throne
with no farther guarantee for the civil and religious
liberties of his people than fine speeches or fair pro-
mises. It was not long before our Scottish ancestors
discovered their mistake; but the fatal power, which
recalls to the mind the ancient fable of the country-
man and the serpent, was now fully armed, and was
as uncompromising as inhuman in its exercise. In
the dark and awful struggle which followed, Mr.
Guthrie was not an idle spectator. He attended the
meeting of the synod of Glasgow and Ayr, which
was held at the former place in April, 1661, and
framed an address to the parliament at once spirited
and moderate. Unfortunately, when this address
was brought forward for the approbation of the
synod, the members were so much divided that one
party declared their determination to dissent in the
event of its being presented. In such circumstances
it could only prove a disgraceful memorial of their
distractions, and many, otherwise approving of its
spirit and temper, voted against any further pro-
cedure. The "Glasgow Act," by which all minis-
ters who had been ordained after 1649, and did not
receive collation from their bishop, were banished,
soon followed; but it did not affect I^Ir. Guthrie.

Through the good offices of the Earl of Glencairn
(to whom Mr. Guthrie had some opportunity of doing
a favour during his imprisonment before the Restora-
tion) he had hitherto escaped many of the evils
which had visited so large a majority of his brethren.
Dr. Alexander Burnet, Archbishop of Glasgow, now
began to act with great severity towards the non-
conforming clergy of his diocese. To the entreaty
of Lord Glencairn and of other noblemen, that he
would in the meantime overlook Mr. Guthrie, the
haughty prelate only replied, "That cannot be done
— it shall not: he is a ringleader and a keeper up of
schism in my diocese." With much difficulty he
prevailed upon the curate of Calder, for the paltry
bribe of five pounds, to intimate his suspension.
The parishioners of Fenwick had determined to
oppose such an intimation even at the risk of re-
bellion, but were prevailed upon to desist from an

' Lamont's Diary, ed. 1830, p. 48.

i£6

WILLIAM GUTHRIE.

attempt whicli wouM have drawn undoubted ruin
upon themselves. The pahry curate therefore pro-
ceeded u|>on his errand with a party of twelve
soldiers, and intimated to Mr. Guthrie, and after-
wards in the parish church, his commission from
Archbishop Burnet to sus])end him. ^Vodrow
mentions that when lie wrote his history it was still
confidently asserted "that Mr. Guthrie, at parting,
did signify to the curate that he apprehended some
evident mark of the Lord's displeasure was abiding
him for what he was now doing" — but that this
report rested on very doubtful authority. " What-
ever be in this," he continues, " I am well assured
the curate never preached more after he left Fenwick.
He came to Glasgow, and whether he reached Calder
— but four miles beyond it — I know not: but in four
days he died in great torment of an iliac passion, and
his wife and children died all in a year or thereby.
So hazardous a thing is it to meddle with Christ's
sent servants."

Mr. Guthrie remained in the parish of Fenwick for
a year after this time without preaching. In the
autumn of 1665 he went to Pitforthy, where his
brother's affairs required his presence. He had only
been there a few days when a complaint which had
preyed upon his constitution for many years, a
threatening of stone, returned with great violence,
accompanietl by internal ulceration. After some
days of extreme pain, in the intervals of which he
often cheered his friends by his prospects of happi-
ness in a sinless state, he died in the house of his
brother-in-law, the Rev. Lewis Skinner, at Brechin,
on the loth of October, 1665.

Mr. Guthrie would in all probability never have
appeared before the world as an author had it not
been requisite in his own defence. In 1656 or 1657
a volume was published, containing imperfect notes
of sermons preachetl by him on the fifly-fiftli
chapter of Isaiah. Although it had a considerable
circulation, he was not less displeased with its con-
tents than the pomposity of its title. It was true,
indeed, that it was not brought forward as his pro-
duction, yet Mr. Guthrie "was reputed the author
through the whole country," and therefore bound to
disclaim it in his own vindication. lie accordingly
revised the notes which he had preserved of these
sermons ; and from thence wrote his only genuine
work. The Christian^ sGreat Interest,x\n\\ better known
by the title of the first part. The 'Trial of a Suviiii;
Interest in Christ. Any praise that could here be
bestowed u|ion the work would be superfluous. It
has gained for itself the best proof of its merits — a
circulation almost unparalleled among that class of
readers for which it was perhaps chiefly intended,
the intelligent .Scottish peasantry.

John Howie mentions in his .S'rij/x ]Vorthics, that
"there were also some discourses of Mr. Guthrie's
in manuscript," out of which he transcribed seventeen
sermons, published in the year 1779. At the same
period there were also a great number of MS. ser-
mons and notes beaiing his name. Some of these
had apparently been taken from his widow by a
party of soldiers who entered her house by violence,
and took her .son-in-law prisoner in 1682.

It may be necessary here to allude to another work
connected with Mr. Guthrie's name — " 'The Heads
of some Sennoiis preached at Feinuick in Ani^ust,
1662, by Mr. William (vuthrie, upon Mat. xiv. 24,
&c. , anent the trials of the Lord's peojile, their sup-
port in, and deliverance from them by Jesus Christ,"
published in 1680, and reprinted in 1714. This
work was wholly unauthorized by his representatives,
being taken not from his own MSB., but from im-
perfect notes or recollections of some of his hearers.

His widow published an advertisement disclaiming
it, a copy of which is presei-ved in the Advocates'
Library, among the collections of the indefatigable
Wodrow.

Memoirs of Mr. Guthrie will be found in the Scots
Worthies, and at the beginning of the work 'J'he
Christian's Great Interest. A later and more com-
plete sketch of his life, interspersed with his letters
to Sir William Muir, younger, has been written by
the Rev. William Muir, the editor of the interesting
genealogical little work. The History of the House of
Ro-wallan. From the latter most of the materials
for the present notice have been drawn.

GUTHRIE, William, a political, historical, and
miscellaneous writer, was born in Forfarshire in the
year 1708. His father was an Episcopal minister
at Brechin, and a cadet of a family which has for a
long lime possessed considerable influence in that
part of the country. He studied at King's College in
Aberdeen, and having taken his degrees, had resolved
to retire early from the activity and ambition of the
world to the humble pursuits of a Scottish parochial
schoolmaster; from this retreat, however, he seems
to have been early driven by the consequences of
some unpropitious affair of the heart, hinted at but
not named by his biographers, which seems to have
created, from its circumstances, so great a ferment
among the respectable connections of the school-
master, that he resolved to try his fortune in the
mighty labyrinth of London. Other accounts mingle
with this the circumstance of his having been an ad-
herent of the house of Stuart, which is likely enough
from his parentage, and of his consequently being
disabled from holding any office under the Hano-
verian government — a method of making his liveli-
hood which his character informs us he would not
have found disagreeable could he have followed it
up; at all events, we find him in London, after the
year 1730, working hard as a general literary man
for his livelihood, and laying himself out as a doer
of all work in the profession of letters. Previously
to Dr. Johnson's connection with the Gentleniaii's
Alai^azine, which commenced about the year 1 738,
Guthrie had been in the habit of collecting and ar-
ranging the parliamentary debates for that periodical,
or rather of putting such words into the mouths of
certain statesmen as he thought they might or should
have made use of, clothing the names of the senators
in allegorical terms — a system to which a dread of
the power of parliament, and the uncertainty of the
privilege of being present at debates, prompted the
press at that time to have recourse. When Johnson
had been regularly employed as a writer in the maga-
zine, the reports, after receiving such embellishments
as (Juthrie could bestow on them, were sent to him
by Cave to receive the final touch of oratorical col-
ouring; and sometimes afterwards the labour was
performed by Johnson alone, considerably, it may be
presumed, to the fame and appreciation of the hon-
ourable orators. Guthrie soon after this period had
managed to let it be known to government that he
was a person who could write well, and that it might
depeml on circumstances whether he should use his
pen as the medium of attack or of defence. The mat-
ter was placed on its proper footing, and Mr. Guthrie
received from the Pclham administration a pension
of ;^200 a year. He was a man who knew better
how to maintain his ground than the ministry did,
and he managed with his pension to survive its fall.
Nearly twenty years afterwards we find him making
laudable efforts for the continuance of his allowance
by the then administration : the following letter ad-
dressed to a minister — one of the coolest specimens

WILLIAM GUTHRIE.

137

of literal-)' commerce on record — we cannot avoid
(Quoting : —

"yime 3d, 1762.
"Mv Lord, — In the year 1745-6 Mr. Pelham,
tlien first lord of the treasury, acf[uainted me that it
was his majesty's pleasure I should receive till better
provided for, which never has happened, ;i^200 a
year, to be paid by him and his successors in the
treasury. I was satisfied with the august name made
use of, and the appointment has been regularly and
quarterly paid me ever since. I have been equally
punctual in doing the government all the services
that fell witliin my abilities or sphere of life, espe-
cially in those critical situations which call for unan-
imity in the service of the crown. Your lordship
will possibly now suspect that I am an author by
profession — you are not deceived; and you will be
less so if you believe that I am disposed to serve his
majesty under your lordship's future patronage and
protection with greater zeal, if possible, than ever.
"I have the honour to be, my lord, &c.,

"William Guthrie."
This application, as appears from its date, had been
addressed to a member of the Bute administration,
and within a year after it was written the author must
have had to undergo the task of renewing his appeal
and changing his political principles. The path he
had chosen out was one of danger and difficulty: but
we have the satisfaction of knowing that the reward
of his submission to the powers that were, and of his
contempt for common political prejudices, was duly
continued to the day of his death.

The achievements of Guthrie in the literary world
it is not easy distinctly or satisfactorily to trace.
The works which bear his name would rank him as,
perhaps, the most miscellaneous and extensive author
in the world ; but he is generally believed to have
been as regardless of the preservation of his literary
fame as of his political constancy, and to have shielded
the productions of authors less known to the world
under the sanction of his name. About the year
1763 he published "A Complete History of the Eng-
lish Peerage, from the best Authorities, illustrated with
elegant Copperplates of the Arms of the Nobility,
&c." The noble personages whose ancestors ap-
peared in this work as the embodied models of all
human perfection, were invited to correct and revise
the portions in which they felt interested before they
were committed to the press; nevertheless, the work
is full of mistakes, and has all the appearance of
having been touched by a hasty though somewhat
vigorous hand. Thus, the battle of Uettingen, as
connected with the history of the Duke of Cumber-
land, is mentioned as having taken place in June,
1744, while, in the account of the Duke of Marl-
borough, the period retrogrades to 1742 — both being
exactly the same distance of time from the true era
of the battle, which was 1743. Very nearly in the
same neighbourhood George II. achieves the feat of
leaving Hanover on the i6th of June, and reaching
Aschafifenberg on the loth of the same month; in a
similar manner the house of peers is found addressing
his majesty on the subject of the battle of Culloden
on the 29th of August, 1746, just after the proroga-
tion of parliament. To this work Mr. Guthrie pro-
cured the assistance of Mr. Ralph Bigland. Guthrie
afterwards wrote a history of England in three large
folios; it commences with the conquest, and terminates,
rather earlier than it would appear the author had at
first intended, at the end of the republic. This
work has the merit of being the earliest British his-
tory which placed reliance on the fund of authentic
information to be found in the records of parliament.
But the genius of Guthrie was not to be chained to

the history of the events of one island; at divers
times about the years 1764-5 appeared portions of
"■A Ge)ienil History of the World, from the Creation
to the Present Time, by William Guthrie, Esq., John
Gray, Esq., and others Eminent in this Branch of
Literature," in twelve volumes. "No authors," says
the Critical Pez'ieiu, "ever pursued an original plan
with fewer deviations than the writers of this work.
They connect histoiy in such a manner, that Europe
seems One republic, though under different heads
and constitutions." Guthrie was then a principal
writer in that leading periodical, in which his works
received much praise, because, to save trouble, and
as being best acquainted with the subject, the author
of the books took on himself the duties of critic, and
was consequently well satisfied with the perfonuance.
In 1767 Mr. Guthrie published in parts a History of
Scotland, in ten volumes octavo. It commences with
"the earliest period," and introduces us to an ample
acquaintance with Dornadilla, Durst, Corbred, and
the numerous other long-lived raonarchs, whose
names Father Innes had, some time previously, con-
signed to the regions of fable. Of several of these
persons he presents us with very respectable portraits,
which prove their taste in dress, and knowledge of
theatrical effect, to have been by no means con-
temptible. In this work the author adheres with
pertinacity to many opinions which prior authors of
celebrity considered they had exploded; like Goodall,
he seems anxious to take vengeance on those who
showed the ancient Scots to have come from Ireland
by proving the Irish to have come from Scotland;
and a similar spirit seems to have actuated him in
maintaining the rcgiam majestatcm of Scotland to
have been the original, of the regiam fotestatem of
Glanvil — Nicholson and others having discovered
that the Scottish code was borrowed from the
English. With all its imperfections, this book con-
stituted the best complete history of Scotland pub-
lished during the last century. The views of policy
are frequently profound and accurate, and the know-
ledge of the contemporaneous historj' of other nations
frequently exhibited, shows that attention and con-
sideration might have enabled the author to have
produced a standard historical work. Towards its
general merits Pinkerton has addressed the following
growl of qualified praise: — "Guthrie's History of
Scotland is the best of the modern, but it is a mere
money-job, hasty and inaccurate." It would be a
useless and tedious task to particularize the numerous
works of this justly styled "miscellaneous writer."
One of the works, however, which bear his name,
has received the unqualified approbation of the world.
Gtithrie^s Historical and Geographical Grammar is
known to every one, from the school-boy to the phil-
osopher, as a useful and well-digested manual of in-
formation. This work had reached its twenty-first
edition before the year 1810; it was translated into
French in 1 801 by Messieurs Noel and Soules, and
the translation was re-edited for the fourth time in a
very splendid manner in 1807. The astronomical
information was supplied by James Gregorj', and
rumour bestows on Knox the bookseller the reputa-
tion of having written the remaining part under the
guarantee of a name of literary authority. Besides
the works already enumerated, Guthrie translated
Qiiintilian, Cicero De Oficiis, and Cicero's Epistles to
Atticus; he likewise wrote The friends, a Sentimental
History, in two volumes, and Pewarhs on English
Tragedy. This singular individual terminated his
laborious life in March, 1770. The following tribute
to his varied qualifications is to be found on his tomb-
stonein Mary-le-bone: — "Nearthis place liesinterred
the body of W'iUiam Guthrie, Esq., who died 9th

iSS

DAVID IIACKSTOX.

March, 1 770, ajjed sixty-two, representative of the
ancient family of Guthrie of Ilalkerton, in the county
of Angus, North Britain; eminent for kno\vleili;c in
all branches of literature, and of the liritish constitu-
tion, which his many works, historical, geograjjliical,
classical, critical, ami political, do testify; to whom
this monument was erected, by order of his brother,
Henry Guthrie, Ksq., in the year 1777."

Guthrie was one of those individuals who live by
making themselves useful to others, and his talents
and habits dictated the most profitable occupation
for his time to be composition: he seems to have ex-
ulted in the self-imposed term of "an author by pro-
fession ;" and we find him three years before his death
complacently stylmg himself, in a letter to the Earl
of Buchan, "the oKiest author by profession in Bri-
tain ;" like many who have maintained a purer fame,
and filled a higher station, his political principles
were guided by emolument, which, in his instance,

seems to have assumed the aspect of pecuniary neces-
sity. Had not his engagements with the booksellers
prompted him to aim at uniting the various qualities
of a Hume, a Robertson, a Johnson, a Camden, and
a Cowley, attention to one particular branch of his
studies might have made his name illustrious. John-
son considered him a person of sufficient eminence
to regret that his life had not been written, and
uttered to Boswcll the following sententious opinion
of his merits : — "Sir, he is a man of parts. He has
no regular fund of knowledge, but by reading so long,
and writing so long, he no doubt has picked up a
good deal." Boswell elsewhere states in a note : —
"How much poetry he wrote I know not, but he
informed me that he was the author of the beautiful
little piece, "The Eagle and Robin Redbreast," in
the collection of poems entitled The Union, though
it is there said to be written by Archibald Scott be-
fore the year 1600."

H.

HACKSTON, David, of Rathillet, is a name of
considerable celebrity in the annals of Scotland, from
its connection with the events of 1679-80, and from
its pre-eminence in some of the most remarkable
transactions of that stormy period. Hackston, though
indebted for his celebrity to the zeal and courage
which he displayed in the cause of the Covenanters,
is said to have led an exceedingly irreligious life dur-
ing his earlier years, from which he was reclaimed
by attending some of the field preachings of the
period, when he became a sincere and devoted con-
vert. The first remarkable transaction in which he
was engaged in connection with the party with which
he had now associated himself was the murder of
Archbishop Sharp. Hackston of Rathillet formed
a conspicuous figure in the group of that prelate's
assassins, although in reality he had no immediate
hand in the munler. He seems, however, even pre-
vious to this, to have gained a considerable ascendency
over his more immediate companions, and to have
been already looked up to by his party as a man
whose daring courage and enthusiasm promised to
be of essential service to their cause. When the arch-
bishop's carriage came in sight of the conspirators,
of whom there were eight besides Hackston, they
unanimously chose him their leader, pledging them-
selves to obey him in everj'lhing in the conduct of
the proposed attack on the prelate. This distinction,
however, Hackston declined, on the ground that he
had a private quarrel with the archbishoi), and that
therefore, if he should take an active jiart in his de-
struction, the world would allege that he had done
it to gratify a personal hatred — a feeling of which he
declared he entertained none whatever towards their
intended victim. He further urged scruples of con-
science regarding the jiroposed deed, of the lawful-
ness of which he said he by no means felt assured,
the archbishop, as is well known, having only come
accidentally in the way of Hackston and his associates.
Hackston having refused the command of the party,
another was chosen, and under his directions the
murder was perpetrated. Whilst the shocking scene
was going forward, Hackston kejit altogether aloof,
and countenanced it no further than by looking on.
He seems, however, to have had little other objection
to the commission of the crime than that he himself
should not have an immediate hand in its accom-

plishment; for when the unfortunate old man, after
being compelled to come out of his carriage by the
assassins, appealed to him for protection, saying,
"Sir, I know you are a gentleman, you will protect
me ;" he contented himself with replying that //t- would
never lay a hand on him. Rathillet was on horse-
back, from which he did not alight during the whole
time of the murder. Next day the conspirators di-
vided themselves into two parties, three remaining
in Eife, and five, with Rathillet, proceeding north in
the direction of Dunblane and Perth. Soon after
they repaired to the west, and finally joined a body
of Covenanters at Evandale. Here the latter, having
drawn up a declaration containing their testimony
to the truth, Rathillet with another, Mr. Douglas,
one of the most intrepid of the covenanting clergy-
men, was appointed to publish it. For this purpose
he proceeded with his colleague to the town of Ruther-
glen, where, on 29th May, after burning, at the mar-
ket cross, all those acts of parliament and council
which they and their party deemed prejudicial to
their interest, they proclaimed the testimony. Hack-
ston's next remarkable appearance was at the battle
of Drumclog, where he distinguished himself by his
bravery. On the alarm being given that Claver-
house was in sight, and approaching the position of
the Covenanters, who, though they had met there
for divine worship, were all well armed, Hackston
and Hall of Ilaugh-head placed themselves at the
head of the footmen, and led them gallantly on
against the dragoons of Claverhouse. The result of
that encounter is well known. The bravery of the
Covenanters prevailed. The affair of Dmmclog was
soon after followed by that of Bothwell Brig, where
Rathillet again made himself conspicuous by his in-
tre]iidity, being, with his troop of horse, the last of the
whcjle army of the Covenanters on the field of battle.
He had ilown from rank to rank when he saw the
confusion which was arising amongst the Covenanters,
and alternately threatened and besought the men to
keep their ground. Finding all his efforts vain,
"My friends," he said, addressing his troop, "we
can do no more, we are the last upon the field;" and
he now, retreating himself, endeavoured as much as
possible to cover the rear of the fleeing Covenanters.
Rathillet sought safety in concealment, for, besides
what he had to fear from his having carried arms

DAVID IIACKSTOX

against the government, he had also to apprehend
the consequences of a proclamation which had been
issued, offering a reward of 10,000 merks for his ap-
prehension, or any of those concerned in the death
of the Archbishop of St. Andrews. For twelve
months he contrived to escape, but was at length
taken prisoner at Airsmoss by Bruce of Earlshall.
Rathillet, with about sixty other persons, had come
to the place just named to attend a preaching by
Richard Cameron, the celebrated founder of the sect
called Cameronians, when they were surprised by
Bruce with a large body of horse, and after a desper-
ate resistance, during which Hackston was severely
wounded, he and several others were taken. Cameron
himself was killed in this affair, with nine of his ad-
herents. Hackston gives a very interesting account
of this skirmish, and, without the slightest aim at
effect, has presented us with as remarkable and strik-
ing an instance of the spirit of the times, of the almost
romantic bravery and resolution which religious fer-
vour had inspired into the Covenanters, as is upon
record. It appears from the account alluded to that
the party to which Hackston was attached had been
informed that the military were in search of them, and
that, to avoid the latter, they had spent some days
and nights, previous to their encountering them, in
the moors. On the day on which the skirmish took
place, while wandering through the morasses, they
came upon a spot of grass, which tempted them to
halt. Here they laid themselves down and took
some refreshment, but while thus employed they
were startled with the intelligence that their enemies
were approaching them, Hackston conjectures, to
the number of at least 112 men, well armed and
mounted, while the force of the Covenanters did not
amount to more than sixty-three, of which forty were
on foot, and twenty-three on horseback, and the
greater part of them but poorly appointed. Unap-
palled by those odds, Hackston immediately formed
his little host in battle array, and, while doing so,
asked them if they were all willing to fight. The
reply was readily given in the affirmative, and prepara-
tions were instantly made for a desperate conflict.
In the meantime the dragoons were fast advancing
towards them. Hackston, however, did not wait
for the attack, but put his little band also in mo-
tion, and marched on to meet their enemy. "Our
horse," says Hackston, "advanced to their faces,
and we fired on each other. I being foremost, after
receiving their fire, and finding the horse behind me
broken, rode in amongst them, and went out at a side
without any wrong or wound. I was pursued by
severals, with whom I fought a good space, some-
times they following me and sometimes I following
them. At length my horse bogged, and the foremost
of theirs, which was David Ramsay, one of my ac-
quaintance, we both being on foot, fought it with
small swords, without advantage of one another, but
at length closing, I was stricken down with those on
horseback behind me, and received three sore wounds
on the head, and so falling, he saved my life, w-hich
I submitted to. They searched me and carried me
to their rear, and laid me down, where I bled much
— where were brought severals of their men sore
wounded. They gave us all testimony of being brave
resolute men." Hackston with several others were
now, his little party having been defeated, carried
prisoners to Douglas, and from thence to Lanark.
Here he was brought before Dalyell, who, not being
satisfied with his answers, threatened in the brutal
manner peculiar to him to roasthim for his contumacy.
Without any regard to the miserable condition in
which Hackston was — dreadfully wounded and worn
out with fatigue — Dalyell now ordered him to be put

LORD IIAILE.S.

189

in irons, and to be fastened down to the floor of his
prison, and would not allow of any medical aid to
alleviate his sufferings. On Saturday, two days after
the affair of Airsmoss, Rathillet, with other three
prisoners, were brought to Edinburgh. On arriving
at the city they were carried round about by the north
side of the town, and made to enter at the foot of the
Canongate, where they were received by the magis-
trates. Here the unparalleled cruelties to which
Hackston was subjected commenced. Before enter-
ing the town he was placed upon a horse with "his
face backward, and the other three were bound on
a goad of iron, and Mr. Cameron's head carried on
a halbert before him, and another head in a sack on
a lad's back." And thus disposed, the procession
moved up the street towards the Parliament Close,
where the prisoners were loosed by the hands of the
hangman. Rathillet was immediately carried before
the council, and examined regarding the murder of
Archbishop Sharp, and on several points relative to
his religious and political doctrines. Here he con-
ducted himself with the same fortitude which had dis-
tinguished him on other perilous occasions, maintain-
ing and defending his opinions, however unpalatable
they might be to his judges. After undergoing a
second examination by the council, he was handed
over to the court of justiciary, with instructions from
the former to the latter to proceed against him with
the utmost severity. On the 29th of July he was
brought to trial as an accessory to the murder of the
primate, for publishing two seditious papers, and for
having carried arms against his sovereign. Rathillet
declined the jurisdiction of the court, and refused
to plead. This, however, of course, availed him
nothing. On the day following he was again brought
to the bar, and in obedience to the injunctions of the
council, sentenced to suffer a death unsurpassed in
cruelty by any upon record, and which had been dic-
tated by the council previous to his trial by the jus-
ticiary court, in the certain anticipation of his con-
demnation. After receiving sentence, the unfortunate
man was carried directly from the bar and placed
upon a hurdle, on which he was drawn to the place
of execution at the cross of Edinburgh. On his as-
cending the scaffold, where none were permitted to
be with him but two magistrates and the executioner
and his attendants, the cnielties to which he had been
condemned were begun. His right hand was struck
off; but the hangman performing the operation in a
tardy and bungling manner, Rathillet, when he came
to take off the left hand also, desired him to strike
on the joint. This done, he was drawn up to the
top of the gallows with a pulley, and allowed to fall
again with a sudden and violent jerk. Having been
three times subjected to this barbarous proceeding,
he was hoisted again to the top of the gibbet, when
the executioner with a large knife laid open his breast,
before he was yet dead, and pulled out his heart.
This he now stuck on the point of a knife, and
showed it on all sides to the spectators, crj-ing,
"Here is the heart of a traitor !" It was then thrown
into a fire prepared for the purpose. His body was
afterwards quartered. One quarter, together with his
hands, were sent to St. Andrews, another to Glas-
gow, a third to Leith, and a fourth to Burntisland,
his head being fixed upon the Netherbow. Thus
perished Hackston of Rathillet, a man in whose life,
and in the manner of whose death, we find at once a
remarkable but faithful specimen of the courage and
fortitude of the persecuted of the seventeenth centur)-,
and of the inhuman and relentless spirit of their per-
secutors.

HAILES, Lord. See Dalrymple, Sir David.

193

JAMES ALEXANDER HALDAXE.

HALDANE, James Alexanu: r.— It seldom
happens that wht-n a j^rcat work is to be accom-
plished in which co-opcraicd effort is rei]uired, the
same family which protiuccd the originator should
also furnish the effectual seconder of the movement.
From this general rule the family of Haldane of Air-
threy is an honoured excejition; for while Robert
was building churches over the whole extent of Scot-
land, his younger brother, James, was ably preparing
the way by preaching in its must destitute localities,
and reviving that religious spirit which had sunk for
years into cold ajiathy and indifference.

James Alexander Haldane was born at Dundee,
on the 14th of July, 1768, within a fortnight after the
death of his father. He also lost his mother when
he had only reached his sixth year. After attending
the high-school of Edinburgh with his brother, he
went to the university, which he attended for three
years, until he had completed his studies in Latin
and Greek, and gone through the curriculum of logic,
metaphysics, mathematics, and natural philosophy.
Having thus established a sufficient groundwork for
future self-improvement, and made a tour through
the north of England, he joined, at the age of seven-
teen, the service for which he had been early destined,
by entering as midshipman the Duke of iMoittrose,
East Indiaman, bound to Bombay and China, of
which ship he was to obtain the command when he
was qualified by age and service.

On embarking upon his profession, James Haldane
devoted himself earnestly to his duties, ambitious
to become an active seaman and skilful navigator.
IJesides this, his love of general literature, whicli
his previous education had imparted, made him
spend all his leisure time in the study of the best
authors, of which he carried with him a well-
stored sea-chest, and in this way he was uncon-
sciously training himself to become an able theo-
logical writer and eloquent preacher. He made in
all four voyages to India and China; and during the
long period over which these extentled he saw much
of the variety of life, as well as experienced the usual
amount of hair's-breadth escapes so incidental to his
profession. During his third voyage, in which he
was third officer of the Ilillsborotii^h, and while return-
ing from India, he encountered one of those dangers
so frequently attendant upon the naval and military
service, and so unreasonable and contemptible in
services so full of perils of their own, because so
utterly gratuitous. One of the passengers, a cavalry
officer, notorious as a quarrelsome bully and a good
shot, jjieked a quarrel with James Haldane, and at
the mess-table threw a glass of wine in iiis face, which
the other retorted by throwing a decanter at the
officer's head. A challenge was inevitable, and
Haldane was the more ready to receive it, as, from
his antagonist's reputation as a duellist, a refusal
might have looked like cowardice. Such was that
law of honour now so generally abjured, which in a
few years more will evaporate amidst the general
derision. No op|)ortunity occurred of a hostile
meeting until the ship arrived at .St. Helena, wlicre
the parties went ashore early in the morning to settle
their quarrel by mortal arbitrament. James Haldane
who, the night before had made his will, and written
a farewell letter to his brother, to be delivered in
the event of his death, raised his pistol at the signal,
and inwardly ejaculating, with fearful inconsistency,
the solemn prayer, "Father, into thy hands I com-
mend my spirit," he drew the trigger. The ]Mstol
burst, and one of the splinters wounded him in the
face, while his opponent, whose weapon at the same
instant missed fire, declared himself fully satisfied.
Thus terminated the first and last affair of the kind

in which he ever was engaged. His amiable dis-
position, as well as his acknowledged courage and
spirit, alike prevented him afterwards from giving or
receiving injury.

After his fourth voyage was completed, James
Haldane, now at the age of twenty-five, was found
fully competent to assume the command of the ]\Iel-
villc Castle; and on passing his examinations he was
promoted to that office in 1793. After his appoint-
ment he married Miss Joass, only child of Alajor
Joass, fort-major of Stirling Castle, and niece of Sir
Ralph Abercromby. As his fortune was still to
seek, while his bride was a young lady of great at-
tractions and high prospects, some demur was made
by her relatives to her marriage with a younger
brother; but the mutual affection of the pair at last
reconciled all parties to the measure. At the end
of the year the Jl/elville Castle was at Portsmouth
ready for an Indian voyage, in company with a large
fleet of Indiamen lying at the same port, and Haldane,
having parted with his wife at London, had already
joined his vessel, when delays occurred that prevented
its sailing till some months afterwards. While the
fleet was thus lying at anchor, a mutiny broke out
in the Dutton, which grew to such a height that the
chief officers were obliged in terror to abandon the
ship; and the crew, arming themselves with what
weapons came to hand, threatened to sink every boat
that came alongside to board them, or at the worst
to blow up the ship, or carry it into a French port.
In this state of wild uproar Captain Haldane threw
himself into one of the boats of the Melville Castle,
and approached the Dutton, amidst the cries of
"Keep off, or we'll sink you !" Undeterred by these
threats, he boarded the hostile deck, cutlass in hand,
relieved the remaining officers, who were about to
be overpowered on the quarter-deck, and by his
prompt decided measures so appalled the mutineers,
that they were soon broiight to a surrender. But
while this was going on upon deck, a noise was heard
below, and on learning the cause he rushed to the
powder magazine, which two men were about to
enter, with a shovelful of live coals, after having
wrenched off the doors, swearing that they would
blow the ship to heaven or hell, no matter which.
He clapped a pistol to the breast of the most forward,
and compelled him to stand; and ordered the crew
to put the two offenders instantly in irons, which
was done almost as rapidly as it had been commanded.
The daring demeanour and prompt decision of the
young captain of the Melville Castle so completely
quelled the ship's company, and recalled their habits
of obedience, that the chief mutineers submitted, and
order was restored.

By this time Haldane had acquired a high char-
acter in his profession. His skill as a sailor, and
his excellent qualities as an officer, had endeared him
to seamen and passengers alike; his courage in trying
emergencies had been well proved; while the poli-
tical influence by which he was supported, not only
through his friends at home, but in India, where his
wife's uncle. Sir Ralph Abercromby, was commander-
in-chief of the British army, insured him the speedy
attainment both of rank and fortune. Such a con-
summation was also expected of him as a duty, both
on the part of his wife's relatives and his own, who
saw no reason why he should sink, with all his pro-
s])ects and attainments, into the rank of an obscure
bonnet laird, or idle country gentleman. And yet
he had even already resolved to abandon the sea and
all its alluring advantages ! The cause of this is to
be traced to his early religious education, which had
more or less clung to him in his after-career, so that
I in all he had undergone and enjoyed, as well as all

JAMES ALEXANDER IIALDAXE.

191

that he hoped or feared, he had felt the contention
of two hostile elements within him — he had been
a man divided against himself. With an earnest
longing that the spiritual should prevail, so that he
might be renewed and sanctified, he felt withal as if
such an end could not be attained in his present
pursuits and occupations. Frequent conversations
with the Rev. Dr. Bogue of Gosport confirmed
him in his purpose, which was also enforced by
the earnest entreaties of his brother Robert, who
had already quitted the navy, and was about to
devote himself to that career of religious useful-
ness by which his whole life was afterwards dis-
tinguished. James Haldane accordingly sold his in-
terest in the Melville Castle for a sum that insured
him a decent independence for life, bade adieu to
the sea for ever, and, on rejoining his wife in Scot-
land and establishing a peaceful home in Edinburgh,
he became a diligent student in theology in the best
sense of the term. It was in this way that both the
brothers qualified themselves for their appointed
work. In their case it was from no sudden fit of
enthusiasm that they devoted themselves to a career
which excited the wonderment of society, and that
had to be persevered in through much scorn and op-
position for years; on the contrary, they were led
to the faith upon which they acted through a long
course of inquiry; and this being attained, they were
able deliberately to count the cost, and prepare
themselves for the sacrifice. In this spirit, while
Robert was earnestly straining every nerve to obtain
the privilege of deportation and exile as a missionaiy,
James was qualifying himself for the equally humble
and self-denying duties of an itinerant preacher. The
first attempts of James Haldane in this new sphere
of action were sufficiently humble, being confined to
the collier village of Gilmerton, where he preached
his first sermon in May, 1797.

After having continued to preach for a short time
at Gilmerton, James Haldane's views extended over
Scotland at large, so that he resolved to commence
the work of an itinerant preacher in good earnest.
But an ambulatory ministry and lay preaching — these
are irregularities which only a very urgent emergency
can justify; and yet, perhaps, Scotland at this time
needed them as much as England did the labours of
her Wesleys and Whitefield. James Haldane also
went forth, not as a minister, to dispense the higher
ordinances of religion, but simply as an evangelist,
to call men to repentance. This his first tour, in
I797> extended through the northern counties of
Scotland and the Orkney Islands, and was made in
company with Mr. Aikman, originally settled in a
prosperous business in Jamaica, but now a student
in theology, with the view of becoming a minister.
They preached wherever they could find a place to
assemble men together — in school-rooms and hospi-
tals, at market-crosses, and in church-yards and
upon stair-heads — and assembled their auditories by
announcing their purpose through the town-dnmimer
or bellman. In this way they itinerated through
Perth, Scone, Cupar, Glammis, Kirriemuir, Mon-
trose, and Aberdeen. At the last-mentioned place
Haldane had hearers in thousands, who were at-
tracted by the novelty of a captain of an East India-
man turning preacher. The tourists then proceeded
to Banff, Elgin, Forres, Nairn, and In\'>erness; and
having learned that a great fair was soon to be held
at Kirkwall, to which people were wont to assemble
from every island of the Orkneys, they resolved to
comprise this Ultima Thule of the modern as well as
the ancient world within the sphere of their opera-
tions. And miserable indeed was the spiritual state
of the Orkneys at this time, where the ministers were

so far removed beyond the ken of the General As-
sembly, that they might live as they listed; while the
difficulties of navigation in the performance of their
duties were so numerous, that they might leave as
much undone as they pleased. Here, then, was the
field for a devoted Christian, earnest in his sacred
work, and fearless of wind and weather; and from
Kirkwall as his head-quarters, the bold sailor was
ready to scud before the wind in an open boat, to
preach the gospel at whatever island might most re-
quire his services. In some of these desolate places
there had been no religious ordinances for several
years; while in Kirkwall, where he and his fellow-
traveller preached daily during the fair, they had
congregations by the thousand.

This was but the first of a series of tours of a simi-
lar character, which were continued at internals for
years, not only in the north, south, and west of Scot-
land, but in England and Ireland; and which only
ceased when the increase of a faithful ministr)', and
the general revival of a religious spirit, superseded
the necessity' of such itinerancy.

While Mr. James Haldane was thus pursuing his
course as an itinerating and lay preacher, events
soon occurred by which the office of an ordained
minister, and the superintendence of a regular con-
gregation, were added to his employments. His
brother Robert, after having failed in his attempt to
establish a great Indian mission, was now employed
in the opening of tabernacles, and the extension of
evangelical religion at home. It was natural that in
such a work he should seek the able co-operation of
his brother, and that, too, at Edinburgh, the metro-
polis and head-quarters of the new movement. The
circus or tabernacle, a large place of worship capable
of holding 2500 hearers, had been opened for this
purpose, and on the 3d of February, 1799, INIr.
James Haldane was ordained as its minister.

The rest of the life of James Haldane, as an Edin-
burgh dissenting minister, although it passed over
such a course of years, may be briefly summed up.

The first important event that occurred arose from
the divisions in that party of which he was so impor-
tant a member. While a religious body is small,
with the whole world arrayed against it, there is
neither time for discord nor motive for division, and
in this very feebleness its strength mainly consists.
But with its expansion grows security, which pro-
motes dissension, until it falls asunder by its own
w^eight. This dissension had now commenced among
the Independent congregations of Scotland, and it
was based upon the tiying questions of ecclesiastical
polity and discipline. It was agreed on all hands
that the apostolic model was the only authoritative
rule: but what was that model? Here every one
had his own theory or interpretation. The frequency
with which the Lord's supper should be administered,
the mode of conducting their weekly fellowship meet-
ings for social worship, and the amount of pastoral
duty that might be conceded to gifted lay members
in exhorting the church and conducting the public
devotions, were all severally and keenly contested as
matters of religious, and therefore of infinite import-
ance. To these, also, was added the question of
p^edobaptism, in which IVIr. James Haldane himself
was personally and deeply interested. He had been
anxiously studying the subject for several years, and
after some time he announced to his flock, that
"although his mind was not made up to become
himself a Baptist, yet that at present he could not
conscientiously baptize children." His mind was
made up at last: he was baptized; but still his wish
was that the difference of opinion should be no ground
of disunion between Baptists and Psedobaptists.

192

JAMES ALEXANDER IIAI.DANE ROBERT IIALDAXE.

This, however, was too much to expect from any
sect or class of Christians in the present state of
human nature, and accordingly a disruption ensued
in his congregation, of whom nearly two-thirds went
away, some to the Establishment, and others to the
two tabernacles in College Street and Niddry Street.
By this change, also, the two Ilaldanes ceased to be
the leaders of a sect wiiich their labours had originated
in Scotland, and their resources hitherto supported.
As for James, he now ministered to a very limited
congregation, and with diminished popularity, but
his elevated generous heart could endure the change
as far as it only affected himself, lie saw that the
good which he had sought to accomplish was in
progress under other agencies; and he was content
to be nothing, and less than nothing, if the gospel
itself should become all in all.

In this way the days and years of James Ilaldane's
life went onward. He regularly officiated to his
own Edinburgh congregation, preached occasionally
in the open air in its neighbourhood, and diversified
his duties by journeys of similar usefulness to greater
distances. He published several tracts upon the
most important religious doctrines, M-hich were widely
circulated, and attended, it is believed, with much
usefulness. He was also engaged as a controver-
sialist, in which capacity he published a Kefutaiio7i
of tlu Heritical Doctrine promulgated by the Rei'.
Edward Irving, respecting the Person and Atonement
of the Lord fesits Christ; and when Mr. H. Drum-
mond came to the rescue of his pastor, with his
Candid Examination of the Controz'ersy between
Messrs. Inking, Andrew Thomson, and fames Hal-
dane, the last replied with a volume of 277 pages.
But controversy was not his congenial element, and
Dr. Johnson would have rejected him because he
•was not a good hater. "I see many evils," he thus
writes in a letter, "both at home and abroad, which
I hope the Lord will correct; but I do not see any-
thing which I can do, unless it be to live near to
God, and to preach his gospel where I am placed
in the course of his providence." In 183 1 he pub-
lished Observations on Universal Pardon, the Extent
oft lie Atonement, and Personal Assurance of Salvation.
The ne.xt important event that occurred in his course
was the decease of his brother Robert, whose death-
bed he attended, and whose triumphant end he
witnessed; and it was during the closing hours of his
life that the dying man spoke affectionately to his
wife of the great benefit he had derived from the
sermons and publications of his brother James, from
which, he said, he had derived more solid edification
than from any others. He also spoke with fond
affection of the complete harmony of mind and
purpose that had subsisted between them from the
beginning. It seemed as if, in the course of nature,
the death of James Ilaldane must speedily follow,
for he was now seventy- four years old, and had already
outlived many of his early associates. But his term
was extended eight years longer, and they were years
not of inert senility, but active diligent exertion.
In 1842 he published a treatise entitled Man's Re-
sponsibility; the A'at lire and Extent of the Atonement,
and the IVorh of the Holy Spirit; in reply to Mr.
Howard Hinton and the Baptist Midland Association.
In 1848 he reappeared as an author, by publishing
an Exposition of the Epistle to the Galatians. Be-
tween these he also published two tracts on the
imjiortant subject of the Atonement. Until he had
nearly reached the age of fourscore he was wont
also, in addition to these labours, to conduct three
public services every Sabbath. In 1849, having
completed the fiftieth year of his ministry, his flock
and the Congregationalists of Edinburgh agreed to

celebrate the event by a jubilee, which they did on
the 12th of April; and the meeting was attended by
ministers of all denominations, who were thus eager
to testify their love for such a venerable father in
Israel. After this his life and labours were continued
till 1851, when both were terminated on the 8th of
February, in the eighty- third year of his age. His
last illness was gentle and brief, and his death the
death of the righteous.

HALDANE, Robert. The family of Haldane
had, for many centuries, been possessors of the
barony of Gleneagles, in Perthshire, and were con-
nected with some of the noblest houses of Scotland.
As their name implies, they were of a Norse rather
than Anglo-Saxon origin, and had probably emi-
grated from the Danelagh of England at, or soon
after, the period of Alfred. Of the representatives
of this family (Captain James Haldane of Airthrey,
and Katherine Duncan, his wife and first cousin)
were born two sons, Robert and James, the subjects
of this and the previous notice, and a daughter, who
died in childhood. Robert Haldane, the eldest of
the family, was born, not in Scotland, but in London,
on the 28th of February, 1764; but while still an
infant he became a resident in his ancestral country
of Scotland, where his father died in 1768. His
widowed mother, the daughter of Alexander Duncan
of Lundie, and sister of the illustrious hero of Cam-
perdown, was eminent not only for gentleness and
maternal affection, but ardent piety; and her religious
instructions to her fatherless children, as well as
fervent prayers in their behalf, were long after re-
membered by the objects of her pious cares. But
brief was the period of her widowed life, for she died
in 1774, when Robert had only reached his tenth,
and James his fifth year, and the orphans were con-
signed to the guardianship of their relatives, by whom
their education was carefully superintended. And
that they were willing to learn was attested by the
following incident. Having been instructed by their
tutor in the mysteries of the ancient battering-ram,
they resolved to try a practical experiment of its
effects by dragging the carriage of their uncle Ad-
miral Duncan to the edge of a slope, down which
it would rush by its own weight against a garden
wall at the bottom. The carriage was accordingly
wheeled up, and let loose; and the astonished admiral,
who had been alarmed by the noise, came out only
in time to find the vehicle fairly lodged in the garden,
and the wall as effectually breached as if one of his
own broadsides had been discharged against it.

Having made some progress in Latin, the two
boys were sent to the high-school of Edinburgh,
where they were boarded with Dr. Adam, its rector,
and had for class-fellows John Campbell and Greville
Ewing, the former the African traveller, and the
latter the minister of the Independent congregation
in Glasgow — men with whose labours the Haldanes
were in after-life to be intimately connected. When
the time arrived that they should choose a profession,
the sea naturally presented itself, not only from the
high naval reputation of their uncle, but the circum-
stance of their father having been captain of the
Duke of Albany, East Indiaman, and on the eve of
being elected an East India director when his un-
expected death occurred. Besides this, their great
family influence insured a rapid promotion, whether
in the royal ser\-ice or that of the East India
Company. Robert accordingly was destined to the
former, and James to the latter; and in 1780 the
family separation commenced, by Robert's joining
the Monarch at Portsmouth during that year. From
this period we follow their respective careers.

ROBERT IIALDAXE.

193

On entering the naval service under such a com-
mander as tlie future hero of Camperdown, Robert
llaldane, now at the age of seventeen, was not Hkely
to remain idle. After being a year in the Monarch,
lie was transferred to the Foudroyaiit, 80 guns, com-
manded by Captain Jervis, afterwards Earl St.
Vincent, and was present at the memorable night
engagement with the Pcgase, a French ship of fully
greater force than the Foiidroyant. In this battle,
wiiich was hotly maintained for three-quarters of an
hour, Robert llaldane served his gims with the skill
and coolness of a veteran, and in pointing them in
the dark he persevered in using a lantern, although
he thereby served as a mark for the enemy's rifles.
His gallantry on this occasion obtained the approba-
tion of his brave commander, who sent him on board
the Pt-'gase to receive its surrender; and on writing to
Admiral Duncan, he congratulated him on the conduct
of his nephew, and predicted that he would become
an ornament to his country. On the return of the
Foudroyant to Spithead, Robert Haldane spent
much of his time at Gosport ; and being there
attracted by the ministry of the Rev. Dr. Bogue,
originally a Scottish Presbyterian, but afterwards the
pastor of an Independent congregation at Gosport,
Robert Haldane not only had those religious im-
pressions revived which had been implanted by his
mother, but his bias directed in favour of Independ-
ency.

The design of relieving Gibraltar, for which an
expedition was sent out in 17S2, under the command
of Lord Howe, summoned Robert Haldane once
more into action. The garrison was relieved, and
at the entrance of the British fleet into Gibraltar the
Foudroyant was the leading ship. On the return
from the Straits an indecisive engagement with the
enemy took place, after which the fleet reached
Spithead unmolested. An incident occurred on the
way that showed Haldane's courage and self-devoted-
ness in his profession. A Spanish 60-gun ship
occasioned a chase among some of the British vessels,
in which the fast-sailing Foudroyant wa-s foremost,
as usual, with all her canvas spread, while Haldane
was ordered to the fore-topgallant-mast to remain
on the look-out until he was recalled. In the mean-
time, in consequence of an order from Lord Howe,
the chase was abandoned, but Haldane was forgot
in the movement; the overstrained mast had sprung
with the press of canvas, and he expected every
moment to be swept into the sea; but still, faithful
to. the letter of his orders, he would not abandon his
post: his only chance of safety, which an old seaman
who was stationed beside him suggested, was to keep
hold of the lower part of the ropes, so that when
carried into the sea they might still retain their hold
of the mast, with their heads above water. While
their moments were tlius numbered, a sudden cry of
"A man overboard !" occasioned a rapid shortening
of sail; the critical situation of Haldane and the
sailor was then discovered, and an instant order to de-
scend relieved them from their peril. It was an act of
obedience such as Rome would have gladly enrolled
in her history. On the Foudroyant being paid off
at Spithead, Haldane was removed into the Salis-
bury, of 50 guns, on which the broad pennant of his
commander. Sir John Jervis, was hoisted, as com-
modore of a squadron intended for the double purpose
of a voyage of discovery round the world, and an
attack on the Spanish settlements of South America.
But the peace between Great Britain, France, and
Spain, in 17S3, altered the destination of the Salis-
bury, so that she only made a short voyage to
Newfoundland. On her return to England Robert
Haldane, finding no prospect either of active service

VOL. II.

or immediate promotion, resolved to spend the rest
of his days on shore. He accordingly resigned his
commission; and being as yet only twenty years old,
he determined to complete the education which had
been interrupted three years before, when he went
to sea. For this purpose he once more became a
student at the university of Edinburgh, of which he
had fomierly been an alumnus; and, after attending
two seasons, he made the grand tour, comprising
the principal countries of Europe. After his return
he married, in 1786, Katherine Cochrane Oswald,
daughter of George Oswald of Scotston, and settled
down upon his patrimonial estate of Airthrey, re-
solving to devote himself to the life and occupations
of a country gentleman. Into this he now threw all
his energies, and his taste in agricultural improve-
ments soon made him conspicuous among his com-
peers. Airthrey was possessed of great natural
capabilities, and these he so highly improved that
his example was speedily followed, and the surround-
ing country began to assume a new aspect.

Thus passed the course of Robert Haldane's life
for eight years, an even tenor such as poets delight
to picture and moralists to recommend. But higher
and holier duties awaited him than the transplanting
of trees and improvement of lawns and gardens; and
he was suddenly awoke from his innocent dream by
an event that shook the very pillars of the world,
and roused the dullest to alarm and inquiry. Who
could sleep, or even muse, amidst the sudden and
universal reel of the French Revolution? The laird
of Airthrey saw in this event the annihilation of
feudal rights and the destruction of heritable charters ;
but his generous heart did not the less sympathize
in the sufferings of a great nation, and its Titan-like
throes for deliverance, while he hoped that all this
was but the beginning of a happy political millen-
nium, of which France was destined to be the first-
fruits. He did not at the time take into account
the infidel principles upon which that revolution was
based, and the utter insufficiency of such principles
to produce the results he anticipated. The recoil,
however, soon arrived, and with it that spirit of
thoughtful inquiry which was to lead him to the best
results.

Having attained a vital knowledge of Divine truth,
and prosecuted his first perceptions by careful read-
ing and inquiry, Robert Haldane was eager to impart
to others the knowledge he had learned and the
blessings he had experienced. Such is the effect of
the Christian life, especially when ingrafted upon a
naturally heroic temperament. It will neither sit
down amidst the silence of private life, nor withdraw
itself to the solitude of the hermit's cell; not content
with its own salvation alone, it is impatient for the
salvation of others also, so that, while the patriot is
ready to die for his countiy, the Christian is ready
for even more than this — like St. Paul, he could
wish himself "accursed from Christ for his brethren."
Thus animated, he looked for a field of Christian
enterprise, and soon found it in India — that empire
of a hundred realms, which Britain has conquered,
but still failed to Christianize. The Baptist mission
had just previously been established there, and the
account of its proceedings been published ; and
Haldane, who read the first number of its periodical
statements, was impatient to enter such a field, and
co-operate with the efforts of Carey and his brethren.
He, too, like the poor English shoemaker, would
become a missionary, and devote himself to a life of
danger and toil in India. It was a strange plan, but
neither rashly adopted nor unwisely prosecuted. It
was upon a grand and comprehensive scale. With
himself, Mr. (afterwards Dr.) Innes, minister at

48

194

ROBERT IIALDAXE.

Stirling, Mr. Bogue of Gosport, and Greville Ewing,
at that time a licentiate of the Church of Scotland,
were to go out as missionaries. These were to be
accompanied by an efficient staff of catechists, city
missionaries, and schoolmasters; and a printing-press,
with its necessar)' establishment of printers and
bookbinders. The whole mission, thus completely
equipped, was to be conveyed to India, and, when
there, to l>e salaried and supported entirely at the
expense of Mr. Haldane; ami, to provide a fund for
the purpose, he was prepared to bring to the hammer
his rich and beautiful estate of Airthrey, for which
he had already done so much. Well might such a
man say, as he did, "Christianity is everjthing or
nothing. If it be true, it warrants and commands
every sacrifice to promote its influence. If it be not,
then let us lay aside the hypocrisy of professing to
believe it."

All being thus in readiness, it appeared as if nothing
more was necessary than that the mission should
hoist sail and be gone. It was a great national
undertaking, of which our government should reap
the fruits, and that, too, with the unwonted advan-
tmge of having to pay nothing in return. Still,
however, permission had to be obtained from the
directors of the East India Company and the Board
of Control, without which the mission would have
been treated as an unauthorized intrusion. It was
not forgotten, also, that Carey had been obliged to
commence his labours, not in British India, from
which he would have been excluded, but in the
Danish settlement of Serampore. But it was thought
that a better spirit, the result of a more matured
experience, had descended upon our Indian legisla-
tors; and that so extensive and liberal an enterprise,
superintended by one of Haldane's rank, character,
and high connections, would scarcely be met by a
refusal. Thus also hoped Robert Haldane, and he
applied accordingly, but was rejected. Politicians,
who had not yet recovered from their astonishment
at the facility with which our Indian empire of
twenty millions of subjects had been won by a few
British bayonets, and who feared that such a sover-
eignty might be lost as rapidly as it had been gained,
could at ]iresent see no better mode of retaining their
conquest than by keeping the natives in profound
ignorance. If Christianity was introduced, the Hin-
doos would become as knowing as ourselves, and
where, then, would be our superiority? It was
alleged, also, that an attack upon Brahminism, like
that which a Christian mission implied, would kindle
such resentment throughout the whole of Hindoostan,
that instant revolt would ensue, and end in the
expulsion of the British from the country. To these
political motives in behalf of such a selfish forbear-
ance, religious ones were also added. It was as-
serted that Brahminism was a religion the best of all
fitted for India; that it was a mild, innocent, and
virtuous system; and that, by disturbing the faith of
its worshippers, we could at best only translate them
from good, pious Hindoos, into very questionable
Christians. These motives prevailed, notwithstand-
ing the powerful influence with which Haldane's ap-
plication was supported, and the persevering urgency
with which it was reiterated.

In this way was extinguished one of the noblest and
most comprehensive schemes of Christian philan-
thropy that graced the religious history of the
eighteenth century. Of the proceedings of its ori-
ginator, in consequence of this heavy disappointment,
he has himself given the following account: — "For
some time after this (1797) I did not lay aside my
endeavours to go out to Bengal; and, in the mean-
while, was busied in selling my estate, that there

might be no delay on my part, if obstructions from
without .should be removed. I accordingly at length
found a purchaser, and with great satisfaction left a
place, in the beautifying and improving of which
my mind had once been much engrossed. In that
transaction I sincerely rejoice to this hour, although
disappointed in getting out to India. I gave up a
place and a situation which continually presented
objects calculated to excite and gratify 'the lust of
the eye and the pride of life.' Instead of being
engaged in such poor matters, my time is now more
at my command; and I find my power of applying
property usefully very considerably increased." A
man thus resolved and disencumbered was not likely
to remain long inactive; and his new course of
enterprise embraced such a variety of religious bene-
volence, that we can only bestow a glance upon the
objects in w-hich the men of the present generation
found him toiling, with unabated hopes and undi-
minished energ)'.

One of the first of these was the plan of Christian-
izing Africa through the agency of its own children.
That dark continent, hitherto so impervious to
Europeans, and its climate so noxious to all but its
natives, presented insuperable obstacles to the zealous
missionary as well as the enterprising explorer ; so
that, to repair thither, was considered as a journey
to that country

" From whose undiscovered bourne

No traveller returns."

In this difficulty, the idea had occurred to Mr. John
Campbell, himself afterwards a successful explorer
of Africa, that native children brought to Britain,
there educated in Christianity and the arts of civili-
zation, and afterwards returned to their homes,
would prove the fittest missionaries and teachers of
their countrj'mcn. It was a simple expedient, the
soundness of which all our subsequent experience
has verified. But, with all its excellence, Campbell,
at that time nothing more than a poor tradesman in
Edinburgh, could only propose it, for funds were
wanting for its accomplishment. In 1 798 he met
with Robert Haldane, to whom he mentioned his
scheme; and the latter, struck with its promising
character, at once ofTered to defray the expense,
which was calculated at from £(xxxi to £'jooo.
Accordingly, twenty-four African children, belong-
ing to the families of different chiefs, were shipped
at Sierra Leone, and brought safely to London.
Nothing now remained than that they should be
sent to Edinburgh, and placed under Mr. Haldane's
care, who, in the anticipation of such an arrival, had
leased the large old tenement in King's Park, well
known to tourists as the house of the Laird of j
Dumbiedykes. But here, imfortunately, a ground I
of refusal had occurred. Mr. Haldane, while he m
defrayed the whole expense of the experiment, was
not to be intrusted with the management and educa-
tion of the children, which, on the contrary, was to
be placed under a London committee. He could
not accede to proposals so unexpected, and made at
the last hour, and he found himself constrained to
withdraw from the enterprise. It is gratifying to
add, however, that the main purpose was not aban-
doned, or the children neglected. After having
received a religious education, and been taught
several handicraft professions, these youthful mis-
sionaries were in due time restored to their homes.

While this unpleasant affair was pending, and
after it had terminated so unsatisfactorily, Mr.
Haldane was by no means idle in the work of
Christian benevolence ; and the disappointments
he experienced, both in his Indian and African
efforts, seemed only to recal him with redoubled

ROBERT IIALDAXE.

195

vigour into the field. Among his labours may be
mentioned his zealous dissemination of religious
tracts. In the present day, when publications of
this kind descend like snow-showers, and too often
melt away as rapidly, such a mode of doing good
has come to be held in little account. But very
different was the state of things at the close of the
last century. As yet the Tract Society had no
existence, and many can well recollect the "perilous
stuff" which, imder the name of "ballants," was
plentiful in every cottage of Scotland, and constituted
the principal reading of the people, both young and
old. And what kind of training did the youthful
mind receive from the Exploits of John Cheap the
Chapman, Leper the Tailor, and Lothian Tom? It
was much, indeed, that one man should have set
himself to stem such a tide, and this Mr. Ilaldane
did. At his own expense he caused useful religious
tracts to be printed, and these he distributed over
the country in myriads. In this manner slim broad-
sheets insinuated their way through every opening,
and the attention of all classes was awakened to
doctrines which they were too seldom accustomed to
hear from the pulpit. While he thus anticipated the
work of the Tract Society, he also forestalled that of
the British and Foreign Bible Society, by a copious
dissemination of the Scriptures at his own expense.
He formed, and aided in forming. Sabbath-schools,
at that time sorely needed in Scotland, in conse-
quence of the new mercantile character impressed
upon it, through which children became sons and
daughters of the loom and the spinning-jenny, instead
of the legitimate offspring of Christian men and
women. And wherever missionary work was to b'e
undertaken, whether at home or abroad, there his
counsel and his purse were equally open; and the
Serampore translations of the Scriptures, for the use
of India, were benefited by his aid, at the same time
that he was labouring for the circulation of the
gospel among the huts and cottages of his own
native country.

But of all the attempts of Robert Haldane, that
of the establishment of a new church in Scotland
was certainly the most remarkable. It was a daring,
and at first sight a superfluous attempt, in the land
of John Knox and of solemn leagues and cove-
nants. For was not Scotland already famed over
Europe as the most religious and most spiritually
enlightened of all countries? But this was the
reputation of a past age, upon which a spendthrift
generation had now entered, and which they wxre
squandering away in handfuls. At the close of the
last century Moderatism had attained its height,
and alongside of philosophy and metaphysics, these
sciences so congenial to the Scottish national char-
acter, infidelity and scepticism had kept equal pace;
so that, both in college and church, the doubts of
Hume and the doctrines of Socinus had well-nigh
eradicated all the visible landmarks of the national
faith. Happily, however, for Scotland, its creed,
thus driven from both school and pulpit, found a
shelter among the homely dwellings of our peasantry;
and through the writings of such men as Guthrie,
Boston, and Willison, of our own country, and
Bunyan, Flavel, and Hervey, of England — all
equally prized and carefully studied — the people
were in many cases wiser than all their teachers.
Still, without further aid these defences must have
gone down, and the whole land been inundated with
the prevalent tide. Then, however, a few ministers
were raised up, by whom that aggressive warfare
against the general evil was waged, which was finally
attended with such beneficial results; and then also
was Robert Haldane, a layman, a man of rank, and

therefore a disinterested witness, brought forward to
corroborate these clerical efforts, and give effectual
aid in the coming revival.

The necessity of a faithfully-preached gospel was
at that time peculiarly urgent in Scotland, and here,
therefore, it was that Ilaldane directed his chief
endeavours. While the population had increased two-
fold, church accommodation had in a great measure
remained stationary; and even if additional churches
should be built, the difficulty of supplying them with
a proper ministry still remained. There was as
little hope at the time that government would sup-
ply the former as the church the latter deficiency,
and thus the affair was allowed to drift onward, let
it finally strand where it might. To build or hire
churches was Mr. Haldane's first aim, and these
were speedily set up in Edinburgh, Glasgow, Dun-
dee, Perth, Thurso, Wick, and Elgin; and to furnish
them with an efficient ministry eighty students were
soon enrolled, under the pastoral instruction of Dr.
Bogue, Mr. Ewing, and Mr. Innes. His chapels,
or tabernacles, as they were usually called, continued
to multiply, so that by the year 1805 nearly 200
preachers from Mr. Haldane's seminaries were la-
bouring as ministers and missionaries in Scotland,
besides those who had gone to America. When
the result of all this devotedness is reduced to pounds,
shillings, and pence, it assumes the most tangible
form to the eye and understanding; we shall therefore
simply state that, from 1798 to 1810, Mr. Haldane
had expended about ^70,000 in his labours to pro-
pagate the gospel at home. And be it remembered,
too, that he was no mere philanthropic epicure,
acting upon random impulses, or impatient, through
sheer laziness, to be rid of his money as an incum-
brance. Instead of this, he was as much alive to
the enjoyments of fortune as others — as conscious of
the value of money, and as provident in securing
and expending it as the shrewdest trafficker could,
well be. But all this he deliberately did at the
solemn call of duty; toiling, calculating, and fore-
seeing at every step; and bestowing these princely
sums, that were never to return to him, as consider-
ately as if he had been speculating in the stocks, or
investing funds in some hopeful mercantile enterprise.
Never, perhaps, were Christian liberality and Scottish
cannyness so admirably combined, or so nobly illus-
trated; and it is upon this principle that we are to
estimate the true worth and the disinterested sacri-
fices of Robert Haldane.

The effects produced by these tabernacles were
very soon apparent throughout Scotland. They
roused a spirit of attention; and even when the feeling
was nothing more than that of alarm, it led to in-
quiry, of all feelings the one most needful at such a
crisis. The most neglected districts, the most se-
cluded nooks of our land, were soon pervaded with
an itinerant or settled mission; and communities that
had slumbered in hundreds of parishes under the
drowsy influence of Moderatism were shaken from
their torpor, and raised into full activity. And was
Presbyterian Scotland in very deed to become Inde-
pendent ? Happily for the national character and
its established habits, so great a violence was not to
be sustained ; and the public mind, once awakened,
had its own beloved Presbyterianism at hand, in-
stead of that system of tabernacle church-government,
which it could not well comprehend. In this way
Independency fulfilled its mission in Scotland, and
having accomplished this it silently retrograded, and
left what remained for accomplishment to a more
efficient, or at least a more popular and congenial
agency. At first, indeed, Haldane, in the introduction
of these chapels, had no idea of a dissent from the church

195

ROBERT IIALDANK.

— they were only intended as auxiliaries; and both mi-
nisters and members were in the practice of commu-
nicating at the sacrament in the Established churches.
But it was impossible that this harmony could long
continue; and, as was the case of Methodism in
England, the alliance was soon broken, and the new
congregations were organized into a body of Dissen-
terism. And then followed a spirit of division by
which the body was rent in twain. The question
of p.xdobaptism was tiie subject of controversy ; and
while Haldane and his brother adopted the senti-
ments of the Baptists, and were followed by a large
portion of the Congregationalists, the rest took a more
decidetl stand upon those principles of Independency
which had long been recognized in England. Such
was the history of a religious cause which, be its
intrinsic merits what they may, has never been con-
genial to the spirit of the Scottish nation.

In this manner the days of Robert Haldane were
indefatigably occupied for a course of years, and to
these general labours we must add his own individual
exertions as a lay-preacher and missionary ; for he
was of opinion that the office of an evangelist neither
needed the regular preparation of a college nor the
authoritative sanction of a presbytery. At length,
finding that repose to be necessary which results from
change of action, he once more turned to the occu-
pations of a country gentleman, by purchasing, in
1809, the estate of Auchingray, in Lanarkshire —
a desolate moor of 2000 acres, on which grew only
a single tree; but which his exertions adorned with
forests of larch, fir, birch, ash, and coppice. This,
however, was not his chief occupation, for a large
portion of his lime was spent in the study, where his
preparations for the pulpit equalled those of the most
ambitious or painstaking minister. Another impor-
tant jiuqiose to which he addressed himself was the
preparation of a literary work on the Evidences of
Christuiuity. lie was dissatisfied with the estab-
lished writings upon this important subject, where
the authors, however learned and talented, seemed
to be more solicitous about the outworks of Chris-
tianity than its inner life and spirit; and he justly
thought that a more correct and more endearing
view of the faith itself should be given, in addition
to the arguments by which its heaven-descended
authority was authenticated. The result of this wish
was his Evidence and Authority of Divine Rit'clation,
of which the first edition was publislied in 1S16.
The work, which, at a later period of his life, was
considerably extended and improved, was not only
favourably received by the Christian public, but
highly commended by the most influential judges.

After this publication an important epoch in the
life of Mr. Haldane followed. This was his memor-
able journey to Geneva and Montauban. After
twenty years of toil and sacrifice he had witnessed
such a religious revival in Scotland as left him little
cause to regret that Congregationalism should at last
he found unnecessary. Still as earnest upon the
great work of liis life, and as buoyant for missionary
enterprise as when he commenced his career, he now
resolved to make once more a tour of the Continent,
which the peace had but lately opened to the visits
of British travellers. Accompanied by Mrs. Hal-
dane, he left Edinburgh on the 9th of October, 1816.
His first halt was at Paris; but finding no opening
there for missionary labour, and hearing of the be-
nighted state of Geneva, he went to that city, and
there took up his residence. That home of Calvin
and refuge of John Knox, and therefore so endeared
to the affections of eveiy leal-hearted Scotsman —
alas ! how it had fallen from its ancient supremacy !
Those doctrines, of which it was once the nursing-

mother and propagandist, had been so utterly for-
gotten, that, wlien the new visitor announced them,
he was met with the Athenian cr)-, "Thou bringe^t
certain strange things to our ears I" Not merely the
Calvinistic form of Christianity, but even Chris-
tianity itself, had dwindled down into Arianism,
Socinianism, Neology, Deism — anything, in short,
but what it originally was ; while each man was
allowed to modify it according to his own pleasure,
provided he did not disturb society, either with
warnings of its apostasy or a summons to repentance.
Such was especially the state of the pastors of the
canton, the theological schools, and the students in
training for the ministry; and althougli a very few
suspected occasionally that they were in the wrong,
and that there was some better way which they had
missed, there was neither friend to encourage nor
teacher to direct them in their inquiries. But, on
the entrance of Robert Haldane, a change commenced
in Geneva. He received a few of the students at his
hotel, to whom he expounded the Scriptures ; the
numbers of inquirers grew and multiplied, and light
increased among those who diligently sought it.
These students, however, numerous as they ultimately
became, did not constitute the whole of his audience.
"Besides those who attended regularly," Haldane
himself writes, "some, who did not wish to appear
with the students, came at different hours ; and in
conversing with them at those times, or after finish-
ing the public course at eight o'clock, I was often
engaged till near midnight. Others of the inhabi-
tants of Geneva, unconnected with the schools of
learning, and of both sexes, occasionally visited me
in the afternoon respectirig the gospel." No such
movement has ever occurred without opposition; and
the Genevese pastore, after vainly attempting to re-
fute the new preacher, endeavoured to procure his
banishment from the canton ; and, on the refusal of
their free republican government, they proposed to
cite him before their spiritual court as a teacher of
error and perverter of their students. But all that
they could do was to frame new acts, which every
student was required to sign before being licensed to
preach; acts particularly framed against the doctrines
of the Godhead of the Saviour, original sin, grace
and effectual calling, and predestination. It was the
blundering policy of persecutors, who endeavour to
silence, without having powder and authority to de-
stroy. The sword, wielded by such feeble hands,
was as the touch of a spur to accelerate the move-
ment.

Having finished the good work at Geneva, and
kindled a flame that was not to be extinguished, Mr.
Haldane wisely resolved to retire, and transfer his
labours to some other quarter. Montauban was
selected as his next field, which he reached in July,
I Si 7. Here he published, in French, his prelections
to the students of Geneva, in two volumes, under
the title of a Commentary o/i the Romans. Although
the centre of education for the Protestants of the
Reformed Church in France, Montauban was too
like the parent city of Geneva ; it had lapsed from
the faith, and was overrun with Arianism and infi-
delity. Here he resided more than two years, and
proceeded in the same manner as he had done at
Geneva. And, happily, it was with similar results.
Several ministers and many young students, who
had been trained in Rationalism, were awoke from
their security, and converted to the faith under his
apostolic ministr}'. At length, the near prospect
of the death of his father-in-law, in Scotland, occa-
sioned his return, but with the purpose of revisiting
Montauban, which, however, he was not destined
to accomplish.

ROBERT H ALDAN E.

197

On his return to Scotland Mr. HalJane, always
indefatigable in the good work to which he had
devoted himself^ was employed with the slate of
rehgion at home and upon the Continent, inter-
mingled with occasional preaching and a missionar)'
visit to Ireland. In this way he occupied himself
till 1S21, when a painful event called him forth as
a controversialist, and that too, not with the enemies,
but the professed friends and disseminators, of vital
uncontaminated Christianity. This conflict in which
he was engaged, still remembered as the Apocryphal
Controversy, originated in the following circum-
stances:— On the estabhshment of the British and
Foreign Bible Society, it was agreed that the Scrip-
tures should be circulated without note and comment,
and that the Apocrj'pha should be excluded. This
condition it was easy to obser\-e at home, and in
Protestant countries abroad, where the canon of
Scripture has been established, and its own inspired
language received as the only authority. But it was
very different in Popish countries, where the pre-
valent errors are mainly established upon passages
from the Apocr\-phal writings, and where, conse-
quently, the books of Tobit, the Maccabees, and Bel
and the Dragon, are of equal authority v.iih. those
of the apostles and prophets. They would not re-
ceive the Bible, therefore, unless it included the
Apocrj-pha, and in an evil hour the society yielded
to their demand. They not only gave money in aid
of foreign societies that published these adulterated
Scriptures, but actually printed Bibles ■with the
Apocrj-pha intermingled or appended, to further the
circulation of the Word among Romanist, Greek,
and semi- Protestant communities. In this way a
pious fraud was commenced, that went onward step
by step, until it attained the maturity of full-grown
Jesuitism. And still the unsuspecting public in-
creased their liberality from year to year, and satis-
fied themselves that all was right At length it fell
to Robert Haldane, by the merest accident, to detect
this monstrous e\TL In 1821, being in London, he
had occasion to visit the offices of the Bible Societj',
where he left his umbrella, and called next day to
recover it. While he thus "looked in," he was
requested to join a sub-committee which was then
sitting. He complied; but as the business went
onward, he was astonished to discover how much
the Apocrj-pha had been already circulated among
the foreign translations of the Bible. His appeals
on the occasion were loud and earnest, and the
society agreed to discontinue the practice. Thus
matters continued quiet till 1824, when it was found
that the practice was still going on — and all that
good might come out of it. Finding his remon-
strances ineffectual, Mr. Haldane now appealed to
the Edinburgh Society, which had hitherto acted
in connection with the British and Foreign Bible
Society; and as none of those Apocr}^hal s%-mpathies
were harboured in the north that still lingered in
England, the Edinburgh branch withdrew from the
coalition, and formed an establishment of its own
for the circulation of an unmLxed, unadulterated
gospel. Such a secession could not be accomplished
without a controversy; for the parent society, that
felt itself rebuked by the movement, endeavoured to
justffy itself to the Christian public ; and thus the
two parties entered into a conflict that lasted for
years, and was waged with all the earnestness not
only of a religious but a national warfare. It was
England and Scotland once more in the field, while
the canon of Scripture itself was at issue. In behalf
of the British and Foreign Bible Society, not only
the mere advocates of expediency were enlisted, but
men of the highest reputation for learning, orthodoxy.

and piety, and the chief religious periodicals of the
day. On the other side. Dr. Andrew Thomson, the
most formidable of controversialists, and Robert
Haldane, by whom the evil had been detected and
the resistance commenced, were the principal cham-
pions.

Nothing can be more unjust and ungenerous at this
time of day, than to look back upon such a conflict
either with contempt or indifference. Revelation
itself was at stake. Driven from all their weak de-
fences of necessity and expediency, the Apocryphal
party in desperation endeavoured to justify them-
selves by calling in question the canon of Scripture
itself, as if it were a mere matter on which every one
might think as he pleased ; and to make good their
mischievous position, they explored the works of the
old heretical writers, to show how much of the Bible
was interpolated or uninspired, and how much might
safely be called in question. Never indeed was such
^•iolence done to the faith of a Protestant community,
or the belief of men in such danger of being un-
settled. Onward went the conflict till 1S30, when
Dr. Thomson, exhausted by his almost superhuman
efforts, fell dead at his post with the banner in his
hand, which was immediately caught and raised aloft
by Mr. Haldane. It was much indeed that he had
been able hitherto to keep pace -with the onward
stride of such a leader. But after many a change
and trial, truth in the end prevailed ; the canon of
inspiration was more securely settled than ever, and
the Bible Societj' recovered from its errors and re-
stored to healthfulness and efficiency. During this
long controversy, Mr. Haldane's exertions, both on
the platform and in the press, were so numerous,
that we can only particularize his chief publications
upon the subject. In 1825 appeared his "Jiefieza
of the Conduct of the British and Foreign Bible So-
ciety relatin-eto the Apocrypha, and to tJieir Administra-
tion on the Continent; vith an Answer to the Rev.
C. Simeon, and Obser\"ations on the Cambridge Re-
marks." This was aftenvards followed by a Second
Heziczi', in a pamphlet of more than 200 pages, in
consequence of a Letter addressed to Robert Haldane,
Esq., by Dr. Steinkopff, impugning the statements
of the first. A third work which he published was
entitled Authenticity and Inspiration oft/ie Scriptures.
A fourth was a Raiew of Dr. Pye Smith's Defence
of Dr. Haffna's Preface, and of his Denial of the
Divine Authority of Part of the Canon, and of the
full Inspiration of the Holy Scriptures, by Alexander
Carson. This work, written by a friend, served as
a sequel to his own on the Authenticity and Inspira-
tion of the Scriptures. Several other works by the
same Dr. Carson, on the canon of Scripture, were
published by Mr. Haldane during the course of the
controversy, at his own expense. After these, a
series of pamphlets appeared from the pen of Mr.
Haldane, in which he answered separately the Rev.
John Scott of Hull, Mr. Gumey of Nor^vich, the
Rev. Samuel Wilks, and other defenders of the
British and Foreign Bible Society.

We must now hasten over the latter days of Hal-
dane, although they were characterized by the same
high sense of duty and devoted activity that had dis-
tinguished his whole career. Before the Apocrj-phal
controversy had ended, he published a Refutation
of the Heretical Doctrine promulgated by the Ret:
Edward Irving respecting the Person and Atonement
of the Lord Jesus Christ; a work, the title of which
will sufficiently explain the purport. In 1834 he
published a new edition of his Ez-idences of Chris-
tianity, to which many valuable chapters were
added that had not appeared in the original Avork of
1S16. After this he addressed himself to the re-

198

ANNF. IIALKET

vision of his greatest work, tlie Exfosttion of the
EpislU to the Romnfu, upon which he had been more
or IciS employed for thirty years, and pubhshed it,
greatly improved and enlarj^cd, in 1S35. The fact
of a lengthened exposition upon such a subject having
reached a fifth edition within seven years was a full
attestation of its theological merits. It might have
been hoped that his controversial warfare had now
ended, and that his life would have been left undis-
turbed to those important theological investigations
which he so greatly delighted to prosecute. But, in
1838, a generous love of fair play and sympathy
for the oppressed, obliged him once more to buckle
on his armour. The clergy of the Established church
in Edinburgh were paid, as they had long been, by
an annuity-tax levied upon every householder within
the royalty of the city. But at this the dissenters
and seceders had demurred, and were now in open
opposition; while many, from mistaken conscientious-
ness, or allured by the klat of martyrdom divested
of its more serious pains and penalties, were willing
to incur the risk of fine or even of imprisonment
rather than support any longer what they called ' ' the
State church." Thus the Established clergy of
Edinburgh were surrounded by a blockade, and
threatened to be reduced by famine. It was then
that Haldane, himself a dissenter, hastened to the
rescue. He boldly assailed the coalition that had
been formed for the non-payment of the annuity-tax;
grounding his argument upon the first seven verses
of the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul's epistle to the
Romans, and startled the recusants by proving from
this authority that they were guilty of rebellion
against Christ himself His appeal was addressed
through one of the Edinburgh newspapers, and
eleven letters followed, in which he pursued the
same line of argument. So successful were these
addresses that the tide of popular feeling was turned,
the coalition broken, and its leader silenced. It
would be well for the Established clergy of Edin-
burgh, if again, when the hostile feeling has been
renewed, they could find such another advocate.

Old age and its decay were now doing their
appointed work, and by 1840 Mr. Haldane was
obliged to desist from his wonted duties as preacher
in the chapel which he had erected at Auchingray.
But to the last he continued to interest himself in
religious and missionary movements, and to revise
and improve his Exposition of the Romans, which
he justly regarded as the most important of all his
writings. Thus he continued to the close of his life,
on the 1 2th of December, 1842, when he died,
rejoicing in the faith he had preached, and the love
and Christian charity which his whole life had so
beautifully exemplified. His remains lie interred in
one of the aisles of the venerable cathedral of Glas-
gow, awaiting the joyful resurrection of the just.
Only six months after his widow also died, and her
body was buried in the same vault with her husband.
Their only child, Margaret, left one son and three
daughters, the grandchildren of Robert Haldane.

HALKET, L.\DY Ax.ne, whose extensive learning
and voluminous theological writings place her in
the first rank of female authors, was the daughter of
Mr. Robert Murray, of the family of Tullibardine,
and was born at London, January 4, 1622. She
may be said to have been trained up in habits of
scholastic study from her very infancy, her father
being preceptor to Charles I. (and afterwards provost
of Eton College), and her mother, who was allied to
the noble family of Perth, acting as sub-governess to
the Duke of Gloucester and the Princess Elizabeth.
Lady Anne was instructed by her parents in ever)'

— BASIL HALL.

polite and liberal science; but theology and physic
were her favourite subjects ; and she became so pro-
ficient in the latter, and in the more unfeminine
science of surgery, that the most eminent professional
men, as well as invalids of the first rank, both in
Britain and on the Continent, sought her advice.
Being, as might have been expected, a staunch
royalist, her family and herself suffered with the mis-
fortunes of Charles. She was married on March 2d,
1656, to Sir James Halket, to whom she bore four
children, all of whom died young, with the exception
of her eldest son Robert. During her pregnancy
with the latter she wrote an admirable tract. The
Mo.'her's Will to the Unborn Child, under the im-
pression of her not surs-iving her deliver)-. Her
husband died in the year 1670; but she survived till
April 22d, 1699, and left no less than twenty-one
volumes behind her, chiefly on religious subjects, one
of which, her Meditations, was printed at Edinburgh
in 1 701. She is said to have been a woman of
singular but unaffected piety, and of the sweetest
simplicity of manners; and these qualities, together
with her great talents and learning, drew upon her
the universal esteem and respect of her contemporaries
of all ranks.

HALL, C.A.PT.\iN B.A.SIL, R.X., was the son of
Sir James Hall, Bart., of Dunglass, in the county
of Haddington, and M.P. for the borough of St.
Michael's, Cornwall, of whom a notice will be
given in this collection. Basil was bom in Edin-
burgh in 1788. His education, which was chiefly
conducted at the high-school of his native city,
appears to have given little promise of future literary
distinction; its monotony he felt to be a very weari-
ness; and, instead of seeking a high place among his
fellows, he preferred the middle of the class, be-
cause it was nearest to the comfortable fire. Still,
however, his character was marked by considerable
originality and independence ; a startling proof of
which he once gave to the master, by desiring to
have the hours for study and recreation left to his
own disposal, instead of his being tied down to the
regulations of the school. As might be expected,
this disregard of the laws of the Medes and Persians
fared as it deserved, and he continued to doze by the
fireside. Happily, however, his aim in life had been
early chosen, so that he could think of something
else than Latin conjugations. He had resolved to
be a sailor, and every holiday that released him from
the class-room was spent by the sea-shore, and in
frequent cruises with the fishermen of the coast on
which his father's estate was situated.

This early predilection of Basil Hall was soon
gratified; for, in iSo2, when he had only reached his
fourteenth year, he was entered into the royal navy.
On leaving home, "Now," said his father, putting
a blank-book into one hand of the strijiling, and a
pen into the other, "you are fairly afloat in the
world; you must begin to write a journal." Little
did Sir James know how zealously this judicious
advice would be followed out, and what fruits would
germinate from such a small beginning. The educa-
tion that was fitted for such a mind as his had now
fairly commenced. As his biographer has justly
observed, "The opportunities which the naval pro-
fession affords, both for scientific pursuits and the
study of men and manners in various climes, hap-
pened, in Captain Hall's case, to lead him into
scenes of more than usual interest ; or perhaps it
would be more correct to state that his eager and
indefatigable pursuit of knowledge induced him to
seek every means of extending the sphere of his ob-
servations." After having been sLs years at sea,

i

BASIL HALL.

199

during which long period he had been only twelve
days at home, he received a lieutenant's commission
in 1808; and, being desirous of active service, he
procured his transference from a ship of the line to
the frigate Endymion, employed at that lime in tran-
sporting troops for Sir John Moore's army in Spain.
There Lieutenant Hall witnessed many heart-stirring
events, not the least of which was that of the heroic
Moore borne dying from the battle of Corunna. Of
the whole of this conflict, in which he was a spec-
tator, he has given an interesting account in his
Fra'^ments of Voyages and Travels.

The rest of Basil Hall's naval career is so well
known from his numerous works, that nothing more
is necessary than merely to advert to its leading
points. In 18 14 he was promoted to the rank of
commander, and in 181 7 to tliat of post-captain.
Pending the period of advance from a lieutenancy,
he was acting commander of the Theban on the East
India station, in 1813, when he accompanied its
admiral, Sir Samuel Hood, in a journey over the
greater part of the island of Java. On his return
home he was appointed to the command of iheZyra,
a small gun-brig that, in 1816, formed part of the
armament in the embassy of Lord Amherst to China.
On the landing of the suite, and while his lordship
was prosecuting his inland journey to Pekin, Captain
Hall used the opportunity by exploring those won-
ders of the adjacent seas, which as yet were little, if
at all, known to the "barbarians" of the "outer
circle." During this cruise his visit to the Great
Loo-Choo Island will continue to be memorable,
from the Eden-like scenery and primitive innocent
race which it presented to the eyes of its astonished
visitors. Even Napoleon himself was justified in
doubting whether such a community existed, when
he was informed by Captain Hall that they not only
used no money, but possessed also no lethal weapon,
not even a poniard or an arrow. The ex-emperor
indeed was in the right, for subsequent accounts have
shown that the Loo-Chooans must have cunningly
imposed both upon Hall and Captain Maxwell, by
whom iheA/eeste\va.s commanded in the expedition,
and that these gentle islanders used not only weapons
and money, but were among the most merciless pirates
in the Yellow Sea. On his return to England in 1817
Captain Hall published A Voyage of Discovery to the
Western Coast of Corea and the Great Loo- Choo Island
in the Japan Sea, a work so novel and interesting in
its materials, as well as so attractive in style, that it
rapidly secured a wide popularity. In this first
edition there was an appendix containing charts and
various hydrographical and scientific notices, which
were omitted in the second, published in 1820. In
1827 the work appeared in a still more popular form,
being the first volume of Constablis Miscellany, while
it was enriched with the highly interesting account
of his interview with Napoleon at St. Helena, when
the Lyra was on its return from the Chinese Sea.

In 1820 Captain Hall, in the ship Conway, under
his command, proceeded to Valparaiso, being charged
to that effect by the British government. It was a
])eriod of intense interest to the Spanish colonies of
South America, engaged as they were in that event-
ful warfare with the mother countrj' by which their
independence was secured, and in such a contest
Britain could not look on as an unconcerned spec-
tator. After having touched at Teneriffe, Rio-de-
Janeiro, and the River Plate, and remained at anchor
in the principal seaport of the Chilian coast, accord-
ing to orders, he was next sent in 182 1 from Val-
paraiso towards Lima, being commanded to call by
the way at the intermediate ports on the coast of
Chili and Peru. The object of this cruise was to

inquire into the British interests at these places; to
assist and protect any of his Britannic majesty's
trading subjects; and, in a general way, to ascertain
the commercial resources of the district. Having
discharged these pacific but important duties to the
full satisfaction of government, he returned to England
early in 1823, and published the result of his obser-
vations under the title of Extracts from a Journal
-written on the Coasts of Chili, I'erii, and Mexico, in
the years 1820, 1821, and 1822. This work, which
afterwards constituted the second and third volumes
of Constable's Miscellany, contained not only a highly
interesting account of the people of these countries,
and the events of the war of South American in-
dependence, but a memoir on the navigation of the
South American station, a valuable collection of
scientific observations, and an article " On the
Duties of Naval Commanders-in-chief on the South
American Station, before the appointment of Con-
suls."

Captain Hall had now established for himself a
higher reputation than that of a brave sailor, skilful
navigator, and rising man in his profession; his scien-
tific acquirements, which he made by close study and
careful observation during the course of his profes-
sional service in eveiy quarter of the world, had
insured him the favourable notice of the most eminent
in the several departments of physics, while the liter-
ary excellence of the works he had already published
had given him an honoured place among the most
popular writers of the day. On this account, while
he was on shore, it was as an author, and in the
society of authors; and in this respect his journal
affords such a mass of information that we wonder
how a sailor could have written it. But every phase
of intellectual society, every movement, every utter-
ance, was as carefully noted by him as if he had been
on the look-out upon the mast-head amidst a np'»
ocean studded with rocks, shoals, and sunny i^^:.iids.
In this way, amongst other information, he -ias given
us one of the most minute, and at the same time most
graphic and interesting, accounts which we possess
of the domestic life of Sir Walter Scott. As he was
living on shore at the time, he spent the Christmas
of 1824 at Abbotsford, with the "Great Unknown,"
while the mansion itself, which was newly finished
and now to be inaugurated, had a greater concourse
of distinguished guests than it could well contain.
"Had I a hundred pens," exclaims Hall on this
occasion, "each of which at the same time should
separately write do%vn an anecdote, I could not hope
to record one-half of those which our host, to use
Spenser's expression, 'welled out alway.'" But
what man could do he did on this occasion; and
during these ten or twelve happy days, every hour
found him on the alert, and every evening occupied
in bringing up his log. In this way his Abbotsford
Journal alone would form a delightful volume.
"Certainly, Sir Walter Scott," observes his son-in-
law and biographer, "was never subjected to sharper
observation than that of his ingenious friend Captain
Basil Hall." But while thus observant, Hall could
also be as frolicsome a Jack-ashore as ever landed
after a two years' cruise, and this he showed when
Hogmanay-night came; that night often so destruc-
tive of merriment, because people are then, as it were,
enjoined by proclamation, like that of Othello in
Cyprus, to "put themselves in triumph." "It is
true enough," says Hall, when philosophizing upon
this pers'erse tendency, "that it is to moralize too
deeply to take things in this way, and to conjure
up, with an ingenuity of self-annoyance, these
blighting images. So it is, and so I acted; and
as //// heart was light and imloaded with any care,

DASIL HALL.

I exerted myself to cany through the ponderous
cveninj^; ponderous only because it was one set
ajiart to be light and gay. I danced reels like
a wild man, snapped my fingers, and hallooed
with the best of them; flirted with the young ladies
at all hazards; and with the elilcr ones — of which
there was a store — I talked and laughed finely."
While mentioning Scott and Hall in connection,
it may l>e as well to state that the acquaintance-
ship which they enjoyed during these brigiit but
brief festal meetings at Abbotsford, was not in-
terrupted, but rather drawn more closely, by the
distressing events that clouded the latter years of Sir
Walter. When Scott's health was so utterly broken
down that a voy.age to Naples, and a winter's resid-
ence there, were prescribed as a last resource. Cap-
tain Hall, unknown to his friend, and prompted by
his own kind heart, applied on this occasion to Sir
James Graham, first lord of the admiralty, and
suggested how fit and graceful an act it would be on
the part of government to place a frigate at Scott's
disposal for his voyage to the Mediterranean. The
application was successful; and Sir Walter, amidst
the pleasure he felt at such a distinction, could not
help exclaiming of Hall, "That curious fellow, who
takes charge of every one's business without neglect-
ing his own, has done a great deal for me in this
matter." Here Captain Hall's good offices did not
terminate, for he preceded Sir Walter to Portsmouth,
to make preparations for his arrival and comfortable
embarkation. Of the few days which .Sir Walter
Scott spent at Portsmouth on this occasion, the cap-
tain has given a full account in the third volume of
his Third Series of I 'oyaf^es and Travels.

In the interview which Hall was privileged to
cniov with Napoleon Bonaparte at .St. Helena, and
ar..:d,i the abrupt transitions that occurred in the
,-iu: 'ii.ld dialogue, where he was catechized more
r'\r, :•'•■ t!v i • -r he had been before, he records the
luW'- ' , so closely connected with his own

pet.- . — " Bonaparte then said, 'Are you

marrici: ' . i u;>on my replying in the negative,
continued, ' Why noi ? WLat is the reason you don't
marry?' I wai somewhat at a loss for a good answer,
and remained silent. H»; repeated his question, how-
ever, in such a way tliat I was forced to say some-
thing, and told him I had b*en to ■ busy al! my life;
besides which, I was not in cucunistances to marry.
He did not seem to understand n."*, and ajim wished
to kn(jw why I was a bachelor. I »old him I was
too poor a man to marry. 'Aha!' he ci. ;d, ' I now
see — want of money — no money — yes, yes!' and
laughed heartily, in which I joined, of course,
though, to say the tnith, I did not altogether see
the humorous point of the joke." We do not wonder
at Hall's blindness, for it was no joke at all to have
been compelled to remain so long in celibacy (he was
now in his thirtieth year), without a definite prospect
of emancipation. Thus matters continued for eight
years longer, when, in 1825, he married Margaret,
youngest daughter of .Sir John Hunter, consul-
general for Spain.

Hitherto the career of Captain Hall had been a
mixed one, being spent partly on sea and partly on
.shore, while the duties of his profession were alter-
nated with the study of the sciences and the acquire-
ment of languages; and whatever land he visited in
the course of his many voyages, called forth from
him a descriptive work, such as few literary landsmen
could have written. And yet, with all this incessant
mental action, and overflow of intellectual labour,
the details of his profession had been so carefully
studied, and its manifold requirements so well at-
tended to, that he had attained a naval rank and

reputation only accorded to those who have devoted
themselves exclusively to the sea service. Now,
however, we must briefly trace the rest of his life on
shore, when, as a married man, he had settled down,
and, in the w^ords of Bacon, given hostages to for-
tune. By settling down, however, we are to under-
stand nothing else than his abandonment of the naval
profession, for his active inquiring spirit would have
carried him into every corner of the earth, had time
and opportunity permitted. In 1827 he repaired
with his wife and child to the United States, in which
they spent above a year, and where he travelled
during that time nearly nine thousand miles by land
and water. The fruits of his obser\-ations were given
soon after his return, in his Travels in N^ci'th America,
in three vols. 8vo, which he published in 1829. His
next work was Fragments of Voyages and Travels,
which formed three serial publications, each con-
sisting of 3 vols. i2mo. In 1834 he was travelling
in Italy, and at Rome he formed the acquaintance-
ship of the distinguished Countess of Purgstall, who
had been an early friend of his father. This lady,
originally Miss Cranstoun, a native of Scotland, and
sister of George Cranstoun, advocate, afterwards
Lord Corehouse, was so famed for her eccentric
liveliness, beauty, wit, and accomplishments, as to
have been supposed by many to have been the ori-
ginal Diana Vernon, who so fascinated the novel-
reading world in the pages of Rob Roy. Although
this identity is denied by the biographer of Sir Walter
.Scott, it is certain that she was the early friend of
the great novelist, and bore a strong family resem-
blance to the subsequent heroine of his creation.
In 1797 she was married to Godfrey Wenceslaus,
Count of Purgstall, an Austrian nobleman, possessing
large establishments in Styria. But although sur-
rounded with almost regal splendour, the latter part
of the life of this once happy creature was a mourn-
ful one; for first her husband died in 1811, and finally,
a few years afterwards, her only son, a youth of high
promise and attainments, at the early age of nineteen,
by which death the illustrious race of Purgstall was
extinct; and the forlorn wife and mother, who had
vowed to her son upon his death-bed that her dust
should finally be mingled with his, resisted every
solicitation of her early friends to return to her native
Scotland, and preferred a residence for the rest of
her days in her now lonely and deserted Styria.
Captain Hall gladly accepted an invitation to visit
her al her schloss or castle of Heinfeld, near Gratz;
and from the journal which he kept there he after-
wards published his work of Schloss Heinfeld, or a
Winter in Leaver Styria. The lady had now reached
the advanced age of seventy-eight, but her recollec-
tions of early days were still so fresh and vivid, that
they formed the chief theme of her conversation,
while she found in Captain Hall a delighted listener.
"The countess's anecdotes," he says, "relating to
this period (of her intimacy with Sir Walter Scott),
were without number; and I bitterly regretted, when
it was too late, that I had not commenced at once
making memoranda of what she told us. It was
indeed quite clear to us that this accomplished and
highly-gifted lady w-as the first person who not
merely encouraged him to persevere, but actually
directed and chastised tliose incipient efforts which,
when duly matured, and rendered confident by in-
dependent exercise, and repeated though cautious
trials, burst forth at last from all control, and gave
undisputed law to the whole world of letters." It
was at this huge Styrian castle, also, that Captain
Hall spent his forty-sixth birth-day, upon which
occasion he gives us the following retrospect of his
past existence: — "I have enjoyed to the full each

DASIL HALL SIR JAMES HAI.L.

successive period of my life, as it has rolled over me;
and just as I began to feel that I had had nearly
enough of any one period, new circumstances, more
or less fortunate and agreeable, began to start up,
and to give me fresher, and, generally speaking, more
lively interest in the coming period than in that which
had just elapsed. As a middy, I was happy — as a
lieutenant, happier — as a captain, happiest ! I re-
member thinking that the period from 1815 to 1823,
during which I commanded different ships of war,
could not by any possibility be exceeded in enjoy-
ment; and yet I have found the dozen years which
succeeded greatly happier, though in a very different
way. It is upon this that the whole matter turns.
Different seasons of life, like different seasons of the
year, require different dresses; and if these be mis-
placed, there is no comfort. Were I asked to review
my happy life, and to say what stage of it I enjoyed
most, I think I should pitch upon that during which
I passed my days in the scientific, literary, and poli-
tical society of London, and my nights in dancing
and flirting till sunrise, in the delicious paradise of
Almack's, or the still more bewitching ball-rooms of
Edinburgh ! Perhaps next best was the quiet half-
year spent in the Schloss Heinfeld. What the future
is to produce is a secret in the keeping of that close
fellow. Time; but I await the decision with cheer-
fulness and humble confidence, sure that -whatever
is sent will be for the best, be it what it may." —
How blessed a boon is our ignorance of futurity I
Through this ignorance, years of happiness were yet
in store for Captain Hall, and at their close "suffi-
cient for the day were the evils thereof."

Hitherto we have noticed the carefulness with
which he had been accustomed, wherever he w-ent,
to keep a daily journal. The advantage of this plan
is obvious in all his writings. Every object he de-
scribes as if he had just left it, and every event as if
its last echo had not yet died away. Thus, his
Schloss Heinfeld, which is such a lively fascinating
work, was but an episode in one of three trips to the
Continent, and out of these visits he purposed to
make a whole series of similar writings from the
copious memorials he had taken of his ever)--day
movements. This, however, he did not accomplish,
and his last production, entitled Patchwork, in three
volumes, was published in 1S41. It is a light sketchy
collection of tales, recollections of his travel in foreign
countries, and essays, and evinces that his intellect
was still as Wgorous and his heart as buoyant as ever.
But here the memoir of Captain Hall must be abruptly
closed. Mental aberration, perhaps the result of so
much activity and toil, super\-ened, after which his
existence was but a blank; and, being necessarily
placed in confinement, he died in the Royal Hospital,
Haslar, Portsmouth, on the iith of September, 1844,
at the age of fifty-six.

In the preceding notice, instead of enumerating
the whole of Basil Hall's numerous writings, we have
confined ourselves to those that were connected with
his personal history. Allusion has already been made
to his scientific researches, which he commenced as
a young midshipman, and continued to the end of
his career. Besides the interspersion of these re-
searches among his popular works, he produced
several detached papers, of which the following list
has been given: — An Account of the Geology of the
Table Mountain ; Details of Experiments made -with
an Invariable Pendulum in South America and other
Places, for determining the Figure of the Earth;
Observations made on a Comet at Valparaiso. Be-
sides these three papers, which were published in
the Transactions of the Royal Society, Captain Hall
produced — A Sketch of the Professional and Sciattific

Objects ivhich might be aimed at in a Voyage of Re-
search; "A Letter on the Trade-winds," in the Ap-
pendix to DanieWs Meteorology ; several scientific
papers in Bre^i'ster's Journal, Jamesone's Journal,
and the Encyclopedia Britannica. It is only neces-
sary to add to this account, that Captain Hall was
a fellow of the Royal Societies of London and Edin-
burgh, and a member of the Astronomical Society
of London.

HALL, Sir J.vmes, Bart., father of Captain Sir
Basil Hall, R.X., the subject of the preceding
notice, was born at Dunglass in East Lothian, on
the 17th January-, 1761. He was the eldest son of
Sir John Hall, who had married his cousin, Mag-
dalen, daughter to Sir Robert Pringle of Stitchell
in Berwickshire. Sir James received a private
education until his twelfth year, when he was sent
by his father to a public school in the neighbour-
hood of London, where he had the good fortune
to be under the care and superintendence of his
uncle. Sir John Pringle, the king's physician. He
succeeded to the baronetcy by the death of his
father, in July, 1776, and much about the same
period entered himself in Christ's College, Cam-
bridge, where he remained for some years. He
then proceeded with his tutor, the Rev. Mr.
Brand, on a tour on the Continent, whence he re-
turned to Edinburgh, when twenty years old, and
lived there with his tutor until he became of age,
attending, at the same time, some of the classes of
the Edinburgh university. In 17S2 Sir James
Hall made a second tour on the continent of Europe,
where he remained for more than three years, gra-
dually acquiring that accurate information in geology,
chemistr}-, and Gothic architecture, which he after-
wards made so useful to the world. During this
period he visited the courts of Europe, and made
himself acquainted with their scientific men. In his
rambles he had occasion to meet with the adventurer
Ledyard; the interview between them, its cause and
consequence, are, with a sense of gratitude and jus-
tice not often witnessed on similar occasions, detailed
in the journals and correspondence of that singular
man; and the scene is so honourable to the feelings
of Sir James Hall, that we cannot avoid quoting it
in Ledyard's own words :

"Permit me to relate to you an incident. About
a fortnight ago Sir James Hall, an English gentle-
man, on his way from Paris to Cherbourg, stopped
his coach at our door, and came up to my chamber.
I was in bed, at six o'clock in the morning, but
having flung on my robe de chambre, I met him at
the door of the ante-chamber — I was glad to see
him, but surprised. He obser\-ed, that he had
endeavoured to make up his opinion of me with as
much exactness as possible, and concluded that no
kind of visit whatever would surprise me. I could
do no otherwise than remark that his opinion sur-
prised me at least, and the conversation took another
turn. In walking across the chamber he laughingly
put his hand on a six-livre piece and a louis d'or
that lay on my table, and with a half-stifled blush,
asked me how I was in the money way. Blushes
commonly beget blushes, and I blushed partly be-
cause he did, and partly on other accounts. 'If
fifteen guineas,' said he, interrupting the answer he
had demanded, ' will be of any senice to you, there
they are,' and he put them on the table. 'I am a
traveller myself, and though I have some fortune to
support my tra%-els, yet I have been so situated as to
want money, which you ought not to do — you have
my address in London.' He then wished me a good
morning and left me. This gentleman was a total

SIR JAMES HALL.

stranger to the situation of my finances, and one
that I had, by mere accident, met at an ordinary in
Paris.'"

The sum was extremely acceptable to Ledyard,
for the consumption of the six-livre piece and the
louis d'or would have left him utterly destitute; but
he had no more expectation or right to assistance
from Sir James Hall tlian (to use his own simile)
from the Khan of Tartar)-. On his return to Scot-
land, Sir James Hall married, in 1786, the Lady
Helen Douglas, second daughter of Dunbar, Earl of
Selkirk. Living a life of retirement. Sir James com-
menced his connection with the Royal Society of
Edinburgh, of which he was for some time president,
and enriched its Transactions by accounts of e.xperi-
raents on a bold and extensive scale. The results
were in many instances so important that they de-
serve to be cursorily mentioned in this memoir, which,
treating of a scientific man, would be totally void of
interest without some reference to them. He was a
supporter of the theory of Dr. Hutton, who main-
tained the earth to be the production of heat, and all
its geological formations the natural consequences of
fusion ; and his experiments may be said to be special
evidence collected for the support of this cause.
Among the minute investigations made by the sup-
porters of both sides of the controversy, it had been
discovered by the Neptunians, that in some granites,
where quartz and feldspar were united, the respective
cr)-stals were found mutually to impress each other —
therefore, that they must have been in a state of solu-
tion together, and must have congealed simul-
taneously; but as feldspar fuses with less heat than is
required for quartz, the latter, if both were melted
by fire, must have returned to its solidity previously
to the former, and so the feldspar would have yielded
entirely to the impression of the crystals of the quartz.
Sir James Hall discovered that when the two sub-
stances were pulverized and mixed in the proportions
in which they usually occur in granite, a heat very
little superior to that required to melt the feldspar
alone, fused both, the feldspar acting in some re-
spects as a solvent or flux to the quartz. Making
allowance for the defects of art, the result of the ex-
periment, while it could not be used as a positive
proof to the theory of the Huttonians, ser\-ed to de-
fend them from what might have proved a conclusive
argument of their opponents. But the other experi-
ments were founded on wider views, and served to
illustrate truths more important. The characteristic
of the theory of Dr. Hutton, distinguishing it from
those of others who maintained the formation of the
earth by means of fire, was, that perceiving the prac-
tical effect of heat on most of the bodies which formed
the crust of the earth, to be calcination, or change of
state, and not fusion, or change of form, and know-
ing from the experiments of Dr. Black, that, in the
case of limestones, the change depended on the sepa-
ration of the carbonic acid gas from the earth, the
theorist concluded, that by a heat beyond what
human agency could procure, calcareous earths
might be fused, provided the gas were prevented
from escaping by means of strong pressure. Sir
James Hall, conceiving it possible that a sufficient
heat might be procured to exemplify the theory on
some calcareous bodies, commenced a .series of ex-
periments in 1798, which he prosecuted through suc-
cess and disappointment for seven years. The result
of these experiments was announced in an elaborate
paper, read before the Royal Society of Edinburgh,
and published in the Transactions of that body in

' ^if' ""^ Travels of John Ledyard, from his "JouTmaU
and Correspondence, 1828, p. 223, 224.

1S06; they were in number 156, some successful,
others productive of the disappointment to which
accident frequently exposes the zealous chemist —
conducted with considerable danger, great expense,
and unvarying patience and labour, and on the whole
singularly satisfactory in their results. ITie plan
followed by Sir James was, to procure a tube which
might afford a strong resistance to Inward pressure,
for which purpose he alternately tried iron and f>or-
celain; one end being closed up, pulverized chalk or
other limestone was inserted, and the space betwixt
its surface and the mouth of the tube being closely
packed with some impersious substance, such as clay
baked and pounded, fused metal, hue, the open ex-
tremity was hermeticaUy sealed, and the end which
contained the substance to be experimented upon,
subjected to the action of a fiimace. The iron or
the porcelain was frequently found insufficient to
sustain the pressure; the substance rammed into the
tube to prevent the longitudinal escape of the gas
had not always the effect, nor could Sir James, even
in the most refined of his experiments, prevent a
partial though sometimes scarcely perceptible escape
of gas; yet the general results showed the truth of
the theor}' on which he had proceeded to act, with
singular applicability; — the first successful experiment
procured him from a piece of common chalk, broken
to powder, a hard stony mass, which dissolved in
muriatic acid with violent effervescence — sometimes
the fruit of his labour was covered with crj-stals
\Tsible to the naked eye — pro^•ing fusion and re-for-
mation as a limestone mineraL The results of these
experiments, as applicable to the formation of the
earth, were reduced to a table, in which, by a pre-
sumption that the pressure of water had been the
agent of nature, the author considers that 1700 feet
of sea, with the assistance of heat, is sufficient for
the formation of limestone — that by 3000 feet a com-
plete marble maybe formed, die; — it maybe remarked
that a fragment of marble manufactured by Sir James
Hall in the course of his experiments, so far deceived
the workman employed to give it a polish, that, act-
ing imder the presimiption that the fragment had
been dug up in Scotland, he remarked, that if it were
but a little whiter, the mine where it was found
might be very valuable.

In 1S08 Sir James Hall represented the burgh
of St. Michael's in Cornwall ; but after the dissolu-
tion of parliament in 1812, he did not again offer
himself as a candidate. In 1813 he published his
well-known Origin, Principles, and History 0/ Gothic
Architecture, in one volume quarto, accompanied
with plates and illustrations. It contained an en-
largement and correction of the contents of a paper
on the same subject, delivered before the Royal
Society of Edinburgh in the year 1797. This ele-
gant volume is the most popular and esteemed work
on the subject of which it treats, both in the par-
ticular theory it espouses, and the interest of its
details. The origin and formation of Gothic archi-
tecture had given birth to many theories, accounting
for it on the imitative principles which guide the
formation of all architecture, some ingenious, but
none satisfactory. Warburton pointed out the simi-
larity of Gothic aisles to avenues of growing trees.
Milner adopted the theory propounded in Bentham's
History of Ely Cathedral, that the pointed arch was
formed by the interlacing of two semicircular arches;
and Murphy referred the whole formation of Gothic
architecture to an imitation of the form of the pyra-
mid. Sir James Hall perceived that no form could
be appropriately assumed in Gothic architecture
which might not be constructed in wicker-ware; and
considered that the earliest stone buildings of this

SIR JAMES HALL THOMAS HALYBURTOX.

peculiar form were imitations of the natural forms
assumed in constructions of boughs and twigs. "It
happened," he says, in giving a lively account of the
circumstance which hinted such a theory, "that the
peasants of the country through which I was travel-
ling were employed in collecting and bringing home
the long rods or poles, which they make use of to
support their vines, and these were to be seen in
every village, standing in bundles, or waving partly
loose in carts. It occurred to me that a nistic dwel-
ling might be constructed of such rods, bearing a
resemblance to works of Gothic architecture, and
from which the peculiar forms of that style might
have been derived. This conjecture was at first
employed to account for the main parts of the struc-
ture, and for its general appearance only ; but after
a diligent investigation, carried on at intervals, with
the assistance of friends, both in the collection of
materials, and the solution of difficulties, I have been
enabled to reduce even the most intricate forms of
this elaborate style to the same simple origin ; and
to account for every feature belonging to it, from an
imitation of wicker-work, modified according to the
principles just laid down, as applicable to architec-
ture of every sort." Sir James, who was never fond
of trusting to the power of theory without practice,
erected with twigs and boughs a very beautiful
Gothic edifice, from which he drew conclusions
strikingly illustrative of his theory. But it must be
allowed that he has carried it in some respects a
little beyond the bounds of certainty, and that, how-
ever much our tasteful ancestors continued to follow
the course which chance had dictated of the imita-
tion of vegetable formations in stone, many forms
were imitated, which were never attempted in the
wicker edifices of our far-distant progenitors. A
specimen of this reasoning is to be found in the
author's tracing the origin of those graceful spherical
angles which adorn the interior parts of the bends
of the mullions in the more ornate windows of Gothic
churches, to an imitation of the curled form assumed
by the bark when in a state of decay, and ready to
drop from the bough. The similitude is fanciful,
and may be pronounced to be founded on incorrect
data, as the ornament in question cannot be of prior
date to that of the second period of Gothic architec-
ture, and was unknown till many ages after the twig
edifices were forgotten. The theory forms a check
on the extravagancies of modern Gothic imitations,
and it were well if those who perpetrate such pro-
ductions would follow the advice of Sir James Hall,
and correct their work by a comparison with nature.
This excellent and useful man,^ after a lingering ill-
ness of three and a half years, died at Edinburgh on
the 23d day of June, 1832. Of a family at one time
very numerous, he left behind him five children, of
whom the second was the distinguished Captain
Basil Hall.

1 The following anecdote of Sir James Hall, which has been
related to us by the individual concerned in it, appears to be char-
acteristic of the philosopher. Our friend had become interested
in some improvements suggested upon the quadrant by a shoe-
maker named Gavin White, resident at Aberdour in Fife; and
he sent an account of them to Sir James Hall, desiring to have
his opinion of them. A few days after, Sir James Hall visited
our friend, and, w ith little preface, addressed him as follows :
" Sir, I suppose you thought me a proper person to write to on
this subject, because I am president of the Royal Society. I
beg to Inform you that I am quite ignorant of the quadrant,
and therefore unable to estimate the merit of Mr. White. I
have a son, however, a very clever fellow, now at Loo Choo:
if he were here, he would be your man. Good morning, Sir."
It occurs to the editor of these volumes, that few philosophers
of even greater distinction than Sir James Hall, would have
had the candour to confess ignorance upon any subject — al-
though unquestionably to do so is one of the surest marks of
superior acquirements and intellect.

203

HALYBURTON, Thomas, an eminent autlior
and divine, and professor of divinity in the univer-
sity of St. Andrews, was bom in December, 1674,
at Dupplin in the parish of Aberdalgy, near Perth,
of which parish his father had been clergyman for
many years, but being a "nonconformist," was
ejected after the Restoration. Upon his death, in
1682, his widow emigrated to Holland with Thomas,
her only son, then eight years old, on account of the
persecutions to which those of their persuasion were
still exposed in their native country. This event
proved fortunate for the subject of this notice, who
attained uncommon proficiency in all branches of
classical literature. lie returned to Scotland in
1687, and after completing the usual curriculum of
university education, turned his views to the church,
and entered u])on the proper course of study for that
profession. lie was licensed in 1699, and in the
following year was appointed minister of the parish
of Ceres, in Fifeshire. Here he continued till 1710,
distinguished by the piety of his conduct and the
zeal with which he performed the duties of this
charge, when his health becoming impaired in conse-
quence of his pastoral exertions, he was appointed,
upon the recommendation of the synod of Fife, to the
professor's chair of divinity in St. Leonard's College
at St. Andrews, by patent from Queen Anne. About
this period Deism had partly begim to come into
fashion in Scotland, in imitation of the free-thinking
in England and on the Continent, where it had been
revived in the preceding centurj-. Many writers of
great learning and talent had adopted this belief, and
lent their pens either directly or indirectly to its pro-
pagation, the unhappy consequences of which were
beginning to display themselves on the public mind.
To counteract their pernicious influence Mr. Haly-
burton assiduously applied himself, and on his induc-
tion to the professor's chair delivered an inaugural
discourse, taking for his subject a recent publication
by the celebrated Dr. Pitcairn of Edinburgh, contain-
ing an attack on revealed religion under the feigned
name of Epistola Archunedis ad Rcgem Gdonem alba
Grceciz reperia, anno crm Christiana, 1688, A. Pit-
car nio, M.D. 2it viilgo crcditiir, aiictore. One of the
earliest, and perhaps the most powerful of all the
deistical writers that have yet appeared, was Edward,
Lord Herbert of Cherbury, in Shropshire (elder
brother of the amiable George Herbert, the well-
known English poet), who figured conspicuously in
the political world in the time of Charles L, and
wrote several works in disproof of the truth or neces-
sity of revealed religion. His most important publi-
cation, entitled De Vcritatc,\\-^i, originally printed at
Paris in 1624, in consequence, as the author solemnly
declares, of the direct sanction of Heaven to that effect,
but was aftervvards republished in London, and ob-
tained very general circulation. Mr. Halyburton
applied himself zealously to refute the doctrines con-
tained in these works and others of similar tendency
from the pens of different other writers, and produced
his A'atiiral Religion Insufficient, and Revealed Neces-
sary to Man's Happiness— z. most able and elaborate
performance — in which he demonstrates with great
clearness and force the defective nature of reason,
even in judging of the character of a Deity — the kind
of worship which ought to be accorded him, &c.
Dr. Leland, in his letters entitled Vieiu of Deistical
Writers, expresses great admiration of this perform-
ance, and regrets that the narrowness and illiberality
of the writer's opinions on some points operated pre-
judicially against it in the minds of many persons.
Neither this nor any other of Mr. Halyburton's
works were given to the world during his life, which
unfortunately terminated in September, 1712, being

204

ANTHONY HAMILTON.

then only in his thirty-eighth year. Besides the above
work, which was published "in 1714, the two others
by which h ' ' ' ;o\vn in Sc(jtland are The Great
Concern . . publibhed in 1 72 1, and Ten

Sermons : e and after the Celebration of

the Lord i Supper, published in 1 722. A complete
edition of his works, in one vol. Svo, was some years
ago published at Glasgow.

HAMILTON, Coi'.NT A.nthony, a pleasing de-
scribcr of manners and writer of fiction, was bom
about the year 1646. Although a native of Ireland,
and in after-life more connected with France and
England than with Scotland, the parentage of this
eminent writer warrants us in considering him a
proper person to fill a place in a biography of eminent
Scotsmen. The father of Anthony Hamilton was a
cadet of the ducal house of Hamilton, and his mother
was sister to the celebrated Duke of Ormond, Lord-
lieutenant of Ireland. The course of politics pursued
by the father and his connections compelled him, on
the execution of Charles I., to take refuge on the
Continent, and the subject of our memoir, then an
infant, accompanied his parents and the royal family
in their exile in France. The long residence of the
exiles in a country where their cause was respected
produced interchanges of social manners, feelings, and
pursuits unknown to the rival nations since the days
of the Cnisades, and the young writer obtained by
early habit that colloquial knowledge of the lan-
guage, and familiar acquaintance with the magnificent
court of France, which enabled him to draw a
finished picture of French life as it existed in its native
purity, and as it became gradually ingrafted in Eng-
lish society. At the age of fourteen he returned with
the restored monarch to England ; but in assuming
the station and duties of a British subject he is said
to have felt a reluctance to abandon the levities of a
gayer-minded people, which were to him native feel-
ings. The return of the court brought with it Eng-
lishmen who had assimilated their manners to those
of the French, and Frenchmen, anxious to see the
country which had beheaded its king, and not averse
to bestow the polish of their own elegant court on the
rough framework of the reconstructed kingdom.
Of these polished foreigners, the circumstances under
which one celebrated individual visited the British
court are too much inter\voven with the literary fame
of Anthony Hamilton to be here omitted. The
chevalier, afterwards Count de Grammont, one of the
gayest ornaments of the court of Louis, found it in-
convenient to remain in France after having disputed
with his master the heart of a favourite mistress.
High bom, personally courageous, enthusiastic in
the acquisition of "glor}-," handsome, extravagant,
an inveterate gambler, a victor in war and in love,
Vola^e, et mcnie un pen perfide en amour, the French
emigrant to the court of England was a perfect
human being, according to the measure of the time
and the place. The admired qualities with which
he was gifted by nature were such as control and
prudence could not make more agreeable ; but the
friends of the chevalier seem sometimes to have re-
gretted that the liaisons in which he was frequently
engaged were so destructive to the peace of others,
and would have prudently suggested the pursuit of
intrigues which might have been less dangerous to
his personal safety. The chevalier found in his exile
a new field rich in objects that engaged his vagrant
affections. Tired of alternate conquest and defeat,
he is represented as having finally concentrated his
affections on the sister of his celebrated biographer,
on whom the brother has bestowed poetical charms
in one of the most exquisite of his living descriptions

of female beauty, but who has been less charitably
treated in the correspondence of some of her female
rivals. The attentions of the chevalier towards Miss
Hamilton were of that decided cast which admitted
of but one interpretation, and justice to his memory
requires the admission that he seemed to have fixed
on her as firm and honourable an affection as so ver-
satile a heart could form. But constancy was not
his characteristic virtue. He forgot for an interval
his vows and promises, and prepared to return to
France without making any particular explanation
with the lady or her brother. When he had just left
the city, Anthony Hamilton and his brother George
found it absolutely necessarj- to prepare their pistols,
and give chase to the faithless lover. Before he had
reached Dover the carriage of the offended brothers
had nearly overtaken him. "Chevalier De Gram-
mont," they cried, "have you forgot nothing in Lon-
don?" "Beg pardon, gentlemen," said the pursued,
"I forgot to marr}' your sister." The marriage was
immediately concluded to the satisfaction of both
parties, and the inconstant courtier appears to have
ever after enjoyed a due share of domestic felicity
and tranquillity. The chevalier returned with his
\\-ife to his native country, and Hamilton seems to
have added to the attraction of early associations a
desire to pay frequent visits to a country which con-
tained a sister for whom he seems to have felt much
affection. Hamilton and Grammont entertained for
each other an esteem which was fostered and preser\-ed
by the similarity of their tastes and dispositions. A
third person, diflfering in many respects from both,
while he resembled them in his intellect, was the
tasteful and unfortunate St. Evremond, and many of
the most superb wits of the brilliant court of Louis
XIV. added the pleasures, though not always the
advantages, of their talents to the distinguished circle.
Wit and intellect, however penerted, always meet
the due homage of qualities which cannot be very
much abused, and generally exercise themselves for
the benefit of mankind; but unfortunately the fashion
of the age prompted its best ornaments to seek amuse-
ment among the most degraded of the species, who
were in a manner elevated by the approach which
their superiors strove to make towards them, and
these men could descend so far in the scale of hu-
manity as to find pleasure even in the company of the
notorious Blood. Anthony Hamilton was naturally
a favourite at the court of St. Germains, and main-
tained a prominent figure in many of the gorgeous
entertainments of the epicurean monarch. He is said
to have performed a part in the celebrated ballet of
the Triumph of Lot- e. Being by birth and education
a professed Roman Catholic, Charles II., who be-
friended him as a courtier, dared not, and could not
by the laws, bestow on him any ostensible situation
as a statesman. His brother James, however, was
less scrupulous, and under his short reign Hamilton
found himself colonel of a regiment of foot and
governor of Limerick. Having enjoyed the fmits of
the monarch's rashness, Hamilton faithfully bore his
share of the consequences, and accompanied his
exiled prince to St. Germains; but he was no lover
of solitude, seclusion, and the Jesuits, and took little
pains to conceal his sense of the disadvantageous
change which the palace had experienced since his
previous residence within its walls. The company
of the brilliant wits of France sometimes exhilarated
his retirement, but the playful count frequently found
that in the sombre residence of the exiled monarch
the talents which had astonished and delighted multi-
tudes must be confined to his own solitary person,
or discover some other method of displaying them-
selves to the world; and it is likely that we may

ANTHONY HAMILTON GAVIN HAMILTON.

205

date to the loyalty of the author the production of
one of the most interesting pictures of men and
manners that was ever penned. All the works of
Count Anthony Hamilton were prepared during his
exile, and it was then that he formed of the life and
character of his brother-in-law a nucleus round which
he span a vivid description of the manners of the
day, and of the most distinguished persons of the
English court. In the Memoirs of Graminoiit, unlike
Le Sage, Cer\'antes, and P"ielding, the author paints
the vices, follies, and weaknesses of men, not as a
spectator, but as an actor, and he may be suspected
of having added many kindred adventures of his own
to those partly true and partly imagined of his hero.
But the elasticity of a vivid and lively imagination,
acute in the observation of frailties and follies, is
prominent in his graphic descriptions ; and no one
who reads his cool pictures of vice and sophism can
avoid the conviction that the author looked on the
whole with the eye of a satirist, and had a mind fitted
for better things, while at the same time the spirit
of the age had accustomed his mind, in the words of
La Harpe, m connoitre d\zutre vice que le i-idiade.
The picture of the English court drawn by Hamilton
is highly instractive as matter of history; it repre-
sents an aspect of society which may never recur, and
the characters of many individuals whose talents and
adventures are interesting to the student of human
nature; nor will the interest of these sketches be di-
minished when they are compared with the characters
of the same individuals portrayed by the graver pen-
cils of Hyde and Bumet. That the picture is fascin-
ating with all its deformity has been well objected
to the narrative of the witty philosopher, but few
who read the work in this certainly more proper and
becoming age will find much inducement to follow
the morals of its heroes; and those who wish a graver
history of the times may refer to the Aialantis of
Mrs. Manley, where, if the details are more unvar-
nished, they are neither so likely to gratify a well-
regulated taste, nor to leave the morals so slightly
affected. The other works written by Count An-
thony Hamilton in his solitude were Le Belicr, Fleitr
cTEpine — Les qiiatre Facardins et Tejicyde. Many
persons accused him of extravagance in his Eastern
tales — a proof that his refined wit had not allowed
him to indulge sufficiently in real English grotesque-
ness when he wished to caricature the French out of
a ravenous appetite for the wonders of the Arabian
Nights Entertainimiits. Count Anthony Hamilton
died at St. Germains in 1720, in his sixty-fourth
year, and on his death-bed exhibited feelings of reli-
gion, which Voltaire and others have taken pains to
exhibit as inconsistent with his professions and the
conduct of his life. His works have been highly
esteemed in France; and whether from an amalgama-
tion of the feelings of the two nations, or its intrinsic
merits, Englishmen have professed to find in one of
them the best picture of the habits and feelings of
that brilliant and versatile nation. Grammont him-
self is maintained by St. Simon to have been active
in bringing before the world the work in which his
own probity is so prominently described, and to have
appealed to the chancellor against the decision of
Fontenelle, who, as censor of the work, considered
it a very improper attack on so eminent a person as
the Count de Grammont. The first complete col-
lection of Hamilton's works was published in six vols.
l2mo, along with his correspondence, in 1749. A
fine impression of Grammont was prepared by Horace
Walpole at Strawberry Hill in 1772, in 4to, with
notes and portraits — a rare edition, less tastefully re-
published in 1783. In 1792 Edwards published a
quarto edition, with correct notes, numerous portraits,

and an English translation, which has been twice re-
published. Two fine editions of the author's whole
works were published at Paris, 181 2, four vols. Svo,
and 1813, five vols. l8mo, accompanied with an ex-
tract from a translation into French of Pope's Essay
on Criticism, by the count, said still to exist in manu-
script.

HAMILTON, D.vviD. This architect, who or-
namented his native country with many excellent
buildings, was born in Glasgow, May li, 1768.
Of his early education and training for his profession
little if anything is known, so that his entire history
is to be read in the edifices he erected. Of these,
the first place is due to the works he constructed in
his native city. In Glasgow, he erected in 1 804 the
theatre in Queen Street, by far the largest in Scot-
land, which shared the usual fate of such build-
ings, by being destroyed by fire. Besides this, he
erected the Western Club-house, and the Glasgow,
the British, and several other banks. But his chief
work in that city was the Glasgow Exchange, built
about 1837-40, one of its noblest architectural orna-
ments. It stands isolated in an area of 300 by 200
feet, and measures 200 by 76 feet, while the hall is
one of the largest and finest in the British island,
measuring 100 feet by 65, and divided into three
spaces by a range of seven columns on each side. On
the completion of this stately and commodious temple
of our Scottish merchandise, he was honoured with
a public dinner, and the present of a sei"vice of plate,
and a gold snuff-box, &c., by the citizens of Glasgow.

Of the country mansions in the west of Scotland,
several of the most distinguished were also erected
by Mr. David Hamilton. The chief of these were
Hamilton Palace, the almost regal residence of the
princely family of the Duke of Hamilton; Toward
Castle, that of the late Kirkman Finlay, Esq., M.P. ;
Dunlop House, Ayrshire, for Sir John Dunlop; and
Lennox Castle, judged one of the best of his works,
for John Kincaid, Esq., of Kincaid.

When a competition for the new Houses of Parlia-
ment was advertised, Mr. Hamilton was one of those
candidates remote from the metropolis whose emula-
tion was stirred by the architectural challenge, and
the plan which he submitted for this august fabric
was one of the four to which the premium of ;i^500
was awarded for superior excellence. The arcliitect,
after a long and active life, in which he was univer-
sally esteemed for the excellence of his character and
integrity, as well as his professional superiority, died
at Glasgow on the 5th of December, 1S43, in the
seventy-sixth year of his age.

HAMTLTON, G.wix, a distinguished painter,
was descended from the ancient family of the Hamil-
tons of Murdieston, originally of Fife, but latterly of
Lanarkshire, and he was born in the town of Lanark.
From a veiy early period of his life he entertained
a strong love for historic painting. It cannot be
traced with any degree of certainty under what master
he first studied in his native country, as there was no
fixed school of painting established in Britain at the
time; but being sent to Rome while yet very young,
he became a scholar of the celebrated Augustine
Mossuchi. On his return to Scotland after many
years absence, his friends wished him to apply him-
self to portrait-painting, but having imbibed in Italy
higher ideas of the art, after a few successful attempts,
he abandoned that line and attached himself entirely
to historic composition. Few of his portraits are to
be found in Britain, and of these, two full lengths of
the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton are considered
the best. The figure of the duchess with a greyhound

2o6

GAVIN HAMILTON JAMES HAMILTON.

leaping upon her is well known by the mezzotinto
prints taken from it, to he founil in almost every
good collector's hands. There is said to be another
unfinished portrait of the same duchess by him, in
which the then Duke of Hamilton thought the like-
ness so ver)' striking, that he took it from the painter,
and would never allow it to be fmisheil, lest the re-
semblance should be lost. He remained but a few
months in his native countr)", and returned to Rome,
where he resided for the principal part of his
life. From the advantages of a liberal education,
being jjcrfectly familiar with the works of the great
masters of (Irecian and Roman literature, he dis-
playetl a highly classic taste in the choice of his sub-
jects; and the style at which he always and success-
fully aimed, made him at least equal to his most
Celebrated contemporaries. The most capital collec-
tion of Mr. Hamilton's paintings that can be seen in
any one place was, and if we mistake not is at
present, in a saloon in the Villa Borghese, which
was wholly painted by him, and represents in dif-
ferent compartments the story of Paris. These were
painted on the ceiling, and other scenes form a series
of pictures round the alcove on a smaller scale. This
work, though its position be not what an artist would
choose as the most advantageous for exhibiting his
finest efforts, has long been accounted a performance
of very high excellence. The Prince Borghese, as if
with a view to do honour to Scottish artists, had
the adjoining apartment painted by Jacob More,
who excelled as much in landscape as Hamilton in
historical painting. He had another saloon in the
same palace painted by Mengs, the most celebrated
German artist, and these three apartments were con-
ceive<l to exhibit the finest specimens of modern
painting then to be found in Italy.

In his historical pictures, some of which have come
to Britain, Mr. Hamilton plainly discovers that he
studied the chaste models of antiquity with more at-
tention than the living figures around him; which
has given his paintings of ancient histories that y>ro-
priety with regard to costume, which distinguished
them at the time from most modern compositions.

One of his greatest works was his I lomer, consist-
ing of a series of pictures, representing scenes taken
from the UiaJ ; these have been dispersed into
various jiarts of luirope, and can now only be seen
in one continued series in the excellent engravings
made of them by Cunego, under the eye of Mr.
Hamilton himself. .Several of these paintings came
to Britain, but only three reached .Scotland. One of
these, the parting of Hector and .\ndromache, was in
the possession of the Duke of Hamilton. Another
represents the death of l.ucretia, in the collection of
the Karl of Hopeloun, and was deemed by all judges
a capital perHjrmance. The third was in the house
of a .Mrs. .Scott, in the neighbourliood of Edinburgh.
It represents Achilles dragging the body of Hector
round the w.olls of Troy — a sublime ])icture, wliich
if not \.\\<ichef d\riivre (Ay^x. Hamilton, would alone
have been sufficient to have transmitted his name
to posterity as one of the greatest artists. It was
painted for the Duke of Bedford, and had been in
his possession some time before the unfortunate ac-
cident which deprived him of his son the Marquis of
Tavistock, whose disastrous fate had some resem-
blance to the story of the picture, being thrown from
his horse and dragged to death, his foot having stuck
in the stirrup. After this, none of the family being
able to endure the picture, it was ordered to be put
away, and General Scott became the purchaser of it
at a very moderate price. The figure of Achilles in
this picture is painted with surprising characteristic
justness, spirit, and fire, and might stand the test of

the severest criticism. It was in the grand and terrible
that Mr. Hamilton chiefly excelled. His female char-
acters had more of the dignity of Juno, or the cold-
ness of Diana, than the soft inviting playfulness of
the goddess of love.

He published at Rome, in 1773, a folio volume,
entitled Sclwla Picturu: Ituliir, or the Italian School
of Painting, composed of a number of fine engrav-
ings by Cunego, making part of the collection of
Piranesi. He there traces the different styles from
Leonardo da Vinci to the Carraccis. All the draw-
ings were made by Mr. Hamilton himself, and this
admirable collection now forms one of the principal
treasures in the first libraries in Europe. All his
best pictures were likewise engraved under his own
eye by artists of the first ability, so that the world
at large has been enabled to form a judgment of the
style and merit of his works. In reference to the
original pictures from whence the engravings were
taken, many contradictory opinions have been ex-
pressed; some have considered his figures as wanting
in the characteristic purity and correctness of form
so strictly obsei^ved in the antique — others have said
he was no colourist, though that was a point of his art
after which he was most solicitous. But setting all
contending opinions apart, had Mr. Hamilt&n never
painted a picture, the service he otherwise rendered
to the fine arts would be sufficient to exalt his name
in the eyes of posterity. From being profoundly
acquainted with the history of the ancient state of
Italy, he was enabled to bring to light many of the
long-buried treasures of antiquity, and to this noble
object he devoted almost the whole of the latter part
of his life. He was permitted by the government
of the Roman states to open scavos in various places;
at Centumcellre, Velletri, Ostia, and above all at
Tivoli, among the ruins of Adrian's villa; and it
must be owned that the success which crowned his
researches made ample amends for the loss which
painting may have suffered by the intermission of his
practice and example. Many of the first collections
in Germany and Russia are enriched by statues,
busts, and bas-reliefs of his discovery.

In the collection of the Museo Clementino, next
to the treasures of Belvidere, the contributions of
Hamilton were by far the most important. The
Apollo, with si.x of the nine Muses, were all of his
finding. At the ruins of ancient Gabii (celebrated
by Virgil in his sixth book of the A^neid, and by
Horace, epistle xi. b. i) he was also very fortunate,
particularly in the discover)' of a Diana, a Germani-
cus, a Pan, and several rich columns of verd antique
and marmo fiortio. The paintings in fresco, pre-
served also by his great care and research, are ad-
mitted to surpass all others found in Italy.

He visited Scotland several times in the decline of
his life, and had serious thoughts of settling alto-
gether in Lanark; where he at one time gave orders
for a painting- room to be built for him; but finding
the climate unsuitable to his constitution, he aban-
iloned the idea and returned to Rome, where he
died, according to Bryan's account in his History of
Painting, about 1775 or 1776.

All accounts of this artist agree in stating that,
however exalted his genius might be, it was far
surpassed by the benevolence and liberality of his
character.

HAMILTON, James, third Marquis, and first
Duke of Hamilton, was bom in the palace at Ha-
milton, on the 19th of June, 1606. His father, James,
.Marquis of Hamilton, was held in high favour by
James I., who, amongst other honours which he
bestowed on him, created him Earl of Cambridge,

i

JAMES HAMILTON'.

207

a title which was at an after-perioil a fatal one to the
unfortunate nobleman who is the subject of this
memoir. Before the marquis had attained his four-
teenth year his father, who was then at St. James's
court, sent for him for the purpose of betrothing
him to the lady Margaret Fielding, daughter to the
Earl of Denbigh, and niece of the Duke of Buck-
ingham, and then only in the seventh year of her age.
After this ceremony had taken place, the marquis
was sent to O.xford to complete those studies which
he had begun in Scotland, but which had been seri-
ously interrupted by his coming to court. He suc-
ceeded his father as Marquis of Hamilton, March 2,
1625, while as yet considerably under age.

An early and fond intimacy seems to have taken
place between Prince Charles and the marquis.
That it was sincere and abiding on the part of the
latter the whole tenor of his life and his melancholy
and tragical death bear testimony. On Charles
succeeding to the throne, one of his first cares was
to mark the esteem in which he held his young
friend, by heaping upon him favours and dis-
tinctions. Soon after the coronation of the king,
however, in which ceremony he carried the sword
of state in the procession, he returned to Scotland
for the purpose of superintending in person his family
affairs, which had been much deranged by the muni-
ficence of his father. The marquis, who does not
seem to have ever been much captivated by the life
of a courtier, soon became warmly attached to the
quiet and retirement of the country, and spent the
greater part of his time at Brodick Castle, a beautiful
and romantic residence in the island of AiTan.
The king, however, whose attachment to him seems
to have gained strength by his absence, wrote to
him repeatedly, and with his ovm hand, in the most
pressing terms, to return. All these flattering in\d-
tations he for some time resisted, until his father-in-
law, the Earl of Denbigh, came expressly to Scotland
with another earnest request from the king that he
would come up to London, and at the same time
offering him the appointment of master of the horse,
then vacant by the death of the Duke of Buckingham.
Unable longer to resist the entreaties of his sovereign,
now seconded by the earl, the marquis complied,
and proceeded with his father-in-law to court, where
he arrived in the year 1628. The promised appoint-
ment was immediately bestowed on him, with that of
gentleman of the bed-chamber, and privy-councillor
in both kingdoms. The amiable and unassuming
manners of the marquis saved him at this part of his
career from all that hostility and jealousy which
usually attend the favourite of a sovereign, and he
was permitted to receive and enjoy all his offices
and honours without a grudge, and without the cost
of creating an enemy.

At the baptism of Prince Charles in 1630, he re-
presented the King of Bohemia as one of the sponsors,
and on this occasion the order of the Garter was con-
ferred upon him, together with a grant of the office
of chief steward of the house and manor of Hampton
Court. A more active life, however, was now about
to open upon the favourite courtier. King Charles,
having in the duke's name entered into a treaty with
the celebrated Gusta\-us Adolphus, King of Sweden,
to furnish him with 6000 men for his intended inva-
sion of Germany, with the view of thus enabling his
brother-in-law, the elector palatine, to regain his
hereditary territories from which he had been driven,
the marquis was empowered to raise the stipulated
force. These he soon collected, and was on the point
of embarking with them himself, when he found
that a charge of high treason had been preferred
against him by Lord Ochiltree, son of that Captain

James Stewart who had usurped the Hamilton
estates and dignities in the time of his grandfather.
The king himself was the first to inform the duke
of the absurd charge which had been brought
against him, and which consisted in the ridiculous
assertion that the marquis intended, in place of
proceeding to Germany with the forces he had raised,
to employ them in asserting a right to the Scottish
crown. Although the accusation was too absurd to
be credited, yet the marquis insisted that his inno-
cence should be established by a public trial. To
this proposal, however, the king would not listen,
and to show his confidence in the marquis's fidelity,
he invited him to sleep in the same bed-chamber
with him on the verj' night on which the charge
was brought against him by Lord Ochiltree. The
forgeries of the latter in support of his accusation
having been proven, he was sentenced to perpetual
imprisonment, and thrown into the castle of Black-
ness, where he remained a captive for twenty years,
when he was liberated by one of Cromwell's officers.
On the l6th of July the marquis sailed from
Yarmouth Roads with his army and forty ships, and
arrived at Elsineur on the 27th of the same month.
On the 29th he sailed again for the Oder, which he
reached on the 30th. Here he landed his men, and
ha\ing previously received a general's commission
from the King of Sweden, marched into Silesia, and
distinguished himself on all occasions by his bravery
and judicious conduct After much severe service,
however, during which his army was reduced to
two incomplete regiments, and, conceiving himself
slighted by the King of Sweden, he wrote to his
own sovereign, requesting his advice as to his future
proceedings. Charles immediately replied "that if
he could not be serviceable to the palatinate he
should take the first civil excuse to come home."
This he soon afterwards did, still parting, however,
on good terms with the Swedish king, who ex-
pressed his esteem for him by saying at his departure,
"in whatever part of the world he were, he would
ever look upon him as one of his own." The
marquis, on his return to the English court, was
received with unabated kindness, and again took his
place amongst the foremost in the esteem of his
sovereign.

In 1633 he accompanied the king to Scotland,
when he came down to receive the crown of that
kingdom; but from this period until the year 1638
he meddled no further with public affairs. The
troubles, however, of that memorable year again
brought him on the stage. To put an end to the
religious distractions in Scotland, the marquis was
despatched thither with instructions, and a power to
grant further concessions on some important points.
The demands of the Covenanters were, however,
greater than was expected, and this attempt at media-
tion was unsuccessful. He was a second time sent
down to Scotland with enlarged powers; but as these
embraced no concession regarding the covenant, this
journey was equally fruitless with the other. In the
beginning of winter he was a third time despatched, .
with instructions to act as commissioner at the Gene-
ral Assembly which had been appointed to meet for
the settlement of differences, and which sat down at
Glasgow in November. The concessions, however,
which he was authorized to make were not con-
sidered at all sufficient. The opponents of the court
in the assembly proceeded from measure to measure,
in despite of all the marquis's efforts to stem the
tide of disaffection. Finding this impossible, he
dissolved the court. The Covenanters, however,
continuing their sittings, went on subscribing the
covenant, and decreed the abrogation of bishops in

.toS

JAMES HAMILTON.

the Scottish church. Having been able to render
the king liltle more service tluin the gain of time
which his negotiations had secured, the marquis re-
turned to London. Indeed, more success could not
have been expected from an interference where the
covenant, the principal subject of contention, was
thus s[K>ken of by the opposite parties : the king,
writing to his commissioner, " So long as this
damnable covenant is in force, I have no more
power in Scotland than a Duke of Venice;" and the
Covenanters again replying to some overtures about
its renunciation, that "they would sooner renounce
their baptism. " The king, who had long anticipated
a violent issue with the Scottish malcontents, had in
the meantime been actively employed in collecting
a force to subdue them; and the marquis, soon after
his arrival in England, was appointed to a command
in this armament. Whilst the king himself pro-
ceeded overland with an army of 25,000 foot and
3000 horse, the marquis sailed from Yarmouth
with a fleet, having on board a further force of 5000
men, and arrived in Leith Roads on the 1st of May.
On his arrival he required the leaders of the Cove-
nanters to acknowledge the king's authority, and
seemed disi)osed to proceed to hostilities. But the
king, in the meantime, having entered into a pacific
arrangement with the Covenanters, his military com-
mand ceased, and he proceeded to join his majesty
at his camp near Berwick. Soon after this the
marquis once more retired from public employment,
and did nut again interfere in national affairs for
several years. In 1642 he was once more sent to
Edinburgh by the king to resume negotiations with
the Covenanters; and on this occasion was so suc-
cessful as to alarm Pickering, the agent of the
English parliament at Edinburgh, who wrote to his
employers recommending them to bring Hamilton
immediately to trial as a disturber of the harmony
between the two kingdoms. This representation of
Pickering's, however, was attended with no immedi-
ate result, whatever effect it might have on his ulti-
mate fate; and it is not improbable that it was then
recollected to his prejudice. As a reward for his
faithful and zealous services, the king now bestowed
upon the marquis by patent, dated at O.xford, 12th
April, 1643, the title of duke. The same patent
invests him also with the title of Marquis of Clydes-
dale, Earl of .Vrran and Cambridge, and Lord Avon
and Innerdale. By one of those strange and sudden
reverses, however, to which the favourites of kings
are so subject, the duke was thrown into prison by
that very sovereign who but a short while since had
loaded him with titles and honours. Various mis-
re|)resentations of the duke's conduct in Scotland
had reached the king's ears. He was charged with
unfaithfulness to the tnist reposed in him; of speak-
ing disrespectfully of the king; and of still entertain-
ing views upon the Scottish crown. These accusa-
tions, absurd, incredible, and contradictory to facts
as they were, had been so often repeated, and so
urgently pressed on the unfortunate and distracted
monarch, that they at length shook his faith in his
early friend. Deserted, opposed, and harassed upon
all hands, he w.is prei)ared to believe in any instance
of trcacliery that might occur; and clinging to every
hope, however slender, which presented itself, was
too apt to imagine that the accusation of others
was a proof of friendship to. himself on the part
of the accuser.

The king's altered opinion regarding him having
reached the ears of the duke, he instantly hastened,
accompanied by his brother the Earl of Lanark,
who was also involved in the accusation, to Oxford,
where his majesty then was. Conscious of his

innocence, the duke, on his arrival, sought an
audience of the king, that he might, at a personal
intcr\'iew, disabuse him of the unfavourable reports
which he had heard regarding him. An order,
however, had been left at the gates to stop him
until the governor should have notice of his arrival.
Through a mistake of the captain of the guard, the
carriage which contained the duke was allowed to
pass unchallenged, but was immediately followed
with a command directly from the king himself,
that the duke and his brother should confine them-
selves to their apartments. This intimation of the
king's disposition towards him was soon followed
by still more unequivocal indications. Next day a
guard was placed on his lodgings, with orders that
no one should speak with him but in presence of one
of the secretaries; and finally, notwithstanding all
his protestations of innocence, and earnest requests
to be confronted with his accusers, he was sent a
prisoner, first to Exeter, and afterwards to Pen-
dennis Castle in Cornwall. His brother, who had
also been ordered into confinement in Ludlow Castle,
contrived to make his escape before his removal,
and returned to Scotland; a circumstance which
increased the severity with which the duke was
treated. Whilst a prisoner in Pendennis Castle, the
duke's gentle manners so far won upon the governor,
that he not only gave him more liberty than his in-
structions warranted, but offered to allow him to
escape. The duke, however, refused to avail him-
self of a kindness which would involve his generous
keeper in ruin, and he remained a close prisoner till
the month of April, 1646, when he was released,
after an unmerited confinement of eight and twenty
months, on the surrender of the place to the par-
liamentary forces. Feeling now that disgust with
the world which the treatment he had met with
was so well calculated to inspire, the duke resolved
to retire from public business for ever; but the exi-
gencies of Charles were daily multiplying, and
when that unhappy monarch, driven from England,
sought protection from the Scottish army at New-
castle, the Duke of Hamilton was among the first to
wait upon him there, with oflfers of assistance and
consolation. When the king and the duke first met
on this occasion, both blushed ; and the latter in the
confusion of the moment, after saluting his majesty,
was about to retire into the crowd which filled the
apartment, when the king asked him "If he was
afraid to come near him." The duke returned, and a
long and earnest conversation ensued between them.
The king apologized for his treatment of him, and
concluded by requesting that he would not now leave
him in the midst of his distresses. The appeal was
not made in vain. The duke once more embarked
with all his former zeal in the cause of his beloved
master, and made every effort to retrieve his des-
jierate fortunes. These efforts were vain, but they
have secured for him who made them a lasting and
an honourable fame.

When the question, whether the king, now in the
hands of the Scottish malcontents, should be de-
livered up to his English subjects, was discussed in the
Scottish parliament, the duke exerted his utmost ■
influence to prevent its being carried in the afErma- ■
tive. "Was this," he exclaimed, "the eflfect of their ■
protestations of duty and affection to his majesty?
Was this the keeping of their covenant, wherein
they had sworn to defend the king's majesty, person,
and authority? Was this a suitable return to the
king's goodness, both in his consenting to all the a
desires of that kingdom in the year 1641, and in his ■
late trusting his person to them? What censure T
would be passed upon this through the whole v.orlu?

JAMES IIAMILTOX.

209

What a stain would it be to the whole Reformed
religion? What danger might be apiirehcnded in
consequence of it, both to the king's person and to
Scotland from the party that was now prevalent in
England?" The duke's brother, the Earl of Lanark,
was not less earnest in his opposition to the dis-
graceful proposal, and when his vote was asked, he
exclaimed with much energy, "As God shall have
mercy upon my soul at the great day, I would choose
rather to iiave my head struck off at the market-
cross of Edinburgh than give my consent to this
vote." These generous efforts of the noble brothers,
however, as is well known, were unavailing; the
measure was carried, and the unfortunate monarch
was delivered into the hands of the English parlia-
ment.

Defeated in his attempts to prevent the king's
being given up to his English subjects, the duke,
still hoping to avert this consummation, entertained
the idea of relieving him by force of arms. En-
couraged by something like a reaction of public
fueling, he proceeded to raise an army to march into
England, where he expected to meet with an active
and powerful co-operation from the royalists of that
kingdom. He hastily collected a force of 10,000
foot and 4000 cavalry, and with this army, which
was indifferently appointed, ill-disciplined, and unac-
companied by artillery, he marched into England.
Passing Carlisle, where he was received with wel-
come, he continued his march by Penrith, Appleby,
and Kendal, driving before him detached bodies
of Cromwell's troops, and finally reached Preston
on the 17th of August, where he was opposed by
Cromwell in person with his veteran battalions; and
notwithstanding that the duke had been reinforced
since he entered England by 3000 to 4000 loyalists
under Sir Marmaduke Langdale, and afterwards
by 2000 foot and 1000 horse, commanded by Sir
George Munro, the result of various skirmishes which
here took place, was the total defeat of his army.
The duke himself, accompanied by a few officers and
cavalry, proceeded on to Uttoxeter in Staffordshire,
where he surrendered to General Lambert, on assur-
ance of personal safety to himself and his followers.
The unfortunate duke was now carried to Derby,
thence to Ashby-de-la-Zouche, where he remained
till December, when he was removed to Windsor,
and placed under a strong guard. On the second
night of his confinement here, while taking a turn
after supper in the court-yard, a sergeant made up
to him, and, with the utmost insolence of manner,
ordered him to his apartment: the duke obeyed, but
remarked to Lord Bargeny, who was then a prisoner
also, that what had just happened was a singular
instance of the mutability of worldly things — that
he who, but a short while since, had the command
of many thousand men, was now commanded by a
common sergeant.

A few days after the duke's arrival at Windsor
his ill-fated master, who was then also a prisoner
there, was ordered for trials. Having learned when
the king was to proceed to the tribunal, the duke
prevailed upon his keepers to allow him to see his
majesty as he passed. On the approach of the king
he threw himself at his feet, exclaiming in an agony
of sorrow, his eyes suffiised with tears, "My dear
master ! " The king, not less affected, stooped down
and embraced him, replying, with a melancholy
play upon the word dear, "I have indeed been so
to you." The guards would permit no further con-
versation, but, by the order of their commander,
instantly hurried off the king. The duke followed
his beloved master, with his eyes still swimming in
tears, so long as he could see him, impressed with

VOL. II.

the lielief that they would never meet on earth again.
Aware from the king's execution, which soon after
took place, that a similar fate awaited himself, the
duke, with the assistance of a faithful servant, effected
his escape from Windsor. Two horses waited at a
convenient place to carry him and his servant to
London, where he hoped to conceal himself until an
opportunity occurred of getting to a place of greater
safety ; but he was instructed not on any account to
enter the city till seven o'clock in the morning, when
the night patrols, who prowled about the town and
suburbs, should have retired from duty. By an
unaccountaljle fatality, the unfortunate duke ne-
glected to attend to this most important injunction,
and entered the city at four o'clock in the morning.
As if everything had resolved to concur in the de-
struction of the unfortunate nobleman, besides the
risk which he ran as a matter of course from the
patrol, it happened that there was a party of horse
and foot in .Southwark, where the duke entered,
searching for Sir Lewis Dives and another gentle-
man, who had also escaped from confinement the
night before. By these the duke was taken while
in the act of knocking at a door where he had been
long seeking admittance. At first he imposed upon
the soldiers by a plausible story, and as they did not
know him personally, they were disposed to allow
him to depart ; but some suspicious circumstances
attracting their notice, they searched him, and found
in his pockets some papers which at once discovered
him. He was now carried to vSt. James's, where
he was kept a close prisoner till the 6th February,
1648, when he was brought to trial before the High
Court of Justice, and arraigned as Earl of Cambridge,
for having "traitorously invaded this nation (Eng-
land) in a hostile manner, and levied war to assist
the king against the kingdom and people of England,"
&c. The duke pleaded that he was an alien, and
that his life besides was secured by the articles of his
capitulation to Lambert. To the first it was replied
that he always sat as a peer of England, and as such
had taken the covenant and negative oath. With
regard to the second objection, it was affirmed by
two witnesses, Lords Grey and Lilburn, that he was
taken prisoner before the treaty was signed. After
a lengthened trial, in which none of his objections
availed him, the unfortunate nobleman was sentenced
to be beheaded on the 9th of March. The whole
tenor of the duke's conduct after sentence of death
was passed upon him, evinced the greatest magnan-
imity and resignation. He wrote to his brother in
favour of his servants, and on the morning before
his execution addressed a letter to his children, re-
commending them to the protection of their heavenly
Father, now that they were about to be deprived of
their earthly parent. He slept soundly on the night
previous to his death, until half-past three in the
morning, when he was attended by his faithful ser-
vant Cole, the person who had assisted him in his
attempted escape. To him he now, with the utmost
composure, gave a variety of directions to be carried
to his brother. The remainder of the morning, up
to nine o'clock, he spent in devotion. At this hour
he was desired to prepare for the scaffold, which he
soon after ascended with a cheerful countenance,
attended by Dr. Sibbald. After again spending
some time in secret prayer, he arose, and embracing
Dr. Sibbald, said, laying his hand upon his heart,
"I bless God I do not fear — I have an assurance
that is grounded here;" he next embraced his ser-
vants severally, saying to each of them, "You have
been very faithful to me; the Lord bless you."

Turning now to the executioner, he desired to
know how he should place himself to receive the

49

JAMES HAMILTOX.

fatal stroke. Having been satisfi-jd rcj^anling this,
he told the executioner, that after he liad jilaecd
himself in the necessary position, he woukl say a
short prayer, and that he wouKl extend his right
hand as the signal for his doing his duty. He now
stretched himself along, and placc<l his neck ready
for the blow, |)rayed a short wiiiie with much np-
jieamnce of fervour, tiien gave the fatal signal, and
with one stroke his head was severed from his body.

The head of the unfortunate nol)leman was re-
ceived in a crimson talTeta scarf by two of his ser-
vants, wiio knelt beside him for the purpose of
performing this last act of duty for tlieir kind master.
The duke's head and body were ]jlaced in a coffin
which lay ready on the scaiTold, and conveyed to a
house in the Mews, and afterwards, agreeably to his
own directions before his death, conveyed to Scot-
land, and interrcil in the family Inirying-ground.

Thus perished James Duke of Hamilton, a noble-
man whose fortitude at his death gives but little
countenance to the charge of timidity which has been
insinuated against him, and whose zeal for, and ad-
herence to, the royal cause, in the most desperate
and trying circumstances, afford less encouragement
to the accusation of infidelity to his sovereign with
which he has been also assailed.

HAMILTON, James, fourth Duke of Hamilton,
was the eldest son of \Villi:^m Earl of .Selkirk and
Anne Duchess of Hamilton. He was born in 1657,
educated in .Scotland, being by the courtesy of liis
country entitled Karl of Arran, and after spentling
some time in foreign travel, repaired to the court of
England, where he mixed in the gallantries of the
time. As it w.as with a duel that his life closed, .so
a duel is tlie first remarkal)le circumstance to be
noticed in the account of his youthful years. In
consequence of a quarrel with Lord Mordaunt, after-
wards Earl of Peterborough, he met that nobleman
on foot in Greenwich I'ark with sword and pistol.
Arran fired first and missed ; his antagonist dis-
charged his bail in the air, but nevertheless insisted
that tiie combat should proceed. They accordingly
engaged witli their swords, and Mordaunt, having
first received a slight wound about the groin, pierced
Arran's thigh, and broke his own sword. The earl
liad now in turn an opportunity to display his gene-
rosity, ami sparing the life which was at liis mercy,
the two young noijjemen parted good friends.

Arran cnjoye<l the favour of Ciiarles H., who
made him one of the knights of his bed-chamber,
and sent him envoy-extraordinary to the court of
France, to offer congratulations on the birth of Philip,
Duke of .Anjou, afterwards King of Spain, ^\'hilst
upon this endiassy, he was one day hunting with the
king, anil taking olTence at some i)art of the conduct
of an ecclesiastical dignitary, who also rode in the
company, he disregarded equally the profession of
his opponent and the royal presence, and pulling tlie
revcreml gentleman from his horse, and grasiiing liis
sword, he was ])revented from exacting a bloody
vengeance only by the interposition of his majesty.
The particulars of this affair are not related with that
distinctness which would enable us to decide who
was in the wrcjng ; but the earl's contemporaries,
provided they saw a display of spirit, did not (;flcn
stop to in([uire whether it were borne out by pru-
dence; and accordingly, a writer of the time tells us
his lordship came off upon this occasion, in the
opinion of the world, "with high commendations of
his courage and audacity."

When James II. ascended the throne, the Earl of
Arran suffered no diminution of court favour. In-
deed he seems to have earned it by readily yielding

to James's designs. He was one of the privy-council
wh(j, in 16S7, signed the letter of the Scottish govern-
ment concurring with the proclamation to repeal
the laws made against I'ajnsts. In reward of his
acquiescence he was installed a knight of the Thistle,
when that order — which, according to the king's
party, was instituted about the year of our Lord 809,
by Achaius, King of .Scots, and never disused till the
intestine troubles which happened in the reign of
Mary — was "restored to its full lustre, glory, and
magnificence." The writers whose politics were
different maintain that, however honourable this
badge might be, it was never worn as such before.
Burnet says it was "set up in Scotland in imitation
of the order of the Garter in England ;" and Lord
Dartmouth adds that "all the pretence for antiquity
is some old pictures of kings of Scotland with medals
of St. Andrew hung in gold chains about their necks. "
Whether old or new, it was conferred as a mark of
James's esteem, and in farther proof of his confidence
he intrusted the Earl of Arran with the command
of a regiment of horse, when the new levies took
place on the descent of the Duke of Monmouth.
At a period of greater disaster to James's fortunes,
when Lord Churchill, afterwards the great Marl-
borough, went over to the Prince of Orange, the
Duke of Berwick was advanced to the station he had
occupied as colonel of the 3d troop of horse-guards,
and in the room of his grace, Arran was made
colonel of Oxford's regiment. From the course
which events took, however, the earl had no oppor-
tunity of signalizing his bravery in the cause of his
master; but he carried his fidelity as far as any man
in the kingdom, having been one of the four lords
who accompanied James to Gravesend, when the
fallen monarch repaired thither on his way into
foreign exile. Returning to London, Arran com-
plied with the general example, and waited on the
Prince of Orange. Being one of the last that came,
he offered an excuse which partook more of the
])luntness of the soldier than of political or courtlike
dexterity: "If the king had not withdrawn out of
the country," he said, "he should not have come at
ail." The next day the prince intimated to him that
he had bestowed his regiment upon its old colonel,
the Earl of Oxford.

Nor was Arran solicitous to appease by subsequent
compliance the displeasure incurred in his first inter-
view with the prince. On the 7th January William
assembled the Scottish noliles and gentlemen then
in London, and told them that he wanted their ad-
vice " what was to be done for securing the Protes-
tant religion, and restoring their laws and liberties,
according to his declaration." His highness with-
drew after making this request, and the Duke of
Hamilton' was chosen to preside. The politics of
his grace were quite different from those of his son;
and the fact of his being selected to preside over
their deliberations was an intimation of the course
which the assembly intended to pursue. But Arran
either did not perceive, or did not regard this cir-
cumstance ; he proposed, that as the prince had
desired their advice, they should move him to invite
the king to return, and call a free parliament,
"which, in my humble opinion," he added, "will
at last be found the best way to heal all our breaches."
Nol)ody seconded this proposal; but it seems to have
astounded the deliberators a good deal: they dis-
persed, and did not reassemble till the second day
after, when their resolution to stand by the Prince of
Orange and to exclude the exiled James, having been

1 The End of Selkirk bore this title in risht of marriage to
the duchess.

JAMES HAMILTON.

strengthened by some remarks from the Duke of
Hamilton, they recommended the measures which
the emergency seemed to them to require.

A short time after the settlement of the throne
upon William and Mary, as the Earl of Arran was
passing along the streets in a chair, about eleven at
night, he \vas set upon by four or five people with
drawn swords. He defended himself courageously,
and being vigorously seconded by his footman and
chairmen, came off with only a few slight hurts in
the hand. This incident was charged against the
new monarch, as if he had sought to rid himself by
assassination of one who had so very coolly, if not
resolutely, opposed his reception in England. But
there was neither any disposition nor any necessity
for resorting to such means for weakening the ranks
of the adherents of James. The attack upon the
earl is believed to have proceeded from another cause;
namely, the involvement of his lordship's pecuniary
affairs, and to have been the act of an exasperated
creditor. The earl, however, certainly was obnoxi-
ous to government at this period. He was shortly
after committed to the Tower, with Sir Robert
Hamilton and two others of his countrymen; but
was soon liberated upon bail; upon which he judged
it prudent, both on account of the suspicion to which
his political opinions exposed him, and of embarrass-
ments in his private fortune, to retire to Scotland.
There his father enjoyed the full confidence of govern-
ment; his services in the convention of the states, of
which he was president, having mainly contributed
to the settlement of the crown upon William. Here
Arran lived in retirement, the progress of affairs and
the paternal authority tending to reconcile him to
the Revolution. At his father's death in 1695 the
Earl of Arran ^vas not advanced in rank and not
very much in fortune. The title of duke had been
conferred upon its late possessor to be held during
his lifetime, by consent of the heiress, whom he had
married; and at his death it remained with her, to-
gether with the bulk of the estate. It was not till
the marriage of Arran, in 1698, with Lord Gerrard
of Bromley's daughter, that his mother consented
that her eldest son should assume the honours of the
family. Upon this William, willing to gratify the
family, signed a patent creating him Duke of Ha-
milton, with precedency in the same manner as if
he had succeeded to the title by the decease of his
mother.

The events hitherto recorded in this nobleman's
life were not of great moment: he was a young man,
acting in a great measure from personal bias, and
his opinions had little weight or influence beyond the
sphere of the private friends with whom he associated.
We now approach a period when his conduct in the
legislative assembly of his country determined more
than that of any other of its members the fate of the
two most momentous political measures that ever
were debated in it — the act of security and the act
of union. The events of William's reign had been
highly exasperating to the Scottish nation. Not
only had commercial enterprise been repressed, but
this had been done in the most base and most cruel
manner. The same monarch who sanctioned the
massacre of Glencoe, first granted a charter to the
Darien company, and then exerted his infiunce with
foreign nations in order to withhold from their colony
the necessary supplies, and sent instructions to the
governor of the English colonies to the same effect.
.Many perished of famine, "murdered," says Sir
Walter Scott, "by King William's government, no
less than if they had been shot in the snows of
Glencoe." The spirit of an ancient people, never
tolerant of contumely, far less of cruelties so atro-

cious as these, did not burst out into immediate and
open defiance of their more powerful neighbour, but
reserved itself for a period more favourable for the
vindication of its insulted rights. During the rest of
his life William could draw no subsidies from Scot-
land, nor a single recniit for his continental wars.
The instability of a new reign afforded a fitting op-
portunity for the assertion of independence. An act
had been passed in the time of King \\'illiam, em-
powering the parliament in being at his death to
continue, and take the steps necessary for securing
the Protestant succession. In virtue of this act
Queen Anne thought proper not to call a new par-
liament: but a party, at the head of whom was the
Duke of Hamilton, maintained that the purposes
contemplated by that provision were sufficiently
satisfied by the settlement of her majesty on the
throne. Accordingly, before the royal commission
was read, the duke took a protest against it, and
retiring with twenty-nine who adhered to him, their
retreat was greeted with shouts of applause by the
people assembled without. This proceeding may be
considered the germ of that opposition which ripened
in the two following years into the formidable act of
security.

The parliament of 1703, instead of proceeding, in
confonnity with the wishes of government, to settle
the crown of Scotland on the same person for whom
that of England was destined, resolved that this was
the time to obtain an equality of commercial privi-
leges, and to rescue the country' from the state of a
degraded and oppressed province of England. They
accordingly passed an act stipulating that the two
crowns should not be held by the same monarch,
unless the Scottish people were admitted by the
English to the full benefit of trade and navigation:
to make good the separation of the countries if it
should be necessaiy, every man capable of bearing
arms was to be regularly drilled, and all commis-
sions, civil and military, were to lose effect at the
moment of the queen's demise, in order that the
states of Scotland might then appoint an entirely
new set of magistrates and officers, faithful main-
tainers of the independence of the kingdom. The
Duke of Hamilton and the Marquis of Tweeddale
headed the country party, by whom this measure
v.-as passed. It was debated with the utmost fierce-
ness by the speakers on both sides, with their hands
on their swords. The queen's commissioner refused
his assent, and was obliged to dismiss the assembly
without obtaining supplies, every demand of that
kind being answered with shouts of "Liberty before
subsidy!"

At this time the duke was involved in the accusa-
tions of Eraser of Lovat, who detailed to the govern-
ment a plot, in which he alleged that he had engaged
several .Scottish noblemen for the restoration of the
son of James II. The parliament of England took
up the matter, and passed a resolution, declaring
that a dangerous conspiracy had been formed in
Scotland to overthrow the Protestant succession.
Hamilton, and the others named with him, defended
themselves by maintaining that the whole affair was
nothing but a malicious attempt of the court, in con-
sequence of the decided part they had taken in behalf
of their countiy's rights, to destroy their reputation,
and weaken the patriotic party to which they be-
longed. Their countrymen were in no mood to
take part against tliem : on the contrary, they con-
sidered the vote of the English legislature as a fresh
encroachment upon their liberties, another unwar-
rantable interference with matters beyond their
jurisdiction. When the states met in 1704, there-
fore, there was no alteration in their tone — the act

JAMES HAMILTON.

of security was insisted upon with the same deter-
mination; and it was now wisely acceiled to.

Scotland was thus lct,'ally disjoined from Kngland,
and the military i)re])arations provided for in the
act of security were immediately commenced. This
measure, however threatening it might appear, pro-
duced ultimately the most lieneficial effects, having
had the effect of rousing the English government to
the danger of a rupture with Scotland. Should that
nation make choice of a separate sovereign, it was
likely to be one who had claims to the throne of
England; and thus not only might the old hostilities
between the two countries be rekindled, not only
might a Scottish alliance be resorted to by foreign
courts, to strengthen them in their designs against
England; but the prince who held his court at Edin-
burgh would have numerous adherents in the southern
part of the island, as well as in Ireland, by whose
assistance long and harassing wars might be main-
tained, with too probable a chance of the ultimate
establishment of the exiled family on the British
throne.

The prospect of dangers such as these induced
the English government to devote all their influence
to the formation of a treaty, by which the two coun-
tries might be incorporated, and all causes of dissen-
sion, at least in a national point of view, removed.
During the discussion of this measure, the details of
which proved extremely unsatisfactory to the Scot-
tish people, they looked up to the Duke of Hamilton
as the political leader on whom the fate of the coun-
try entirely depended. That nobleman seems in
his heart to have been hostile to the union. In the
earlier stages of the proceedings he displayed con-
siderable firmness in his opposition, and out of doors
he was greeted with the most enthusiastic plaudits.

The Duke of (^ueensl)erry, who acted as royal
commissioner, had his lodging in Ilolyrood House;
so had the Duke of Hamilton. The queen's repre-
sentative could only jiass to his coach through lanes
of armed soldiery, and be hurried home amidst volleys
of stones and roars of execration; while the popular
favourite was attended all the way from the Parlia-
ment Close by crowds, who encouraged him with
loud huzzas to stand by the cause of national in-
dependence. A plan was devised, with the duke's
consent, for interru])ting the progress of this odious
treaty by a general insurrection. But when the
agents had arranged matters for the rising of the
Cameronians in the west country, either doubting
the practicability of the scheme, or reluctant to in-
volve the country in civil war, he despatched mes-
sengers to countermand the rising, and was so far
successful, that only an inconsiderable number re-
paired to the ])lace of rendezvous. It was next
resolved that a remonstrance should be jiresentcd by
the nobles, barons, and gentry hostile to tlie union;
and about four hundred of them assembled in Edin-
burgh, for the purpose of waiting upon the lord-
commissioner, with this expression of the national
opinion. The address was drawn up with the un-
derstanding that it should he ])rescntecl by llie Duke
of Hamilton; but that nobleman again thwarted the
measures of his party by refusing to appear, unless
a clause were inserted in the address, expressive of
the willingness of the subscribers to settle the crown
on the house of Hanover. To this proposal the
Jacobites, who formed a large portion of the oppon-
ents of the union, would not listen for a moment;
and while discussions and disputes were protractetl
between the Dukes of Athol and Hamilton, the
gentlemen who had attended their summons to swell
the ranks of the remonstrants, dispersed to their
homes, chagrined and disappointed.

Hamilton next assembled the leaders of the op-
position, recommended that they should forget former
jarrings, and endeavour to repair previous mis-
management by a vigorous and united effort for the
defeat of the obnoxious treaty. He proposed that
a motion formerly made for settling the succession
in the house of Hanover should be renewed, in con-
junction with a proposal fatal to the union; and that,
on its being rejected, as it was sure to be in such
circumstances, a strong protest should be taken, and
the whole of their party should publicly secede from
parliament. The consequence of this step, he argued,
must be, that the government would abandon further
proceedings, as they could not pretend to carry
through a measure of such importance with a mere
handful of the national representatives, whose opin-
ions were so conspicuously at variance with the wishes
of the great mass of tlie people. The Jacobites
objected to the preliminary motion, but the duke
overcame their scruples by representing, that as it
must necessarily be rejected, it could not entangle
them in any obligation inconsistent with their prin-
ciples. Finally, he assured them, that if this plan
failed of its effect, and the English should still press
on the union, he would join them to recall the son
of James II. The purpose of the anti-unionists
having come to the knowledge of the Duke of Queens-
berry, he sought an interview, it is said, with the
leader of the popular party, and assured him that if
the measure miscarried, his grace should be held
accountable for its failure, and be made to suffer for
it in his English estates. Whether intimidated by
this threat, or that his own understanding did not
apjirove of the course which his feelings prompted,
Hamilton was the first to fail in the performance of
the scheme which he had taken so much pains to
persuade his coadjutors to consent to. "On the
morning appointed for the execution of their plan,"
says Sir Walter Scott, "when the members of op-
position had mustered all their forces, and were about
to go to parliament, attended by great numbers of
gentlemen and citizens, prepared to assist them if
there should be an attempt to arrest any of their
number, they learned that the Duke of Hamilton
was so much afflicted with the toothache that he
could not attend the house that morning. His
friends hastened to his chambers, and remonstrated
with him so bitterly on this conduct, that he at
length came down to the house; but it was only to
astonish them by asking whom they had pitched
u])on to present their protestation. They answered
with extreme surprise that they had reckoned on his
grace as the person of the first rank in Scotland,
taking the lead in the measure which he had himself
proposed. The duke persisted, however, in refusing
to expose himself to the displeasure of the court, by
being foremost in breaking their favourite measure,
but offered to second any one whom the party might
appoint to offer the protest. During this altercation
the business of the day was so far advanced, that the
vote was put and carried on the disputed article
respecting the representation, and the opportunity
of carrying the scheme into effect was totally lost.
The members who had hitherto opposed the union,
being thus three times disappointed in their measures
by the unexpected conduct of the Duke of Hamilton,
now felt themselves deserted and betrayed. Shortly
afterwards most of them retired altogether from their
attendance on parliament, and those who favoured
the treaty were suffered to proceed in their own way,
little encumbered either by remonstrance or opposi-
tion."

Such is the story of the Duke of Hamilton's share
in these two great measures. It presents a curious

JAMES HAMILTON.

213

view of perseverance and firmness of purpose at one
time, and of the utmost instability at another in the
same person, both concurring to produce a great and
important change in the feelings and interests of two
nations powerful in old times from their hardihood
and valour, rendered more powerful in later times
by the union of these qualities with intelligence and
enlightened enterprise. The conspicuous and de-
cided manner in which the Duke of Hamilton stood
forward as the advocate of the act of security carried
it through a stormy opposition, and placed the king-
dom in a state of declared but legalized defiance of
England; while the unsteadiness of his opposition to
the union paved the way for the reconciliation of the
two nations. Had the Scottish people never asserted
their independence with that determination which
forced the English government to sanction the act
of security — had the duke's resolution failed him
here, the terms of equality subsequently offered by
England would not have been granted: — had the
states persevered in the same intractable spirit when
the union was proposed to them — had the duke
manifested any portion of his former firmness, the
mutual interests of England and Scotland might
have been barred, the two kindred people might
have been thrown back into interminable hostilities,
and the glory and happiness which Great Britain
has attained might never have been known.

Though the consequences of the union have been
so beneficial to Scotland, yet the treaty was urged
forward by means which no friend of his country
could approve. The body of the nation regarded it
as disgraceful and ruinous; its supporters were pur-
chased with bribes — one nobleman sold himself for
the miserable sum of eleven pounds sterling; and its
opponents were awed to silence by threats. No
wonder that men of honourable minds were fired with
indignation, and many of them prepared to resort to
desperate measures to wipe away the national dis-
grace. The opportunity seemed favourable for a
movement among the Jacobites, and an agent from
France engaged a number of the nobles to join the
Chevalier if he should land on the Scottish shores.
Among these was the Duke of Hamilton, who,
although pressed to declare himself prematurely,
adhered to the letter of his agreement, and by his
prudence saved his large estates from confiscation.
Whilst the French ships were on the seas, with the
design of an invasion, his grace was taken into
custody as a disaffected person, but suffered a very
short restraint. This did not prevent his being
named among the sixteen Scottish peers who took
their place in the first British parliament, in which
he attached himself to the Tory party, and "stickled
as much," to use the words of a biographer of that
period, "for Dr. Sacheverell and the high-church
interest, as he had done about three years before for
the security of the Scottish kirk." The Whigs losing
their influence in the councils of Queen Anne, the
opposite party began to be received into favour; and
in June, 171 1, Hamilton was created Duke of Bran-
don. He was at that time one of the representatives
of the Scottish nobility, but claimed to take his seat
as a British peer. In this he was vehemently
opposed, notwithstanding the precedent afforded
by the admission of Queensberry in virtue of the
title of Duke of Dover. After a long debate, in
which a motion to take the opinion of the judges
was rejected, it was decided, that since the union no
Scottish peer could take his place in the British
parliament in any other character than as one of the
sixteen representatives. This decision so highly
incensed the Scottish lords that they seceded from
the house : they were appeased and prevailed on to

return, but the point was not conceded at that time,
although the queen interested herself in behalf of
the Duke of Hamilton. Nor was it till so late as
the year 1782, when his descendant again preferred
his claim, that, the judges having given an unanimous
opinion in his favour, the eligibility of Scottish
noblemen to the full privileges of peers of Great
Britain was established.

The duke had married to his second wife, Anne,
daughter of Lord Digby Gerrard, by Elizabeth,
sister to the Earl of Macclesfield. Lady Gerrard was
left by her husband's will guardian to her daughter,
whose fortune amounted to about p^6o,ooo; and
while the duke courted her, he offered to content
himself with that dowry, and bound himself in a
bond of ;i^io,ooo to give her mother a relief of her
guardianship two days after the marriage. This
engagement, however, he not only declined to per-
form, but sought relief of his bond in chancery,
which was so highly resented by Lady Gerrard that
she left all she had to her brother, and bequeathed
to her child a legacy of five shillings, and a diamond
necklace in case the duke should consent to give the
release in question. This his grace persisted in
withholding, and the Earl of Macclesfield settled his
estate, to the prejudice of the Duchess of Hamilton,
on another niece, who had married the Lord Mohun.
The lawsuit to compel that nobleman, as executor
of Lady Gerrard, to give an account of his guardian-
ship, was continued; and the feelings of the two
parties were mutually much embittered in the course
of the proceedings. Mohun was a man of violent
temper, and in his youth accustomed himself to the
most depraved society. When he was about twenty
years of age, one of his companions murdered Mount-
ford, a comedian in Drury Lane; and, the principal
having absconded, Mohun was tried by the house of
peers. Fourteen voices pronounced him guilty, but
sixty-nine cleared him. So far, however, was the
shameful situation in which he had been placed from
reclaiming him, that he plunged again into the same
courses, and seven years after was arraigned at the
same bar on a similar accusation. This time, indeed,
it was proved that his lordship had no participation
in the crime, but had used some endeavours to
prevent it. Thereafter he abstained, indeed, from
dissolute and lawless brawls, but he carried into the
pursuits of politics no small share of the heat which
marked his early career. "It is trae," says a con-
temporary writer, who seems to have been willing
to excuse his faults, "he still loved a glass of wine
with his friends; but he was exemplarily temperate
when he had any business of moment to attend."
His quarrelsome disposition was notorious, and the
duke's friends had been long apprehensive that a
collision would take place, and repeatedly warned
his grace to be on his guard. On the nth of No-
vember the two noblemen had a meeting at the
chambers of Mr. Orlebar, a master in chancery, in
relation to the lawsuit, when everything passed off
quietly. Two days after, on the examination of a
person of the name of Whitworth, who had been a
steward to Lady Gerrard, the duke was so provoked
by the substance of his deposition, as openly to
declare, "He had neither truth nor justice in him."
To this Lord Mohun rejoined, "He had as much
truth as his grace." No further recrimination passed;
another meeting was arranged for the Saturday
following, and the duke, on retiring, made a low
bow to Mohun, who returned it. There were eleven
persons present, and none of them suspected any ill
consequence from what had just taken place. His
lordship, however, immediately sent a challenge to
the duke, which was accepted. On the 15th of

214

JAMES HAMILTON REV. JAMES HAMILTON.

November, 1 7 13, the day that had been fixed for a
resumption of their amicable conference, they re-
paired to the rin^ in Hyde Park, and, beinjj both
greatly exasperated, they fought with peculiar deter-
mination and ferocity. This is attested by the
number and deadliness of the wounds on both sides.
Lord -Mohun fell and died on the spot. He had
one Wound mortal, but not immediately so, entering
by the right side, penetrating through the belly, and
going out by the iliac b<:)ne on the left side. Another
dreadful gash, in which the surgeon's hands met
from opposite sides, ran from the groin on the left
side down through the great vessels of the thigh.
This was the cause of imme^liate death. There were
sjme slighter incisions, and two or three fingers of
the left hand were cut off. The duke's body suffered
an equal havoc, partly inflicted, it was alleged, by
foul pl-iy. A cut in the elbow of the sword-arm
severed the small tendons, and occasioned so much
loss of blood as to be fatal. A wound in the left
breast, between the third and fourth upper ribs,
pierced downwards through the midriff and caul
sufficient to produce death, but not immediately.
He had also a dangerous slash in the right leg. It
is believed that the duke, after his right ami was
disabled, being ambide.xter, shifted his weapon, and
killed Mohun with his left hancL The wound in
his own breast was the last that was inflicted, and
Colonel Hamilton gave his oath that it was the
sword of General Macartney, Mohun's second, which
dealt it. So strong was the presumption of the truth
of this that the general absconded, and when brought
to trial in the ensuing reign, the evidence upon which
he was ac<|uittetl still left the matter doubiiul.

The death of two men of rank in so bloody a
rencounter, was in itself enough to produce a strong
feeling of horror in the public mind. The unfair
play by which it was believed one of them had been
sacrificed filled every honourable bosom with indig-
nation ; and the agitation was increased by reports
that the duke had fallen a victim to assassination
instigatet.1 by political hatretl. Immediately before
the duel took place, he had been named ambassador
extraordinary to Paris, with powers to effect an
arrangement for the restoration of the exiled family
on the death of the queen ; and the party who were
desirous of such a consummation openly alleged
that his death had been conspired by the \Vhigs
with a view to prevent it. This does not appear
to have been the case, however true it may be that
Mohun was a zealot in politics, and disreputable in
his private character.' The duke's body was con-

' The fallowing curious anecdote respecting the fifth Duke
of Hamilton, son of the above, occurs in a manuscript account
of the ducal family, in the possession of Mr. Chancellor of
Shieldhill :—

" L'pon the 31st of October, 1736, he was, at the p.-ilace of
Holyrijod House, inst.tllcd knight of the most noble order of
the l"histle, by James, Earl of Findlater and Scafield, appointed
fjr that effect representative of King George I.

"The regalia, now after the union being l<jcked up in the
castle, they wanted the sword of state for that purpose, and,
as the stone went, they had recourse to the Earle of Rothes's,
which was not only gifted by General M'Kertney to him. but
the same with which he should have so b,-»sely stabbed the
duke his father. And the guards, who drew up about the
Earle of Findlater, as king's commissioner, chanced also to be
the Scots Fuziclieres. then under the e)mm.and of the said
M'Kertney; which occasioned the following verses: —

"Vc sons of old Scotland, come hither and look
On Rothes's sword that knighted the duke.
I>ispell all your thoughts, your cares, .nnd your fean;,
Being noblie guarded by your own fuzielicrs.

"Yet
The peers and the heraulds were in a strange bustle,
How they could inst.all a knight of the Thistle ;
For, wanting the sword and honours of slate.
Waat shame could they get to lay on his pate?

veyed to -Scotland fjr burial. The deplorable death
of so amiable a nobleman spread a very general
regret; a bill to prevent duelling was in consequence
intro<luced into the House of Commons, but it was
dropped after the first reading.

HAMILTON, Rev. James, D.D. In mention-
ing the name of this eminent minister of the Scottish
church. Regent Square, London, our thoughts revert
to his distinguished father, the Rev. William Hamil-
ton, D. D., minister of Strathblane, to whom we
must devote a brief notice. This worthy clergjTnan
was born in the parish of Stonehouse, Lanarkshire,
in 1 7S0. Although bom in comparatively affluent
circumstances, his parents destined him for the office
of the ministr)-, a choice that v.-as in full accordance
with his o%\Ti wishes. In 1796 William Hamilton
became a student of the university of Edinburgh,
and such was his enlarged desire for knowledge, that
in addition to the routine of study prescribed by the
church, he attended the classes of anatomy, chemistr}-,
and materia imdka. On being licensed to preach
he officiated as assistant first at Broughton, and
afterwards at New Kilpatrick, imtil he was elected
to be minister of St. Andrew's Chapel, Dundee; and
although this charge was only a chapel of ease, so
that it gave him no place in church courts, his popu-
larity as a preacher and the affection of his people
were more than a compensation for this inferior
clerical standing. After continuing in this place for
a little more than a year and a half^ he was presented
to Strathblane in the county of Stirling, and inducted
into that parish in 1S09. Here he found his per-
manent resting-place, and soon became distinguished
by his zeal for the improvement of his people, who
constituted a population of about a thousand souls.
With this ^^ew he distributed religious books, \isited
his flock, prepared them for the sacrament by in-
stituting weekly addresses in the church, established
Sabbath-schools, and formed a parish librar)-. He
also established Bible and missionar}- societies, meet-
ings for intellectual conversation, and a temperance
society. All this was much for a parish minister in
addition to his round of weekly clerical duty, but
to these he superadded the cares of authorship,
which he undertook in the first instance for the im-
provement of his own parishioners, but which pro-
cured him in return a greater reward than he sought
— for his works were widely circulated over Scotland,
and obtained for him an intellectual and literary
reputation which no author can regard with indiffer-
ence. His principal productions were a Treatise on
Assurance, the Young Communicaufs Remembraiuer,
and his Mourner in Zion Comforted. After a dis-
tinguished, useful, and well-spent life, he died in the
close of March, 1S35.

Of this excellent clergyman James Hamilton was
the eldest son. He was born in Paisley, on the
27th of November, 1814 — and it was his pla}-fid
boast that his birth-place was a town of such intelli-
gence and comfort, that Rowland Hill had called
it "the paradise of Scotland." To this commenda-
tion he also added the following statement in his
biography of James Wilson of WoodvUle: — "In the
days of his [the biographer's] youth he had a vener-
able relative (proprietor of the oldest spinning-mill
in Scotland) who used to say that, when he ^yas
young, he knew every reeking lum in Paisley, and

" Some voted a cane and others a mace.
But true-hearted Seafield spoke thus to his grace:
My lord, upon honour, the regalia are fled,
WTiich were basely sold off by me and your dade. —

But here's Rothes's sword — so down on your kneel

Now, rise up a hii^tt and a knavi lyke me."

REV. JAMES HAMILTON,

215

that there was a time every mornin_:^ when, passing
ahnost any door, you were sure to hear the voice of
])rayeranil psahiis." As a zealous Scot and Presby-
terian, the thouLjhts of Dr. Hamihon loved to dwell
amidst the recollections of his country's piety in tlie
olden time, and its devotedness in the days of the
covenant — delightful visions, among the pictures
of which he was apt to lose sight of modem changes
under which so much of the oUl life has passed away.
I laving at an early period resolved to devote himself
to tiie ministry, he prosecuted his studies at the uni-
versity of Cdasgow, and afterwards at that of Edin-
burgh. At the first of these colleges he was the
principal connecting link of a little society of seven
students who met regularly once a fortnight at his
lodgings for social and intellectual exercise and con-
versation. Among the members of this little associa-
tion were Sir William Hooker, Dr. Andrew Thom-
son of Brougliton Place Ciiurch, Dr Campbell of
liradford, the Rev. W. Arnot, and the late James
Halley; and the high place they held in the uni-
versity was indicated by the fact, that on one season
they carried off nearly all the college prizes. During
the whole of his student life both in Glasgow and
Edinburgh James ILimilton was noted for the purity
of his character and his religious earnestness, qualities
which were recommended to his fellow-students by
his intellectual character and the variety of his at-
tainments. Like his father, he was unwilling to be
confined within the ordinary routine of those studies
which the church required in its candidates for the
ministry, but carried his incursions into natural
science, especially chemistry and botany; and such
was his love of these departments, and the attain-
ments he secured in them, that at one time he thought
of making them his profession, instead of the clerical
office. But his path was marked out by a higher
power, and to this he was shut up let him long and
resolve as he might. These studies also were of
important use to him in his sacred vocation; and his
sermons were enriched with such illustrations from
the vegetable kingdom, and the science of zoology,
as charmed his hearers by their novelty and beauty,
and made the religious lessons they conveyed all
the better understood, and permanently remem-
bered. But amidst so much hard reading that re-
quired a relaxing change — and such multifarious
studies that were calculated to create new cravings
of the intellectual appetite, as well as greater power
of digestion — James Hamilton had never been a novel
reader. The assertion will appear incredible ; but
enthusiastic and imaginative as he was, he had only
read one novel in the whole course of his life. This
confession he made to the writer of the present notice,
who heard it with no little amazement. The novel
in question was one of Sir Walter Scott's ; and that
he might obtain some idea of that wondrous power
by which the modern reading world is enthralled,
Hamilton ventured upon the perusal. No sooner
had he entered the charmed circle than the spell of
the mighty magician was upon him, and every object
that had hitherto appeared commonplace and tame
was invested with fresh beauty and grandeur. He
saw the old world flooded with a new sunshine, and
beheld its inhabitants as he had never seen them
before. But when he recovered breath, which he
did only at the close of the work, and found himself
restored to the world of every-day life, he asked him-
self if all this was right, but found himself obliged
to answer in the negative. Plis delight had re-
sembled the intoxication of an opium dream, and
was therefore sinful, and worthy of condemnation.
Such was his conclusion after a close and severe
retrospection, in consequence of which he never

perused another novel. It is well when an imagina-
tion so ardent can condemn itself to such total ab-
stinence, where indulgence would be attended with
more than ordinary danger. It was fortunate also
fjr Hamilton that he had already found his own
itleal world, the exuberance of which was more than
sufficient for all his desires, 'i'he beauty of nature,
which to his scientific eye disclosed charms unseen
by the common observer, and the writings of our
poets of the highest class, especially of AliJton and
those of the Puritan period, furnished materials for
his thoughts, as well as illustrations for his speech,
which mere novel-reading could not have improved,
and might possibly have deteriorated.

On finishing his college studies, Mr. Hamilton
commenced his clerical life as assistant minister in
the small secluded parish of Abernyte, in Perthshire;
but as a preacher his excellence did not at first meet
with popular recognition. His popularity, insteatl
of springing into full growth at once, at the risk of
undergoing as sudden a decay, increased by pro-
gressive stages, so that its full-grown maturity was
the effect of years. In 1840 he was inducted to the
pastoral charge of Roxburgh Chapel, Edinburgh,
but even here also he obtained little distinction as a
pulpit orator. Modern Athens was the great mart
of eloquent preachers, among whom a novice of
modest retiring habits was not likely to attract
general notice. None as yet but his personal friends
and a discerning few were aware of his talents, and
hopeful of his ultimate success. He was not doomed
to a long obscurity in Roxburgh Chapel. The
National Scotch Church in Regent Square, London,
originally built for the Rev. Edward Irving, but
from which he was excluded in consequence of his
startling doctrines, had since that period been strug-
gling under the disadvantage of a heavy debt and
empty pews ; and unless a minister could be found
to fill it the edifice was likely to be brought to the
hammer. In 1S41 its pulpit was vacant, but the
difficulty was to find a minister who would encounter
the toil and the risk of collecting a congregation
round it. It was then that Mr. Hamilton's friends
in Scotland judged him the likeliest person to sur-
mount the difficulty, and they persuaded the trustees
of Regent Square Church to be of the same opinion,
so that after the usual public trial of his qualifica-
tions as a preacher, he was appointed to the hazard-
ous charge.

With his removal to London the public life of Mr.
Hamilton properly commenced. His excellence as
a preacher grew into general recognition, and brought
persons to listen, while his personal worth secured
the hold which his eloquence had won, and induced
these casual hearers to become permanent members
of his flock. In this way a handful grew into a
numerous congregation. His eloquence, indeed, did
not take London by storm, in which case he might
have been only a nine days' wonder; but better still,
it was of that progressive character which gives the
best promise of stability and duration to its intluence.
His sermons were always pregnant with thought,
and always new; and all who listened were eager to
hear him again, and yet again, while their satisfac-
tion was increased by every repetition. One great
charm of his preaching was the richness and origi-
nality of his illustrations, which were drawn from the
sciences he had cultivated in early life, or from the
poetry of his imaginative mind and extensive reading
— illustrations not usually brought into the puljiit,
but in his case sanctioned by the subjects which they
beautified and illustrated. Nor did these Sabbath
ministrations, carefully though they were studied,
form the only, or even the principal, objects of his

2l6

REV. JA^rES 11/ MILTON JOHN HAMILTON.

labaurs, as the following account from an obituary
will testify: — "It was not alone the cares of a num-
erous and widely scattered congrej^ation which fell
upon him, but his prominent position in London,
which brought upon him, in a measure, the care of
all the churches of the English Presbyterian body.
He was convener of several committees of the synod
to which he In-'longed, and esiK-cially of that China
mission scheme of the English I'resbyterian church
which has been blessed beyond almost any Protes-
tant mission in Asia. It is to Dr. Hamilton also
that the English Presbyterian church is indebted for
the formation and successful prosecution of its most
useful church-extension anil debt -extinction funds,
on behalf of which he traversed the whole country,
to stimulate the zeal and liberality of the people.
His methodical habits greatly aided him in the des-
patch of the multiplicity of affairs committed to him,
and his business tact appeared in the facility he had
of catching the general mind of a deliberative assem-
bly, and bringing the business to a conclusion by a
well-expressed resolution."'

Successful although Dr. Hamilton was as a preacher,
it was still more as an author that his reputation
was diffused throughout the Christian world at large.
But even in this capacity he was prevented from
doing full justice to his talents in consequence of his
preparations for Sabbath duties — the cares of the
several religious institutions of which he was the
animating spirit — and more than all, by the numer-
ous demands upon his time, in consequence of the
publicity of his character. But notwithstanding
these drawbacks, his writings were numerous, and
by their superior excellence have given him a higher
and more permanent reputation than his pulpit popu-
larity could achieve. A considerable number of
them consisted of tracts written upon the spur of the
moment, or for a passing occasion; but these became
so popular that they won for him the character of
the best of our religious tract writers. Of these
smaller productions the following is a list: — The
Church in the I louse; Thankl'ulness ; The De^u of
Ikrmon: The Harp on the IVi/lozcs, or the Captivity
of the Church of Scotland; '' Farcioell to E,i,ypt, or
the Departure of the Free Church of Scotland out
of the Erastian Establishment ;" and Remembering
Zion, To Scotchmen in London.

Besides these writings, which were issued as small
pamphlets. Dr. Hamilton published several tracts
of a more ami)le character, and in separate volumes,
of which the following are the titles:—"/,//^/// Ear-
nest; Six Lectures on Christian Activity and Ardour,"
l6mo. The Mount of OUtcs, and other Lectures
on Prayer, l6mo. A Mornim^ Ivside the I^ake of
Galilee, l6mo. The LJi^ht to the Path: or the Lamp
and the Lantern, i6mo. The Happy Home; Illustra-
tions, l6mo. The Plant of Reno-urn, and other Iim-
blemsfrom Eden, i6mo. The Mount of Olives, and
a Morning beside the Lake of Galilee, l6mo.

Of Dr. Hamilton's largest works, in which the
tract form was abandoned for a higher style of writ-
ing, we give the following enumeration: — Life of
Bishop Hall. This biography, which was jirefixed
to a new edition of the writings of that eminent
prelate, was, as far as can be ascertained, the fust
attempt of Dr. Hamilton in authorship.— " y//,-
Parable of the Prodigal Son, Expounded and lilus-
tratetl," 8vo. — " The Royal Preacher, being Lectures
on Ecclesiastes," 8vo. — I^essons from the Great
Biography, Svo.~" Our Christian Classics; Read-
ings from the best Divines, with Notices Bio-
graphical and Critical," 4 vols. Svo.—" Excelsior;

* Edinburgh Daily Review.

Helps to Progress in Religion, Science, and
Literature," 6 vols. 8vo. — Memoirs of the Life of
James Wilson, Esq., E.R.S.E., of ll'oodville,
8vo. — Memoirs of Lady Coli/uhoun of Luss, Svo.
— '^Memoirs of Richard IVilliams, Surgeon, Catechist
in the Mission to Patagonia, Terra-del- Euego," Svo.
Independently of this numerous list, tlie most
voluminous and scientific of all Dr. Hamilton's
writings remains still to be noticed. This consisted
of the numerous articles on the plants of the Bible
inserted in the Imperial Bible-Dictionary, edited by
the Rev. Dr. Fairbairn, and published by the Messrs.
Blackie, Glasgow. These contributions, furnished
by Dr. Hamilton on subjects so congenial to his
own tastes and favourite studies, are characterized
by more than his wonted ardour, eloquence, and
geniality, and are prized by the scientific readers
as the best and most interesting portion of that
voluminous Scripture dictionary.

Although he had accomplished so much during
the period of his ministrj' in London, Dr. Hamilton
was of a delicate constitution, and the weight and
multiplicity of his toils may be said to have exhausted
him before the evening of his day had arrived.
Towards the end of June, feeling his health impaired,
he had retired to the country, and felt himself so
invigorated by the change that he was encouraged
to return to London ; but the hopes entertained by
his friends of a complete recovery proved fallacious,
and he died of paralysis of the brain on the 24th
of November, 1867, just three days before the com-
pletion of the fifty-third year of his age. Seldom
has London and England at large so bewailed the
death of a Presbyterian minister : the deep and
general sensation of sorrow was an attestation more
expressive than any laboured eulogium of the worth
of the deceased, and his Christian catholicity of spirit,
which all were equally compelled to love and ad-
mire. This was especially manifested at his funeral,
where the vast concourse who attended was com-
posed of mourners of all persuasions, and the rever-
end representatives of almost every Protestant com-
munion in our island, and where every distinction
was lost in the sadness of a universal bereavement.
Justly did Dr. Candlish exclaim, in the funeral sermon
preached on the occasion of Hamilton's death, "All
Christendom laments him. You have the w'hole
family of God's people with you in your sorrow."
In the evening discourse by the Rev. Henry Allan
of Islington, the same fact was thus impressively
stated, "Who of us ever thought of his presbyter}',
or felt that he was of another section of the church
than his own ? In our pulpits he was seen as natu-
rally, and loved as famdiarly, if not as fully, as in
his own." Of his intellectual character, and the
effect of his writings, the following verses by a Con-
gregationalist will form an appropriate end to this
notice: —

"The dream-like murmur of the bee,

As low it bent the tiny flower,

The stillness of the twilight hour.
The headland brave that fronts the sea:
"All nature's sights and sounds to him

Had ever been a source of joy;

He knew her haunts, while yet a boy,
In dewy gl.-ides and woodlands dim.
"His little books, like winged seed

l?lown by the winds o'er land and sea,

A blessing in the world shall be
To broken hearts that pine and bleed,
"O h.ippy death, O holy life.

Thou hast a portion and a name

Worth more to thee than earthly fame,
And far removed from mortal strife."

HAMILTON, John, a secular priest, made him-
self remarkable in the sixteenth century by liis furious

JOHN HAMILTON.

217

zeal in behalf of the Church of Rome ; lea%'ing all
the Scottish ecclesiastics of that period far behind
by the boldness and energy with which he defended
the tenets of the Romish church, and assailed those
of the Reformed religion. There is nothing known
of the earlier part of his life ; but there is some ground
for believing that his violence and activity rendered
him obnoxious to the Scottish government, and that
he was in consequence compelled to leave the king-
dom. Whatever may have been the cause of his
departure from Scotland, he established himself at
Paris in the year 1573. Here he applied to the
study of theology, and with such success, that he
was soon afterwards appointed professor of philo-
sophy in the Royal College of Navarre.

In 1576 he became tutor to the Cardinal de Bour-
bon, and in 157S to Francis de Jayeuse, afterwards
promoted to a similar dignity. Besides these, there
were many other young persons of quality intrusted
to him, in consequence of the high opinion enter-
tained of his talents and learning. In 1581, still
burning with zeal, he published a work entitled
"Am Catholick and facile Traictaise dra'uin out of
the Halie Scriptures, treulie exponit be the Ancient
Doctrines to confirm the Reall and Corporell Prae-
sence of Christis Pretious Bodie and Blude in the
Sacrament of the Altar." This work he dedicated
to "His Soverane Marie, the Quenis Majestie of
Scotland." To this book were appended twenty-
four "Orthodox and Catholic Conclusions," dedi-
cated to James VI., whom, by the aid of some
reasoning of his own, he termed King of Scotland.
These "Conclusions" he prefaced with prolixity
equal to the work itself, but more characteristically
— "testimonies for antiquitie of religion and succes-
sion of pastors in the catholick kirk, and certane
questionis to the quhilkis we desire the ministers
mak resolute answer at their next Generall Assemblie,
and send the same imprentit to us with diligence,
utherwise we protest that their pretendit religion is
altogidder antichristian and repugnant to God and
his halie kirk." What fortune attended this bold
challenge does not appear, but his own in the mean-
time was steadily advancing. In 1584 he was
chosen rector of the university of Paris, and in 1585,
while yet a licentiate in theologv', he was elected to
the cure of St. Cosmus and Damian by that part of
the students of the university of Paris called the
German nation. His election on this occasion was
disputed, but finally confirmed by a decree of parlia-
ment.

Still amongst the foremost and most violent in all
religious discords, Hamilton became a furious zealot
for the Catholic League of 1566, which it is well
known had for its object the extermination of Pro-
testants, without regard to the means, and figured
during that celebrated era under the title of Cure de
S. Cosine. In the same spirit he again distinguished
himself when Henr)- IV. of France besieged Paris
in the year 1590.

On that occasion he mustered the Parisian eccle-
siastics, drew them up in battle array, and led them
on against the forces of the heretics under Henr}-,
making them halt occasionally to sing hymns as they
advanced. As the King of France was compelled
to abandon the blockade of Paris before he finally
carried the city, by the Duke of Parma, who, des-
patched by Philip, King of Spain, now arrived with
an army to assist the leaguers who defended it,
Plamilton not only escaped the fate which would
certainly have awaited him had Henry succeeded
in the siege, but became more active and turbulent
than ever, and soon after was one of the celebrated
"council de Seize quartier," who took upon them,

with an effrontery which has no parallel in historv',
to dispose of the crown of France; and actually went
the length of offering it to Philip II. of Spain, to be
bestowed on whomsoever he thought fit. Of all the
bigoted and merciless fanatics who composed the
fraternity of the "Seize," Hamilton was the most
bigoted and relentless; and when those wretches
had resolved on the murder of Brisson, president
of the parliament of Paris, together with L' Archer
and Tardif, two obnoxious councillors, it was
Hamilton who arrested the latter, and dragged him
from a sick-bed to the scaffold ; and although the
Duke of Mayenne came immediately to Paris on
hearing of these atrocities, and hanged four of the
ringleaders of the infamous fraternity by which they
had been perpetrated, yet Hamilton by some means
or other contrived to escape sharing in their punish-
ment. In 1594 his unextinguishable zeal again
placed him in an extraordinary and conspicuous
position. On the day on which Henry IV. entered
Paris, after embracing the Catholic religion, and
while Te Deum was celebrating for the restoration
of peace and good government, Hamilton, with
some of his frantic associates, flew to arms, with
the desperate design of still expelling the king, in
whose conversion they had no faith. The attempt,
however, as might have been expected, was a total
failure, and Hamilton was taken into custody, but
was afterwards allowed to leave France without
farther punishment. The parliament, however, some
time after his departure, sentenced him to be broken
on the wheel for the murder of Tardif, and as he
was not then forthcoming in person, ordered that
tlieir decree should be carried into execution on his
efiig)'. Hamilton in the meantime had retired to the
Low Countries, and was now residing at Brussels,
under the Spanish government.

In i6c» he published another work on religious
matters, entitled A Catalogue of One Hutidred and
Sixty-seven Heresies, Lies, and Calumnies, Teachit
and Practisit be the Ministers of Calvin s Sect, and
Corruptions of Tu-eitty-three Passages of the Scripture
be the Ministeris Adulterate Translations thereof.
This work he dedicated to the Scottish king. In
1601 Hamilton returned to his native countrj-, after
an absence of above thirty years. He was there
joined by one Edmond Hay, an eminent Jesuit,
equally turbulent and factious with himself. The
arrival of these two dangerous men, whose characters
were well known, especially that of Hamilton, having
reached the ears of the king, he immediately issued
a proclamation, enjoining their instant departure
from the kingdom under pain of treason, and de-
clared all guilty of the like crime who harboured
them.

Notwithstanding this edict, Hamilton contrived to
find shelter in the north, and to elude for some time
the vigilance of the government. Amongst others
who contravened the king's proclamation on this
occasion was the Lord Ogilvie, who afforded him
a temporary residence at his house of Airly. At
length the' Scottish privy-council, determined to
have possession of so dangerous a person, despatched
a party of life-guards to apprehend him. When
found and desired to surrender, this indomitable
and factious spirit, who had bearded the King of
France in his might, and treated the orders of a
Scottish privy-council with contempt, endeavoured
to resist them, but in vain. His life, however, was
after\vards spared by the king, who, by a very slight
stretch of certain laws then existing, might have
deprived him of it. This clemency is said to have
arisen from James' regard for Hamilton's nephew,
then Sir Thomas Hamilton, afterwards Earl of

= iS

JOHN HAMILTON.

HaJdin-ton. The former, after his capture, spent
the remainder of his days in the Tower, where he
%\as sent at once fur his own safety and that of the
kingdom.

Amongst other peculiarities of Hamilton, it is
recorded that he entertained a strong aversion to
the introduction of Knglish words into the Scottish
language, a practice which was then becoming
f ishionable ; and in the abuse which he was con-
stantly heaping on the I'rotcstant preachers, he fre-
quently charges them with "knapping Suddrone"
(aiming at Lnglish), and still greater enormity, with
having it "imprentit at London in contempt of our
native language;" and in proof at once of his abhor-
rence of all innovation in this particular, and of his
partiality for the native unadulterated language of
his own country, he always wrote in a style some-
what more uncouth than was warranted by the
period in which he lived.

HAMILTON, John, Archbishop of St. Andrews,
and the last Scottish primate of the Roman Catholic
faith, was the natural son of James Earl of Arran,
by a gentlewoman of Ayrshire. No nearer approxi-
mation seems to have been made to the period of
his birth than that it must have happened some
time during the reign of James V. The early edu-
cation of a person so situated is not likely to have
attracted much attention, and we may, with a pretty
equal chance of arriving at the truth, either receive
or reject the statement of M'Kenzie,* made with the
laudible desire of biographers to afford complete
and minute information, that he studied the belles-
lettres and philosophy at Glasgow, and theology in
P" ranee, where he entered into holy orders. It is,
however, sufficiently ascertained, that he returned
in the year 1543 from some residence or journey in
France, and found himself abbot of Paisley, a situa-
tion within the limits of the e.vtensive church patron-
age of his father, to which the son was nominated in
1 541.* The circumstance of his journey through
England in his return from France introduced this
ambitious man to the commencement of his restless
career. He was graciously received by Henry VIII.,
and either in duplicity or ignorance of the scene of
action about to open to him, he entered into the
views of the English monarch with regard to a
matrimonial alliance with Scotland, which he was
afterwards to use his best endeavours to frustrate.
On his arrival in Scotland he found the path of
distinction just opened to his view, by the recent
advancement of his vacillating brother to the regency
of the kingdom, and may have conceived those high
projects which the weakness of his unhappy relative

' M'Kenzie's Lives of Scats Jf^rt'/ers, iii. 102.

^ The accurate authors of the H istory 0/ tlie Senators oftlie
College 0/ Justice h.ive referred this presentation to so early a
period as 1525. These authors are usually extremely minute in
their references, but here the authority is omitted. \S'c pre-
sume it to be that of Crawford, who in his Officers o/Stnte refers
the event to the same period. The latter is certainly the more
veracious authoritv of the two, yet, admitting that we have
not undergone the labour of an investigation among the original
records which might clear up so wide a divergence, we are in-
clined in this instance to believe the dictum of M'Kenzie. The
authors of the late work alluded to falsify the statement of
M'Kenzie that Hamilton was on the Continent for some years
previously to 1543, by a reference to the records of parliament,
1.1 which the abbot of Paisley is mentioned in two sederunts,
t'lal of 1534 and that of 1540. If Hamilton was not appointed
till 1^41, this must have been the previous abbot. If he was
appointed in 1545, we can only accede to M'Kenzie's state-
ment of his absence on the Continent on the supposition that
"«."»<! ^y<:n advantage of the act 3d, James I. chap. 52,
which entitled prelates, earls, &c.,to appear by their procu-
rators, on pnxlucing proof of a necessary cause of absence— a
privilege which, if it was ever taken advantage of, fell soon
after into disuse.

fostered, while it interfered with their consummation.
He joined Cardinal Beaton in that opposition which
the primate's fears for the safety of the church
prompted him to exhibit towards the matrimonial
alliance with England, and the enemies of Hamilton
have not been backward in attributing to him an
unhesitating application to the most ungenerous and
infamous means for the achievement of his ends,
throughout the heart-burning and unfortunate pro-
gress of that renowned conference. The change
produced in the regent's policy by the persuasion
of the abbot, and the something more than persua-
sion of the cardinal, assisted by the insults of the
English monarch, is well known, with all its calam-
itous consequences. The perseverance of Hamilton
was rewarded by the offices of pri\y-seal and of
high-treasurer, in which latter he succeeded Kirkcaldy
of Grange. In 1545 he was further rewarded by
the wealthy bishopric of Dunkeld. With unscrupu-
lous greed he wished to retain, after his elevation,
both the dignity and emolument of his abbacy, but
was prompted to resign them on his brother James
being nominated his successor, with the moderate
reservation of the fruits of the benefice during his
lifetime, and the power to re-enter, in the event of
surv'iving his brother. On the death of Cardinal
Beaton Hamilton was translated to the archbishopric
of St. Andrews. Unmindful of the fate of his pre-
decessor, he commenced his inauspicious career with
blood. A man of the name of Adam Wallace was
tried before him in a synod in the Blackfriars'
Church of Edinburgh, and being found guilty of
acting as a vagrant preacher, baptizing his own
children, and of inability to discover the term
"mass" in the Holy Scriptures, he was delivered
over to the civil judge, and burned at the stake.
JBut the archbishop was not one of those who
welcomed the rising strength of the Reformation
with fire and sword. He was a strong-thinking
and acute man, with a mind conversant in the
weaknesses and prejudices of men, and well adapted
to hold the balance firmly and cautiously between
contending parties. He was not of those spirits
framed to be the scourges of the earth ; but fate had
cast him in evil days on an unhappy land, where
men were not accustomed to scruple at the measures
by which they gratified their passions or prejudices,
and the minds formed in more peaceful times for
better things burst the regulating power which
might have restrained them in a period of less
temptation.

Hamilton saw the coming enemy, and the mode-
ration and firmness with which he defended the
church protracted for a short period the fall of the
crumbling fabric. He used his utmost endeavours
to put to rest a fiery controversy which inflamed his
district, on the subject of addressing the Lord's
prayer to the saints; a heterodo.x English priest
having maintained that it should be addressed to the
Deity alone, while an orthodox friar of St. Andrews
proved, by a syllogistic examination of each depart-
ment of the prayer, that there were good reasons
why it ought to be addressed to the saints, because
there were no references in it which would not apply
to their situation, excepting towards the end, where
requests were made which it was entirely beyond the
power of saints to grant, and in which their inter-
cession only should be presumed to be requested.
Out of the discussions on this matter arose disputes
on the exact mental value of the appeal to the saints,
some maintaining it to be made to the saints mater-
ialitcr, while it was made to the Deity fortnalilcr
— others, that while it was addressed to the Deity
principaliter, it came before the saints minus princi-

JOHN HAMILTON.

219

paliter: an.l the grailes of distinction being too
mimerous for the consideration of the primate, who
Mas never a casuist without havin^j some purpose in
view, he remitted them to a provincial synod, wliich
duly attended to the interest of the saints. At this
synod the archbishop performed one of those jsrudent
acts of reconciliation by which he sought to avert
the fall of his order. He had prepared a catechism
containing an exposition in English of the command-
ments, the creed, and the Lord's prayer, which was
formally approve.l of by the synod, and ordered to
be read to the people on Sundays and holidays by
the curates of the respective churches, and which
was afterwards circulated through the country at
such a small price as might remunerate the hawkers
by whom it was vended. In the year 155 1 the
davs of this ambitious priest appeared to be nearly
ended by a stubborn asthmatic complaint, which
defied tiie skill of the Scottish physicians, who
pronounced his recovery as hopeless. The cele-
brated Cardan was induced', by a magnificent re-
muneration, to visit him, and the disease yielded
either to the medicines of the empyric or to nature.
RI'Kenzie has taken much pains to prove that, in
calling for the assistance of this singular individual,
the primate did not appeal to the powers of magic,
as Buchanan and others have accused him of having
done; but it is much to be doubted whether, from
the character of both parties, the patient did not
suppose he was receiving, and the physician that he
was administering, the aid of unholy powers. The
influence of Hamilton's mind over that of his brother
ii shown by the advantage taken of his sickness.
The queen-mother seized the opportunity which her
own ambitious views and the instigations of her
family had prepared her to use, and extracted from
the feeble regent a resignation of his authority into
her own hands. The archbishop on his recovery
felt the indignation natural to a fierce and ambitious
spirit, compelled by his situation to depend on a
person whose facile mind required to be kept at its
purpose by the firmness of his own. According to
Sir James Melville, the convalescent priest received
the intelligence with a burst of rage; "he cursed,
and cried out that the governor was a very beast for
quitting the government to her," bestowing an epi-
thet not very decorous on the princess who stood
between his brother and the throne. But Sir James
Melville mentions the intelligence as having been
received by him when abroad, and from the infor-
mation of Captain Ninian Cockburn, "a busy
meddler," — and however certainly we may judge of
the ambitious prospects of the archbishop, it is not
likely that he would have uttered them in a situation
which would have admitted their being reported to
such a person. The effect of his recovery is a
farther evidence of his powerful mind. The resig-
nation not duly and formally completed was revoked,
and with all the advantage of possessing the dignity,
the powerful princess was compelled to submit for
a time. After a protracted conference, the queen-
mother, aided by the influence of those whom her
polished manners had secured, and of the Protestant
party in general, whom she affected to protect,
seconded by the will of her daughter, no longer an
infant, obtained her end; but the advantages stipu-
lated for by the archbishop on the part of his brother
v/ere the same as those which had been held out to
him as a bait at the commencement of the contract,
acknowledging, as a principal article, the ex-regent's
right of succession, failing the young queen, which
seems to have presented to the archbishop golden
views of ambition which it were difficult to fathom.
Hitherto the primacy of Hamilton had been marked

by but one act of persecution, with which he was
but indirectly connected; but just after the period of
the last incident described, he appalled the nation by
the perpetration of an act for which neither religious
bigotry, opposition to the regent, nor the alleged
influence of the abbot of Kilwinning, are sufficient
satisfactorily to account, in a man who knew so well
the advantage of moderate counsels. Walter Mill,
an aged Protestant minister, w^as tried at St.
Andrews before the archbishop, found guilty of
heresy, and condemned to death by the flames.
Men looked with such deep horror on the act, that
an individual possessing the requisite powers could
hardly be found to add the supplementary authority
of the civil judge — no one would furnish a rope to
bind the martyr to the stake, and the archbishop
had to provide with his own sacred hands the
necessary implement. The people of the country
marked the spot of Mill's death by rearing over
it a heap of stones, and so often as these were re-
moved, the sullen memorial was restored by the
patient and unyielding people. This was one of
the marked acts which either terrify or give impulse
to a slowly approaching enemy — it had the latter
effect. Knox preached soon after in the pulpit of
his cathedral church, and the usual destruction
attended his presence. The archbishop, who, what-
ever he might be in politics, was no bigot in religion,
strove to compromise with the arch-reformer, admit-
ting that there were many evils in the church which
should be remedied, but that "he should do wisely
to retain the old policy, which had been the work
of many ages, or then put a better in its place, which
his new model was far from," — but the proflfer was
unnoticed. He made a last and daring effort in the
committee of estates in 1560, which gave the sanction
of law to the doctrines and government of the Pro-
testant faith. He there objected to his own brother,
the Bishop of Argyle, and to the Bishop of Galloway
being admitted as lords of the articles, to prepare
the measure for the adoption of the house, according
to the constitution of the parliament of Scotland,
because they had embraced Presbyterianism, and
were therefore disqualified by the constitution they
were about to alter : and, along with the Bishops of
Dunkeld and Dunblane, gave an unavailing opposi-
tion to the measures.

Three years after this convention he became
amenable to one of its provisions, which prohibited
the celebration of mass, and was committed to the
castle of Edinburgh, whence he was released through
the reiterated tears and intercessions of Queen Mary.
Royal favour still beamed on the archbishop, but it
was clouded by popular hatred. In 1566, at the im-
pradent request of the queen, he baptized the young
prince with the ceremonies of the Church of Rome;
and with still more imprudence, if not with a design
of aiding the perpetration of deep wickedness, he
was, on the 23d of September, of the same year,
personally reinvested by the queen's signature, in
the consi'storial jurisdiction, of which the clergy in
general had been deprived by the legislature. Whit-
aker, with the purposes of a special pleader before
him, maintains this not to have been a revival of the
jurisdiction, but the special gift of an authority which
had not been discontinued. Not to argue on the
improbability that a jurisdiction belonging to the
body of right should be bestowed on one particular
member by favour, the act of parliament which trans-
fers to the commissaries the consistorial authority of
the church, is as plain as a Scottish act usually is.
The dangerous and invidious jurisdiction thus be-
stowed was used on one great occasion, and history
has preserved no other instance of its application: he

PATRICK HAMILTON.

grantc<l a commission to judjjes who severed tiie in-
convenient bonds betwixt Earl liothwell and iiis wife,
which interfered in some respects with tlie formality
of a marriage with the queen, and this act, coupled
with the circumstance that the archbishop was one
of those who prepared the account of the murder of
Darnley, so hastily transmitted to the French court,
originated in the minds of l»is enemies suspicions of
deep guilt, the justice of which we do not pretend to
judge.

The fidelity of the archbishop towards the queen,
however much party spirit may account for it on
ambitious grounds, is, by a charitable interpretation,
a pleasing part of his character. He was the heart
and heail of the j)arty which associated for her cause
during her confinement in Loclileven. He aided
her escape, and boUlly urged on the battle, so unfor-
tunate to the ([ueen, which followed. He now bid
a perpetual adieu to the state and pomp he had so
long sustained, and seems to have for more than a
year wandered through the country in search of a
roof to protect him. On the capture of Dumbarton
Castle, in 1571, the governor of which had bestowed
on him temporary protection, he was tried on an ac-
cusation of four several acts of treason. 1st, "That
he knew, and was participand or accomplice in the
murdering of King Henry, the queen's husband.
2J, That he conspired against the king's person
at the murdering of the first regent, intending to
have surprised the castle of Stirling, and to have
been master thereof at his pleasure. 3d, That he
knew, or_was participand in the murder of James
Earl of Nlurray, the late regent. 4th, That he lay
in wait at the wood of Calendar for the slaughter of
Matthew Earl of Lennox, the present regent." With
a candour whicli ought to weigh much with the
world in the consideration of the other atrocities of
which he has been accused, he confessed with contri-
tion a participation in the third crime laid to his
charge. Much confusion and mystery attend the
accounts of this trial which have reached our time;
but it would appear that some difficulties, either in
form or evitlence attending the proof of the crimes
laid to his charge, prompted recourse to a fiction
convenient on such occasions, and disgraceful to the
law in which it found a place — an act of forefaulture
in absence had been passed against the archbishop in
the first parliament of Regent Murray, and in terms
of that act he was hanged on the common gibbet of
Stirling, in his pontificial robes, on the 5th April,
1571. The ignominy gratuitously bestowed on the
reverend head of their party and religion was not
soon forgot by the adherents of the Hamiltons, and
long after his haughty indomitable sjjirit had ceased
to op|)ose the progress of the Reformation, his name,
and the memory of his fate, were bonds of union to
the Papists, and dreaded by the Protestants. Like
that of all violent partisans, the memory of Hamil-
ton has been coloured with much blame and with
much praise. Buchanan has wasted good Latin both
in prose and verse in ascribing to him all the vices
of which poor human nature is susceptible — " Archi-
episcopus etiam in omnium rerum licentia suis
cupiditatibus obsequebatur;" — nor does he hesitate
to charge him with accession to two deliberate
murders, fr<mi the punishment consequent on one of
which, his influence protected the ])rincipal perpe-
trator, the father of his mistress. His incontinence
is a charge which circumstances have, to a consider-
able extent, justified.

HAMILTON, Patrick, one of the first martyrs
to the doctrines of the Reformed religion, was born
about the year 1503. He was nephew to the Earl

of Arran by his father, and to the Duke of Albany
by liiN mother; and was besides related to King James
\ . of Scotland. And by this illustrious connection
there stands forth another proof of the erroneous-
ness of the commonly received opinion, that the first
Reformers were generally men of inferior birth. He
was early educated for the church, with high views
of preferment from his jiowerful connections, and, in
order that he might prosecute his studies undisturbed
by any cares for his present subsistence, had the
abbacy of Ferme bestowed upon him. While yet
but a veiy young man he travelled into Germany,
with the view of completing those studies which he
had begun at home, and to which he had applied
himself with great assiduity. Attracted by the fame
of the university of Wiirtemberg, he repaired thither,
and after remaining some time, removed to that of
Marpurg, where he was the first who introduced
public disputations on theological questions. Here
he formed an intimacy with the celebrated reformers
Martin Luther and Philip Melancthon, who finding
in Hamilton an apt scholar, and one already cele-
brated for superior talent, soon and successfully in-
structed him in the new views of religion which they
themselves entertained. His rapid progress in these
studies delighted his instructors, and not only they
themselves, but all w'ho were of their way of thinking,
soon perceived that in their young pupil they had
found one who would make a distinguished figure in
propagating the new faith. Accordingly he be-
came an object of great interest to all the disciples
of Luther and Melancthon, who wailed with much
anxiety to see what part the youthful reformer
would take in the enterprise of at once over-
throwing the Church of Rome and establishing
that of the true religion ; a task which not only
required talents of the highest order to combat the
learned men who were of the opposite faith, but
also tlie most determined courage to face the dan-
gers which were certain to accompany their hos-
tility. In the meantime, Hamilton had come to
the resolution of beginning his perilous career in his
native country, and with this view^ returned to Scot-
land, being yet little more than twenty-three years
of age. The gallant young soldier of the true church
had no sooner arrived, than, although he knew it
was at the hazard of his life, for Huss and Jerome in
Germany, and Resby and Craw in Scotland, had
already perished by the flames for holding tenets op-
posed to those of Rome — he began publicly to ex-
pose the corruptions of the Romish church, and to
point out the errors which had crept into its religion
as professed in Scotland. Hamilton's gentle de-
meanour and powerful eloquence soon procured him
many followers, and these were every day increas-
ing in number. The Romish ecclesiastics became
alarmed at this progress of heresy, and determined
to put an immediate stop to it. Not choosing, how-
ever, at first to proceed openly against him, Beaton,
then Archbishop of St. Andrews, under pretence of
desiring a friendly conference with him on religious
matters, invited him to that city, then the head-
quarters of the Romish church in Scotland. De-
ceived by the terms of the invitation, Hamilton re-
paired to St. Andrews. All that Beaton desired
was now attained; the 3'oung Reformer was within
his grasp. One Campbell, a prior of the Black
P'riars, was employed to confer with him, and to as-
certain what his doctrines really were. This duty
Campbell performed by means of the most profound
treachery. He affected to be persuaded by Hamil-
ton's reasoning, acknowledged that his objections
against the Romish religion were well founded, and,
in short, seemed a convert to the doctrines of his

AUmOR OF "AN ra^UJRY OM THE NATIONAL DKBT"&c

vsr EDTNBUKGll i- LONDON

ROBERT IIAMILTOX.

unsuspecting victim; and tlnis obtained from liim
acknowledi^ments of opinions which brought him
immediately under the power of the church. Camp-
bell liaving froni time to time reported the conver-
sations which took place, Hamilton was at length
apprehended in the middle of the night, and thrown
into prison. On the day after he was brought before
the archbishop and his convention, charged with en-
tertaining sundry lieretical opinions, Campbell being
his accuser, and as a matter of course Hamilton being
found guilty, was sentenced to be deprived of all
dignities, honours, orders, ofhces, and benefices in
the church; and furthermore, to be delivered over to
the secular arm for corporeal punishment, a result
which soon followed. On the afternoon of the same
day he was hurried to the stake, lest the king should
interfere in his behalf. A quantity of timber, coals,
and other combustibles having been collected into
a pile in the area before the gate of St. Salvator's
College, the young martyr was bound to a stake in
the middle of it. A train of powder had been laid
to kindle the fire, but the effect of its explosion was
only to add to the victim's sufferings, for it failed to
ignite the pile, but scorched his face and hands
severely. In this dreadful situation he remained,
jiraying fervently the while, and maintaining his
faith with unshaken fortitude, until more powder was
brought from the castle. The fire was now kindled,
and the intrepid sufferer perished, recommending his
soul to his God, and calling upon him to dispel the
darkness which overshadowed the land.

The infamous and most active agent in his destruc-
tion, Campbell, was soon after Hamilton's death
seized with a remorse of conscience for the part he
had acted in bringing about that tragedy, which
drove him to distraction, and he died a year after,
under the most dreadful apprehensions of eternal
wrath.

HAMILTON, Robert, LL.D., a mathematician
and political economist, was born in June, 1743-
He was the eighth son of Gavin Hamilton,* a book-
seller and publisher in Edinburgh, w-hose father was
at one time professor of divinity in, and afterwards
principal of, the university of Edinburgh. In the
life of a student, who has hardly ever left his books
to engage even in literary controversy, there is seldom
much to attract the attention of the ordinary reader:
l)ut when perusing the annals of one of the most
feverish periods of the history of the world, posterity
may show a wish to know something about the man
who discovered the fallacy of the celebrated sinking
fund, and checked a nation in the career of extrava-
gance by displaying to it the unpalliated truth of its
situation. Holding this in mind, we will be excused
for giving to the world some minutiae of this remark-
able man, whom neither the events of his life in
general, nor his connection with the literary history
of the age, would have rendered an oljject of much
biographical interest. Like many men who have sig-
nalized themselves for the originality or abstractness
of their views, Hamilton in his early years suffered
much from constitutional debility, an affliction from
which his many after-years were signally exempt, till
his last illness his only complaint being a frequent
recurrence of lumbago, which gave him a character-
istic stoop in walking. He is described as having
shown, in the progress of his education, an appetite

' Gavin Hamilton executed an ingenious and accurate model
of Edinburgh, which cost him some years' labour, and was
exhibited in a room in the Royal Infirmary in 1753 and 1754:
after his death it was neglected and broken up for firewood.
It represented a scheme for an access to the High Street by
a sloping road from the West Church; precisely the idea sub-
sequently acted upon in the improvement of the city.

for almost every description of knowledge, and to
have added to the species of information for which
he has been cclebrateil, a minute acquaintance with
classical and general ]ihilosophical subjects. A re-
spected friend, long belonging to the circle of Hamil-
ton's literary acquaintance, has described his mind
as having less quickness in sudden apprehension of
his subject, than power in giappling with all its bear-
ings, and comprehending it thoroughly after it had
been sometime submitted to his comprehension; it
was exactly of that steady, strong, and trustworthy
order on which teachers of sense and zeal love to
bestow their labour. He was, in consequence, a
general favourite with his instructors, and more
especially with the celebrated Matthew Stewart, pro-
fessor of mathematics in Edinburgh, who looked on
the progress and prospects of his future scholar with
pride and friendly satisfaction. The partiality of
Mr. Hamilton for a literary life he was compelled to
yield to circumstances, which rendered it expedient
that he should spend some time in the banking estab-
lishment of Messrs. William Hogg & Son, as a pre-
paratory introduction to a commercial or banking
profession; but this was the less to be regretted, as,
if it did not give him the first introduction to the
kind of speculation in which he afterwards indulged,
it must have early provided him with that practical
information on the general money systena of the
country which his works so strikingly exhibit. Soon
after this Mr. Hamilton began to form the literaiy
acquaintance of young men of his own standing and
pursuits, some of whom gathered themselves into
that knot of confidential literary communication
which afterwards expanded into a nursery of orators,
statesmen, and philosophers of the highest grade,
now well known by the name of the Speculative
Society. The manner in which the young political
economist became acquainted with Lord Kames, has
something in it of the simplicity of that literary
free-masonry which generally forms a chain of friendly
intercourse between the celebrated men of any par-
ticular period, and those who are just rising to re-
place them in the regard and admiration of the
world. His lordship's attention having been attracted
by the views on one of his own works, expressed in
a criticism which had been anonymously supplied by
Mr. Hamilton to one of the periodicals of the day — •
he conveyed through the same paper a wish that the
author of the critique, if already known, might become
better known to him, and if a stranger, would com-
municate to him the pleasure of his acquaintance.
The diffident critic was with difficulty prevailed on to
accept the flattering offer; the elegant judge expressed
considerable surprise at the youth of the writer, when
compared with the justness and profundity of his
views, and communicated to him, by a general invita-
tion to his house, the advantages of an intercourse
with his refined and gifted circle of visitors. In 1766
Mr. Hamilton, then only twenty-three years of age,
was prevailed on by his friends to offer himself as a
candidate for the mathematical chair of Marischal
College in Aberdeen, then vacant by the death of Mr.
Stewart, and though unsuccessful, the appointment
being in favour of Mr. Trail, he left behind him a
very high sense of his abilities in the minds of the
judges of the competition, one of whom, in a letter
to Dr. Gregory, states that "he discovered a remark-
able genius for mathematics, and a justness of appre-
hension and perspicuity that is rarely to be met
with." — "He is," continues the same individual, "an
excellent demonstrator; always planned out his de-
monstration with judgment, and apprised his audience
where the stress lay, so that he brought it to a con-
clusion in a most perspicuous manner, and in such

ROBERT HAMILTON.

a way that no person of common undcrstandinjj
coulil mi->s it." After this uiiMicccssful attempt to
acquire a situation more conj^enial to his pursuits,
Mr. llamihon iKxame a partner in the conchicting
of a paper-mill wliich had been established by his
father — a concern which, in 1769, lie rclimiuishcd to
the care of a mana^'cr on his apiiointment to tlie
rectorship of the academy at rcrth. In 1771 lie
married .Miss Anne .Mitchell of Ladath, whom he
had the misfortune of losinj^ seven years afterwards.
In 1779 the chair of natural philosophy in Marischal
Collej^e, in the gift of the crown, was ]>resented to
Dr. Hamilton. From this ciiair Dr. Copeland — a
gentleman whose high scientific knowledge and
private worth rendered him, to all who had the
means of knowing his attainments (of which he has
unfortunately left behind him no specimen), as highly
resjK'cted for his knowledge of natural ])hilosoi)hy
and history as his colleague was for that of the
studies he more particularly followed — had been re-
moved to the mathematical chair in the same univer-
sity. The natural inclination and studies of each
led him to prefer the situation of the other to his
own, and after teaching the natural philosophy class
for one year. Dr. Hamilton effected an exchange
with his colleague, satisfactory to both. He was
not, however, formally presented to the nialhemalical
chair till several years afterwards.

A short time previous to this period Dr. Hamilton
had commenced the series of useful works which have
so deservedly raised his name. In 1777 appeared the
practical work so well known by the name of Ilaviil-
tvn's Merchandise; he published in 1 790 a short essay
on Peace and War, full of those benevolent doctrines
which even a civilized age so seldom o]iposes to the
progressof licensed destruction. In 1796 Dr. Hamilton
published his Arithmetic — a work which has been
frequently reprinted; and in iSoo another work of a
similar elementary description, called Heads of a
Course of Mathematics, intended for the use of his
own students : but the great work so generally at-
tached to his name did not appear till he had passed
his seventieth year. The Iiujiiiry coucertiiiig the
Rise and Proi^ress, the Redemption and Present State
of the National Debt of Great Britain was published
at Edinburgh in 1813. It created in every quarter,
except that which might have best profited by the
warning voice, a sudilen consciousness of the folly of
the system under which the national income was in
many respects conducted, but it was not till his dis-
coveries had made their silent progress through the
medium of [lublic opinion that they began gradually
to affect the measures of the government. The prin-
cipal part of this inquiry is devoted to the considera-
tion of the measures which have at different periods
been adopted for attempting the reduction of the na-
tional debt. The earliest attempt at a sinking fund
was made in the year 1716, under the auspices of Sir
Robert Walpole— a measure of which that acute
minister may not improbably have seen the inutility
— as in the year 1733 he applied five millions of the
then sinking fund to tlie public exigencies. ' The prin-
ciple always nominally existed, allhough it was not
maintained with constant regularity and zeal, until
the year 1786, when the celebrated sinking fund of
Mr. I'itt was formed, by the disposal of part of the
income of the nation to commissioners for the redemp-
tion of the debt — a measure which was modified in
1792 by the assignment of one per cent, annually on
the nominal capital of each loan contracted during the
war, as a sinking fund appropriated for the redemp-
tion of the particular loan to which it was attached. It
underwent several^ other modifications, particularly in
1S02 and 1S07. The great prophet and propoun'dcr

of this system, the celebrated Dr. Price, unfolded
his views on the suliject in his treatise Of Reversion-
ary Annuities, ])ublishcd in 1 77 1. It is a general
opinion that an application to studies strictly nu-
merical will abstract the mind from the prejudice
and enthusiasm of theory. Dr. Price has proved
the fallacy of such a principle by supporting his tables
of calculations with all the virulence and impatience of
a vinilicator of the authenticity of Ossian's poems or
of the honour of Queen Mary. Dr. Price has given us
a glowing example of his theory, the often-repeated
instance of the state of a penny set aside and allowed
to accumulate from the time of Christ: if allowed to
remain at compound interest, it will accumulate to
(we forget exactly how many million globes of gold,
each the size of our own earth), if it accumulate at
simple interest, the golden vision shrinks to the com-
pass of a few shillings; and if not put out at interest
at all, it will continue throughout all ages the pitiful
penny it was at the commencement. The applica-
tion of the principle to an easy and cheap method of
liquidating the national debt was so obvious to Dr.
Price, that he treated the comparative coldness with
which his advice was received as a man who con-
sidered that his neighbours are deficient in compre-
hending the first rules of arithmetic; and it certainly
is a singular instance of the indolence of the national
mind, and the readiness with which government
grasped at any illusive theory which showed a heal-
ing alternative to the extravagance of its measures,
that no one ajipeared to propose the converse of the
simile, and to remind the visionary financier that in
applying it to national borrowing, the borrower, by
allowing one of the pennies he has borrowed to ac-
cumulate in his favour at compound interest, is in
just the same situation as if he had deducted the
penny from the sum he borrowed, and thus prevented
the penny and its compound interest from accumulat-
ing against him. The practical results of Dr. Price's
theories were, the proposal of a plan by which a na-
tion might borrow at simple interest, and accumulate
at compound interest a fund for its repayment: boldly
pushing his theory to its extremities, and maintaining
that it is better to borrow at high than at low interest,
because the debt will be more speedily repaid; and,
as a corollary, that a sinking fund during war is more
efficient than at any other time, and that to terminata
it then is "the madness of giving it a mortal blow."
The supposition maintained by Dr. Hamilton, in op-
position to these golden visions of eternal borrowing
for the purpose of increasing national riches, did not
require the aid of much rhetoric for its support — it
is, that if a person borrows money, and assigns a
part of it to accumulate at compound interest for tlie
repayment of the whole, he is just in the same situa-
tion as if he had deducted that part from his loan —
and hence the general scope of his argument goes to
prove the utter uselessness of a borrowed sinking
fund, and the fallacy of continuing its operation dur-
ing war, or w'hen the expenditure of the nation over-
balances the income. The absurdity of setting aside
a portion of the sum borrowed for this purpose (and
generally borrowed at more disadvantageous terms
as the loan is to any degree increased) was partially
prevented by a suggestion of Mr. Fox; but the sink-
ing fund was strictly a borrowed one, in as far as
money was laid aside for it, while the nation was
obliged to borrow for the support of its expenditure.
The evil of the system is found by Dr. Hamilton to
consist not only in the fallacy it imposes on the pub-
lic, but in its positive loss of resources. The loans
are raised at a rate more disadvantageous to the bor-
rower than that at which the creditor afterwards re-
ceives payment of them, and the management of the

ROBERT IIAMILTOX.

system is expensive. If a man who is in deljt bor-
rows merely for the purpose of paying his debt, and
transacts the business himself, he merely exposes him-
self to more trouble than he would have encountered
by continuing debtor to his former creditor; if he
employ an agent to transact the business, he is a loser
by the amount of fees paid to that agent.

These truths Dr. Hamilton is not content with
proving argumentatively; he has coupled them with
a minute history of the various financial proceedings
of the country, and tables of practical calculation,
giving on the one hand historical information, and
on the other showing the exact sums which the
government has at different periods misapplied.
Along with Mr. Pitt's system of finance he has given
an account of that of Lord Henry Petty, established
in 1807 — a complicated scheme, the operation of
which seems not to have been perceivetl by its inven-
t(^r, and which, had it continued for any length of
time, might have produced effects more ruinous than
those of any system which has been devised. The
summary of his proofs and discussions on the subject,
as expressed in his own words, is not very flattering
to the principle which has been in general followed.
"The excess of revenue above expenditure is the
only real sinking fund by which the public debt can
be discharged. The increase of the revenue, or the
diminution of expense, are the only means by which
a sinking fund can be enlarged, and its operations
rendered more effectual; and all schemes for discharg-
ing the national debt by sinking funds, operating by
compound interest, or in any other manner, unless so
far as they are founded upon this principle, are il-
lusory." But it cannot be said that Dr. Hamilton
has looked with a feeling of anything resembling
enmity on the object of his attack; he has allowed
the sinking fund all that its chief supporters now pre-
tend to arrogate to it, although the admission comes
more in the form of palliation than of approbation.
"If the nation," he says, "impressed with a convio-
tion of the importance of a system established by a
popular minister, has, in order to adhere to it, adopted
measures either of frugality in expenditure, or exer-
tion in raising taxes, which it would not otherwise
have done, the sinking fund ought not to be con-
sidered inefficient: and its effects may be of great im-
portance."— "The sinking fund," says an illustrious
commentator on Dr. Hamilton's work, in the Supple-
ment to the Encyclopccdia Britaiinica, following up
the same train of reasoning, "is therefore useful as
an engine of taxation;" and now that the glorious
vision of the great financial dreamer has vanished,
and left nothing behind it but the operation of the
ordinary dull machinery by which debts are paid off
through industry and economy, one can hardly sup-
pose that the great minister who set the engine in
motion was himself ignorant (however much he might
have chosen others to remain so) of its real power-
lessness. The discovery made by Dr. Hamilton was
one of those few triumphant achievements which,
founded on the indisputable ground of practical cal-
culation, can never be controverted or doubted: and
although a few individuals, from a love of system,
while apparently admitting the truths demonstrated
by Dr. Hamilton in attempting to vindicate the sys-
tem on separate grounds, have fallen, inntato /lotnhie,
into the same fallacy,^ the Edinburgh reviewers,
Ricardo, Say, and all the eminent political economists
of the age, have supported his doctrine, wdrile the
venerable Lord Grenville — a member of the adminis-
tration which devised the sinking fund, and for some

1 Vuie "A Letter to Lord Cre/tville on the Sinking- Fund,
by Thomas Peregrine Courtenay, Esq., M.P. Lontlon, 1S28.

time first lord of the treasury — has, in a jjamphlet
which affords a striking and noble specimen of
political candour, admitted that the treatise of Dr.
Hamilton opened his eyes to the fallacy of his once
favourite measure.

A year after the publication of this great work the
laborious services of the venerable philosopher were
considered as well entitling him to leave the laborious
duties of his three mathematical classes to the care
of an assistant, who was at the same time appointed
his future successor. The person chosen was Mr.
John Cruickshank, a gentleman who, whether or not
lie proved fruitful in the talents which distinguished
his predecessor, must be allowed to have been more
successful in preserving the discipline of his class —
a task for which the absent habits of Dr. Hamilton
rendered him rather unfit. In 1825 Dr. Hamilton's
declining years were saddened by the death of his
second wife, a daughter of Mr. Alorison of Elsick,
whom he had married in 1782; and on the 14th day
of July, 1829, he died in the bosom of his family,
and in that retirement which his unobtrusive mind
always courted, and which he had never for any con-
siderable period relinquished. Dr. Hamilton left
three daughters, of whom the second was married to
Mr. Thomson of Banchory in Kincardineshire, and the
youngest to the Rev. Robert Swan of Abercrombie
in Fife. He had no family by his second wife.

Dr. Hamilton was remarkable for his absence —
not that he mingled subjects with each other, and
mistook what he was thinking about, the error of a
weak mind — but he was frequently engaged in his-
mathematical studies when other persons were dif-
ferently employed. As with other absent men, num-
berless are the anecdotes which are preserved of his
abstractions — many of them doubtless unfounded,
while, at the same time, it must be allowed that he
frequently afforded amusement to inferior wits. He
possessed a singidar diffidence of manner, which in a
less remarkable man might have been looked upon
as humility. Taking advantage of this feeling, and
of his frequent abstractions, his class gave him per-
petual annoyance, and in the latter days of his tui-
tion, the spirit of mischief and trickery, natural when
it can be followed up in classes the greater portion
of which consisted of mere boys, created scenes of
perfect anarchy and juvenile mischief. The author of
this memoir recollects distinctly his stooping shadowy
figure as he glided through the rest of his colleagues
in the university, with his good-humoured small
round face, and his minute but keenly twinkling eyes,
surrounded by a thousand wrinkles, having in his
manner so little of that pedagogical importance so
apt to distinguish the teachers of youth, especially
in spots where the assumption of scientific knowledge
is not held in curb by intercourse with an extensive
body of men of learning. It is not by any means to
be presumed, however, that the subject of our memoir,
though retired, and occasionally abstracted in his
habits, excluded himself from his due share in the
business of the world. He led a generally active
life. He maintained a correspondence with various
British statesmen on important subjects, and with
Say and Fahrenberg, the latter of whom requested
permission to translate the work on the national debt
into German. He frequently represented his college
in the General Assembly. On the bursary funds of
the university, and on the decision of a veiy import-
ant prize intrusted to him and his colleagues, he be-
stowed much time and attention; and he gave assist-
ance in the management of the clergymen's widows'
fund of Scotland, and in plans for the maintenance
of the poor of Aberdeen.

It was once proposed among some influential in-

:::4

THOMAS HAMILTON

habitants of AlKrdccn that a public monument should
be erected to the memory of this, one of the most
eminent of its citizens. Stranjj;ers have remarked,
not much to the credit of that flourishing town, that
while it hxs produced many preat men, few have
been so fortunate as to procure from its citizens
any mark of posthumous respect. We sincerely hope
the project may not l)e deserted, and that such a tes-
timony of respect will yet appear to a man on whom
the city of Aberdeen may with more propriety be-
stow such an honour than on any stranger, however
illustrious.

HAMILTON, Thomas, R.S.A. This distin-
guished architect, of whose professional talents some
of the noblest modern buildings of Edinburgh are
the abitling monuments, was the son of David Ha-
milton, architect, of whom a brief notice has been
given in our pages. The subject of the present
memoir was not merely by birth, but also innate
genius, an architect ; and as such his reputation in
liis own particular department has outstripped that
of his father. He might have risen to higher emin-
ence still, had it not been for his taciturnity and
bxshfulness, the result in a great measure of a con-
stitutional deafness, which prevented him from show-
ing what he was worth, and advocating his proper
claims to general attention. A beautiful structure
might rise in his imagination, which he could after-
wards realize in stone; but it was like the silent rising
of Solomon's temple : he could not talk of the plan
'in detail, point out its beauties, and refute every
objection, so that men might be convinced of its
superior excellence ; and thus some of his noblest
subjects shared the fate of castles in the air. From
the same diffident silence there is nothing to record
of his life, except the edifices he raised in Edinburgh,
of which city he was a taciturn inhabitant.

During a long period the architectural achieve-
ments by which Mr. Thomas Hamilton co-operated
in raising the homely " Auld Reekie" into the
"Modem Athens," are too numerous to particu-
larize; and to the chief of them we can only be-
stow a passing notice. First in order may be men-
tioned the High-school, that most classical of build-
ings on the most picturesque and appropriate of
sites — externally, a noble Grecian temple worthy
of the days of Pericles, and internally an academy
of commodiijus class-rooms, upon which the eye of
the stranger rests with more than ordinary admira-
tion. Another of his works equally classical in its
character, although more limited, is the fafade of
the Physicians' Hall, Queen Street. A third, and
one not unworthy of his reputation, is the Burns'
monument upon the Calton Hill. The new ap-
proaches to Edinburgh by the South, and that by
George IV. Bridge, the head of Bow Street, and
the Castle Road were designed by Mr. Hamilton.
He also submitted a magnificent set of designs for
the galleries of the Royal Scottish Academy ; but
these, greatly to the regret of his admirers, were set
aside in favour of the building planned by the late
Mr. Playfair. His taste and professional skill were
also attested in those church buildings which he
planned when the Disruption of the Church of Scot-
land created a sudden demand for such erections.

For a long period Mr. Thomas Hamilton was
treasurer to the Royal Scottish Academy, of which
he was one of the original founders, and on all occa-
sions he was a vigorous supporter of the independ-
ence and dignity of national art. His knowledge of
ancient and modern art was extensive, and he enjoyed
the friendships of most of the leading artists both at
home and abroad. At the Exhibition of the Fine

- WILLIAM HAMILTON.

Arts in Paris in 1855, the gold medal was awarded to
him, and in the Exhibition of the .Scottish Academy
in 1858, his drawing of the high-school, Edinburgh,
fully attested how worthily that honour was bestowed.
Such is the brief record of a highly-talented but
silent meditative man, who died in Februar)', 1858.
The eulogy accompanying the intimation of his de-
mise in the public print from which we have chiefly
derived this sketch, is just and aj^propriate : "In all
his works there is a bold originality of design, com-
bined with a masterly knowledge of the elements of
his art which could render his ideas most effective,
and it must ever be regretted that a mind so cul-
tivated and so original had not an opportunity of
having its resources more amply developed."

HAMILTON, William, of Bangour, a poet of
considerable merit, was the second son of James
Hamilton, Esq., of Bangour, advocate, and was born
at Bangour in 1704. He was descended from the
Hamiltons of Little Earnock in Ayrshire; his great-
grandfather James Hamilton (second son of John
Hamilton of Little Earnock) being the founder of
the family of Bangour. On the death of his brother
(who married Elizabeth Dalrymple) without issue,
in 1750, the subject of this memoir succeeded to the
estate. Bom in elevated circumstances and in pol-
ished society, Mr. Hamilton received all the accom-
plishments which a liberal education, with these
advantages, could afford; and although exposed, as
all young persons of his rank usually are, to the light
dissipations of gay life, he resisted every temptation,
and in a great measure dedicated his time to the
improvement of his mind. The state of his health,
which was always delicate, and his natural tempera-
ment, leading him to prefer privacy and study to
mixing frequently in society, he early acquired a
taste for literature, and he soon obtained a thorough
and extensive acquaintance with the best authors,
ancient and modem. The leaning of his mind was
towards poetry, and he early composed many pieces
of distinguished merit. Encouraged by the appro-
bation of his friends, as well as conscious of his own
powers, he was easily induced to persevere in the
cultivation of his poetic tendencies. Many of his
songs breathe the true spirit of Scottish melody,
especially his far-famed Braes of Yai-rcnv.

Thus in calm retirement, and in the pursuit of
knowledge, his life might have passed serenely, un-
disturbed by the calls of ambition, or the toils and
alarms of war, had it not been for the ill-judged
attempt of an adventurous prince to recover the
throne of his ancestors. At the commencement of
the insurrection of 1745 Mr. Hamilton, undeterred
by the attainder and exile of his brother-in-law the
Earl of Camwath,^ for his share in the rebellion in
1715, joined the standard of Prince Charles, and
celebrated his first success at Brest onpans in the well-
known Jacobite ode of Gladsmnir. After the battle
of Culloden, so disastrous to the prince and his fol-
lowers, he fled to the mountain and the glen; and
there for a time endured much wandering and many
hardships. Finally, however, he succeeded, with
some others in the same proscribed situation, in
escaping into France. But his exile was short. He
had many friends and admirers among the adherents
of King George, and through their intercession his
pardon was speedily procured from government.
He accordingly returned home, and resumed posses-
sion of his patemal estate. His health, however, at
all times weak, by the hardships he had endured, as
well as from his anxiety of mind, had now become

' The earl married, as his third wife, Margaret, the poet's
sister.

WILLIAM IIAMILTOX

douoiy so, and required the benefit of a warmer
climate. He therefore soon afterwards returned to
the Continent, and for the lattei years of his life took
up his residence at Lyons, where a slow consumption
carried him off on the 25th March, 1754, in the liftieth
year of his age. His corpse was brought to .Scotland,
and interred in the abbey church of Holyrood.

Mr. Hamilton was twice married, into families of
distinction, and by his first lady, a daughter of Sir
James Hall of Dunglass, baronet, he had issue one
son, James, who succeeded him.

Though Mr. Hamilton's works do not place him
among the highest class of Scottish poets, he is fully
entitled to rank among those of a secondary order.
What was much in his favour, certainly not in fur-
therance of his facility of composition, but as an
advantage to his fame, is, that for a whole century
previous to the time he began to write, few names
of any consequence were known in Scottish poetry.
From 16 1 5 till 171 5 no poet of any note — except
only Drummond and Stirling — had appeared.

From the days of Buchanan, the only other poets
we could then boast of, following the example of that
leading intellect, had composed in a language utterly
opposite to their own, in construction, copiousness,
and facility — we mean the Latin: and inferior poets
as well as inferior scholars to Hamilton, in compli-
ment to the reigning fashion, continued to use that
didactic and difficult language for the expression of
their sentiments. Hamilton, therefore, had much
to overcome in entering the lists as an original writer
in his own language, the elegance, the purity, and
the freedom, though perhaps not the force nor the
energy of which he understood so well. He was
convinced that the greater part, if not the whole, of
those authors who preferred composing in a dead
language would be utterly unknown to posterity,
except perhaps to a few of the literati and the
learned. But at the dawn of the eighteenth cen-
tury the scholastic spell was at length broken, and
Hamilton and Ramsay were among the first who
gave utterance to their feelings, the one in English
and the other in his native Scottish dialect; and this
perhaps even to the present day constitutes the prin-
cipal cause of their fame. It may safely be asserted
that, in the works of Hamilton and Ramsay, there is
more genuine poetry than in the works of the whole
century of Latin poets who preceded them; though
this may be denied by those classic readers who are
still in the habit of poring into the lucubrations of
those authors, the greater part of whom have long
ceased to be known to the general reader, while the
works of Hamilton and Ramsay are still read and
admired.

Mr. Hamilton's poems were first published by
Foulis at Glasgow in 1748, i2mo, and afterwards
reprinted; but this volume was a pirated publication,
and appeared not only without his name, but without
his consent, and even without his knowledge; and,
as might have been expected, it abounded in errors.
He was then abroad, and it was thought the appear-
ance of that collection would have produced from
him a more perfect edition: but though on his return
he corrected many errors, and considerably enlarged
some of the poems, he did not live to furnish a new
aad complete edition. It remained therefore for his
friends after his death to publish from his original
manuscripts the first genuine and correct collection
of his works. It appeared in one volume small 8vo,
at Edinburgh in 1760, with a head by Strange, who
had been a fellow-adventurer with him in the cause
of Prince Charles.

This volume did not at first attract any particular
notice, and his poems were rapidly fading from

VOL. II.

public remembrance, when an attem]>t was ma3e by'
Professor Richardson of Glasgow to direct the atten-
tion of the public to his merits. In a very able criti-
cism from the pen of that gentleman which appeared
in the Lounger, among other observations no less
just, the following formed one of his principal re-
marks: "The poems of Hamilton display regular
design, just sentiments, fanciful invention, pleasing
sensibility, elegant diction, and smooth versification."
Mr. Richardson then enters into an analysis of Ha-
milton's principal poem of Co)iteniplation, or The
TriiiDiph of Love. He descants chiefly on the quality
of fanciful invention as being the principal character-
istic of poetical composition. He says "that Mr.
Hamilton's imagination is employed among beautiful
and engaging, rather than among awful and magni-
ficent images, and even when he presents us with
dignified ol)jects he is more grave than lofty, more
solemn than sublime." — "It is not asserted," con-
tinues Mr. Richardson, in illustrating the ' pleasing
sensibility' he ascribes to Hamilton, " that he dis-
plays those vehement tumults and ecstasies of passion
that belong to the higher kind of lyric and dramatic
composition. He is not shaken with excessive rage,
nor melted with overwhelming sorrow; yet when he
treats of grave or affecting subjects, he expresses a
plaintive and engaging softness. He is never violent
and abrupt, and is more tender than pathetic. Per-
haps the Braes of Yarroiu, one of the finest ballads
ever written, may put in a claim to superior distinc-
tion. But even with this exception, I should think
our poet more remarkable for engaging tenderness
than for deep and affecting pathos. In like manner,
when he expresses the joyful sentiments, or describes
scenes and objects of festivity, which he does very
often, he displays good humour and easy cheerful-
ness, rather than the transports of mirth or the bril-
liancy of wit."

Mr. Richardson, in illustration of these character-
istics, quotes some passages which convey the most
favourable impression of Mr. Hamilton's poetical
powers.

Mr. M'Kenzie, the ingenious editor of the Z^«/«^i£r,
enforced the judgment pronounced by Mr. Rich-
ardson in a note, in which he not only fully agrees
with him, but even goes farther in Mr. Hamilton's
praise. Lord Woodhouselee was also among the
first to acknowledge his excellence and vindicate his
fame. He thus speaks of Mr. Hamilton in his life
of Lord Kames, "Mr. Hamilton's mind is pictured
in his verses. They are the easy and careless effusions
of an elegant fancy and a chastened taste; and the
sentiments they convey are the genuine feelings of a
tender and susceptible heart, which perpetually owned
the dominion of some favourite mistress: but whose
passion generally evaporated in song, and made no
serious or permanent impression. His poems had
an additional charm to his contemporaries from being
commonly addressed to his familiar friends of either
sex by name. There are few minds insensible to
the soothing flatteiy of a poet's record."

The only poem which Mr. Hamilton wrote in his
native dialect was the Braes of Yarrozo, which has
been almost universally acknowledged to be one of
the finest ballads ever written. But Mr. Pinkerton,
whose opinion of the ancient ballad poetry of Scot-
land has always had considerable weight, has passed
a different judgment on it. "It is," says he, "in
very bad taste, and quite unlike the ancient Scottish
manner, being even inferior to the poorest of the old
ballads with this title. His repeated words and lines
causing an eternal jingle, his confused narration
and affected pathos, throw this piece among the
rubbish of poetrv." The jingle and affected pathos

50

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON.

of >rtiich he complains are sometimes indeed sicken-

■• 1 -

ling maun she, miunshe weep,
*ith ilulc and surraw," iiic
;. ye sisters, sisters sad,
. ivJiab with sorrow," iic

l\

< )n the other hand, the isolated condemnation of Mr
I'inkerton must be allowe-i to have httle weight
a.-ainst the interest with which this poem so signally
impressed Mr. Wor.lsworth as ^VPf''^ /'l?'^^
beautiful poems of Vurrcr.o UnvisiUd and ^arrruj

^ The measure which Mr. Hamilton was most par-
tial to is the octo-syllabU : and certainly this being
the smoothest and most euphonious, it best suited
the refinement of his mind. He sometimes however,
attempted the dfca-r^-llabU measure; but here as m
his soaring to a greater height in his subjects he did
not succe^ so well. His blank verse, like his con-
ception, is without grandeur— without ease— without
dignity: it is surcharged, rugged, and verbose. Uj
this he was himself aware, for he seldom attempted
to clothe his sentiments in the style which was per-
fected bv Milton and Shakspeare.

Mr Hamilton of Bangour is sometimes mistaken
for and identified with another poet of the same name,
William Hamilton of Gilbertfiild in Lanarkshire, a
lieutenant in the na%-v, who was the fnend and cor-
respondent of Allan Ramsay, and the modemizer of
Blind Harry's poem of Wallcue. The compositions
of this gentleman display much beaut)-, simplicity,
and sweetness; but he is neither so well known, nor
entitled to be so, as the "Bard of Yarrow."

M r Hamilton's private virtues were no less eminent
than his poetical abilities. His piety, though fer\-ent,
was of that quiet and subdued cast that "does good
by stealth, and blushes to find it fame." His man-
ners were accomplished— indeed so much so, as to
earn for him the title of " the elegant and amiable
William Hamilton of Bangour.'"

H-\MILTON, The Right Honoirable Sir
William, British ambassador at the court of Xaples,
and celebrated for his patronage of the fine arts, and
his investigations on the subject of volcanoes, was
born in 1 730. Neither biographers nor contemporarj'
periodical writers have furnished any account of his
education or early habits; all that is commemorated
regarding him previous to the commencement of his
public life, is, that his family, a branch of the noble
house of Hamilton, was in very reduced circum-
stances. He was in the most difficult of all situa-
tions—poor, high-born, and a Scotsman. "I was
condemned," to use his own words, "to make my
way in the world, with an illustrious name and a
thousand pounds." Like many of his countrymen
so situated, he had a choice betwixt semi-starvation
in the armv, and an affluent marriage — he prudently
preferred the latter; and in 1755 he found himself
most happily settled in life, with a young lady
of beauty, connections, amiable qualifications, and
C^ooa a year. It is very probable that Mr. Hamil-
ton spent his hours in philosophical ease, until his
acquisition of that situation in which he afterwards
distinguished himself. In 1764 he was appointed
ambassador to the court of Naples, where he con-
tinued till the year iSoo. If his appointment as a
resident ambassador for so long a period is to be
considered as but a method of expressing in more

' \ manuscript, containing many poems by Hamilton which
never saw the light, was in the possession of George Chalmere,
Esq., author of CaUdonia. A list of them is given m the
Tranttutionsof the Antiquarian Society of Scotland, voL iii.,
where a portiait of Mr. Hamilton has also been given.

consequential terms the emploj-ment of an agent for
advancing the study of the arts, the person was well
chosen for the purpose, and the interests of the pub-
lic were well Attended to; but if xMr. Hamdton s
claims to national respect are to be judged by his
merely diplomatic duties, the debt, in addition to
the salary he received, will be very small. The
reason why a permanent represenUtive of the British
government should have been found requisite in
Sicily U in reality one of those circumstances which
a diplomatist onlv could explain. The fame acquired
in other departments by the subject of our memoir
has prompted his biographers to drag to light his
diplomatic exertions, yet, although nothing has been
discovered which can throw a blot on his good name,
the amount of senice performed in thirty-six years
is truly ludicrous. He entered into explanations
with the Marquis Tanucci, first minister of SicUy,
re-'arding some improper expressions used by a
gentleman of the press of the name of Torcia, in his
PoUtkal Sketch 0/ Europe. He managed to keep
his Sicilian majesty neuter during the Amencan war.
He acted with prudence during the family misunder-
standings between Spain and Naples in 1784; and
finally, he exerted himself in preventing any mis-
chief from being perpetrated by "an eccentnc char-
acter among our nobiUty," who had made attempts
to dve much trouble to prudent people, by his con-
duct at Naples. But the kingdom of the Two Sicdies
was but the shadow of a European power, and was
onlv regarded as it followed one or other of the great
nationTwhose contests shook the world. It afforded
in its active existence no arena for the statesman or
the soldier. It was in the dust of buned ages that
was hid beneath its soU that the active mmd found
employment in that feeble kingdom, and these were
the only objecU worthy to absorb the attention ol
the distinguished person whom we are commemorat-

^n his arrival at the interesting country of his
mission, Mr. Hamilton repeatedly ^^slted \ esuvius
and Etna, and from a minute examination ot the
whole surrounding country-, collected numerous im-
portant geological obsenations, which were from
time to time, between the years 1766 and I779.
transmitted to the Royal Society, and afterrvards
made their appearance in the Transactions ot that
body, and in the A nnual HcgisUr. It was the design
of Sir William Hamilton to point out m these
observations such e^•idence as might lead geologists
to a better comprehension of the mfluence of subter-
raneous fires on the structure of the earth, and to
display the first links of a chain of reasonmg which
it was his hope future industrv- might make complete
It was his opinion that the land for many miles round
Naples was not, as it was generally supposed, a
district of fruitful land, subject to the ravages of
flame ; but a part of the surface of the globe which
owed its very existence to the internal conflagration:,
by which it was shaken. In illustration of this he
considered Etna to have been formed by a series of

eruptions, at protracted P^^^^i^'/^ ^^^^^^^d' Wn
nence of Monte Nuovo, near Puzzuoli, had been
formed by one eruption of forty-eight hours continu-
ance. Among other minute circumstances he dis-
covered that the streets of Pompeii were paved with
the lava of a former age, and that there was a deep
stratum of lava and burned matter under the founda-
tions of the town, showing that the earliest eruption
of hLstory was not the first of nature, and that the
labours of man might have been more than once
buried beneath such coverings. As illustrations of
these valuable remarks, the author collected a magni-
ficent assortment of the various descnptions ot la^a,

'}'

'^E have ihe pleasure of sending to our readers, as an attraction and embellishment
of our present niiinber, the rare portrait of Sir William IIamiltox, the great metaphy-
sician of Scotland. A biographical sketch of his life and mind will be found in the letter-

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON,

227

which he lodged in our national museum, that natu-
ralists might be able to trace a connection betwixt
liiese immediate productions of the volcano, and
other portions of the crust of the globe. These re-
marks were afterwards digested and systematized,
and produced, first, Obsciiuitions on Aloitnt P'esuviits,
Mount Etna, and other Volcanoes 0/ the Tzoo Sicilies,
published in London in 1772. The next, a more
aspiring work, was published at Naples in 1776, in
two folio volumes, and called ^^Carnpi Phlegrcei,
Observations on the Volcanoes of the Two Sicilies,
as they have been communicated to the Royal Society
of London, by Sir William Hamilton." The num-
erous plates in this magnificent work of art, from
views taken on. the spot by Mr. Valris, a British
artist, are faintly engraved in little more than outline,
and coloured with so much depth and truth, that they
assume the appearance of original water-colour draw-
ings of a very superior order. They are illustrative
of his favourite theory, and represent those geological
aspects of the country which he considered peculiarly
applicable as illustrations. It is to be remarked,
that neither in his communications to the Royal
Society, nor in his larger works, does this author
trace any complete exclusive system. He merely
points out the facts on which others may work, ac-
knowledging that he is disposed to pay more respect
to the share which fire has had in the formation of
the crust of the earth, than Buffon and others are
disposed to admit. "By the help of drawings," he
says, "in this new edition of my communications to
the society, which so clearly point out the volcanic
origin of this country, it is to be hoped that farther
discoveries of the same nature may be made, and
that subterraneous fires will be allowed to have had
a greater share in the formation of mountains, islands,
and even tracts of land, than has hitherto been sus-
pected." Many men of eminence at that time visited
Sir William Hamilton, and marked the progress of
his discoveries, and among the rest Monsieur Saus-
sure, professor of natural history at Geneva, who
accompanied him in his investigations, and acceded
to the arguments he derived from them. During
the course of his communications to the Royal
Society, it was the fortune of the author to have an
opportunity of witnessing Vesuvius in eruption.

In October, 1767, occurred the emption which
is considered to have been the twenty-seventh from
that which in the days of Titus destroyed Hercu-
laneum and Pompeii. The mountain was visited by
Hamilton and a party of his friends during this in-
teresting scene, which has afforded material for one
of the most graphic of his communications. But a
grander scene of devastation attracted his attention
in October, 1779, when the unfortunate inhabitants
of Ottaiano had reason to dread the fate described
by Pliny. Of this memorable eruption our author
transmitted an account to Sir Joseph Banks, which
he afterwards published as a supplement to his
Canipi Phlegrcei.

Previously to the period of the last event we have
mentioned, the subject of our memoir was connected
with the preparation of another great work, for
which the world has incurred to him a debt of grati-
tude. He had made a vast collection of Etruscan
antiquities — vases, statues, and fresco paintings,
partly dug from the earth, and partly purchased from
the museums of the decayed nobility, among which
was that great collection now deposited in the British
Museum, which had belonged to the senatorial house
of Porcinari. Of the most precious of these remains
of antiquity, Hamiltonallowed theadventurer D'Han-
cerville to publish illustrated plates, liberally allow-
ing the artist to appropriate the whole profits of the

work. "Long since," he says, "Mr. Hamilton had
taken pleasure in collecting those precious monu-
ments, and had afterwards trusted them to him for
publication, requiring only some elegance in the exe-
cution, and the condition that the work should ap-
pear under the auspices of his Britannic majesty."
The work accordingly was published at Naples,
under the title of A>itiquites Etnisqiies, Greques, et
Rotnaines. The Abbe Winckelman mentions that
two volumes of this work were published in 1765,
and two others the year following. Along with the
author of a notice of Sir William Hamilton's life,
which appeared in Bahhoin's Literary yoiirnal, we
have been unable to discover a copy of the two
former volumes of this work, or to find any reference
to them on which we can repose trust; nor do we
perceive that the two latter volumes bear the marks
of being a continuation, and neither of the after edi-
tions of Paris, 1787, and Florence, 1801 and 1808,
which might have informed us on this subject, are
at present accessible to us. The two volumes we
have mentioned as having seen contain general re-
marks on the subjects of the plates, in English and
French, which both the imaginative matter and the
language show to have been translated from the
latter language into the former. The plates, by far
the most valuable part of the work, introduced a
new spirit into the depiction of the useful remains of
antiquity, which enabled the artist who wished to
imitate them to have as correct an idea of the labours
of the ancients as if the originals were before him.
The terra-cotta vases predominate ; some of these
are votive offerings, others have been adapted for
use. A general view of the form of each is given,
with a measurement, along with which there is a dis-
tinct fac-simile of the paintings which so frequently
occur on these beautiful pieces of pottery ; the en-
graving is bold and accurate, and the colouring true
to the original. This work has been the means of
adding the bold genius of classic taste to modern ac-
curacy and skill in workmanship. From the painter
and statuary to the fabricator of the most grotesque
drinking cup, it has afforded models to artists, and
is confidently asserted to have gone far in altering
and improving the general taste of the age. During
the exertions we have been commemorating, Hamil-
ton was in the year 1772 created a knight of the Bath
— a circumstance which will account for our some-
times varying his designation, as the events men-
tioned happened previously to, or after his elevation.
The retired philosophical habits of Sir William
Hamilton prevented him in the earliest years of his
mission from forming intimacies with persons simi-
larly situated, and he lived a life of domestic privacy,
study, and observation of nature. But fame soon
forced friends on his retirement, and all the eminent
persons who visited his interesting neighbourhood
became his guests. One of his friends, the French
ambassador at the court of Naples, has told us that
he protected the arts because the arts protected him
and enriched him. The motives of the characteristic
may be doubted. A love of art fascinates even mer-
cenary men into generosity, and the whole of Sir
William HamUton's conduct shows a love of art, and
a carelessness of personal profit by his knowledge,
not often exhibited. Duclos, secretary of the French
Academy, on visiting Naples, has drawn an enthusi-
astic picture of the felicity then enjoyed by Sir
William Hamilton — his lady and himself in the
prime of life, his daughter just opening to woman-
hood, beauty, and accomplishments ; the public re-
spect paid to his merits, and the internal peace of
his amiable family; but this state of thingswasdoomed
to be sadly reversed. In 1775 Sir William lost his

2 28

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON WILLIAM HAMILTON'.

only dauj^hter, ami in 1782 he hail to deplore the
death of a wife who hail brought him competence
and domestic peace. After an absence of twenty
years he revisited Britain in 17S4. The purpose
of this visit is whispered to liave been that he
might interfere with an intended marriage of his
nephew, Mr. Greville, to Miss Emma Hart. If
such was his view, it was fulfilled in a rather uncx-
pecteil manner. It is at all times painful to make
written reference to those private vices, generally
suspected and seldom proved, the allusion to which
usually receives the name of "scandal ;" but in the
case of the second Lady Hamilton they have been
so unhesitatingly and amply detailed by those who
have chosen to record such events, and so compla-
cently received by the lady herself and her friends,
that they must be considered matters of history,
which no man will be found chivalrous enough
to contradict. This second Theodosia passed the
earlier part of her life in obscurity and great indi-
gence, but soon showed that she had various ways
in which she might make an independent livelihood.
Some one who has written her memoirs has given
testimony to the rather doubtful circumstance, that
her first act of infamy was the consequence of charit-
able feeling, which prompted her to give her virtue
in exchange for the release of a friend who had been
impressed. Be this as it may, she afterwards dis-
covered more profitable means of using her charms.
At one time she was a comic actress — at another,
under the protection of some generous man of fashion ;
but her chief source of fame and emolument seems
to have been her connection with Romney and the
other great artists of the day, to whom she seems
to have furnished the models of more goddesses than
classic poets ever invente<l. Mr. Greville, a man
of accurate taste, had chosen her as his companion,
and the same principles of correct judgment which
regulated his choice probably suggested a transference
of his charge to the care of -Sir William Hamilton.
His own good opinion of her merits, and the char-
acter she had received from his friend, prompted Sir
William soon after to marry this woman, and she
took the title of Laiiy Hamilton in 1791. At that
time both returned to Britain, where Sir William
attempted in vain to procure for his fair but frail
bride an introduction to the British court, which
might authorize, according to royal etiquette, her
presentation at the court of Naples. But this latter
was found not so difficult a barrier as that which it
was considered necessary to surmount before attempt-
ing it. The beauty, and perhaps the engaging
talents, of Lady Hamilton procured for her notoriety,
and notoriety brings friends. She contrived to be
essentially useful, and very agreeable, to the King
and (Jueen of the Sicilies; and procured for herself
their friendship, and for her husband additional
honours. Her connection with Lord Nelson, and
the manner in which she did the state service, are
too well known; but justice, on passing speedily
over the unwelcome subject, cannot help acknow-
ledging that she seems here to have felt something
like real attachment. The latter days of this woman
restored her to the gloom and obscurity of her origin.
She made ineffectual attempts after the death of'her
husl)and to ])rocurc a pension from government.
Prol)ably urged by necessity, she insulted the ashes
of the great departed, by publishing her correspond-
ence with Lord Nelson, followed by a denial of her
accession to the act, which did not deceive the pub-
lic. She died at Calais in February, 1S15, in miser-
able obscurity and debt, without a friend to follow
her to the grave, and those who took an interest in
the youthful daughter of Nelson, with difficulty

prevented her from being seized, according to a
barbarous law, for the debts of her mother.

But we return with pleasure to the more legitimate
object of our details. There was one subject of im-
portance on which some prejudices on the part of the
Sicilian government prevented Sir William Hamil-
ton from acquiring that knowledge which he thought
might be interesting and useful to his country. A
chamber in the royal museum of Portici had been
set aside for containing the manuscripts, of which
a small collection had been found in an edifice
in Pompeii ; and on the discovery that these cal-
cined masses were genuine manuscripts of the days
of Pliny, the greatest curiosity was manifested to ac-
quire a knowledge of their contents. The govern-
ment was assailed by strangers for the watchfulness
with which these were kept from their view, and
the little exertion which had been bestowed in di-
vulging their contents : the latter accusation was per-
haps scarcely just ; some venerable adherents of the
Church of Rome did not hesitate to spend months
of their own labour in exposing to the world the sen-
tences which an ancient Roman had taken a few
minutes to compose. The public were soon made
sufficiently acquainted with the subject to be disap-
pointed at the exposure of a few sentences of the
vilest of scholastic stuff; and the narrow-mindedness
of which Sir William Hamilton had to complain has
been since discontinued, and England has had an op-
portunity of showing her skill in the art of unrolling
papyrus. To acquire the information, for which he
found the usual means unavailing, Sir William
Hamilton entered into an agreement with Father
Anthony Piaggi, a Piarist monk, the most diligent
of the decipherers, by which, in consideration of a
salary of ;i^ioo, the latter was to furnish the former
with a weekly sheet of original information, which,
to avoid ministerial detection, was to be written in
cipher. The contract seems to have been executed
to the satisfaction of both parties, and Sir William
procured for Father Anthony an addition to his
salary equal to the sum at which it was originally
fixed ; and on the death of the father in 1798 he be-
queathed all his manuscripts and papers to his patron.
Sir William Hamilton, on his visit to Britain in
1 791, was created a privy-councillor. The circum-
stances which in 1 798 compelled him to accompany
the Sicilian court to Palermo are matter of histor)-,
and need not be here repeated. Sir William Hamil-
ton died in April, 1803, in the seventy-second year
of his age. His death deprived the world of two
great works which he hoped to have lived to prepare
on the subject of the museum of Portici.

HAMTLTON, William, a celebrated surgeon
and lecturer on anatomy and chemistry in the uni-
versity of Glasgow. This meritorious individual was
unfortunately cut off from the world too early in life,
and too suddenly, to be enabled to give to the world
those works on his favourite science on which he
might have founded his fame, and the circle of his
influence and renown was hardly so extensive as to
attract the attention of posterity ; but a tribute to his
memory in the form of a memoir of his life, and re-
marks on his professional acquirements, read by his
friend Professor Cleghorn to the Royal Society of
Edinburgh, * and inserted in the Transactions of that
eminent body, justifies us in enumerating him among
distinguished Scotsmen. William Hamilton was
born in Glasgow on the 31st July, 1758. His father
was Thomas Hamilton, a respectable surgeon in
Glasgow, and professor of anatomy and botany in

' Vol. iv. p. 35, read 6th November, 1792.

WILLIAM HAMILTON-

WILLIAM RICHARD HAMILTON.

229

that university ; and his mother, daughter to Mr.
Anderson, professor of church history in the same
institution. He followed the usual course of instruc-
tion in the grammar-school and college of his native
city, from which latter he took the degree of Master
of Arts in 1775, at the age of seventeen. Being sup-
posed to show an early predilection for the medical
profession, he proceeded to Edinburgh, then at the
height of its fame as a school for that science, where
he studied under Cullen and Black, the early friends
of his father. The bad health of his father recalled
the young physician after two sessions spent in Edin-
burgh, and both proceeded on a tour to Bath, and
thence to London, where the son was left to pursue
his studies, with such an introduction to the notice
of Dr. William Hunter as a schoolfellow acquaint-
anceship between his father and that distinguished
man warranted. The prudence, carefulness, and
regularity of the young man's conduct while sur-
rounded by the splendour and temptation of the me-
tropolis have been commended by his friends ; these
praiseworthy qualities, joined to a quick perception
on professional subjects, and an anxiety to perfect
himself in that branch of his profession which calls
for the greatest zeal and enthusiasm on the part of
the medical student, attracted the attention of his
obser\-ing friend. He was requested to take up his
residence in Dr. Hunter's house, and finally was
trusted with the important charge of the dissecting
room — a valuable and probably a delightful duty.
He seems to have secured the good opinion he had
gained by his performance of this arduous and im-
portant function. "I see and hear much of him,"
saj-s Dr. Hunter in his correspondence with the
young man's father, "and everybody regards him as
sensible, diligent, sober, and of amiable dispositions."
— "From being a favourite with everybody, he has
commanded every opportunity for improvement
which this great town afforded during his stay here;
for everybody has been eager to oblige and en-
courage him. I can depend so much on him, in
every way, that if any opportunity should offer of
serving him, whatever may be in my power I shall
consider as doing a real pleasure to myself." Such
were the character and prospects of one who, it is to
be feared, was then nourishing by too intense study
the seeds of dissolution in a naturally feeble constitu-
tion. Soon after, the father's state of health imperi-
ously requiring an assistant in his lectures, the son
undertook that duty, and in 1 781, on his father's
final resignation, was nominated his successor — a
circumstance which enabled his kind friend Dr.
Hunter to fulfil his former promise by stating to the
Marquis of Graham that he considered it "the in-
terest of Glasgow to give him, rather than his to
solicit, the appointment." The father died in 1782,
and the son was then left the successor to his lucra-
tive and extensive practice, in addition to the duties
of the university. During the short period of his en-
joyment of these desirable situations he received from
the poorer people of Glasgow the character, seldom
improperly conferred, of extending to them the assist-
ance which a physician of talent can so well bestow.
He kept for the purpose of his lectures, and for his
own improvement, a regular note-book of cases,
which he summed up in a tabular digest at the ter-
mination of each year. Of these notes he had before
his death commenced such an arrangement as would
enable him to form from them a system of surgery
which he intended to have published. Some extracts
from this collection are preserved by the biographer
we have mentioned, as characteristics of the style of
his composition, and the extent of his observation.
In 17S3 he married Miss Elizabeth Stirling, a lady

accomplished, and of good connections in Glasgow.
Within a very few years after this event, the marked
decay of his constitution alarmed his friends, and his
knowledge as a physician enabled him to assure him-
self that death was steadily approaching. He died
on the 13th day of March, 1790, in the thirty-second
year of his age. V^w, even of those who have de-
parted in the pride of life — in the enjoyment of talents,
hopes, and prosperity, seem to have caused greater
regret, and it cannot be doubted that it was des<;rved.
His style of lectureship as a public instructor is thus
described by Mr. Cleghorn : — "As a lecturer, his
manner was remarkably free from pomp and affecta-
tion. His language was simple and perspicuous, but
so artless, that it appeared flat to those who place the
beauty of language in the intricacy of arrangement,
or the abundance of figures. His manner of speaking
corresponded with his style, and was such as might
appear uninteresting to those who think it impossible
to be eloquent without violent gestures and frequent
variations of tone. He used nearly the tone of or-
dinary conversation, as his preceptor Dr. Hunter did
before him, aiming at perspicuity only, and trusting
for attention to the importance of the subjects he
treated."

HAMILTO]Sr,WiLLiAMRiCHARD,F.R.S., author
of the ^■Egyptiaca,'^ an elected trustee of the British
Museum, and minister at Naples from 1822 to 1825,
was born in 1777. His father, the Rev. Anthony
Hamilton, archdeacon of Colchester, vicar of St.
IMartin's, and rector of Hadham, who married a
daughter of Terrick, Bishop of London, was grandson
of William Hamilton of Wishaw, by his second wife,
Mary Erskine, daughter of Sir Charles Erskine of
Alva, and grand-daughter of John seventh Earl of
Mar. He was cousin to William Gerard Hamilton,
commonly known as Single-speech Hamilton, who
for twenty-one years was chancellor of the exchequer
in Ireland.

Mr. W. R. Hamilton was from an early age dis-
tinguished for his taste and learning, and will long
be remembered for the active and zealous part which
he took in the administration of affairs during a
momentous period of our histor}'. At an early age
he was sent to Harrow, then in the zenith of its popu-
larity, and was there the companion of many eminent
men. An accident, which somewhat impaired his
physical activity during a long life, compelled him to
leave that seat of learning; for many months he w^as
confined to his bed, but his mind was not idle; with
great courage and perseverance he undertook and
completed a translation of the works of the great his-
torian of the Peloponnesian war. For a short time
he was a member of each of the universities of Oxford
and Cambridge.

Mr. Hamilton commenced his public career in
1799, at the age of twenty-two, when the father of
the late Lord Elgin was appointed ambassador to
Constantinople. On that occasion he accompanied
the noble earl as his attache and private secretary.
While filling that post he was sent by him to various
places in the Levant, such as Corfu, Rhodes, Athens,
Marmorice Bay, Cerigo, <S:c., with the view to col-
lecting information and procuring transport and
provisions for the English troops in the East, and
finally, in 1 801, he was sent by Lord Elgin on a
diplomatic mission to the commander-in-chief of the
British forces in Egypt. On the expulsion of the

' In the earlier edition of the Biographical Dictionary 0/
Eminctit Scotsmen, this work was erroneously attributed to
the Right Hon. Sir William Hamilton. The mistake had evi-
dentlj' originated in the similarity in name, office, and literary
pursuits of the two distinguished authors.

230

WILLIAM RICHARD HAMILTON

French from Alexandria in that year, he was em-
ployed in negotiating the terms of peace, by which
the French agreed to surrender all the works of an-
cient Egyptian art which they were on the point of
carrying off to France. On this occasion Mr. Hamil-
ton rendered a signal ser\'ice to the lovers of Fgyptian
chronology in this country, and secured to the British
Museum one of its most valuable treasures. Infor-
mation h.iving iMien received that the French had
conc^led in one of their transports the very re-
markable trilingual Rosetta Stone, he asked General
Hutchinson for an escort of an officer and file of
men, with which he went on board the ship, though
the plague had broken out in her, and after many
difficulties and remonstrances from General Menou,
commanding the French army, he obtained and
carried off that valuable prize.

After this Mr. Hamilton, accompanied by his
friends Captain Leake and Major Hayes of the
Royal Engineers, proceeded in the autumn of 1801
and the following year up the Nile, visiting and
minutely examining the various remains of Egyptian
sculpture and architecture upon its banks, extending
his progress to the second cataract. The publica-
tion by him in the year 1809 of a work entitled
AL^'ptiaca, or Some Account of the Ancient and
Modern State of Egypt, proved how well in the
inter%-als of his official duties he had employed his
time, having found the opportunity during his jour-
ney to collect materials for a work containing a vast
amount of new information respecting the antiquities
of a country at that time but little known.

From Egypt Mr. Hamilton proceeded in 1802 to
Greece, where his time was devoted partly to an ex-
amination of the many jilaces of antiquarian interest
in that classic land, and partly to superintending for
Lord Elgin the removal of those celebrated remains
of ancient sculpture from the Parthenon and other
works of Greek art, now known in the British
Museum under the name of the Elgin Marbles. In
1803, while on his way to England with these sculp-
tures, the vessel conveying them was shipwrecked
on entering the port of Cerigo. In a few minutes
the ship with its valuable cargo went to the bottom,
the passengers and crew only just saving their lives
by jumping off the bowsprit on to the rocks. Mr.
Hamilton remained for several months in Cerigo,
superintending the recovery of these treasures of art,
and with the assistance of experienced divers, brought
from various Mediterranean ports, he eventually suc-
ceeded in recovering them, and causing them to be
forwarded to England.

On the 5th April, 1804, he was appointed private
secretary to the late Earl of Harrowby, and on the
4th of July following, /nr/j writer to Lord Mulgrave.
On the 1 6th October, 1809, he became permanent
under-secretary of state for foreign affairs, which
post he held during all the remaining years of the
war, and until 22d January, 1822, including the period
from 181 2 to 1822, when Viscount Castlereagh, after-
wards Lord Londondeny, was at the head of the
foreign affairs of the country. Wiiile occupying this
post he accompanied Lord Castlereagh to Paris in
181 5, and it was chiefly owing to his exertions that
the Bourbon government consented to restore to Italy
the works of art which the French had on various
occasions removed to Paris. The cordial reception
which he met with on visiting Italy a few years later,
proved how highly the Italians (and especially
Canova, with whom he had established a footing of
great intimacy and friendship) appreciated his efforts
on their behalf

Mr. Hamilton was one of the three secretaries to
the lord-justices in England, during the king's visit

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON.

to Hanover in 1821. On the 29th January, 1822,
he was appointed envoy extraordinary and minister
plenipotentiary to the court of Naples, where he re-
mained till the beginning of 1825.

When the destruction of the houses of parliament in
1834 rendered necessary the building of new houses,
Mr. Hamilton was one of the first who energetically
raised their voices in favour of a classical style of
architecture, in preference to the then fashionable de-
sire for mediaeval Gothic. In three letters addressed
to Lord Elgin he vigorously, but unsuccessfully, op-
posed the degenerate taste of the day; and whatever
may be said of the intrinsic merits of the buildings
which now raise their elaborately ornamented towers
in Westminster, there are many persons who now
sincerely regret that the opinions which he advocated
did not meet with favour and success.

Mr. Hamilton's acknowledged taste in art, sound
criticism, and general character and attainments, led
to his being appointed, in 1838, one of the elected
trustees of the British Museum; for many years he
took a leading part in the deliberations and proceed-
ings of that body, until his failing health warned him
of the necessity of withdrawing himself from those
active duties in which he had till then loved to
indulge. He resigned the trusteeship in 1858, after
twenty years' official connection with that establish-
ment, to the great regret of his colleagues.

In 1833 Mr. Hamilton was one of those scientific
and learned men who established the Royal Geogra-
phical Society, of which he was president during
several years. He likewise devoted much of his time
and thoughts to the Royal Institution, the Royal
Society of Literature, and to the Dilettanti Society,
of which last he was one of the most zealous and
active members till shortly before his death. He
was ever ready to afford a hearty patronage to
foreign artists and scholars, — the names of Panizzi,
Bronsted, and Pistrucci point out the direction of his
efforts; and with regard to the last named, it is not
too much to say, that without his energetic assistance
the world would never have seen the completion of
the dies of that work of genius, the great Waterloo
medal.

In 1804 Mr. W. R. Hamilton married Juliana
L'dny, sister of Colonel Udny of Udny in Aberdeen-
shire. He died in London on the lith of July,
1859, after an illness of four weeks, in the eighty-
third year of his age.

HAMILTON, Sir William, of Preston, Bart.
This distinguished professor of logic and metaphysics,
the most learned and scientific philosopher of the
Scottish school, was bom in Glasgow on the 8th of
March, 1788. Being the head of the Hamiltons of
Preston, he inherited the family baronetcy, which
had been created in 1673, but had lain dormant, in
consequence of Sir Robert Preston, the Covenanter
and leader of the insurrection at Drumclog and
Bothwell Bridge, having refused to take the oath of
allegiance. Since that time (1688) the title had con-
tinued in abeyance, until it was resumed by the sub-
ject of the present notice. It was more congenial,
however, to the future distinction of Sir William, as
an eminent literary scholar and philosopher, that his
father Dr. William Hamilton, and his grandfather
Dr. Thomas Hamilton, held in succession the chairs
of anatomy and botany in the university of Glasgow.
It was at this university that Sir William was
educated, and there he distinguished himself espe-
cially in the philosophical classes, and laid the foun-
dation of those intellectual habits and acquirements
which aftenvards obtained for him a European re-
putation. It was in Balliol College, however, that

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON.

the superstnicture was reared. Tlie SncU foundation
of exhibitions to that colleg;e has long been a prize
fund for the most distinguished students of Glasgow;
among other eminent men Adam Smith had been a
Snell exhibitioner, and the honour of such an ap-
pointment was not deteriorated by falling upon Sir
William Hamilton. His residence at Balliol Col-
lege, Oxford, he ever regarded as the most important
period of his life. It was amidst the high standard
of scholarship established there that he became one
of the most illustrious of its classical pupils. It was
there also that he prepared himself for those vast ac-
quirements in ancient, medieval, and modern know-
ledge by which he stood so superior to his contem-
poraries. When he left Oxford in 1812 few students
had departed from the walls of its university more
completely equipped for a long course of independent
self-improvement, or more resolute to follow it out to
the close.

In 1813 Sir William was admitted a member of
the Scottish bar. The study of law, however, with
the exception of Roman law, had no interest for
him, and he had no practice as an advocate except
that which he was obliged to undertake in conse-
quence of being appointed crown-solicitor of the
court of teinds. The study of mental philosophy
occupied him so exclusively that he had neither time
nor inclination for the study of statutes and prece-
dents. At length the death of Dr. Thomas Brown,
in 1820, by which the professorship of moral philo-
sophy in the university of Edinburgh became vacant,
seemed a tempting opportunity to Sir William, and
he became a candidate for the chair; but on this oc-
casion the successful competitor was John Wilson.
On the following year Sir William Hamilton, by the
nomination of the Faculty of Advocates, in whom
the appointment is vested, was elected professor of
universal history in the same university; but this
office, both in duties and emoluments, was little more
than nominal, attendance on the class not being im-
perative on students, and in Sir William's case it was
nothing better than a literary title. As such, how-
ever, it marked him out for college preferment when
the fitting opportunity should arrive. In the mean-
time his studies continued without interruption. They
were of a nature that required much time and thought
for maturing, and these he could afford to give, for
although not rich, his means were so sufficient as to
place him beyond the necessity of dependence. It
was not indeed until 1829, when he had arrived at the
ripe age of forty, that he published anything; and this
was a critique, in the Edinburgh Rei'ieiv, of Cousin's
Cours de Philosophie, which that profound inquirer
had published the preceding year, developing his
doctrine of the infinite. This he only wrote at the
urgent request of the editorof the A'£T7>r;',and although
the subject was of too weighty a character for the
general readers of periodical literature, his contribu-
tion was appreciated by those for whom it was chiefly
intended, and who could estimate its merits. From
the chosen few of our country its reputation extended
to the Continent, where such subjects of study were
better understood, and Cousin himself acknowledged
that this Scottish reviewer was by far the most
learned, the most intelligent and able of all his critics
and antagonists, and best understood the theory he
was combating. After this he continued a series of
papers in the Edmbiirgk Rez-ieiv, which only termin-
ated in 1839, ranging over a variety of subjects,
chiefly philosophical, among which, two, on the
"Philosophy of Perception," and on "Recent Publi-
cations in Logical Science," are especially celebrated.
Several of the articles are also on education and uni-
versity reform. The choicest of these contributions

of Sir William, besides being republished in Crosse's
ScUrtionsfnnn the Edinburgh /\ti'ic'7i',v,erc republished
upon the Continent, translated into Frencli, German,
and Italian. In 1852 they were all edited and re-
published by Sir William himself, with large notes
and appendices, under the title of Disat sions in
Pliilosophy and Literature, Education and University
Reform. This collection as yet forms by far the
larger proportion of his published writings, and while
the variety of learning, and depth and originality of
thought, are signal proofs of the author's intellectual
powers, this conviction of the reader is accompanied
with regret that the amount of such publications
from Sir William's pen has not been more ample.

While Sir William Hamilton was thus employed
in writing only for the initiated, and enjoying a
foreign rather than a home reputation — while he was
signalized by Brandis in Germany as the great master
of the Peripatetic philosophy, and by Cousin in
France as the first metaphysician in Europe — an event
occurred in 1836 by which he found his right place
at last. The professorship of logic and metaphysics
in the college of Edinburgh was vacant, and this
charge he won after a hard contest in which the town-
council were the judges and patrons. That a com-
munity chiefly composed of shopkeepers should have
been perplexed in judging of the candidates for such
an office, and that their choice should finally have
been decided at haphazard, was not to be wondered at,
for such might also have been the case although the
tribunal had been composed of the wise and learned
of the community. For Scotland had ceased to be
renowned as a country of hard-headed logicians and
subtle metaphysicians. When S ir William's first contri-
bution in the Edinburgh Rez'ieiv appeared, M. Cousin
had justly said that there were probably not fifty per-
sons in the country who would be able to appreciate
its value, or even to understand its meaning. And
when Sir William took the chair as its representative,
philosophy was at the lowest ebb in Britain. An able
author, in describing the condition of the period, has
thus expressed himself: "Reid was already forgotten,
and the knowledge of mental science possessed, even
by the best informed, was at most a polite acquaint-
ance with Stewart, or a popular knowledge of Brown.
Across the Channel, France and Germany had been re-
cently roused to new speculative efforts, and the lead-
ing minds in both countries were full of excitement on
philosophic questions; but in England the pro-
foundest apathy prevailed, none cared for these
things. If any reference to them found its way into
a magazine or review, it elicited only an unexcited
stare, or at most an expression of wonder as to what
the writer meant. Logic and metaphysics were ex-
ploded as the worthless relics of a dark and barbarous
age, mental science was obsolete, and all that re-
mained of philosophy, in any shape, was to be found
in Bridgewater treatises, essays on population and
political economy, with occasional disquisitions on
Jeremy Bentham and his greatest-happiness principle. "
It was only by extraordinary daring that Sir William
attempted to break this confirmed apathy, and to re-
cal the public mind into the path from which it had
wandered. But the attempt was successful, and the
Scottish intellect returned to those legitimate pursuits
for which it had shown such a peculiar aptitude, and
upon which its best distinctions were founded.

No sooner had Sir William Hamilton entered into
office and commenced its duties, than a controversy
arose between him and the patrons of the university
about his mode of teaching. Logic and metaphysics,
instead of being at the end, were placed at the begin-
ning of the curriculum, and from the general youth
of the students at this period of their progress, little

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON*.

more than the mere elements of these sciences had been
imparted. An hour a day was generally devoted to
lecturing ; and in the course of a single session not
only these important departments, but several others,
were disposed of. If the teaching of logic and meta-
physics, however, was to be anything more than an
empty form, a more stringent course was necessary.
This Sir William had distinctly announced to the
patrons, in the following words, when he offered him-
■ f.rthechair: — " I have only further
.1 what I have formerly more articu-

1_ /in the event of my appointment to

this chair, i am determined to follow out my convic-
tions of the proper mode of academical tuition; that is,
I shall not only endeavour to instnut, by communi-
cating on my part the requisite information, but to
educate, by determining, through every means in my
power, a vigorous and independent acti\'ity on the
part of my pupils. " Upon this principle he proceeded
to act when he commenced the duties of his professor-
ship. Calculating uf)on the juvenility of his pupils,
and their unpreparedness for abstruse studies — con-
scious at the same time that his teaching must be
something more than science in a rudimental and
dduted form — he thought it better to carry a min-
ority along with him than advance with his whole
class n.. farther than the gate. Instead, therefore,
of a single six months' course, he extended it into
two, the one comprising a course of logic, and the
other of metaphysics. This in the eyes of the town-
council of Edinburgh was a monstrous claim upon
the time and intellects of his students, and a whimsical
squabble arose with them in consequence of their de-
mand for the good old style of teaching. Hamilton,
however, in the end prevailed, and was allowed to
follow his own devices.

By the course which he adopted the sessions of
logic and metaphysics followed each other alternately,
and his lectures on these were severely sj'stematic,
condensed, and comprehensive. This was to be ex-
pected from one who had more completely traversed
the whole field of mental philosophy than any man
living, and who was more capable of appreciating
the comparative value of its different departments.
The following brief and general sketch is given of
his lectures during the two seasons o%-er which they
extended: — "If the subject were metaphysics, for
example, the course began with seven or eight intro-
ductory lectures on philosophy in general — its nature,
its causes, its methods, the dispositions with which
it should be studied, and the parts into which it is
divided ; the latter point naturally leading to the
special object of the course — psycholog^•, or the
science of mental facts. The nature of consciousness,
as tiie essential ground or condition of the science,
being explained, its phenomena were then developed
in order from the lowest to the highest — from the
simplest facts of perception on through memorj-, as-
sociation, imagination, and understanding, up to the
highest principles of the r^ulative faculty, reason,
or common sense. In the logical course, after a
similar but shorter introduction on the general di-
visions, in which the place of dialectic in relation to
the other branches of mental science was determin-
ately fixed, followed a special introduction, con-
sidering rapidly in order the nature, the value, the
divisions, and the historv- of logic as the science of
dianoetic laws. To the definition of the science suc-
ceeded a detailed statement and criticism of the laws
of thought on which it rests ; and from these the
science was developed so perfectly that the presence
of the fundamental laws might be easily traced and
recognized in the remotest detail of their application."
Of the resulu of these prelections another author

thus writes : — "There is not e%-idence indeed that his
logical lectures have as yet had much effect on his per-
sonal pupils. But the metaphysical lectures excited
a keen interest in philosophy among all his students
who were qualified for severe abstract thinking,
■while they guided the thinking of not a few into
channels in which it long or always continued to
flow."

While Sir William Hamilton thus instrueUd his
class by lecturing, he endeavoured to educate it by
discipline, and in this way he fulfilled the promise
made to the patrons when he applied for the chair.
The discipline consisted of oral e.xaminations and
written exercises. The examinations were conducted
on the Tuesday and Thursday of each week, when
the students were ranged according to the initial
letter of their names, the benches of the class-room
being lettered for the purpose. Before the professor
was a jar ha%nng all the letters of the alphabet fi-om
A to Z printed on rounds of mUlboard, and these
being mixed together, Sir William put in his hand,
drew out a letter at random, and holding it up to the
students, asked if A, B, H, or M (as the case might
be), would undertake to pass an examination. On
one whose name agreed with the letter standing up,
the subject was commenced where the last examina-
tion had left off, and a strict searching process of
catechizing was followed up by the professor that
tested the attention and capacity of the student as
well as whetted his intellectual powers, and strength-
ened him for fiirther progress. The written exercises
of the class were short essays upon the subjects con-
nected with the lectures, and were generally pre-
scribed every fortnight or three weeks, while each
writer was allowed five minutes, limited by a sand-
glass, to read extracts from his production, subject
to the critical remarks of the professor. In addition
to these r^ular class exercises, prize-essaj"s were also
prescribed, which, like the others, were read in pub-
lic before the whole class, by whose award the prize
was assigned. In this manner emulation of the
noblest kind was cherished, and each student made
aware of the measure of his class-fellows. The re-
putation which Sir William had preA"iousiy acquired
as a universal scholar and profound original thinker,
the fame ofhis lectures, and the superiority of his teach-
ing as a professor, attracted students to his class not
only from ever}- part of the united empire, but from
America and the Continent ; and in this manner he
either directly formed or indirectly influenced the
master intellects of countries he had never visited,
and promoted those trains of reflection and inquiry
throughout the ci\"ilized world which are still in pro-
cess, and of which after-years will gather the fruits.

Such was the career of Sir William Hamilton as a
professor, and while occupied in public teaching : his
leisure hours were employed in preparing those writ-
ings by which his philosophical opinions, instead of
being confined to the class-room, were to be published
to the world at large, and not only for the benefit of
the present generation, but the latest posteritj'. It
was for this desirable result that the philosophic world
had been waiting, while they grudged those daily
duties which delayed its realization. But in 1844
his health began to fail, and soon after a paralysis
struck the right side of his body, which disabled him
from head to foot. When he rallied, his mind was
still as clear and \Tgorous, and his will as resolute for
action, as ever ; but he could only continue his lec-
tures with frequent assistance, and carry on writing
chiefly through an amanuensis. Such a shock was
sufficient to affect the progress of the works in which
he had been long employed, so that at last they were
left incomplete. In 1S55, while residing in a country

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON WILLIAM JOHN HAMILTON.

233

dwelling, his inability was confirmed by the fracture
of a limb, and he died in Edinburgh on the 6th of
May, 1S56, leaving behind him a widow and family.
Of the published writings of Sir William, besides
the articles in the Edinburgh Rtt'iciu, of which
mention has already been made, his largest and
most important was an edition of the works of Reid,
with notes and supplementary dissertations. This
work, which he had planned at the time of his ap-
pointment to the chair of logic and metaphysics, was
so accordant with his own system of philosophical
inquiry, that he has brought his whole heart to bear
on it, and few productions there are which have been
so carefully, copiously, and congenially edited.
Sir William's philosophy, like that of Reid, had
adopted the principle of common sense as the repre-
sentative of the highest achievements of human specu-
lation, and his editorship was a triumph of genius as
well as a labour of love. This edition of the works
of Dr. Thomas Reid appeared in 1846, much of it
having been printed a long time previous. The latest
edition of this work, continued until near his death,
indicates also Sir William's long and last illness ; for
in the foot-notes are references to supplementary dis-
sertations, of which not a word is yet given to us, and
a dissertation asserting his own peculiar theory of
the association of ideas is broken off abruptly at the
end of the volume. Unfortunately also, before this
work was finished, his devotedness to the Scottish
school of philosophy led him to undertake an edition
of the collected works of Dugald Stewart with notes;
but this publication, which he commenced in 1854,
was never completed, and the biography that was to
precede it is wanting. Of his class lectures on logic
and metaphysics extensive notes were taken by his
students, and numerous copies of them transcribed
from short-hand reports were in circulation. These,
carefully revised and edited by Professors Mansel
and Veitch, were published in four volumes, 1S59-
186 1, but they suffer from the want of his own cor-
recting hand, and are chiefly valuable as introduc-
tions to his more profound and elaborate expositions.
Such was Sir William Hamilton — a man of un-
eventful life, but of world-wide influence and reputa-
tion, and whose history cannot well be given without
a full detail of those subjects in which his superiority
was so strikingly evinced. Such a biography must
also be a work of time, and therefore it still remains
unwritten. We rejoice, however, to learn that the
task has been undertaken, and that a full-length por-
trait will be given of the man whom the reflective of
every country are bound to honour. In the mean-
time we close this brief account with the following
merited testimony by one who could so well appre-
ciate him. Speaking of Sir William's theory of the
"conditioned" in a lecture delivered at Magdalen
College a few days after Hamilton's death. Professor
Mansel thus eloquently added : "But this conception
of philosophy, interesting and important as it is, is
fraught with painful recollections now. It reminds
us that within the last few days we have had to
mourn the loss of one, the labour of whose life was
devoted to this very object, and whose contributions
to the philosophy of the conditioned, fragmentary
and incomplete as they are, contain the germ of
nearly all that future research can articulately de-
velop, and which none can hope to develop as he,
if his life had been longer spared, might have done.
For where now, among the philosophers of this or
of any other countr}^ shall we find such vast endow-
ments of intellect accompanied by such a just appre-
ciation of their limits? Where shall we find one
w^ith a tithe of his attainments who will so consis-
tently, and with such authority, proclaim the duty

of a learned ignorance? Where shall we find one
to exhaust, like him, the whole field of philosophical
learning, and in the end to proclaim, as the moral
and the motto of his whole teaching, 'Magna immo
maxima pars sapientice est, quoedam aequo animo
nescire velle? ' Above all, in these presumptuous
days, when human reason aspires to strip the veil from
the hidden things of God, and to proclaim its own
speculations as identical with the eternal movements
of the divine Mind determining itself in creation,
where shall we find a philosopher of such eminence
and authority, to announce, as the surest ground of
belief in the truth of a philosophical system, that its
doctrines are in harmony with those of revelation?
It is not now the time to enter upon a fuller exami-
nation of the writings of one whose name hereafter
will assuredly be reckoned among the greatest in the
history of British philosophy: —

' His grave is all too young as yet
To have outgrown the sorrow that consigned
Its charge to it.'

But the place of his early education may be allowed
at least a passing tribute to his memory; and if ever
the time shall come when the philosophy of the con-
ditioned shall occupy its fitting place as the hand-
maid and auxiliary of Christian truth, voyaging
through the seas of thought with the laws of the
human mind for its chart and the word of God for
its polestar, among the fathers and teachers of that
philosophy, most consulted and most revered, will
stand the name of Sir William Hamilton."

HAMILTON, William John, Esq., of Holy-
field Hall, Essex, and F. G. S. This accomplished
scholar, scientific student, and traveller, who pursued
knowledge in various departments with disinterested
ardour, and won for himself a high name among our
most distinguished men of science, was the eldest son
of William R. Hamilton, Esq., F. R.S., author of
ALgypiiaca, of whom a memoir has already been given
in our pages : his mother was Juliana, daughter of
John Udny, Esq., of Udny Castle, Aberdeenshire.
He was born in 1805. His education was commenced
at the Charterhouse, and subsequently carried on and
finished at the university of Gottingen. Being des-
tined for public service in the political department,
he connected himself with diplomacy, and in that
capacity was successively resident at ^ladrid, Paris,
and Florence. At the foreign office he was precis
writer under Lord Aberdeen; but that situation he
resigned in 1841, on being elected representative of
Newport, Isle of Wight, and this borough he con-
tinued to represent in the Conservative interest until
X847.

Contenting ourselves with this brief sketch of his
political life, we now proceed to his scientific career.
Geology was his favourite department — that science
which has been so late in attracting attention, but
which so richly rewards investigation, by the revela-
tions of an ancient world which every successive
inquiry is bringing more distinctly into view. In
1831 Mr. Hamilton became a member of the Geolo-
gical Society, and in the following year was elected
one of its honorary secretaries; and either this office
or that of foreign secretary he continued to occupy
with scarcely any interruption until 1854, when he
was elected president of the society. His first con-
tribution to geological knowledge was communicated
in 1835, from observations he had made in the pre-
vious year, and contained proofs of recent elevation
of land which he had observed on the coast of Fife-
shire. As his love of the science, however, continued
to expand, he naturally longed for a wider field of
observation, and on this account he formed the plan

234

of an extensive foreign tour, for the purpose of study-
ing the phenomena of physical geography and geo-
logy. He accordingly set off on his enterjirise, but
was not alone, for he had the go<xi fortune to be
accompanied by the late Mr. Hugh Strickland, whose
great knowledge in several branches of natural his-
tory was of signal use to his enthusiastic fellow-
traveller. It was a fortunate combination, the value
of which was deeply felt, and is frequently mentioned
in the writings of Mr. Hamilton. In their travels
the pair commenced, in the summer of 1835, a course
of investigations upon the e.xtinct volcanic districts
and old lacustrine areas of the Mount Dor and the
Vivarais, preparatory to visiting those of Asia Minor;
and, passing afterwards by the north of Italy, they
visited Trieste, Corfu, Pat'ras, Corinth, Athens, and
reached Smyrna by the end of October. In the early
|)art of the following year Mr. Strickland was recalled
to England, and Mr. Hamilton had to continue his
travels alone; but several papers, the joint observa-
tions of their scientific tour, were communicated to
the Geological Society. The summer of 1836 was
spent by our scientific tourist in the countn.- to the
south of the Black Sea, and in November he re-
turned to Smyrna. Resuming his explorations in
the following year, he went upon a cruise on board
the Royalist with Mr. J. Brooke (subsequently Rajah
of Sarawak) along the coast of Ionia and Carta,
and after\vards he visited for the second time the
Catacecaumene, a basin giving proofs of a vol-
canic character, of which he published a full and
detailed account in the Tratiscutions of the Geological
Society, vol. vi. new series, p. 18. This portion of
the ancient kingdom of Lydia was worthy of a re-
peated investigation, from its geological character,
as well as from the remains of great but forgotten
cities and classical antiquities which may still be
found in that neglected region — and which now
found a worthy and interesting exponent in the
scientific knowledge and classical learning of Mr.
Hamilton. Of his peculiar fitness, indeed, for the
field of labour which he had chosen, there could be
but one opinion. Independently of his classical
scholarship, and knowledge of ancient history and
antiquarianism, he was well acquainted with modem
languages, French, Italian, German, and Spanish
being as familiar to him as his native tongue; he
was enthusiastic in research, and observant of ever}'
object that met his eye; while his good nature, kind-
ness, and unselfish disposition were a passport that
procured him a favourable admission as a traveller
into the confidence of those barbarous or churlish
communities from which other strangers would have
been repelled. All these characteristics can be dis-
tinctly read in his '■'■ Researches in Asia Minor, Pontus,
and Armenia; with some Account of their Antiquities
and Geolog>%" which he published in 1842.

This work, by which he will continue to be best
known, is a full record of those travels which we
have so briefly enumerated, and which occupy two
volumes 8vo, of considerable extent. As we have
hinted already, he had frequently communicated the
results of his scientific observations to the Geological
Society during the course of his joumeyings: but the
Transactions of a scientific society are generally con-
fined to its own members; and he had something else
than geology to write of which the intellectual world
at large would be glad to know. The result has
been these Researches, than which we know not a
more interesting account of the countries which he
visited. It is also a moral and intellectual portrait
of the author, and as such cannot be omitted in his
memoir, where a likeness of his mind is the principal
desideratum.

WILLIAM JOHN HAMILTON*.

In reverting to the pages of that work, we have the
following statement of the object of his tour: — "In
the early part of 1835, while meditating an excursion
to the Continent of Europe, I was induced, in pre-
ference, to direct my attention to some of the Turkish
provinces in Asia, as compaiatively unknown, and
which could not fail to present discoveries interesting
to the antiquar}-, the geographer, and the geologist.
I accordingly arranged a plan, which at the same
time promised to gratify my love of travel, and to
rekindle those classic associations which are con-
nected with our early habits." Ha%ing specified his
scientific preparations for such an enterprise, and
mentioned the commencement of his travels, he thus
affectionately announces his fellow-tourist: — "I con-
sider myself most fortunate in haA"ing persuaded Mr.
Hugh E. Strickland, of Cracombe House, near
Evesham, to accompany me: in proportion to the
value of his co-operation, both as a companion and a
naturalist, was my regret at our separation, when he
was compelled to return to England in the beginning
of 1836. The geological investigation of the country
has suffered much from this last circumstance: it may
be long before a geologist with such an accurate
knowledge of conchology will have an opportunity
of exploring many parts of the country which I
visited. But, in the other branches of natural his-
tor)', his loss is still more to be regretted. I had
some knowledge of geology, but in omitholog)', as
well as in entomolog}', Asia Minor would have
afforded him an equally abundant har\-est." Thus
deprived of so efficient a companion, Mr. Hamilton
continues to describe his proceedings upon his own
resources: "My attention was consequently directed
chiefly to the comparative geography of the country,
the e.xamination of ancient ruins, and the fixing of
positions by astronomical obser\-ations. The geology
of the country also claimed a large portion of my
time; and, considering the difficulty of transport
which I had to encounter, I may deem myself for-
tunate in ha\ing made a large collection in rocks
and minerals." As these regions in relation to
Europe, and for every scientific purpose, were almost
entirely terra incognita, Mr. Hamilton had an ad-
ditional labour not always presented by countries
that had been great and civilized, and of historical
renown, in their day. He therefore adds, " I soon
found that the maps of the country were incorrect in
the highest degree; in fact, absolutely useless. I
therefore spared neither time nor labour in making
a careful annotation of time, distances, and direc-
tions, by which means, together with astronomical
obsen-ations for latitude, I hoped to be able to con-
struct a more correct map of those parts of the penin-
sula through which I had passed. With this object
in \-iew, and independently of a very detailed journal,
I succeeded in keeping, with a very few exceptions,
a minute itinerarj' of ever}' mile of road, noting the
e.xact time of departure, and, with my compass con-
stantly in hand, the direction of the road, as well as
ever}- change, sometimes to the number of twenty or
twenty-five in an hour, adding remarks suggested
by the physical structure of the countr}-." Of this
it'inerar}- Mr. Hamilton has given in the appendix
a tabular specimen of the journey of a single day,
occupying three closely-printed pages, which is so
minute, and withal so exact, that ever}' step of the
way is made as familiar to us as any well-known dis-
trict of our own country. Besides engra^•ings of
scener}', and buildings of chief interest, with which
he illustrated his publication, it was natural that such
care and exactness should be accompanied with a
map of the regions he had traversed. This accord-
ingly he constructed on his return to England from

ANDREW HART

his geographical notes, assisted by his brother, then
Commander H. G. Ilamihon, R.N. ; and the map
of Asia Minor illustrative of his journeying is by no
means the least useful or interesting part of his Re-
searches. After having studied the Turkish character
in those provinces where it still presents its best
aspects, Mr. Hamilton finds the view so dispiriting,
that at the close of his work he thus sums up his
experience: —

"There appears to me but one chance, and that,
alas! is distant and uncertain, viz. t/ieir conversion
to Christianity. Of this, according to human pro-
babilities, and from what is constantly taking place
before our eyes, there is scarcely a hope. The usual
result in similar cases would lead us to predict, that
even if the faith of the Turks could be shaken; if
they could be brought to see the errors and follies
with whi:h Mahometanism is charged, and to feel
its insufficiency, they would flee from it to infidelity.
But why despair? With the favour of God, let us
indulge the hope that in his good time he may turn
the hearts of this people to himself; that the shackles
of the Koran may be unloosed — the religion of
Christ be established from Constantinople to the
far East ; and that the countries which first saw the
effects of the Word will no longer be behind the
Gentiles in adoring his holy name ! "

The later contributions of Mr. Hamilton to geology
were connected with the territory of Tuscany ; and,
from his careful examination of the eocene basin of
Mainz, and the collection of fossils he had made
there, he was enabled to give the best account of it
that had yet appeared. Aware of the importance of
conchology in illustrating the tertiary period, he had
devoted several years to the study of this department
of geological science, and formed a very large col-
lection of shells, the forms and geographical disposi-
tion of which threw light upon the tertiary difficul-
ties. It was also with a view of turning this know-
ledge to account by the aids it furnished to geology,
that he joined the Geological Society in its visits to
the districts of the faluns of Touraine and the crag
of Antwerp. Amidst such labours the Geological
Society showed their sense of his scientific services
by electing him their president for the second time
in 1865. In 1837 he joined the Royal Geographical
Society; in 1838 became a member of council, and
in 1843 received the founder's medal for his Re-
searches in Asia Minor. He was elected vice-pre-
sident of the same society in 1846, president in Alay,
1847; was again vice-president in 1849, and member
of council in 185 1; and till the close of his life was
always an active member of the society.

Mr. Hamilton was twice married. The first
marriage was in 1832 to Martin, daughter of John
Trotter, Esq. ; but in the following year he became
a widower: his second wife, whom he married in 1838,
was the Hon. Margaret, daughter of Henry thir-
teenth Viscount Dillon, by whom he had three sons.
His own death occurred at 23 Chesham Place, S. W.,
in June 27th, 1867, and he was succeeded in his
estates by the only son whom he had by his first
wife. Lieutenant-colonel Robert William Hamilton
of the Grenadier Guards.

HART, Andrew, deserves a place in this record,
as one of the most distinguished of our early typo-
graphers. He flourished in the reign of James VI.
Previous to 1600 he was in the habit of importing
books from abroad; he was at this time exclusively
a bookseller. From a mere bookseller he seems to
have gradually become a publisher : several books
were printed in Holland about the years 1600 and
1601, "at his expense." Finally, he added the

DAVID RAMSAY HAV.

23s

business of printing to his other dealings. The
productions of his press specify that his shop was
in the High Street of Edinburgh, on the north side,
opposite the cross ; being, by a strange chance, the
identical spot from which Mr. Archibald Constable,
two hundred years after, issued so many noble efforts
of Scottish genius. Hart's edition of the Bible,
1610, has always been admired for its fine typography.
I le also published a well-known edition of Barbour's
Bruce. In addition to all other claims upon our
praise. Hart was a worthy man. He died in a good
old age, December, 1621, as we learn from a notice
in Boyd of Trochrig's obituary, quoted below. ^

HAY, D.wiD Ramsay. This eminent house-
painter, who exalted his hitherto mechanical profes-
sion into the regions of high art, was born in Edin-
burgh in the year 1798. While still young his father
died, leaving a widow and children in destitute cir-
cumstances ; but the proprietor of the Edinlnn-gh
Coiirant, after whom David was named, caused him
to be educated for the profession of a printer. The
boy, however, had already acquired such a love of
drawing as gave him a dislike to printing, and he
not only neglected his business as a "reading boy"
in the printing-office, but infected the boys of the
establishment with his own tastes. His love of
colours having thus precluded all inclination for the
hue of printer's ink, he at the age of fourteen, and
with the consent of his kind patron, apprenticed
himself to Mr. Gavin Bengo, a well-known house-
painter in Edinburgh, and after learning the rudi-
ments of his future trade, he was set to work in
painting, and copying pictures. One of his produc-
tions happening to attract the notice of Sir Walter
Scott, the latter was so pleased with it that he em-
ployed Hay to paint a portrait of his favourite cat.
This introduction to the great poet and novelist was
the turning-point of Hay's life, and foundation of
his future success. Sir Walter, who had often ad-
mired his skill in representing dogs and horses, but
regretted his ambition of becoming a great artist,
from the hardships and failure that might be likely
to follow it, called the youth into his room, and ex-
patiated like a father upon the risk of such a venture
for life. "You have talents and energj'," he said
to Hay, "but who can say whether you have genius?
These boyish drawings can never be relied on as
proofs of that. If you feel within you such a glow
of ambition, that you would rather run a hundred
chances of obscurity and penury than miss one of
being a Wilkie — make up your mind, and take the
bold plunge; but if your object is merely to raise
yourself to a station of worldly comfort and inde-
pendence— if you would fain look forward with
tolerable assurance to the prospect of being a respec-
table citizen, with your own snug roof over your
head, and the happy faces of a wife and children
about you, — pause and reflect well." "I think,"
Sir Walter added in conclusion, "profit in Britain is,
with very rare exceptions, annexed to departments
of obvious and direct utility, in which the mass of
the people are concerned ; and it has often struck
me that some clever fellow might make a good hit,
if in place of enrolling himself among the future
Raphaels and Vandykes of the Royal Academy, he
should resolutely set himself to introducing some-
thing of a more elegant style of house-painting."
The advice thus wisely given was as wisely received
and adopted, and Hay, by submitting to become the
best of house-painters, may have escaped the dis-

' Le moy de Dec. 1621, mourut a Edin. le bon Iwmme,
Andrew Hart, impremeur et libraire: decide en bonne veillesse;
homme de bien et notre ancien amy.

236

DAVID RAMSAY IIAV ALEXANDER HENDERSON.

appointment, if not the fate, of poor Ilaydon. Nor
did Scott himself go unrewarded for his t,'enerous ad-
monition. \Vhen in 1S24 he had his halls in Abbots-
ford painted in such a fasliion as required taste, skill,
and genius for the execution of his gortjeous and
original conceptions, the master limner by whom
all this was realizetl was no other than David Ram-
say Hay, who addressed himself to the task as a
labour of love.

Having now commenced business on his own ac-
count, Mr. Hay soon showed not only in practice
but by his publications that he was a master of the
highest principles of his profession, and could make
them available for all the purposes of art. The
following is a list of his numerous works connected
with the subject: —

In 1S2S, about which time he also commenced
business, he published The Laws of Harmonious
Colouring, (ic, a work which has gone through
si.x editions. The last of these, which was published
in 1847, was almost entirely a new work, with a
section on "The Practice of Ilouse-painting." This
work had the distinguished merit of opening the
way to the exposition of much of the science of
colour which has been prosecuted by succeeding
writers. It also established his business as a house-
decorator, as was shown by his rapidly increasing
and extensive business, and encouraged him to prose-
cute his theories on colouring, in which he has made
so many discoveries and improvements. In 1842
he published The Natural Principles and Analogy
of the Harmony of Form. In 1 843, Proportion, or
the Geometric Principle of Beauty Analyzed. In 1844
he published ".r/// Essay on Ornamental Design, in
which its True Principles are Developed and Eluci-
dated." In 1845 he published llie Principles of
Beauty in Colouring Systematized. In 1846 he pub-
lished thesecond editionof ^^ A'omenclaturc of Colours,
in which he gave upwards of two hundred examples
of colours, and their various hues, tints, and shades,
la the same year he also issued from the press First
Principles of Symmetrical Beauty. In 1849 appeared
his work On the Science of those Proportions by which
the Human Head and Countenance, as represented in
Ancient Greek Art, are distinguished from those of
Ordinary Nature. In 1 85 1 he published The Geo-
metric Beauty of the Human Figure Defined, to which
was prefixed "--V System of .Esthetic Proportion
applicable to Architectureand other Formative Arts."
In 1852 he published The Natural Principles of Beauty
as Dez'eloped in the Human Figure. In 1853, The
Orthographic Beauty of the Parthenon referred to a
La-o of Nature, to which he prefixed "A Few Ob-
ser\'ations on the Importance of /Esthetic Science as
an Element in Architectural Education." In 1855,
The Harmonic Law of Nature applied to Architectural
Design. In 1856, The Science of Beauty, as dez'eloped
in A'ature, and applied to Art.

All these works were extensively illustrated, and
have been most favourably received. Their number
and variety are a proof of how completely his heart
was absorbed in the beauty of form and colour, and
how closely he had studied the principles upon
which they are founded ; and if not an artist in the
practical sense of the term, he was at least a dis-
tinguished critic in art, and an able instructor of those
who prosecuted it. Nor did he the while neglect
his business as a house-painter, into which he intro-
duced several important improvements, and the de-
corations of the meeting-hall of the London Society
of Arts were designed and executed by him about
the year 1846. Enriched by his success' in a profes-
sion which he had exalted from a mechanical trade
into one of the fine arts, and honoured and esteemed

by artists and men of taste, Mr. David Ramsay Hay
continued his labours until they were interrupted by
frequent attacks of indisposition during the latter
years of his life. He died at his house, Jordan Bank,
Morningside, on the loth of September, 1S66, in
the sixty-eighth year of his age.

HEADRICK, Rev. James. Of the life of this
talented agriculturist and mineralogist we have very
few particulars. He was born in 1758, and having
studied for the ministr)', was presented in 1809
to the parish of Dunnichen in Forfarshire. But
although he had reached the age of fifty-one before
this promotion awaited him, his previous life had
not been spent in idleness. An enthusiast in natural
science, he had travelled over the three kingdoms,
studying agriculture and mineralogy; many large and
valuable estates were planned by him, and improved
under his directions ; and he was author of an ex-
cellent analysis of lime published in the Farmer s
Magazine.

These pursuits naturally drew Headrick into friendly
intimacy with the Rev. David Ure, afterwards author
of the History of Rutherglen and Kilbride, and along
with Ure he was employed by Sir John Sinclair in
the Statistical Account of Scotland, for which he drew
up the details relating to the county of Forfar. He
also wrote a short memoir of Ure, which was pub-
lished in the Scots Magazine for December, 1808.
But a still more important work was published by
Headrick in 1807, under the title of " Vieia of the
Jlineralogy, Agriculture, Manufactures, and Fisheries
of the Island of A r ran, with Notices of Antiquities,
and Suggestions for Improving the Agriculture and
Fisheries of the Highlands and Isles of Scotland."
This work, which the author dedicated to Sir Joseph
Banks, was, independently of its extensive informa-
tion on other subjects, the best work extant on the
geology of Arran, until it was superseded by the
improved science of a later date. Besides this, he
published, in /Yicolson^s fournal for 1 807, "Some
Mineralogical and Geological Observations made in
the Isle of Arran." In 1813 another work of Head-
rick's appeared with the title, "General View of
the Agriculture of the County of Angus or Forfar-
shire, with Observations on the Means of its Improve-
ment," 1813, 8vo.

This comprises the list of Headrick's authorship,
which was probably exchanged for the cares and
duties of a country minister, and we learn nothing
farther of him except that he died at the manse of
Dunnichen, on March 31, 1841, aged eighty-three
years.

HEATHFTELD, Lord. See Elliot, George

AUGUSTLS.

HENDEESON, Alexander, one of the most
eminent of the many eminent men whose names are
interwoven with the annals of Scotland at probably
the most interesting period of her histoiy (the middle
of the seventeenth centuiy), was born about the year
1583. He is supposed to have been descended from
the Hendersons of Fordel, "a house," says Wodrow,
"of good quality in P'ife." Of his early life there is
little farther known than that he was distinguished
for his assiduity and progress in learning, in which
he greatly excelled all his school-fellows. Having
been sent to the university of St. Andrews to com-
plete his studies, he there went through the ordinary
routine of learning, but with much more than ordi-
nary reputation, a circumstance sufficiently evinced
by his having been made Master of Arts, and soon
after admitted regent or professor of philosophy.

<

ALEXANDER ITEXDERSOX.

237

As tliis appointment took place previous to the year
161 1, when he could not be more than eight-and-
twenty years of age, it is evident that Henderson
was already considered a man of no common attain-
ments. The situation of professor of philosophy he
held for several years, discharging its duties with a
zeal and ability which acquired him much reputa-
tion.

It is not surprising to find, that at this period of
his life he was a strenuous advocate for the dominant
or episcopal party in the church. His patrons
hitherto were of that party. He had long associated
with men who entertained its principles, and, unable
to foresee the great changes which were about to
take place in the civil and religious polity of the
kingdom, as well as that which afterwards happened
in his own private sentiments, he naturally enough,
while perfectly sincere in the opinions which he then
entertained on religious matters, conceived besides,
that in the direction of these opinions, and in that
direction alone, lay the road to preferment. Inspired
by the ambition of a mind conscious of its powers,
Henderson, after the lapse of a few years, becoming
impatient of the circumscribed sphere to which a
professorship of philosophy confined him, turned his
attention to divinity, as opening a wider field for the
exercise of his talents.

After preparing himself for the ministerial calling,
he was appointed to the church of Leuchars, in Fife,
through the patronage of Archbishop Gladstanes.
His appointment, however, was exceedingly un-
popular : all his talents and learning could not re-
concile his parishioners to a man introduced amongst
them by episcopal influence, and w ho was known to
be himself of that detested party. The consequence
was, that on the day of his ordination he was re-
ceived with every mark of popular dislike. The
church doors were shut against him and carefully
secured in the inside, to prevent all possibility of
admittance. Determined, however, in despite of
these very manifest tokens of public feeling, to per-
form the ceremony of ordination, Henderson's party
entered the church by a window, and proceeded with
the business of the day.

Whatever were Mr. Henderson's other merits, and
these were certainly of no ordinary kind, it is known
that any extraordinary anxiety about the spiritual
interests of his parishioners was not amongst the
number. At this period of his life, in short, although
not remarkable for the reverse, he seems to have been
but slightly impressed with the sacredness of his new
calling, and to have taken but little farther interest
in matters of religion, than abiding by the general
principles in which he had been educated. This
conduct, however, and these sentiments were soon
to undergo a remarkable change, and that under
circumstances in themselves not less remarkable.
Having learned that the celebrated Mr. Bruce of
Kinnaird was to assist at a communion in the neigh-
bourhood of Leuchars, Henderson, desirous of hear-
ing the preaching of a man who had long been
conspicuous as an opponent of the court measures,
and whose fame for peculiar gifts in matters of
theology was widely spread, repaired to the church
where he was officiating. Not choosing, however,
to be recognized, he sought to conceal himself in a
dark corner of the building. Bruce, nevertheless,
seems to have been aware of his presence; or, if not,
there was a singular coincidence in the applicability
of the text which he chose to the remarkable cir-
cumstances which attended Henderson's induction
to his charge. Be this as it may, the sermon which
followed made such a powerful impression upon him
as effected an entire change in his relisjious conduct

and sentiments ; and from being a careless and in-
different pastor over his flock, and an upholder of a
system odious in the highest degree to the people,
he became a watchful and earnest minister, and a
resolute champion in the cause of Presbyterianism.

In three years after his appointment to Leuchars
parish, which took place some time previous to the
year 161 5, Mr. Henderson, though sedulous in the
discharge of his ministerial duties since the period
of his conversion, made no public appearance on the
side of that party whose principles he had embraced.
The opportunity, however, which was all that was
wanting for his making such an appearance, at length
presented itself In August, 1618, the celebrated
five articles of Perth, which occasioned so much
clamour in Scotland, from their containing as many
points of episcopal worship, which James was de-
sirous of thrusting on the people of that kingdom,
having been carried by a packed majority in an
assembly held at Perth, Henderson stood among
the foremost of those who opposed, though unsuc-
cessfully, the obnoxious measure ; and this too, in
defiance of the king's utmost wrath, with which all
who resisted the adoption of the five articles were
threatened. "In case of your refusal," said the Arch-
bishop of St. Andrews, addressing the assembled
clerg}'men, "the whole order and estate of your
church will be overthrown, some ministers will be
banished, others will be deprived of their stipends
and ofiice, and all will be brought under the wrath
of authority."

Not at all intimidated by this insolent and indecent
threat, Henderson with several of his brethren
courageously opposed the intended innovations.
For this resistance, to which was added a charge of
composing and publishing a book against the validity
of the Perth assembly, he was with other two min-
isters summoned in the month of August, 1619, to
appear before the court of high commission in St.
Andrews. Obeying the summons, Henderson and
his brethren presented themselves before the bishops,
when the former conducted himself with such intre-
pidity, and discussed the various matters charged
against him and his colleagues with such talent and
force of reasoning, that his judges, though they
eagerly sought it, could gain no advantage over him,
and were obliged to content themselves with threat-
ening, that if he again off"ended he should be more
hardly dealt with. With this intimation Henderson
and his friends were dismissed. From this period
to the year 1637 he does not appear to have meddled
much with any transactions of a public character.
During this long period he lived retired, confining
his exertions within the bounds of his own parish,
in which he found sufficient employment from a care-
ful and anxious discharge of his pastoral duties.
Obscure and sequestered, however, as the place of
his ministry was, his fame as a man of singular
capacity, and as an eloquent and powerful debater,
was already abroad and widely known; and when
the hour of trial came, those talents were recollected,
and their possessor called upon to employ them in
the behalf of his religion.

Before, however, resuming the narrative of Mr.
Henderson's public career, it may be necessarj^ to
give a brief sketch of the circumstances which in-
duced him to leave his retirement and to mingle
once more in the religious distractions of the times.
The unfortunate Charles I., inheriting all the religious
as well as political prejudices of his father James VI.,
had, from the moment of his accession to the throne,
entertained the design of regulating church worship
in Scotland by the forms observed in that of Eng-
land. In this attempt he was only following out

238

ALEXANDER HENDERSON.

an idea of his father's; but what the one with timor-
ous caution had Htilc more than contemplated, the
other determined to execute. Unfortunately for
Charles he found but too zealous an abettor of his
danjjerous and injudicious designs in his favourite
counsellor in church affairs, Laud, Archbishop of
Canterbury. Encouraged in the schemes of violence
which he meditated against the religious principles
of Scotlaml, and urged on to their execution by Laud,
Charles after a series of lesser inroads on the Pres-
byterian mode of worship in Scotland, finally, and
with a rxsh hand, fired the train which he had pre-
pared, and by which he set all Scotland in a blaze.
This was the imposition of the liturgy or service-
book on the Church of Scotland. This celebrated
book, which was principally composed by Wedder-
burn, Uishop of Dunblane, and Maxwell, Bishop
of Ross, and afterwards revised by Laud, and Wren,
Bishop of Norwich, was grounded upon the book
of common prayer used in England, but contained,
beside-i, some parts of the Catholic ritual, such as
the benediction or thanksgiving for departed saints,
the use of the cross in baptism and of the ring in the
celebration of marriage, the consecration of water
at particular times by prayer, with many other ordin-
ances of a similar character. Most of these observ-
ances were introduced by Laud when revising the
original work. When the book was completed, the
king gave instructions to the archbishops and bishops
regarding its introduction ; and immediately after
issued a proclamation requiring his subjects, both
ecclesiastical and civil, to conform to the mode of
worship which it enjoined, concluding with an order
that every parish should be furnished with two copies,
between the publication of the injunction and Easter.
The book itself, a large folio, was prefaced by a
charge from the king, denouncing as rebels all who
refused it. To complete the measure of Charles'
rxshness on the subject of the service-book, it was
introduced into Scotland witliout having been sub-
mitted to presbyteries, and without the sanction of
the General Assembly.

The consequence of the introduction of the liturgy,
aggravated as it was by the manner of its introduc-
tion, was, as might have been expected, in the last
degree serious and important. The country rose
nearly to a man against the Popish innovation. In
Edinburgh the bishops who presided at the ceremony
of its first introduction were mobbed and maltreated,
and the ministers everywhere carefully prepared
their congregations to resist the obnoxious volume.
The whole land, in short, was agitated by one vio-
lent commotion, and the minds of men were roused
into a state of feverish excitement, which threatened
the most serious results. It was at this critical
moment that Henderson came again upon the stage.
In the same predicament with other clergymen, Hen-
derson was chargeil to [jurchase two copies of the
liturgy for the use of his parish within fifteen days,
under the pain of rebellion. On receiving the charge,
Henderson immediately jiroceeded to Edinburgh and
presented a petition to the jirivy-council, represent-
ing that the service-book had not received the sanc-
tion of the General Assembly, nor was authorized by
any act of parliament ; that the Church of Scotland
was free and independent, and ought not to be dic-
tated to except through her own pastors, who were
the proper and the best judges of what was for her
Ijcneht ; that the form of worship received at the
Reformation was still sanctioned by the legislature
and the supreme ecclesiastical judicatory, and could
not be invaded excepting by the same authority ;
that some of the ceremonies enjoined by the Ijook
had occasioned great divisions, and were extremely

obnoxious to the people, who had been taught to
hold them in abhorrence. This bold statement Hen-
derson concluded by soliciting a suspension of the
charge. What hope Henderson entertained that
this supplication, or rather remonstrance, would be
formally listened to by the privy-council, cannot now
be ascertained. There is no reason, however, to
conclude that he possessed any secret intelligence
regarding the real dispositions of that body. The
credit, therefore, must be awarded him of having
come forward on this perilous occasion trusting to the
strength of his cause alone, and fully prepared to
meet the consequences, whatever they might be, of
the step which he had taken. The result was more
favourable than probably either Henderson or the
country expected. The council granted the suspen-
sion required, until the king's further pleasure should
be known ; but, for the remuneration of the king's
printer, ordained by an express act, as the decision
in Henderson's case was of course understood to
apply to the whole kingdom, that each parish should
provide itself with two copies of the book, but with-
out any injunction to make use of them. The order
for reading the liturgy was also suspended, until new
instructions on the subject should be received from
his majesty. The king's answer, however, to the
representations of the privy-council, at once over-
turned all hopes of concession in the matter of the
liturgy. Instead of giving way to the general feeling,
he repeated, in a still more peremptory manner than
at first, his commands that the service-book should
be read, and farther ordered that no burgh should
choose a magistrate which did not conform. This
uncompromising and decided conduct on the part
of the king was confronted by a similar spirit on the
part of the people, and the path which Henderson
had first taken was soon crowded by the highest and
mightiest in the land, all pushing onward with the
utmost eagerness and zeal to solicit the recall of the
obnoxious liturgy, and discovering on each repulse
and on the appearance of each successive obstacle
to their wishes, a stronger and stronger disposition
to have recourse to violence to accomplish their ob-
ject, if .supplication should fail. On the receipt of
the king's last communication on the all-engrossing
subject of the service-book, the nobility, barons,
ministers, and representatives of burghs presented
a supplication to the privy-council, entreating that
the matter might be again brought before the king.
In this and in all other matters connected with it
Henderson took a leading part: he suggested and
directed all the proceedings of the nonconformists;
drew up their memorials and petitions, and was, in
short, at once the head and right hand of his party,
the deviser and executor of all their measures.

The result of this second supplication to the king
was as unsatisfactory as the first. The infatuated
monarch, urged on by Laud, and in some measure
by erroneous impressions regarding the real state of
matters in Scotland, still maintained his resolutions
regarding the liturgy. He, however, now so far ac-
knowledged the appeals which had been made to
him, as to have recourse to evasion, instead of direct
opposition as at first, a course at all times more dan-
gerous than its opposite; inasmuch as, while it ex-
hibits all the hostility of the latter, it is entirely
without its candour, and is destitute of that man-
fulness and promptitude which, if it does not re-
concile, is veiy apt to subdue. In place of giving
any direct answer to the supplication of the nobility
and barons, the king instructed his privy-council
in Edinburgh to intimate to the people by pro-
clamation, that there should be nothing regarding
church matters treated of in the council for some

ALEXANDER HENDERSON.

239

time, and that, therefore, all persons who had come
to Edinburgh on that account should repair to
their homes withm twenty-four hours, on pain of
being denounced rebels, put to the horn, and all
their movable goods being escheat to the king.
This proclamation was immediately followed by
another, announcing an intended removal of the
court of session from Edinburgh to Linlithgow; and
this again by a third, calling in, for the purpose of
being burned, a pamphlet lately published against
the service-book.

These proclamations, which but too plainly inti-
mated that nothing would be conceded to supplica-
tion, and that there was no hope of any change in
the sentiments of the king, instantly called forth the
most decided expressions of popular resentment and
determination. The city was at this moment fdled
with strangers — noblemen, gentlemen, clergymen,
and commissioners from the different parishes, be-
sides immense numbers of persons of inferior rank,
whom curiosity or interest in the engrossing topic of
the day had assembled in the metropolis from all
parts of the country. The town, thus surcharged,
as it were, with inflammable matter, soon became a
scene of violence and insubordination. The leaders
of the nonconformists again met in the midst of the
storm, and in defiance of the proclamation which
enjoined their departure, proceeded to deliberate
upon the question of what was next to be done.
The result was some farther supplications and peti-
tions to the privy-council and to the king. These,
however, being still unsuccessful, were followed up
some months afterwards by a determination to appeal
to the people, to unite them in one common bond,
and to make the cause at once and unequivocally the
cause of the whole nation. The leaders resolved to
adopt a measure which should involve all in its re-
sults, be it for good or for evil; by which, in short,
not a leader or leaders, nor a party, but an entire
kingdom, should stand or fall, by swearing before
tlieir God to peril the alternative.

This measure was a renewal of the national cove-
nant of 1580 and 1581, adapted, by changes and
additions, to the existing circumstances. The re-
modelled document was drawn up by Mr. Henderson,
with the assistance of the celebrated Archibald John-
stone, an advocate, and was first exhibited for signa-
ture, February 2Sth, 1638, in the Grayfriars' Church
in Edinburgh, where an immense multitude had as-
sembled, for the purpose of hailing the sacred docu-
ment, and of testifying their zeal in the cause which
it was intended to support, by subscribing it. On
this occasion Henderson addressed the people with
so much fervour and eloquence, that their feelings,
already excited, were wound up to the highest pitch,
and a degree of enthusiasm pervaded the multitude
which sufficiently assured their leaders of the popu-
larity of their cause. The instrument itself, which
was now submitted for signature, was a roll of parch-
ment four feet long and three feet eight inches broad;
yet such was the general zeal for the covenant, that
this immense sheet was in a short time so crowded
with names on both sides throughout its whole space,
that there was not room latterly for a single addi-
tional signature; even the margin was scrawled over
with subscriptions, and as the document filled up,
the subscribers were limited to the initial letters of
their names. Copies were now sent to different
parts of the kingdom, and met everywhere, excepting
in three places, to be afterwards named, with the
same enthusiastic reception which had marked its
appearance in Edinburgh, receiving thousands of
signatures wherever it was exhibited. The three
excepted places were Glasgow, St. Andrews, and

Aberdeen. In the two former, however, the feeling
regarding the covenant amounted to little more than
indifference; but in the latter city it was aVjsolutely
resisted. Anxious to have the voice of all Scotland
with them, and especially desirous that there should
not be so important an exception as Aberdeen, the
leaders of the Covenanters despatched several noble-
men and two clergymen, one of whom was Hender-
son, to that city, to attempt to reclaim it; and this
object, chiefly through the powerful eloquence of the
subject of this memoir, they accomplished to a very
considerable extent, obtaining no less than 500
signatures, many of them of the highest respecta-
bility, immediately after the close of a discourse by
Mr. Henderson, in which he had urged the most
irresistible arguments for the subscribing of the
covenant. Mr. Henderson was now universally ac-
knowledged as the head of the nonconforming Scot-
tish clerg)'. On his moderation, firmness, and talent
they reposed their hopes; and to his judgment they
left, with implicit confidence, the guidance and
direction of their united efforts. Of this feeling to-
wards him they were now about to afford a remark-
able proof. The king, though still without any in-
tention of yielding to the demands of the Covenanters,
having consented that a General Assembly should be
held, empowered his commissioner the Marquis of
Hamilton to convoke it. On the second day of the
meeting of this celebrated assembly, which sat down
at Glasgow on the 2ist November, 1638, Mr. Hen-
derson was chosen moderator, without one single
dissenting voice. To form a correct idea of the
general esteem for his amiable qualities, and the ap-
preciation of his abilities which this appointment
implied, it is necessary to consider all the singular
and important circumstances connected with it — cir-
cumstances which altogether rendered it one of the
utmost delicacy, difficulty, and hazard. He was, at
a moment of the most formidable religious distrac-
tion, called upon to preside over an assembly whose
decisions were either to allay or to promote that dis-
traction; who were to discuss points of serious differ-
ence between their sovereign and the nation; who
were to decide, in short, whether the nation was to
proclaim open war against their sovereign — a sove-
reign backed by a nation of much greater power and
larger population; an assembly by whose proceed-
ings the religious liberties of the kingdom were either
to stand or fall; and one, in consequence, on which
the eyes of the whole people were fixed with a gaze
of the deepest and most intense interest. Important,
however, and responsible as the appointment was,
Henderson was found more than equal to it, for he
conducted himself on this tr)ing occasion not only
with a pmdence and resolution which increased the
respect and admiration of his own party for his char-
acter and talents, but with a forbearance and urbanity
which secured him also the esteem of those who
were opposed to them. "We have now," said
Henderson at the conclusion of the eloquent and
impassioned address which terminated the sittings of
the assembly, "we have now cast down the walls of
Jericho; let' him that rebuildeth them beware of the
curse of Hiel the Bethclite:" a sentence which com-
prised typically all that had been done and all that
would be done in the event of such an attempt being
made. Episcopacy was overthrown, the king's
authority put at defiance, and such an attitude of
hostility to the court assumed as fell short only of a
declaration of open war.

Such was the accession of popularity which Hen-
derson's conduct procured him on this occasion, that,
a day or two before the rising of the assembly, two
supplications were given in from two different places

240

ALEXANDER HENDERSOX.

earacbtly solicilinjj his pastoral sen'ices, the one from
St. Andrews, the other from Edinburgh. Henderson
himself was extremely unwilling to obey either of
these calls. Strongly attached to Leuchars, the
charge to which he had Ixren first appointed, and
which he had now held for many years, he could not
reconcile himself to the idea of a removal, pleading
in figurative but highly expressive language, that "he
was now too old a plant to take root in another soil."
The supplicants, however, with a flattering persever-
ance pressed their suits, and after a strenuous con-
test between the two parties who sought his ministry,
he acquiesced in a removal to Edinburgh; in favour
of which the competition terminated by a majority
of seventy-five votes. He only stipulated, that when
old age should overtake him, he should be permitted
to remove again to a country charge. Soon after
his removal to Edinburgh he was promoted to be,
what was then called, first or king's minister. This
change, however, in no way abated his zeal in the
cause of the covenant; he still continued to be the
oracle of his party, and still stood with undisputed
and unrivalled influence at the head of the church as
now once more reformed.

In the year after his translation to Edinburgh
{1639) he was dne of the commissioners deputed by
the Scottish army, then encamped on Dunse Law,
to treat with the king, who, with his forces, had
taken post at the Birks, a plain on the English side
of the Tweed, within three or four miles of Ber-
wick. During the whole of the various negotiations
which took place at this critical and interesting con-
juncture, Henderson conducted himself with his
usual ability, and moreover with a prudence and
candour which did not escape the notice of the king.
One of the well-known results of these conferences
was the meeting in Edinburgh of the General As-
sembly in the following month of August. On this
occasion the Earl of Traquair, who was now his
majesty's commissioner, was extremely desirous that
Mr. Henderson should be re-elected moderator, a
sufficient proof of the estimation in which he was
lield by men of all parties. The idea, however, of a
constant moderatorship was exceedingly unpopular,
and contrary to the constitution of the church; and
the suggestion of Traquair was overruled to the en-
tire satisfaction of Mr. Henderson himself, who was
one of the most strenuous opponents of the proposi-
tion. As former moderator, however, he preached
to the a.ssembly, and towards the close of his dis-
course addressed the Earl of Traquair — "We be-
seech your grace," he said, "to see that Cwsar have
his own; but let him not have what is due to God,
by whom kings reign. God hath exalted your grace
unto many high places within these few years, and
is still doing so. Be thankful, and labour to exalt
Christ's throne. Wiien the Israelites came out of
Egypt they gave all the silver and gold they had
carried thence for the building of the tabernacle; in
like manner your grace must employ all your parts
and endowments for building up the church of G(id
in this land." He next atldressed the members,
urging them to persevere in the good cause, but
carefully inculcating prudence and moderation in all
their doings; for zeal, he said, without these was
"like a ship that hath a full sail, but no rudder."

On the 31st of tlie same month (August) Mr.
Henderson was called upon to preside, in his clerical
capacity, at the opening of the parliament, and on
that occasion delivered a most impressive discourse,
in which he treated of the duties and utility of
governors with singular ability and judgment.

A proof still more flattering, perhaps, than any he
had yet received of the estimation in which his char-

acter and talents were held, was afTorded him in the
following year (1640). Previous to this period the
college of Edinburgh was without any presiding
officer to regulate its affairs, these receiving only such
attention as might result from an annual visit of the
town-council. As this was little more than a visit of
ceremony, the system of education, and almost every-
thing else connected with the university, was in a
most deplorable condition. To remedy these evils
the town-council came to the resolution of having a
rector appointed, to be chosen annually, and whose
duty it should be to direct all matters connected with
the college, to keep an eye on the conduct of the
principal and professors, and to superintend the
education of the students, and the disposal of the re-
venues. To this honourable and highly responsible
office Mr. Henderson was unanimously elected; an ap-
pointment not more indicative of the general opinion
entertained of his moral qualities, than of his learn-
ing and abilities; for besides the merely legislative
duties which were connected with it, the rector, by
the constitution of the office, was to be invited by
the preses at all solemn meetings of the college, "to
go before the rest in all public disputes of philosophy
and divinity."

Mr. Henderson, notwithstanding his other various
and important avocations, discharged the duties of
this office with an attention, ability, and judgment
which soon placed the university on a very different
footing from what it had hitherto been. He added
to and improved its buildings and its approaches,
bestowed especial care on the education of candidates
for the ministry, instituted a professorship of oriental
languages, a department which had previously been
greatly neglected, to the serious injur)', in particular,
of the students of divinity, whose knowledge of the
Hebrew was left to be gleaned from one short weekly
lecture on that language; and, in short, he overlooked
nothing which could contribute to its interests and
prosperity. His own personal influence, together
with the high respectability which his sagacious ad-
ministration had procured for the college, was so
great, that the citizens of Edinburgh, with a spirit
of emulation which was very far from existing be-
fore, strove who should most contribute to the ac-
commodation of its members. The consequence of
these judicious and important services was, that Mr.
Henderson was continued, by re-election, in the
office of rector till his death.

From these peaceful pursuits Henderson was occa-
sionally directed to take a share in the renewed dis-
tractions of the times. The king having refused to
ratify some of the points agreed upon at the Birks,
both parties again took up arms: Charles, denouncing
the Covenanters as rebels, marched towards Scotland
with an army; while the latter, with 23,000 or 24,000
men, penetrated into England. Some partial suc-
cesses of the .Scottish army on this occasion, together
with some defections in his own, again brought the
unfortunate monarch to pacificatory terms with the
Covenanters. A conference was begun at Ripon,
and afterwards, as the king's presence was required
in London, transferred to that city. The commis-
sioners who were despatched thither by the Covenan-
ters to conclude the conference, took with them
several of the most popular of the clerg}-, and amongst
these was Mr. Henderson, on whose talents they
relied for all the subsidiary efforts which were at once
to bring the conference to an issue satisfactory to
themselves, and to impress the English with a favour-
able opinon of their cause. Both of these objects they
accomplished, and that in no small measure by means
of the impressive eloquence and literary talents of
Mr. Henderson, who, besides exerting himself in the

ALEXANDER HENDERSON.

241

pulpit and elsewhere in forwarding the views of the
commissioners by discourses and lectures, wrote also
several able tracts and papers which attracted mucli
attention, and produced important effects in favour
of the cause which he had come to support.

During Mr. Henderson's stay in London on this
occasion, he had an interview with the king, by
whom he was graciously received. The conference
was a private one, and although on the part of
Henderson it was sought specially for the purpose
of soliciting a favour for the university of Edinburgh,
it is not unlikely that it embraced objects of much
greater interest. On his return to Edinburgh in July,
1641, having been detained in London nine months,
he was again chosen moderator of the General As-
sembly, then sitting at Edinburgh, and which had
removed thither from St. Andrews, where it first
met, for the greater conveniency of the nobles who
were attending parliament, and (a striking proof
of his importance) that it might at this critical period
have the advantages of Mr. Henderson's services as
moderator.

On this occasion Mr. Henderson delivered to the
assembly a letter from a number of ministers in
London, requesting the advice of their Scottish
brethren on certain points of church government.
In some perplexity they had written, "That almighty
God having now of his infinite goodness raised up
our hopes of removing the yoke of Episcopacy (under
which we have so long groaned), sundry other forms
of church government are by sundry sorts of men
projected to be set up in the room thereof." Hen-
derson was instructed to reply to this letter. In his
answer he expressed, in the name of the assembly,
the deep interest which they took in the state of
what they called, by a somewhat startling association
of words, the Kirk of England, and earnestly urged a
uniformity in church government throughout Britain.
Soon after this (14th August) the unfortunate Charles
arrived in Edinburgh. Foreseeing the approaching
war between himself and his English parliament, he
had come do\vn to Scotland with the humiliating
view of paying court to the leaders of the Presby-
terian body, and of following up, by personal con-
descensions, the concessions by which he had already
recovered, for the time at least, the favour of that
party; thus hoping to secure the aid of Scotland
when he should be assailed by his subjects at home
— the unhappy monarch's situation thus much re-
sembling that of a bird closely pursued by a hawk,
and which, preferring a lesser to a greater evil, flies
to man for protection. On this occasion the king
appointed ^lr. Henderson his chaplain, and by this
well-judged proceeding at once gratified the people,
whose favourite preacher he had long been, and not
improbably also gratified his own predilection in
his favour, resulting from Henderson's temper and
moderation in those instances where they had been
brought in contact. Henderson constantly attended
the king during the time of his residence in Edin-
burgh, praying every morning and evening before
him, and preaching to him in the chapel royal at
Holyrood House every Sunday, or standing by his
chair when another performed that duty. Hender-
son, who, although of incorruptible integrity, and a
zealous Presbyterian, as the share which he took in
the struggles of that party sufficiently witness, was
yet a mild and humane man, could not help sympa-
thizing with the sorrows of his unfortunate sovereign.
The religion of which he was so eminent a professor
taught him to entertain charitable and benevolent
feelings toward all mankind, and his was not the
disposition to except an humbled and unhappy prince
from this universal precept, whatever were the faults

VOL. II.

which had placed him in these melancholy circum-
stances. The mild and amiable disposition of the
man, too, which frequent inter\-iews must have
forced upon Henderson's notice, must have in some
measure obUterated in his mind the errors of the
monarch. It was hard, then, that Henderson for
this sympathy, for opening his heart to the best
feelings of humanity, for practising one of the first
and most amiable virtues which the Christian religion
teaches and enjoins, should have been, as he was,
subjected to the most bitter calumnies on his char-
acter and motives. These calumnies affected his
pure and generous nature deeply, and in the next
assembly he entered into a long and impassioned
defence of those parts of his conduct which slander
had assailed. His appeal touched the hearts and
excited the sympathy of his brethren, who assured
him of their unshaken confidence in his integrity.

This assurance restored the worthy divine to that
cheerfulness of which the injurious reports which had
gone abroad regarding him had for some time deprived
him. If anything were wanting to establish Hen-
derson's character for integrity besides the public
testimony of his brethren, it is to be found in the
opinion of one who w idely differed from him regard-
ing the measures of the day, bearing witness that
"his great honesty and unparalleled abilities to
serve this church and kingdom did ever remain
untainted."

In 1642 Mr. Henderson conducted the corres-
pondence with England which now took place on
the subject of ecclesiastical reformation and union,
and was soon after desired to hold himself in readi-
ness with certain other commissioners to proceed to
England, in the event of such a proceeding being
necessar}'. After some delay, occasioned by the
open rupture which took place between the king
and the English parliament, Henderson with the
other commissioners set out for the sister kingdom.
While there he used every effort, but unfortunately
to no purpose, to effect a reconciliation between
Charles and his English subjects; he proposed to
the king to send the queen to Scotland, with the
view of exciting an interest in his behalf He even
went to Oxford, where the king then was, to endea-
vour to prevail upon him, at a personal interview, to
make some advances towards a reconciliation, and
at the same time to offer him the mediation of Scot-
land. All his efforts, however, were unavailing;
the king, in place of acknowledging error, endea-
voured to defend the justice of his cause, and on
better grounds expressed high indignation at the
interference of the Scots in the church reformation
of England. Finding he could be of no further
ser\-ice, Henderson, together with his colleagues,
returned to Edinburgh, where his conduct through-
out the whole of this delicate mission was pronounced
by the General Assembly to have been "faithful and
wise." In 1643 he was once more chosen modera-
tor of the General Assembly under peculiar circum-
stances. This was the presence in that body of the
English commissioners sent down to Scotland by
the parliament of England, to solicit the aid and
counsel of the former in their present emergency.
Mr. Henderson, with several other commissioners,
was soon after sent up to London to attend the
celebrated Westminster Assembly of Divines, to
represent in that assembly the Church of Scotland,
and to procure its assent, with that of both houses
of parliament, to the solemn league and covenant;
all of which important duties, with the assistance of
his colleagues, he discharged with his usual ability
and judgment. On this occasion he remained for
three years in London, during all which time he was

51

:4-

ALEXANDER HENDERSON

unremittingly employed in assisting the assembly in
preparing the public formularies of the religious
union between the three kingdoms. In 1645 he
was appointed to assist the commissioners of the
Scottish and English parliaments to treat with the
king at Uxbridge, and finally was dcjiuted to nego-
tiate with the latter, when his fortunes had reached a
crisis, at Newcastle. Henderson arrived on his mis-
sion at Newcastle about the middle of May, 1646,
and met with a cordial reception from his majesty.
After some discussion on religious subjects, it was
agreed that the scruples of the king should be treated
of in a scries of papers written alternately by his
majesty and Henderson. In the last of these papers,
addressed by the former to the latter, and all of
which and on both sides were written with great
talent, the king at once expressing his high opinion
of Mr. Henderson, and his determination to adhere
to the sentiments which he had all along entertained,
says, '"For instance, I think you the best preacher
in Newcastle, yet I believe you may err, and possibly
a better preacher may come, but till then must
retain my opinion." Immediately after this, Hen-
derson, whose healtli was now much impaired,
returned to Edinburgh by sea, being unable to bear
the fatigue of travelling by land. The illness with
which he was afflicted rapidly gained upon him, and
heat length expired on the 19th of August, 1646, in
the sixty-third year of his age, not many days after
his return from Newcastle. After the death of this
celebrated man his memory was assailed by several
absurd and unfounded calumnies. It was alleged
that he died of mortification at his having been
defeated in the controversy with the king; others
asserted that he had been converted by the latter,
and that on his death-bed he had expressed regret
for the part he had acted, and had renounced Pres-
bytery. All of these charges were completely re-
futed by the General Assembly, who, taking a
becoming and zealous interest in the good name
of their de])arted brother, established his innocence
on the testimony of several clergymen, and still more
decisively by that of the two who attended him on
his death-bed, and who heard him in his last mo-
ments pray earnestly for a "happy conclusion to the
great and wonderful work of reformation." Hen-
derson was interred in the Grayfriars' Churchyard,
where a monument was erected to his memory by
his nephew Mr. George Henderson. This monu-
ment, which was in the form of an obelisk, with
suitable inscriptions on its four sides, was, with others
of the leading Covenanters, demolished at the Re-
storation, but was again replaced at the Revolution.
This sketch of one of the greatest divines that
Scotland has produced, cannot be better concluded
than in the following estimate of his character by
Dr. Thomas M'Crie, who had intended to add a life
of Henderson to his lives of Knox and Melville, but
proceeded no further than the outline sketched in his
miscellaneous writings: — "Alexander Henderson
was enriched with an assemblage of endowments
which have rarely met in one man. He possessed
talents which fitted him for judging and giving advice
aljout the political affairs of a nation, or even for
t.iking an active share in the management of them,
had he not devoted himself to the immediate service
o.i" the church, and the study of ecclesiastical business.
He was not more distinguished by the abilities which
he displayed in his public conduct, than by the virtues
which adorned his private character. Grave, yet
affable and polite — firm and independent, yet modest
and condescending — he commanded the respect and
conciliated the affection of all who were acquainted
with him ; and the more intimately his friends knew

THOMAS HENDERSON.

him, they loved him the more. The power of reli-
gion he deeply felt, and he had tasted the comforts
of the gospel. Its spirit, equally removed from the
coldness of the mere rationalist and the irregular
fervours of the enthusiast, breathed in all his words
and actions. The love of liberty was in him a pure
and enlightened flame ; he loved his native country,
but his patriotism was no narrow, illiberal passion ;
it opened to the welfare of neighbouring nations, and

of mankind in general Called forth by the

irresistible cry of his dear country, when he found
her reduced to the utmost distress by the oppression
of ambitious prelates, supported by an arbitrary
court and corrupt statesmen, he came from that re-
tirement which was congenial to him, and entered
upon the bustle of public business at a time of life
when others think of retiring from it. Though he
sighed after his original solitude, and sufTered from
the fatigues and anxiety to which he was subjected,
yet he did not relinquish his station, nor shrink from
the difficult tasks imposed upon him, until his feeble
and shattered constitution sunk under them, and he
fell a martyr to the cause."

HENDERSON, Thomas. This distinguished
astronomer, whose name is associated with the dis-
covery of the parallax of the fixed stars, was the son
of a respectable tradesman of Dundee, and bom in
that town, December 28, 179S. After the ordinary
education furnished by the schools of Dundee, he
was apprenticed for six years to a writer, or attorney,
at the end of which period, and at the age of twenty-
one, he was sent to Edinburgh to complete his edu-
cation for the legal profession. After occup3-ing for
some time a situation in the office of a writer to the
signet, he became secretary to John Clerk, advocate,
afterwards a lord of session, with the title of Lord
Eldin ; subsequently he was private secretary to the
Earl of Lauderdale; and afterwards clerk to the lord-
advocate, Jeffrey. These situations he successively
occupied until the year 1S31. During his residence,
however, at Dundee, he had acquired a taste for
practical astronomy, as well as for its history and
literature, and on removing to Edinburgh he con-
tinued to devote his leisure time to the prosecution of
his favourite science, using for that purpose the ob-
servator)' on the Calton Hill, at that time indiffer-
ently furnished with instruments, but still valuable
for the instruction of a learner. It speaks much for
the perseverance of Henderson, that in spite of weak
health, and especially a tendency to disorder in the
eyes, a malady the most unfavourable for astronom-
ical observations, he had already acquired reputation
as an astronomer, although he had cultivated the
science only at leisure hours, and as a recreation.

In 1824 Mr. Henderson's first contribution to
astronomy was a paper sent to Dr. Thomas Young,
the then secretary to the Board of Longitude, and
superintendent of the A'autical Almanac, upon the
method of computing an occultation of a fixed star
by the nioon; and this was followed during the four
subsequent years by such valuable contributions, that
they were published m the Nautical Almanac. Nor
was this ail, for Dr. Young at his death handed a
memorandum to Professor Rigaud expressive of his
opinion that no one was so well qualified to be his
successor as Mr. Henderson. But the admiralty,
notwithstanding this strong recommendation, ap-
pointed Mr. Pond, the astronomer-royal, to the
superintendence of the Nautical Almanac. The
latter, under a full sense of Henderson's value, offered
him employment for the greater part of his time upon
remunerative terms ; but this offer Henderson did
not accept. This was in 1S29, but during the pre-

THOMAS HENDERSON HENRY THE MINSTREL.

243

vious year Henderson had experienced another and
a similar disappointment. The chair of practical
astronomy in the university of Edinburgh having
become vacant by the death of Dr. Blair, the recom-
mendations were strong for the appointment of Hen-
derson to the vacant charge ; but although govern-
ment held the appointment, no nomination at that
time took place. Henderson however had not
been idle in showing his fitness for such important
scientific offices. In 1827 he sent a paper to the
Royal Society of London, "On the Difference of
Meridians of the Observatories of London and
Paris," showing a small error that had crept into one
of their observations, by which the credibility of the
whole might be affected, and rendered of doubtful
authority. In 1828, in conjunction with Mr. Maclear,
he communicated to the Astronomical Society an
ephemeris of the occultations of Aldeboran by the
moon. In the following year he calculated for ten
different observatories in Europe. He afterwards
furnished other lists of lunar occultations computed
for the meridian of Greenwich, by which the deter-
mining of longitudes was specially benefited.

On the death of Mr. Fallows in 1831, Mr. Hen-
derson was appointed by the admiralty to succeed
him in the superintendence of the observatory at the
Cape of Good Hope. The observatory had been
recently completed, and Henderson's chief occupa-
tion there was to determine the places of the southern
stars for the aid of navigation. He arrived at the
Cape in April, 1832, and from this period, as his
biographers have remarked, "he must be considered
as a professional astronomer." Here he vigorously
commenced his duties ; but at the end of little
more than twelve months his health and spirits gave
way. He was separated from his relatives, he was
isolated from scientific associates, and being subject
to heart-disease he felt that at any moment he might
pass away unnoticed and unknown. He therefore
resigned his charge, and returned to Scotland in 1833.
But he had been no idler while in office ; on the con-
trary, he had collected a valuable store of observa-
tions at the Cape, the reduction of which to practical
account he imposed upon himself as a voluntary duty.
And this he was enabled satisfactorily to perform in
consequence of an agreement between the govern-
ment and the Astronomical Institution of Edinburgh,
the former engaging to appoint and provide for an
astronomer, who was also to hold the professorship
of practical astronomy in the university. On Lord
Melbourne applying to the Astronomical Society of
London for advice, they cordially recommended Mr.
Henderson, who was accordingly appointed the first
astronomer-royal who bore that office in Scotland,
and also professor of practical astronomy in Edin-
burgh, the chair of which had remained unfilled since
1828. Thus was Henderson placed at last in a posi-
tion beyond his highest hopes, and equal to his
utmost wishes, and here he continued until his death,
■which occurred ten years afterwards. That com-
paratively short interval comprises the record of an
active and studious life, and the list of his astronom-
ical writings, given in the Annual Report of the
Astronomical Society fo>- 1S45, comprises upwards of
seventy communications of different degrees of bulk
and importance, scattered over various scientific
journals, independently of five quarto volumes of
Astronomical Obsei-i<ations made at the Royal Ohserva-
cry of that city, between the years 1834 and 1839,
with a sixth nearly ready for publication. Nor was
the reduction into systematic form of his Cape of
Good Hope observations forgot; for amidst his many
occupations, he gave to the Astronomical Society,
in 1837, a catalogue of the declinations of 172 prin-

cipal fixed stars, chiefly in the southern hemisphere.
It is to the above-mentioned Annual Report, and
these volumes of Astronomical Observations, that we
must refer the reader for a full idea of the nature
and value of his discoveries, especially in that of the
parallax of the fixed stars. Professor Henderson's
death, which was sudden, occurred on the 23d of
November, 1844, his wife, a daughter of Mr. Adie,
optician, Edinburgh, whom he married in 1836,
having died two years previously, after giving birth
to an only child.

Independently of his great scientific attainments,
and the discoveries with which he enriched astronomy
for the improvement of navigation, Professor Hen-
derson was beloved by his friends on account of his
social qualities and private worth. Of his public
character the following just estimate is given by one
who evidently was able to understand and appre-
ciate it: — "In his astronomical career he resem-
bled his friend Mr. Baily, in bringing to his subject
the most methodical habits of business. He was
well acquainted with astronomical literature, and
with other branches of science; and at different times
supplied the places of the professors of mathematics
and of natural philosophy in the university of Edin-
burgh. He formed a great attachment to the
methods of the German astronomers, and his models
were MM. Bcssel and Struve. His determination
to be well acquainted with all that was doing abroad
made him collect an astronomical library, which, for
a man of his veiy limited means, was of extraordinary
extent and goodness ; and those who knew him
remember the ready manner in which he could pro-
duce the results of his reading. Of his writings we
may say briefly that, in addition to their valuable
masses of observations, they abound in all that dis-
tinguishes the astronomer, properly so called, from
the noter of phenomena.'"

HENRY THE Minstrel, more commonly styled
Blind Harry, was a wandering poet of the fifteenth
century, who wrote a well-known narrative of the
life of Sir \Villiam Wallace.

The character of a wandering bard or minstrel was
in early ages highly valued and honoured, although
at a late period it fell into discredit. Henry the
Minstrel, or Blind Harry, had not the fortune
to live during the sunshine of his profession ; for in
the Scottish laws of his own time we find hards ■
classed with "vagabondis, fuilis, and sic like idill
peopill;" but the misfortune of his blindness, and
the unquestionable excellence of his talents, would
in all probability secure to him a degree of respect
and attention which was not then generally bestowed
on individuals of his class. Indeed, we learn from
Major that the most exalted in the land counten-
anced the minstrel, and that he recited his poetical
narratives before them. Major is the only writer
from whom any information regarding Blind Harry
is derived, and the meagreness of that information
may be judged of when it is known that the whole
is comprised in the following brief sentence:— /'//^:4'--
rum librum Giillielmi Vallacei Iknriciis, a nativitate
luminibus captiis, inea in/antiie tempore cndit; et qu(S
vulgo dicebantur, carmine vtdgari, in quo peritus erat,
conscripsit; (ego autem talibiis scriptis solum in parte
fidem impertior;) qui historiartim recitatione coram
principihus victum ct vestitum quo dignus erat nactus
est." — "Henry, who was blind from his birth, in the
time of my infancy composed the whole book of
William Wallace; and committed to writing in vulgar

• Knight's Biographical Cyclopedia, art. "Thomas Hen-
derson."

- Hist. lib. iv. c. 15.

244

IIENKV THE MINSTREL

ROBERT HENRY.

poetr)', in which he was well skilled, the things that
were commonly related of him. For my own part,
1 give only partial credit to writings of this descrip-
tion. By the recitation of these, however, in the
presence of men of the highest rank, he procured, as
he indee<l deserved, food and raiment."

Brief, however, as this passage is, we gather from
it the principal points of Henry's life — namely, that
he was born blind — that he was well skilled in ver-
nacular poetry — that he composed the book of
ll'iiliiim ll'i]//cuir~and that by reciting it he ]>rocured
food anil raiment. The jiassage, also, is the only
source from which we can learn the date of the poem
or the period when its author flourished. Major was
born in the year 1469, and as he says that the book
of //'////<;/« ll'tilhice was composed in his infancy.
Blind Harry must have lived about that time, and
the date of this work may be placed between 1470
and 14S0. More than this regarding the biogra])hy
of a once popular poet, and one whose name is still
familiar in the mouths of his countrymen, cannot be
ascertained. Of the book itself, a few observations
may be taken.

"That a man," says Mr. Ellis,* "born /'////(/should
excel in any science is extraordinary, though by no
means without example : but that he should become
an excellent poet is almost miraculous; because the
soul of poetry is description. Perhaps, therefore, it
may be easily assumed that Henry was not inferior
in point of genius either to Barbour or Chaucer, nor
indeed to any poet of any age or country." The
question of what a man might have been under cer-
tain circumstances is one of assumption altogether,
and is too frequently used by individuals regarding
themselves as a salve for their indolence and imper-
fections. Neither can we admit that description is
the soul of poetry : we consider it rather as the out-
ward garb or frame-work of the divine art, which
unless inspired by an inward spirit of contemplation,
has no further charm than a chronicle or gazetteer.
Milton was blind when he composed Paradise Lost,
and although he had the advantage of Henry in that
he once saw, yet we have often heard his calamity
adduced to increase our wonder and admiration of
his great work, whereas, had he retained his eye-
sight, Paradise Lost would probably never have been
finished, or, if finished, might not have proved, as
it has done, one of the noblest productions which a
human being ever laid before his fellow-creatures.
Although, however, we disapprove of assuming a
possible excellence in Henry had he been blessed
with vision, it would be unjust not to acknowledge
the disadvantages under which his poem has come
down to us. He himself could not write it; nor is
there any probability that it was regularly taken
down from his dictation; the incorrectness and unin-
telligibility of many of its passages rather prove that
much of it must have been written from recollection,
while editors have, in too many instances, from gross
misapprehensions, succeeded in rendering absurd
what was previously only obscure. With all this
the poem is still of extraordinary merit — and, as a
poem, is superior to Barbour's or Winton's. In a
historical light, doubtless, its value can never be put
in competition with the works of the above authors;
it is rather a romance than a history, and is full of
exaggerations and anachronisms; the narrative Henry
professes to have derived from a complete history of
Wallace (now lost) written in Latin, partly by John
Blair and partly by Thomas Gray; and this circum-
stance, if true, exculpates the poet from the invention
at least of its manifold and manifest absurdities.

' Specimens of Early English Poets, vol. i.

His information seems to have been, for the period,
respectable. In his poem he alludes to the histoiy
of Hector, of Alexander the Great, of Julius Caesar,
and of Charlemagne; but without profiting from the
character which these heroes exhibited in history, of
policy combined with prowess and bravery, he has
in his book taken the childish or gross conception of
a warrior, and held up Sir William Wallace as a
mere man of muscular strength and ferocity — capable
of hewing down whole squadrons with his single
arm, and delighting in the most merciless scenes of
blood and slaughter. It is in this point that the
Minstrel is so far inferior to Barbour. He is desti-
tute of that fine balancing of character displayed by
the latter, and those broad political views which
render The Bruce as much a philosophical history as
a poem."

HENRY, Dr. Robert, an eminent historian,
was bom in the parish of St. Ninians in Stirlingshire,
on the 1 8th of February, 1718 ; — his father was James
Henry, a respectable farmer in Muirtown of the same
parish, who had married the daughter of Mr. Gal-
loway of Burrowmeadow in Stirlingshire. As a
respectable farmer's son, young Henry enjoyed oppor-
tunities of instruction beyond the average of those
who study for the church in Scotland, and he found
little difficulty in indulging his inclination to become
a member of a learned profession. He commenced
his education under Mr. Nicholson of the parish
school of St. Ninians, and having attended the
grammar-school of Stirling, perfected himself in his
literary and philosophical studies at the university
of Edinburgh. After leaving that institution, he
occupied himself in teaching, the usual resource of
the expectants of the Scottish church, and became
master of the grammar-school of Annan. The dis-
trict in which he was so employed was soon after-
wards erected into a separate presbytery, and Henry
was admitted as its first licentiate, on the 27th of
March, 1746. In 1748 he was ordained as clergy-
man of a congregation of Presbyterians at Carlisle.
Here he remained for twelve years, when he was
transferred to a similar dissenting congregation at
Berwick-upon-Tweed. In 1763 he married Ann
Balderston, daughter of Thomas Balderston, surgeon
in Berwick. Little is said of this lady by Henry's
biographers, except in reference to the domestic
happiness she conferred on her husband. During
his residence at Berwick Dr. Henry applied his
active mind to the preparation of a scheme for
establishing a fund to assist the widows and orphans
of the dissenting clerg\-men in the north of England.
The admirable fund which had some time previously
been so firmly and successfully established for be-
stowing similar benefits on the families of the clergy
of Scotland, formed the model of his imitation ; but
in assimilating the situation of a dissenting to that of
an established church, he laboured under the usual
difficulties of those who raise a social fabric which

* In his work entitled Lives 0/ Scottish Worthies, Mr. P.
F. Tytler has expressed his deliberate conviction, founded
upon recent investigations, that the Minstrel holds too low a
rank as a credit-worthy historian. "I am persuaded," says
Mr. Tytler, "that IVatlace is the work of an ignorant man,
who was yet in possession of valuable and authentic materials.
On what other supposition can we account for the fact, that
whilst in one page we meet with errors which show a deplor-
able perversion of history, in the ne.xt we find circumstances
unknown to other Scottish historians, yet corroborated by
authentic documents, by contemporary English annalists, by
national monuments and records only published in modem
times, and to which the Minstrel cannot be supposed to have
had access. The work, therefore, cannot be treated as an
entire romance." The ingenious historian then adduces a
number of instances in which Henry's statements are proved
by lately discovered documents to have been correct.

\

AUTHOR OF "THE EISTORY OF BFITAIN" he

■£;:;^-'*n

ROBERT HENRY.

245

tlie laws will not recognize and protect. The funds
which, in Scotland, were siqiplied by the annual
contribution of the clergy, enforced by act of parlia-
ment, depended, in the English institution, on the
social and provident spirit of its members. The
perseverance of Henry overcame many of the practi-
cal difficulties thus thrown in his way : the fund was
placed on a permanent footing in the year 1762, and
Henry, having for some years undertaken its man-
agement, had afterwards the satisfaction to see it
flourish, and increase in stability and usefulness as
he advanced in years. The design of his elaborate
history, which must have gradually developed itself
in the course of his early studies, is said to have been
finally formed during his residence in Berwick, and
he commenced a course of inquiry and reading, which
he found that the resources of a provincial town, and
the assistance of his literary friends in more favoured
situations, were quite incapable of supplying for a
subject so vast and intricate, as that of a com-
plete history of Britain from the invasion of Julius
Caesar. In this situation Dr. Henry found a useful
friend in Mr. Lawrie, provost of Edinburgh, who
had married his sister. The interest of this gentle-
man procured for his brother-in-law, in the year
1768, an appointment to the ministry of the new
Grayfriar's Church in Edinburgh, whence in 1776,
he was removed to the collegiate charge of the Old
Church.

In the extensive public libraries of Edinburgh Dr.
Henry found means of prosecuting his researches
with effect. The first volume of his history was pub-
lished in quarto in the year 1 771, the second ap-
peared in 1774, the third in 1777, the fourth in 1 781,
and the fifth in 1785. The method of treating the
subject was original and bold, and one the assump-
tion of which left the author no excuse for ignorance
on any subject which had the slightest connection
with the customs, intellects, and history of our fore-
fathers, or the constitution of the kingdom. The
subject was in the first place divided into periods,
which were considered separately, each period occu-
pying a volume. The volume was divided into seven
chapters, each containing a distinct subject, linked
to the corresponding subject in the next volume by
continuance of narrative, and to the other chapters
of the same volume by identity of the period dis-
cussed. The subjects thus separated were — 1st, The
simple narrative of the civil and military transactions
of the country — 2d, The ecclesiastical history — 3d,
The information which is generally called constitu-
tional, narrating and accounting for the rise of the
peculiarities in the form of government, the laws, and
the courts of justice — 4th, The state of learning, or
rather the state of literature which may be called
purely scholastic, excluding the fine arts and consti-
tutional and political information — 5th, The history
and state of arts and manufactures — 6th, A history of
commerce, including the state of shipping, coin, and
the prices of commodities; and lastly, The history
of the manners, customs, amusements, and costumes
of the people. The writer of a book on any subject
on which he is well informed will generally choose
that manner of explaining his ideas best suited to his
information and comprehension. It may be ques-
tioned whether the plan pursued by Henry was
adapted for the highest class of historical composi-
tion, and if the other great historians who flourished
along with him would have improved their works
by following his complicated and elaborate system.
It is true that mere narrative, uninterwoven with re-
flection and such information as allows us to look
into the hearts of the actors, is a gift entirely divested
of the qualities which make it useful ; but there are

various means of qualifying the narrative — some have
given their constitutional information in notes, or de-
tached passages; others have woven it beautifully
into the narrative, and presenting us with the full
picture of the times broadly and tndy coloured,
have prevented the mind from distracting itself by
searching for the motives of actions through bare
narrative in one part of the w-ork, and a variety of
influencing motives to be found scattered througli
another. The plan which we may say was invented
by Dr. Henry, has only been once closely imitated.
The imitator was a Scotsman, the subject he encount-
ered, a History of France, was still more extensive
than that of Henry, and the ignorance the author
displayed in some of its minute branches excited
ridicule. This is an instance of the chief danger of
the system. The acquisition of a sufficient amount
of information, and regularity in the arrangement,
are the matters most to be attended to; Henry's
good sense taught him the latter, his perseverance
accomplished the former, and the author made a
complete and useful work, inferior certainly, as a
great literary production, to the works of those more
gifted historians who mingled reflection with the
current of their narrative, but better suited to an in-
tellect which did not soar above the trammels of such
a division of subject, and which might have fallen
into confusion without them. x\nother imitation of
Henry's plan, but with several important modifica-
tions, was the Pictorial History of Eiigiand. This
work, however, was the production not of one, but
of several writers, each taking the department with
which he was most conversant, and all the parts har-
monized into each other by a talented and competent
editor. A third work, an imitation of Henry's plan,
but rather in spirit than in form, is the Co/nprehcnsive
History of England. In this, the cumbrous divisions
and subdivisions are abandoned, while the more im-
portant parts of the subjects on which they treat are
given in a single chapter at the close of each epoch,
under the title of "The History of Society."

The circumstances of the first appearance of the
earlier volumes of this useful book are interesting to
the world, from their having raised against the author
a storm of hostility and deadly animosity almost
unmatched in the annals of literary warfare. The
chief persecutor, and grand master of this inquisition
on reputation, was the irascible Dr. Gilbert Stuart.
The cause of his animosity against a worthy and in-
offensive man can only be accounted for by those
whose penetration may find its way to the depths of
literary jealousy.

The letters of Stuart on the subject have been
carefully collected by D'Israeli, and published in his
Calamities of Authors, and when coupled with such
traces of the influence of the persecutor as are to be
found scattered here and there among the various
periodicals of the age, furnish us with the jiainful
picture of a man of intelligence and liberality made
a fiend by literary hate. Stuart commenced his dark
work in the Edinburgh Magazine and Rci'iao, estab-
lished under his auspices in 1773. Dr. Henry had
preached before the Society (in Scotland) for Pro-
moting Christian Knowledge a sermon, entitled
Rn'clation the most Effectual Means of Civilizing and
Reforming Mankind, and in pursuance of the custom
on such occasions, the sermon was published. The
sermon was as similar to all others of its class as any
given piece of mechanism can be to all others intended
for similar purposes; but Stuart discovered audacity
in the attempt, and unexpected failure in the execu-
tion; it required "the union of philosophy and poli-
tical skill, of erudition and eloquence, qualities which
he was sorry to observe appeared here in no eminent

246

ROBERT IIEXRV.

decree."* Dr. Macqueen published a letter in an
anoaymous form defending the sermon, and the
hidden Uterary assassin boldly maintained it to be
the work of Dr. Henrj-, an accusation not withdrawn
till the respectable author announced himself to the
world. Dr. Henrj- was soon after appointed by the
magistrates to the situation of morning lecturer to
the Tron Church. Under the disguise of the com-
munication of a correspondent who mildly hints that
the consequence of the proceeding will be a suit
against the magistrates, we find the rounded periods
of Stuart denouncing the act in those terms in which
indignant virtue traces the mazes of vice and deceit,
as "affording a precedent from which the mortifica-
tions of the pious may be impiously prostituted to
uses to which they were never intended." In token
of high respect, the General Assembly had chosen
Dr. Henrj- as their moderator, on his first return as
a member of that venerable body; and being thus
marked out as a leader in the affairs of the church,
he took a considerable share in the proceedings of
the ensuing session. Here his enemy keeps an un-
sleeping eye on his motions. Whilst the speeches of
others are unnoticed or reported in their native sim-
plicity, the narrator prepares himself for the handling
of a choice morsel when he approaches the historian.
"The opinion of one member," he obsen-es, "we
shall lay before the reader on account of its singu-
larity. It is that of Dr. Henry, the moderator of
lost assembly;"- and then he proceeds to attract the
finger of scorn towards opinions as ordinar}' as any
opinions could well be conceived. The Doctor can-
nut even absent himself from a meeting without the
circumstance being remarked, and a cause assigned
which will admit the application of a preconcerted
sneer. Dr. Robertson was the opponent of Dr.
Henr)' in this assembly. The periodical writer was
the enemy of both, and his ingenuity has been ta.xed
to bestow ridicule on both parties. Stuart at length
slowly approaches the head and front of his victim's
offending, and fixes on it with deadly eagerness.
After having attacked the other \-ulnerable points of
the author, he rushes ravenously on his Histor)', and
attempts its demolition. He finds that the unfor-
tunate author "neither furnishes entertainment nor
instruction. Diffuse, \-ulgar, and ungrammatical, he
strips history of all her ornaments. His concessions
are evidently contradictory to his conclusions. It is
thus perpetually with authors who examine subjects
which they cannot comprehend. He has amassed
all the refuse and lumber of the times he would re-
cord." "The mind of his readers is affected with no
agreeable emotions, it is awakened only to disgust
and fatigue."' But Stuart was not content with
persecution at home, he wished to add the weapons
of others to his o\vn. For this purpose he procured
a worthy associate, Whitaker, the historian of Man-
chester, and author of the Genuine History of the
Britons. Stuart, a vague theorist in elegant and
sonorous diction, who was weak enough to believe
that his servile imitations of Montesquieu raised him
to a parallel with that great man, associated himself
in this work of charity with a minute and pugnacious
antiquar)', useful to literature from the sheer labour
he had encountered, but eminently subject to the
prejudices to which those who confine their laborious
investigations to one narrow branch of knowledge
are exposed; — a person who would expend many
quarto pages in discussing a flint arrow-head or a
tumulus of stones, occasionally attempting with a
broken wing to follow the flights of Gibbon, but

' Edinburgh Review and Magazine, i. 199.
- Ibid. L 357. s Ibid. i. 26&-270.

generally as flat and sterile as the plains in which he
strove to trace Roman encampments. Two more un-
congenial spirits hardly ever attempted to work in
concert. It may easily be supposed that the minute
antiquary looked with jealousy on the extended
theories of his generalizing colleague; and the gene-
ralLzer, though he took occasion to praise the petty
investigations of the antiquary, probably regarded
them in secret with a similar contempt. But Stuart
found the natural malignity of Whitaker a useful
commodity ; and the calm good sense of Henr)' afforded
them a common object of hatred. A few e.xtracts
will give the best display of the spirit of Stuart's
communications to his friends during his machina-
tions. "Da%id Hume wants to re\-iew Henr}-: but
that task is so precious, that I will undertake it my-
self Moses, were he to ask it as a favour, should
not have it; yea, not even the man after God's own
heart. I wish I could transport myself to London
to re\-iew him for the Monthly — a fire there, and in
the Critical, would perfectly annihilate him. Could
you do nothing in the latter? To the former I sup-
pose David Hume has transcribed the criticism he
intended for us. It is precious, and would divert
you. I keep a proof of it in my cabinet, for the
amusement of friends. This great philosopher begins
to dote.* To-morrow morning Henry sets off for
London, with immense hopes of selling his historj'.
I wish sincerely that I could enter Holbom the same
hour with him. He should have a repeated fire to
combat with. I entreat that you may be so kind as
to let him feel some of your thunder. I shall never
forget the favour. If Whitaker is in London, he
could give a blow. Paterson will give him a knock.
Strike by all means. The wretch will tremble, grow
pale, and return with a consciousness of his debilit}'.
I have a thousand thanks to give you for your inser-
tion of the paper in the Loudon Chronicle, and for
the part you propose to act in regard to Henr}-. I
could wish that you knew for certain his being in
London before you strike the first blow. An inquiry
at Cadell's will give this. When you have an enemy
to attack, I shall in return give my best assistance,
and aim at him a mortal blow; and rush forivard to
his overthrow, though the flames of hell should start
up to oppose me."

Henr)' was not in possession of the poisoned
weapons which would have enabled him to retaliate,
and his good sense and equanimity of mind were no
permanent protection against assaults so unceasing
and virulent. He felt himself the personal subject of
ridicule and per\-ersion, his expected gains denied,
and the fame which he expected from years of labour
and retirement snatched from his grasp by the hand

* D'Israeli's Calamities of Authors, ii. 67. The author
appends in a note, "The critique on Henrj-, in the Monthly
Revievf, was written by Hume, and because the philosopher
was candid, he is here said to have doted." We suspect this
is erroneous, and founded on mere presumption. NVe have
carefully read the two critiques on Henry in the Monthly Re-
view, which appeared previous to Hume's death. The elegance
and profundity of Hume are wanting, and in gi%Tng an opinion
of the work, which is moderate and tolerably just, the reWewer
compares it somewhat disparagingly with the works of Hume
and Robertson, a piece of conceit and affectation which the
great philosopher would not have condescended to perpetrate.
I'hat Hume prepared and published a review of Henry's book
we have no doubt. In the Edinburgh Magazine for 1791, and
in the Gentleman's Magazine for the same year, a critique is
quoted, the work " of one of the most eminent historians of the
present age, whose history of the same periods justly possesses
the highest reputation." Without the aid of such a statement,
the style stamps the author, and we may have occasion to
quote It in the text as the work of Hume. Where it made its
first appearance, a search through the principal periodicals of
the day has not enabled us to discover. It is in the first
person singular, and may have been in the form of a letter to
the editor of a newspaper.

ROBERT IIEXRV,

247

of a rufTian.* In the midst of lliese adversities Henry
went to London for actual shelter, but the watchful
enemy observed his motions — attacks were inserted
in one print and copied into another — the influence
of Ills persecutor is widely perceptible in the periodi-
cal literature of the age. The Critical Kr^ieio had
]iraised the first volume of his history. The second
meets with a very different reception: "it is with
pain the reviewer observes, that in proportion as his
narrative and inquiries are applied to cultivated times,
his diligence and labour seem to relax," and a long
list of alleged inaccuracies, chiefly on minute and
disputed points, follows: the style is evidently not the
natural language of the pompous Stuart, but it is got
up in obedience to his directions on the vulnerable
points of the historian, and the minuteness hints at
the hand of Whitaker. Henry answered by a mode-
rate letter defending his opinions, and acknowledging
one mistake. The reviewer returns to his work with
renovated vigour, and among other things accuses
the historian of wilfully perverting authority. The
charge of dishonesty rouses the calm divine, and
with some severity he produces the words of the
authority, and the use he has made of them. The
editor claims the merit of candour for printing the
communication, and as there is no gainsaying the
fact it contains, appends an obscure hint which seems
to intimate he knows more than he chooses to tell;
a mode of backing out of a mistake not uncommon
in periodical works, as if the editorial dignity were
of so delicate a nature as not to bear a candid and
honourable confession of error. Years afterwards,
it is singular to discover the Critical Revinv returning
to its original tone, and lauding the presence of quali-
ties of which it had found occasion to censure the
want. Stuart associated himself with his friend
Whitaker in conducting the English Reineiu in 1783,
n:id it is singular, that amidst the devastation of that
irascible periodical, no blow is aimed at Henry. But
Stuart did not neglect his duty in the Political Hci-ald,
published in 1 785, an able disturber of the tranquillity
of literature, of which he was the sole conductor.
Here he gave his last and deepest stab; accusing the
venerable historian in terms the most bitter and vitu-
perative, of a hankering after language and ideas,
unworthy of his profession; concluding with the ob-
servation that "an extreme attention to smut in a
Presbyterian clergyman, who has reached the last
scene of his life, is a deformity so shocking, that no
language of reprobation is strong enough to chastise
it. " - The heartless insinuation was probably dictated
by the consciousness that, whether true or false, no
charge would be more acutely felt by the simple-
minded divine. Stuart had, however, a very acute
eye towards the real failings of Henry, and in his
Protean attacks he has scarcely left one of them
v\'ithout a brand. It was not without reason that he
said to his London correspondent, "If you would
only transcribe his jests, it would make him perfectly
ridiculous." Henry was fond of garnishing with a
few sallies of wit his pictures of human folly; but he
was unhappy in the bold attempt. They had too
much pleasing simplicity and good-humoured gro-
tesqueness for the purpose to which they were ap-
lied. More like the good-natured humour of Gold-
smith than the piercing sarcasm of Voltaire, they
might have served to strike the lighter foibles ex-

' Behold the triumph of the calumniator in the success of
his labours: — " I see every day that what is written to a man's
disparagement is never forgot nor forgiven. Poor Henr>' is on
the point of death, and his friends declare that I have killed
him; I received the information as a compliment, and begged
they would not do me so much honour." — D'Israeli's Calami-
ties, ii. 72.

- Political Herald, vol. i. p. 209.

hibited in our daily path; but to attack the grander
follies of mankind displayed in history, it may be
said they did not possess sufficient venom to make
formidable so light a weapon as wit.

We have been so much engrossed with the dreary
details of malignity that we will scarcely find room
for many other details of Henry's life; but the his-
tory of the book is the history of the author — in its
fate is included all that the world need care to know
of the unassuming individual who composed it. It
is with pleasure, then, that we turn to the brighter
side; Henry calmly weathered out the stonn which
assailed him, and in his green old age the world
smiled upon his labours. Ilumc, who had so suc-
cessfully trod the same field, was the first to meet
Henry's book with a welcome hearty and sincere;
he knew the difficulties of the task, and if he was
sufficiently acute to observe that Henry was far
behind himself, neither jealousy nor conceit pro-
voked him to give utterance to such feelings. "His
historical narratives," says this able judge, "are as
full as those remote times seem to demand, and at
the same time his inquiries of the antiquarian kind
omit nothing which can be an object of doubt or
curiosity. The one as well as the other is delivered
with great perspicuity, and no less propriety, which
are the true ornaments of this kind of writing; all
superfluous embellishments are avoided ; and the
reader will hardly find in our language any perfonn-
ance that unites together so perfectly the two great
points of entertainment and instruction." Dr. Henry
had printed the first edition of the first five volumes
of his book at his own risk, but on a demand for a
new edition, he entered into a transaction with a
bookseller, which returned him ;^3300. In the
middle of its career the work secured royal atten-
tion; Lord Mansfield recommended the author to
George HI., and his majesty, "considering his dis-
tinguished talents and great literary merit, and the
importance of the very useful and laborious work in
which he was so successfully engaged as titles to his
royal countenance and favour," liestowed on him a
pension of ;i^ioo a year. For the honour of royal
munificence it is to be hoped that the gift was the
reward of labour and literary merit, and not (as the
author's enemies have proclaimed) the wages of the
political principles he inculcated. The insinuation
is indeed not without apparent foundation. Henr}',
if not a perverter of history in favour of arbitraiy
power, is at least one of those pmdent speculators
who are apt to look on government as something
established on fixed and permanent principles, to
which all opposing interests must give way — on the
government as something highly respectable — on the
mass of the people as something not quite so re-
spectable— on the community as existing for the
government, and not on the government as adapted
to the conveniences of the community.

Five volumes of Dr. Pleniy's histor>' appeared
before his death, and the ample materials he had left
for the completion of the sixth were afterwards edited
by Mr. Laing, and a continuation was written by Mr.
Petit Andrews. The laborious author prepared the
whole for the press with his own hand, notwithstand-
ing a tremulous disorder, which compelled him to
write on a book placed on his knee. In the latter
years of his life he retired to Milnfield, about twenty
miles from Edinburgh, where he enjoyed the com-
pany of his friend and relative, Mr. Laurie. In 1 7S6
his constitution began visibly to decline; but he con-
tinued his labours till 1790. About that period his
wife was affected with blindness from a cataract, and
he accompanied her to Edinburgh, where she sub-
mitted to the usual operation, which, however, had

24^

KDWARD HENRVSOX.

not the desired efTect during her husband's lifetime.
iJr. Henry died on the 241)1 of November, 1790, in
the seventy-third year of his age. The fifth ciiition
of the Iltitcry of Jiritaiii was jniblished in 1S23, in
twelve volumes 8vo. A French translation was pub-
lished in 1789-96 by MM. Rowland and Cantwell.

HENRYSON, Emv.\Rn, LL.D., an eminent
civilian and classical scholar, and a senator of the
College of Justice. The period of the birth of this
eminent man is unknown ; but it must have taken
place early in the si.\teenlh century. Previously to
the year 1551 we find him connecting himself, as
most Scotsmen of talent and education at that period
did, with the learned men on the Continent, and
distinguishing himself in his knowledge of civil law,
a science which, although it was the foundation of
the greater part of the municipal law of Scotland,
he could have no ready means of acquiring in his
own country. This study he pursued at the univer-
sity of Bruges under the tuition of Equinar Baro, an
eminent civilian, with whom he afterwards lived on
terms of intimacy and strong attachment. It is pro-
bable that he owed to this individual his introduction
to a munificent patron, who afterwards watched and
assisted his progress in the world. Ulric Fugger,
Lord of Kirchberg and Weissenhome, a Tyrolese
nobleman, who had previously distinguished him-
self as the patron of the eminent Scottish civilian
Scrimger, extended an apparently ample literary
patronage to Henryson, admitting him to reside
within his castle, amidst a large assortment of valu-
able books and manuscripts, and bestowing on him
a regular pension. Henryson afterwards dedicated
his works to his patron, and the circumstance that
Baro inscribed some of his commentaries on the
Roman law to the same individual prompts us to
think it probable that Henryson owed the notice of
Fugger to the recommendation of his kind preceptor.'
Dempster, who in his life of Henr)'son, as usual,
refers to authors who never mention his name, and
some of whom indeed wrote before he had acquired
any celebrity, maintains that he translated into Latin
(probably about this period, and while he resided in
F'ugger's castle) the Commentar-ium Stoiconim Con-
trarioriim of Plutarch ; and that he did so must be
credited, as the work is mentioned in Quesnel's
Bibliotheca Thuana ; but the book appears to have
dropped out of the circle of literature, and it is not
now to be found in any public library we are aware
of. In the year 1552 he returned to Scotland, where
he appears to have practised as an advocate. The
protection and hospitality he had formerly received
from the Tyrolese nobleman was continued to him
by Henry Sinclair, then dean of Glasgow, afterwards
bishop of Ross, and president of the Court of Session
— thus situated, he is said to have translated the
EncheiriJion of Epictctus, and the Coiuineittaries of
Arrian ; but the fruit of his labours was never pub-
lished, and the manuscript is not known to be in
existence. Again Henryson returned to the Con-
tinent, after having remained in his native country
for a short period, and the hospitable mansion of
F'ugger was once more open for his reception. About
this period Baro, whom we have mentioned as Ilcn-
ryson's instructor in law, published a Tractatus on
yurisdklion, which met an attack from the civilian
Govea, which, according to the opinion expressed
by Henryson as an opponent, did more honour to his
talents than to his equanimity and candour. Hen-
ryson defended his master in a controversial pamphlet
of some length, entering with vehemence into the

' See the dedication to Tractatus de Jurisdictione
Henrysoni, Meerman's Thesaurus, vol. ii.

minute distinctions which at that period distracted
the intellects of the most eminent jurisconsults. This
work is dedicated to his patron Fugger. He was in
1554 chosen professor of the civil law at Bruges^a
university in which one who wrote a century later
states him to have left behind him a strong recollec-
tion of his talents and virtues. In 1555 he published
another work on civil law, entitled Commc7itatio in
Tit. X. Libri Sectindi Jnstitiitionuin de 'J'tsttimentis
Ordinajidis. It is a sort of running commentary on
the title of which it professes to treat, was dedicated
to Michael DTIospital, chancellor of France, and
had the good fortune, along with his previous Trac-
tatus, to be engrossed in the great Thesaurus Juris
Civilis ct Canonici of Gerard Meerman, an honour
which has attached itself to the works of few Scot-
tish civilians. Henryson appears, soon after the
publication of this work, to have resigned his pro-
fessorship at Bruges, and to have returned to Scot-
land, where lucrative prospects were opened to his
ambition.

A very noble feature in the history of the Scottish
courts of law is the attention with which tjie legisla-
ture in early periods provided for the interests of the
poor. Soon after the erection of the College of Jus-
tice, an advocate was named and paid for conducting
the cases of those whose pecuniary circumstances did
not permit them to conduct a lawsuit; and Henryson
was in 1557 appointed to the situation of counsel for
the poor as to a great public office, receiving as a
salary ;^20 Scots, no very considerable sum even at
that period, but equal to one-half of the salaiy allowed
to the lord-advocate. ^Vhen the judicial privileges
which the Roman Catholic clergy had gradually
engrossed from the judicature of the countr}', were
considered no longer the indispensable duties and
privileges of churchmen, but more fit for the care of
temporal judges, Henryson was appointed in 1563
to the office of commissary, with a salary of 300
merks. Secretary Maitland of Lethington having
in January, 1566, been appointed an ordinary, in
place of being an extraordinary, lord of session,
Henryson was appointed in his stead, filling a situa-
tion seldom so well bestowed, and generally, instead
of being filled by a profound legal scholar, reserved
for such scions of great families as the government
could not easily employ otherwise. Henryson was
nominated one of the commission appointed in May,
1566, "for viseing, correcting, and imprenting the
laws and acts of parliament." Of the rather care-
lessly arranged volume of the Acts of the Scottish
Parliaviciit, from I424 to 1564, which the commis-
sion produced in six months after its appointment,
he was the ostensible editor, and wrote the preface;
and it was probably as hokling such a situation, or
in reward for his services, that in June, 1566, he
received an exclusive privilege and license "to im-
prent or cause imprent and sell, the Lawis and Actis
of Parliament; that is to say, the Bukes of Law callit
Ke};iain Alajestatein, and the remanent auld Lawis
and Actis of Parliament, consequentlie maid be
progress of time unto the dait of thir presentis, viseit,
sychtit, and correctit, be the lordis commissaris spe-
ciallie deput to the said viseing, sychting, and cor-
recting thairof, and that for the space of ten yeires
next to cum."- In November, 1567, he was removed
from the bench, or, in the words of a contemporary,
taken "off sessions, because he was one of the king's
council."^ This is the only intimation we have of
his having held such an office; and it is a rather
singular cause of removal, as the king's advocate was

2 Reports from the Record Cotnfnissioti, i. 257.

3 Denmiln MS. — Haig and Brunton's History 0/ the College
0/ Justice, 133.

ROBERT HEXRVSOX.

249

then entitled to sit on the bench, and was frequently
chosen from among the lords of session. Henryson
was one of the procurators for the church in 1573.
The period of his death is not known, but he must
have been alive in 1579, as Lord Forbes at that time
petitioned parliament that he might be appointed
one of the commissioners for deciding the differences
betwixt the Forbeses and Gordons.

Henryson has received high praise as a juriscon-
sult by some of his brethren of the Continent, and
Dempster considered him — " So/is Papinianis in juris
co<^nitione inferior.'''' A monument was erected to his
memory in the Grayfriars' Churchyard of Edinburgh,
by his son Thomas Henryson, Lord Chesters, who
is said by Dempster and others to have displayed
many of the legal and other qualifications of his
father.

ELENRYSON, or HENDERSON, Robert, a

poet of the fifteenth century, is described as having
been chief schoolmaster of Dunfermline, and this is
almost the only particular of his life that is suffi-
ciently ascertained. According to one writer, he
was a notary public as well as a schoolmaster ; and
another is inclined to identify him with Henrj'son
of Fordell, the father of James Henryson, who was
king's advocate and justice-clerk, and who perished
in the fatal battle of Flodden. This very dubious
account seems to have originated with Sir Robert
Douglas, who avers that Robert Henryson appears
to have been a person of distinction in the reign of
James HL, and that he was the father of the king's
advocate. Douglas refers to a certain charter
granted by the abbot of Dunfermline in 1478, where
Robert Henryson subscribes as a witness;* but in
this charter he certainly appears without any par-
ticular distinction, as he merely attests it in the char-
acter of a notary public. A later writer is still more
inaccurate when he pretends that the same witness
is described as Robert Henryson of Fordell;"" in this
and other two charters which occur in the Char-
tulary of Dunfermline, he is described as a notary
public, without any other addition.^ That the
notary public, the schoolmaster of Dunfermline, and
the proprietor of Fordell, were one and the same
individual is by no means to be admitted upon such
slender and defective evidence. Henryson, or, ac-
cording to its more modern and less correct form,
Henderson, was not at that period an uncommon
surname. It is not however improbable that the
schoolmaster may have exercised the profession of a
notary. While the canon law prevailed in Scotland,
this profession was generally exercised by ecclesias-
tics, and some vestiges of the ancient practice are
still to be traced ; every notaiy designates himself a
clerk of a particular diocese; and by the act of 1584,
which, under the penalty of deprivation, prohibited
the clergy from following the profession of the law,
they still retained the power of making testaments;
so that we continue to admit the rule of the canon
law, which sustains a will attested by the parish
priest and two or three witnesses.* If, therefore,
Henryson was a notary, it is highly probable that
he was also an ecclesiastic, and if he was an eccles-
iastic, he could not well leave any legitimate offspring.
The poet, in one of his works, describes himself as

1 Douglas' Baronage of Scotland, p. 518.

2 Sibbald's Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, vol. i. p. 88.

3 Chartulary of Dunfermline, f. 64 a.— Robert Henryson
is a witness to other two charters which occur in the same
record, f. 63, a. b. His only mark of distinction is that of
being designated Magister, while the names of several other
witnesses appear without this title. He had perhaps taken the
degree of ^Master of Arts.

* Decretal. Gregorii IX. lib. iii. tit. x.\-\'i. cap. x.

"ane man of age;" and from Sir Francis Kinaston
we learn that, "being very old, he died of a diarrhce
or fluxe." With respect to the period of his decease,
it is at least certain that he died before Dunbar, who
in his Lament, printed in the year 1508, commemo-
rates him among other departed poets:—
" In Dunfermling he hes tane Broun.
With gude Mr. Robert Henrysoun."

The compositions of Henr>'son evince a poetical
fancy, and, for the period when he lived, an elegant
simplicity of taste. He has carefully avoided that
cumbrous and vitiated diction which began to pre-
vail among the Scottish as well as the English poets.
To his power of poetical conception he unites no
inconsiderable skill in versification: his lines, if
divested of their uncouth orthography, might often
be mistaken for those of a much more modem poet.
His principal work is the collection o{ Fables, thirteen
in number, which are written in a pleasing manner,
and are frequently distinguished by their arch sim-
plicity; but in compositions of this nature brevity is
a quality which may be considered as almost indis-
pensable, nor can it be denied that those of Henrj-son
sometimes extend to too great a length. The col-
lection is introduced by a prologue, and another is
prefixed to the fable of 'the lion and the mouse.

The tale of Vpoiilamis Mouse and the Bitrgesse
Mouse may be regarded as one of his happiest efforts
in this department. The same tale, which is bor-
rowed from yEsop, has been told by many other
poets, ancient as well as modern. Babrias has des-
patched the story of the two mice in a few verses,
but Henr}-son has extended it over a surface of
several pages. Henr)'son's Tale of Sir Chauntecleire
and the Foxe is evidently borrowed from Chaucer's
Nonnes Preestes Tale. From these apologues some
curious fragments of information may be gleaned.
That of the Sheepe and the Dog contains all the
particulars of an action before the consistory court,
and probably as complete an exposure of such trans-
actions as the author could prudently hazard. The
proceedings of the ecclesiastical courts seem about
this period to have been felt as a common grievance.
Another conspicuous production of Henr}-son is
the Testament of Cresseid,^ which is the sequel to
Chaucer's Troyliis and Creseyde, and is commonly
printed among the works of that poet. It evidently
rises above the ordinar)- standard of that period, and
on some occasions evinces no mean felicity of con-
ception. The silent interview between Troilus and
Cresseid is skilfully delineated ; and the entire pas-
sage has been described as beautiful by a very com-

5 "The Testame7tt of Cresseid, compylit be Mr. Robert
Henrysone, sculemaister in Dunfermeling. Imprentit at Ldm-
burgh be Henrie Charteris, 1593, 4to."— "Ffor the author of
this supplement," says Sir Francis Kinaston, called the
Testament of Cresseid, which may passe for the sixt and last
booke of this story, I have verj^ sufficiently bin informed by
Sir Tho. Ereskin, late Earle of Kelly, and divers aged schol-
lers of the Scottish nation, that it was made and written by one
Mr Robert Henderson, sometime chiefe schoole-master in
Dunfermling, much about the time that Chaucer was first printed
and dedicated to King Henry the Sth by Mr. 1 hinne, which
was neere the end of his raigne. This Mr. Henderson wittily
observing that Chaucer in his 5th booke had related the death
of Troilus, but made no mention what became of Cresseid, he
learnedly takes upon him, in a fine poelicall way, to e-xpres
the punishment and end due to a false unconstant whore, which
commonly terminates in extreme miser>'." See the " Lo^'cs of
Troihis and Cresseid, written by Chaucer; with a commentary
by Sir Francis Kinaston, p. xxix. Lond. 1796, Svo.' Kinaston
had translated into Latin rhyme two books of Chaucer s poem,
and had published then under the title of A inorum Troilt et
Creseidce libri duofrrioresAttglico-Latini, Oxoniae, 1635, 4to.
He completed his version of the poem, together with a com-
mentary, and his manuscript at length came into the possession
of Mr. Waldron, who announced his intention of committing it
to the press, but did not find encouragement to proceed beyond
a short specimen.

ROBERT IIENRVSOX JAMES BONAVEXTURA HEPBURN.

patent judge of old poetr)'.* It is unnecessary to
remark that for "the tale of Troy divine," neither
Ctiaucer nor Henr)-son had recourse to the classical
sources: this, like some other subjects of ancient
history, had been invested with all the characteristics
of modem romance ; nor could the Scottish poet be
expected to deviate from the models which delighted
his contemporaries. Sir Troilus is commended for
his knightly piety; a temple is converted into a
kirk; Mercury is elected speaker of the parlia-
ment ; and Cresseid, on being afflicted with a
leprosy, is consigned to a spittal-house, in order
to beg with cup and clapper. The personages are
ancient, but the institutions and manners are all
modern.

Henryson's tale of Orpheus is not free from similar
incongruities, and possesses fewer attractions; it is
indeed somewhat languid and feeble, and may have
been a lucubration of the author's old age. Sir
Orpheus is represented as a king of Thrace, and is
first despatched to heaven in search of the lost
Eurydice.

Q'.ihen endit was the sangis lamentable,

He tuke his harp, that on his breast can hyng,
Syne passit to the hevin, as sais the fable,
To seke his wyf, bot that auailit no thing :
By Wadlyng strete- he went but tarj'ing.
Syne come doun throu the spere of Saturn aid,
Quhilk fader is of all thir sternis cald.

Having searched the sun and planets without
success, he directs his course towards the earth, and
in his passage is regaled with the music of the spheres.
His subsequent adventures are circumstantially but
not very poetically detailed. In enumerating the
various characters whom he finds in the domains of
riuto, the poet is guilty of a glaring anachronism:
h.re Oriiheus finds Julius Ccesar, Nero, and even
]v>pes and cardinals; and it is likewise to be remarked
that the heathen and Christian notions of hell are
blended together. But such anachronisms are very
frequently to be found in the writers of the middle
ages. >Ir. Wart on remarks that Chaucer has been
guilty of a very diverting, and what may be termed
a double anachronism, by representing Cresseid and
two of her female companions as reading the Thehaid
of Statins.^ Like the fables of Henr)'son, his tale
of Orpheus is followed by a long moral ; and here
he professes to have derived liis materials from
Boethius and one of his commentators.

The Bludy Serk is an allegorical poem of con-
siderable ingenuity. The poet represents the fair
daughter of an ancient and worthy king as having
been carried away by a hideous giant, and cast into
a dungecjn, where she was doomed to linger until
some valiant knight sh')uld achieve her deliverance.
A worthy prince at length appeared as herchamiMon,
vanquished the giant, and thrust him into his own
loathsome dungeon. Having restored the damsel
to her father, he felt that he had received a mortal
wound: he requested her to retain his l)loody shirt,
and to contemplate it whenever a new lover should

' Scott's notes to Sir Tristrem, p. 362.
* Watling-street is a name given to one of the great Roman
ways in Britain. (Horsley's lioiiian Antiquities 0/ Britain,
p. 387. Lond. 1732, fol.) This passage, which to some per-
sons may appear so unintelligible, will be best explained by a
quotation from Chaucer's House 0/ Fame, b. ii.

Lo, quod he, caste vp thyne eye,

Se yonder, lo, the Galaxye,

The whiche men clcpe the Milky Way,

For it is whyte; and some perfay

Callen it Watlynge strete.
' In Shakspcare's Troilus and Cressida, says Mr. Douce,
" Hector quotes Aristotle, Ulysses speaks of the bull-bearing
Milo, and Pandarus of a man born in April. Friday and Sun-
day, and even minced-pies with dates in them, are introduced."
—Illustrations of Slialcspeare, vol. ii. p. 291.

present himself. It is unnecessary to add that the
interpretation of this allegory involves the high
mysteries of the Christian faith.

The Abhay Walk is of a solemn character, and is
not altogether incapable of impressing the imagina-
tion. Its object is to inculcate submission to the
various dispensations of Providence, and this theme
is managed with some degree of skill. But the most
beautiful of Henryson's productions is Roboie and
A/iikyue, the earliest specimen of pastoral poetry in
the Scottish language. I consider it as superior in
many respects to the similar attempts of Spenser and
Browne ; it is free from the glaring improprieties
which sometimes appear in the pastorals of those
more recent writers, and it exhibits many genuine
strokes of poetical delineation. The shepherd's in-
difference is indeed too suddenly converted into love;
but this is almost the only instance in which the
operations of nature are not faithfully represented.
The story is skilfully conducted, the sentiments and
manners are truly pastoral, and the diction possesses
wonderful terseness and suavity.

The Fables of Henryson were reprinted in 1832,
for the Bannatyne Club,^ from the edition of Andrew
Hart ; of which the only copy known to exist had
been recently added to that great repository of Scot-
tish literature — the Advocates' Library.

HEPBURISr, James Bonaventura, of the order
of the Minims, said to have been an extensive linguist,
lexicographer, grammarian, and biblical commen-
tator; but, notwithstanding the renown of his vast
learning, the particulars of his life are scanty and
unsatisfactory. James Bonaventura Hepburn was
son to Thomas Hepburn, rector of Oldhamstocks
in Lothian. M 'Kenzie states that he was born on
the 14th day of July, 1573, and that we may not
discredit the assertion, presents us with a register
kept by the rector of Oldhamstocks, of the respective
periods of birth of his nine sons. He received his
university education at St. Andrews, where, after
his philosophical studies, he distinguished himself
in the acquisition of the oriental languages. Although
educated in the principles of the Protestant religion,
he was induced to become a convert to the Church
of Rome. After this change in his faith he visited
the Continent, residing in France and Italy, and
thence passing through "Turkey, Persia, Syria,
Palestine, Egypt, Ethiopia, and most of the eastern
countries," gathering languages as he went, until
he became so perfect a linguist, "that he could have
travelled over the whole earth, and spoke to each
nation in their own language." On returning from
these laborious travels he entered the monastery of
the Minims at Avignon, an order so called from its
members choosing in humility to denominate them-
selves "Minimi Fratres Eremitn?," as being more
humble still than the Minores or P'ranciscans. He
afterwards resided in the P'rench monastery of the
Holy Trinity at Rome. Here his eminent qualities
attracted a ferment of attention from the learned
world, and Pope Paul V. invaded his retirement

' From the accurate memoir prefixed to this volume we
have abridged the above article. In the Lives of Scottish
ll'orihies, Mr. P. F. Tytlerhas entered at considerable length
into the merits of Henryson's poetry, of which he gives copious
extracts. He says: "Of the works of this remarkable man it is
difficult, when we consider the period in which they were written,
to speak in terms of too warm encomium. In strength, and
sometimes even in sublimity of painting, in pathos and sweet-
ness, in the variety and beauty of his pictures of natural
scenery, in the vein of quiet and playful humour which
runs through many of his pieces, and m that fine natural
taste, which, rejectmg the faults of his age, has dared to think
for itself — he is altogether excellent."

JAMES HErBURXE.

251

by appointing him librarian of the oriental books
and manuscripts of the Vatican.*

We shall now take the liberty of enumerating a
few of the many weighty productions of our author's
pen, chiefly, it is to be presumed, written during the
six years in which he was librarian of the Vatican.
Diciionarium Hebraicitm — Dictioiiariitm Chaldaiatin
— PeL'r Malciith, sen Gloria vcl Dcciis Israelis \coii-
iiiid cent. Honiilias sive Condones] — Epitomen Chro-
nicornm Romanoriun — Gesta Regtim Israelis — Gram-
viatica Arabica (said to have been published at
Rome in 1591, 4to. ) He translated Commentarii
Rabbi Kimchi in Psalterium— Rabbi Abraham Aben
Ezra libnim de Mysticis numeris — Ejiisdem Libriini
aUtint de Septemplici JSIodo interpretandi Sacrani
Scriptiiram.

Hepburn dabbled in the doctrines of the Cabala,
but whether in vindication or attack, the oracular
observations of his biographers hardly enable us to
ascertain. He died at Venice in October, 1620.

HEPBURNE, James, Earl of Bothwei.l.
T/ittle is known of the early career of this man, who
holds so unenviable a place in the annals of Scotland.
A considerable portion of his youth appears to have
been spent in France, where he not only acquired
the accomplishments, but learned those profligate
habits, by which the French court was distinguished.
Fatally, indeed, was the nature of this training after-
wards illustrated ! His first return from that country
to Scotland was in 1560, at which time he is thus
characterized by Throckmorton in a letter to Queen
Elizabeth: — "He is a glorious, rash, and hazardous
young man, and therefore it were meet his adversar-
ies should both have an eye to him, and also keep
him short." Six years afterwards, when he stood
more distinctly out to public notice, Cecil wrote of
him: — "I assure you Bothwell is as naughty a man
as liveth, and much given to the detestable vices."
After events showed but too well that this was neither
the language of prejudice nor malignity. It is pro-
bable that he was now about the age of thirty. He
does not appear to have been distinguished for per-
sonal beauty, having, on the contrary, rather an ill-
favoured countenance; but his ingratiating arts and
sho\v\ manners were more than enough to counter-
balance any defects of personal appearance. The
outbreak that ended in the Chace-about-raid, which
was so unfortunate to the Earl of Murray and his
party, was of the utmost benefit to his enemy, the
Enrl of Bothwell ; he was called to court, restored
to his hereditary office of lord high-admiral of Scot-
land, and appointed lieutenant of the west and middle
marches. He was not long idle, for we find him in
the field with the queen about three weeks after,
when Murray's dispirited troops fled before her and
took refuge in England. When the assassination
of David Rizzio occurred, Bothwell, who was in the
palace of Holyrood at the commencement of the
uproar, and heard the distant outcries that accom-
panied the deed, put himself, with the Earl of Huntly,
at the head of the menials, who had snatched up
whatever kitchen weapons came first to hand, and
hurried to the rescue ; but this motley band was
easily dispersed by the armed retainers of the Earl
of Morton, who were stationed at the inner court.

' It is singular that a person in the 17th century, living in
Ita.ly, professing so many languages in a country where lin-
guists were rare, a librarian of the Vatican, and one whose
"eminent parts had divulged his fame through the whole city"
—should have entirely escaped the vast researches of Andre
in general literature, Fraboschi's Aiiipte Imiestigation 0/
Italian Literature, the minute Ecctesiastical Bibliograplties
of Dupin and Labbe, and other works of the same descrip-
tion.

On this occasion Bothwell and Himtly, finding them-
selves prisoners in the palace, and fearing that their
own death was to follow the assassination of Rizzio,
descended from the back windows by a cord, and
made their escape through the fields. After this
event it soon appeared tiiat Bothwell was to enter
into the place, and enjoy the envied favour, which
the unfortunate Italian had held, let the termination
be what it might. He was called to the queen's
counsels, and every day he rose in her esteem, while
her contempt of Darnley increased. It was easy,
indeed, for a woman's ej'e — and such a woman as
Mary — to distinguish between the shallow-minded
poltroon whom she had placed by her side on the
throne, and the bold, gay, chivalrous courtier who
added to the graces of his continental manners and
education the unscrupulous ambition of the French-
man and the daring courage of the Scot. Unfor-
tunate it was for Mary that her education, and the
examples by which her youth had been surrounded,
had little qualified her either to regulate such feelings
or check them at the commencement, and her ad-
miration was soon followed by a culpable affection,
which at last she was unable to conceal, even from
the most unsuspecting of her subjects. At the be-
ginning of October (1566) she had resolved to make
a justiciary progress to Jedburgh, in consequence of
the rebellious conduct of the border chieftains on the
south-eastern frontier ; and, as a preparative, she
sent Bothwell thither, two days previous, with the
title and authority of lord-lieutenant of the border.
But on reaching his destination he was so severely
wounded by a desperate freebooter, whom he en-
deavoured to apprehend with his own hand, that he
was obliged to IJe carried to the neighbouring castle
of Hermitage. Mar}', who was then at the castle
of Borthwick, no sooner heard of his disaster than,
notwithstanding the inclemency of the season, the
danger of such a journey, and the smallness of her
train, she hurried with all speed to Jedburgh, and
from thence to Hermitage, to visit him. A dan-
gerous fever was the consequence of this violent exer-
tion, under which she was insensible for several days
at Jedburgh ; and on recovering her consciousness
she was so impressed with the thought that death
was at hand, that she requested the nobles who were
present to pray for her, commended her son to the
guardianship of Queen Elizabeth, and sent for her
neglected husband, who arrived two days after the
crisis had passed. But now that the danger M-as
over, she received him with her wonted aversion,
and treated him with such discourtesy as made him
glad, on the following day, to set off to Stirling.
But very different was the reception of Bothwell,
whom she caused to be brought to her own temporary
residence until he was fully recovered. The same
marked difference in the conduct of the queen towards
her husband and her paramour was equally apparent
in the baptism of her son, afterwards James VI. of
Scotland and I. of England. On such an important
occasion the father of the child, whatever might have
been his faults, should have been a prominent per-
sonage in the ceremonial. But no. Bothwell was
placed in his room as master of the arrangements,
while poor Darnley, though living under the same
roof (the castle of Stirling), was required to confine
himself to his apartments, on the plea that his ap-
parel was not good enough to appear among the
lordly throng at the baptismal font. And this was
not all, for the ambassadors assembled there were
forbid to hold conference with him, and the nobility
to wait on him or escort him. Even James Melvil,
who had compassionated the poor fallen consort-
king, and presented him with a spaniel, was rated

TAMES HEPBURNE.

by the queen for so doing, declaring that she could
no longer trust him, as he had made a present to one
for whom she entertained no affection.

Bothwell was not a man to bear these honours
meekly, or content himself with the love of the queen
without sharing in her p)ower. Already, also, he
knew too well her wishes on the subject. She
would have divorced Damley to make room for his
rival, but besides the difficulty of procuring a divorce,
the legitimacy of her son would thereby have been
called in question. No remedy remained but the
death of Darnley, let it occur as it might. Upon
this hint Bothwell was now in action. He sounded
the principal nobles upon the expediency of remov-
ing him, alleging the queen's consent to that effect,
and besought their co-operation. He spoke to those
whose minds were already familiar with the idea
of assassination, and whose power, when banded
together, could brave discovery when it ensued,
while so many concurred in his design that he
thought he might now prosecute it without scruple.
As for the poor victim of these machinations, he had
left Stirling; the queen, at his departure, causing
his silver plate to be taken away, and paltry tin
vessels to be substituted in their stead. He had
fallen sick when he was scarcely a mile on his jour-
ney, and on reaching Glasgow eruptions resembling
the small-pox broke out over his whole body, and
confined him to a sick-bed. But, in the meantime,
the plot against his life was so fully matured that
nothing more remained than to bring him within
reach of his murderer. Mar)- repaired to Glasgow
to persuade him to return with her, and take up his
abode in the castle of Craigmillar, in the neighbour-
hood of Edinburgh, where his recover)- would be
more speedy; and Damley, allured by her kind words
and relenting endearments, assented to all her wishes.
He had received, indeed, some obscure intimations
of a conspiracy formed against his life, and been
warned that the queen had spoken harshly of him
previous to her journey; but while she sat beside
his bed, and addressed him so tenderly, all his first
love returned, so that he treated these reports as
idle tales. As for Mary, on retiring from his com-
pany she wrote a full account of the whole inter\-iew
to Bothwell; and so completely was the after-tragedy
settled between them, that she alluded to his con-
templated divorce from Lady Jane Gordon and
marriage with herself, and besought him neither to
be moved from his purpose by his wife's tears nor
her brother's threats. Soon after Darnley, not yet
recovered, was removed in a litter from Glasgow to
Edinburgh, not, however, to be accommodated in
the princely castle of Craigmillar, but an obscure
habitation called Kirk of Field, belonging to one of
Bothwell's creatures; a place sufficiently within reach
of Edinburgh, but lonely enough for the perpetration
of a deed of murder.

So fully was the plan already matured, that Both-
well had false keys made of the house, and sent to
Dunbar for a barrel of gunpowder, that was to be
placed under Damley's apartment. Matters now
began to look so mysterious, that some of the king's
servants, under that vague inexplicable terror which
often precedes some terrible tragic deed, withdrew
their attendance. Not so, however, the queen, who
continued to lavish upon him every assurance of
endearment, and spent two nights in an apartment
adjoining his own. On Sunday night Darnley was
to be no more; and while she was spending the
evening with him in his room upstairs, the prepara-
tions were silently going on in the apartment below;
and at ten o'clock the gunpowder was strewed in
heaps upon the floor, and all put in readiness for

the explosion, after which Bothwell's sen-ant Paris,
a chief actor in the deed, entered the room above,
where the pair were conversing. Mary, only the
night before, had caused a bed of new velvet to be
removed from the room, and also a rich coverlet of
fur; and it w-as now full time that she should remove
herself also. She then called to mind that she had
promised to be at a masquerade in Holyrood House,
that was to be given in honour of the marriage of
her servant Bastian, with Margaret Garwood, a
favourite female attendant, and passed onward to
Holyrood with torch-light. When she was gone,
an hour inter\-ened before Damley retired to bed,
during which he entertained his servants, in the full
overflow of his gladness, with an account of the
queen's gracious speeches before they parted, and
the hopes of his return to favour and influence. But
one part of the interview still strangely haunted him,
and marred his triumph. Why had the queen re-
minded him that, just at the same time a twelvemonth
back, Da\-id Rizzio had been assassinated — that deed
of which his conscience told him he had been the
chief promoter? Ill at ease with the past, and having
a gloomy anticipation about the future, he turned
to the Bible for consolation, and read the 55th psalm,
after which he went to bed, and was soon overtaken
by his last sleep.

In the meantime, the return of Mary to Holyrood
was a signal to Bothwell that all was in readiness.
After lingering in the hall until about midnight,
when the most wakeful in Edinburgh were usually
asleep, he exchanged his rich gala dress for a common
suit, in which he could not easily be recognized,
stole out of the back of the palace through the garden,
and accompanied by four of his ser\-ants, went through
the gate of the Nether Bow, gi^"ing to the sentinel's
question of "Who goes there?'' the answer of "Friends
of Lord Bothwell." Between the hours of two and
three a terrible explosion shook the houses nearest
the Kirk of Field, and roused the townsmen from
their slumbers, while the assassins ran back to the
city, and re-entered Holyrood as stealthily as they
had left it. A crowd of citizens, whom the din had
alarmed, repaired to the spot, and found the house
a heap of ruin, and the bodies of the king and the
page of his chamber lying dead in a neighbouring
orchard. But it was remarked that neither the corpses
nor their night-clothes -were scorched with powder,
and that they were too far from the house to have
been thrown there by the explosion ; it was evident
that other and surer agencies had been at work, and
that gunpowder had been resorted to merely to
mislead inquir)-, or make the deed appear the work
of accident. The full particulars that afterwards
came out on trial justified these surmises. Damley
had been strangled, and, as it was asserted, by the
hands of Bothwell himself; the page had undergone
the same fate ; and the bodies being afterwards re-
moved into the orchard, the match had been lighted
that communicated with the gunpowder. While
the crowd were still gazing upon the ruins, and be-
wildering themselves in speculation, Bothwell him-
self arrived among them at the head of a party of
soldiers. On retuming to Holyrood he had gone
to bed, that he might receive the expected tidings
like an innocent man; and when, half an hour after-
wards, a hasty messenger knocked at his door, and
told him what had happened, he shouted, "Treason ! "
repaired with the Earl of Huntly to the queen to
advertise her of the misfortune, and afterwards passed
on to the spot, as if anxious to hold inquest upon the
fact, and discover the authors of the deed. But he
only dispersed the crowd, whose sharp curiosity he
must have felt unpleasant, and caused the bodies to

JAMES HEPBURXE.

253

b; removed to a neiglibouring house, where no one
was permitted to see them. That of Damley was
soon after carried to the palace ; and, instead of an
honourable funeral, such as was befitting a king-
consort, it was carried at night by pioneers, and
interred without solemnity beside the grave of Pavid
Rizzio.

As soon as tidings of the murder had reached her,
Mary shut herself up in her apartment, where she
would admit no one to see her but Bothwell, or
hold intercourse with any of her servants but through
himself According to the custom of the country,
forty days should have been spent in seclusion and
mourning, with closed doors and windows ; but on
the fourth day the windows were unshaded, and
before the twelfth she repaired with Bothwell to
Seton Castle, where they mingled in the gay amuse-
ments of the place, shot at the butts in trials of archei7
•with Huntly and Seton, and crowned their victory
with the forfeit of the losers, which was a dinner at
Tranent. In the meantime, was any diligence, or
even show of diligence, given to apprehend the mur-
derers? Strange to tell, it was not until three days
after the deed that such a step was taken ; and on
Wednesday, the 1 2th of February, a proclamation
was made, offering a reward of ^2000 (Scotch?) for
the detection of the criminals. Xo sooner was this
dune than every tongue was ready to name the name
of Bothwell. But the bold bad man was too powerful
to be accused, as well as too unscrupulous to be
provoked, and no one was found so hardy as to step
forth to criminate him. Still it was impossible for
the general suspicion to remain wholly silent, and
while voices were heard in the darkness of midnight
through the streets proclaiming Bothwell to be the
king's murderer, placards and pictures were affixed
on the public places to the same effect. It was then
only that judicial activity, which had hitherto slum-
bered, was roused to detect the libellers ; and such
of the citizens as could write a fair hand, or limn
a sketch, were submitted to a sharp examination,
while an edict was published denouncing the punish-
ment of death not only to the writers, but the readers
of these libels. Bothwell, also, alarmed at these
indications of public feeling, rode into Edinburgh
with fifty armed men at his back, publicly threaten-
ing that he would wash his hands in the blood of
these traducers, and clutching the hilt of his dagger in
guilty suspicion when he spoke to any one of whose
good- will he was not certain. At length a move-
ment was made to convict him, and from the proper
quarter, by the Earl of Lennox, father of the mur-
dered king. On the 20th of February' he wrote to
the queen, entreating that a public assize should
immediately be held on the subject of his son's
assassination ; but to this most reasonable request
Mary sent for answer, that the parliament had already
been summoned, and that its first business on meeting
should be an inquiry into the deed. Xow, be it
observed, that this meeting of parliament was not to
take place till Easter ; and during the interval that
elapsed most of the persons implicated in the charge
were quietly allowed to depart, some to France, and
others to the English border, And all this Mary-
did notwithstanding the suspicions of her subjects,
who made no scruple to charge her as an accomplice
in her husband's murder; notwithstanding the aston-
ishment of foreign courts, that could not comprehend
her wonderful remissness ; and notwithstanding the
urgent solicitations of Queen Elizabeth, who adjured
her to act on this occasion "like a noble princess and
a loyal wife." In the meantime she seemed to have
no thought but for Bothwell, and, notwithstanding
the general odium, she conferred upon him the com-

mand of the castle of Edinburgh, and soon after that
of the castles of Blackness and the Inch, and the
superiority of Leith, as if eager to ai-m him against
every accuser, and make him too powerful to be
punished.

As the cry still waxed louder for a public trial, it
was thought that this might now be safely granted;
and so late as the 12th of April, the Earl of Lennox
was ordered to compear in Edinburgh, and adduce
his charges against Bothwell. But the accomplices
in the crime had been suffered to escape ; the other
evidences had been destroyed ; even the smith who
had made the false keys by which the murderers
obtained access to the king's lodging, and who had
anonymously offered to come forward and reveal
the name of his employer, if his safety should be
guaranteed for so doing, had obtained no such
promise, and therefore could not appear. Under
such circumstances, and after so long a delay, the
invitation to the Earl of Lennox was the most cruel
of mockeries. The trial was arranged by Bothwell
himself; the tribunal was occupied by one of his
friends, and fenced with 200 of his hacbutters; 4000
aiined men, devoted to Bothwell, occupied the streets
of Edinburgh, and the castle was under his command.
Thus prepared, the accusing party was wholly at his
mercy, for Lennox was required to enter the city
with not more than six in his company. To come
under such circumstances would have been to enter
into the shambles, where all was in readiness for the
slaughter, and Lennox refused to appear. But Both-
well himself rode to trial, mounted on the late king's
horse, and surrounded by a guard, and fearlessly
advanced before a tribunal where he had taken order
that none should accuse him. The trial that fol-
lowed was a farce, in which the criminal had no-
thing to do but to plead "Xot guilty," and the judges
to absolve him, which was done unanimously. To
wind up the whole proceeding in the fashion of the
age, Bothwell then offered the trial of combat to any
one of his degree who should charge him with the
late king's murder, but the challenge was nothing
more than the idle blast of a trumpet, for he was not
likely to find an opponent where he had met with no
accuser.

After this mock trial new honours were heaped
upon Bothwell by the queen; the lordship and castle
of Dunbar were conferred upon him, his powers as
high-admiral were extended, and on the assembling
of parliament, two days after the assize, he carried
"the honours," that is, the crown and sceptre, before
her in procession at the opening of the house. He
was now the most powerful nobleman in Scotland,
and only one step more remained to which all this
aggrandizement had been but a preparative. He
must be king-consort in the room of Damley, whom
he had murdered. True, he had been but lately
married to Lady Jane Gordon, and her brother, the
Earl of Huntly, was not a man to be lightly offended;
but even these difficulties had been already calculated,
and the plan of their removal devised. The marriage
tie was to be loosed by a divorce, and the brother
appeased by the restitution of the Huntly estates,
which had been forfeited to the crown. But to win
the consent of the nobility at large, whose united
opposition could have checked him at any moment,
or crushed him even when the eminence was attained,
was the principal difficulty; and this Bothwell re-
solved to surmount by the same unscrupulous daring
that had hitherto borne him onward. Accordingly,
on the 19th of April, the day on which the sittings
of parliament terminated, he invited the chief nobles
to supper in a tavern ; they assembled accordingly,
and when their hearts were warmed with wine. Both-

254

JAMES HEPBURXE.

Well presented to them a bond for signature, in
which they recommended him as a suitable husband
for the queen, and engaged to maintain his preten-
sions to her hand against all who should oppose
them. Confusion and remonstrance followed, but
the house was surrounded by 200 hacbutters, so that
escape was hopeless, and remonstrance unavailing.
The revellers therefore complied with the demand,
and the signatures of eight earls, three lords, and
seven bishops were adhibited to the bond.

And now nothing but the master-stroke remained.
The marriage must be accomplished without delay,
before a recoil of public feeling occurred. But Mary-
had been little more than two months a widow; and
if she should thus hastily throw aside her weeds, and
enter into a new union, the whole world would cry
"shame" upon such indecency ! Even this difficulty
had been already provided for, and that, too, seven
days before Bothwell's trial occurred. Certain before-
hand of his acquittal, he had devised, and Mary con-
sented, that he should carry her off by force, and
thus save her the odium of a free deliberate choice.
Even the time and place of abduction were also
contrived between them. Accordingly, on the 21st
of -A-pril the queen repaired to Stirling Castle to visit
her infant son, then under the guardianship of the
Earl of Mar ; but the earl, who seems to have had
strange misgivings, would only admit her with two
of her ladies, while the armed train were obliged to
remain without. Three days afterwards she returned,
and had reached Almond Bridge, near Edinburgh,
when she and her escort were suddenly beset by
Bolhwell and <>00 armed horsemen, who conducted
her to the castle of Dunbar. And now events went
on with accelerated speed. The earl's divorce from
his wife was hurried through the courts with scandal-
ous haste, the lady being obliged to accuse him of
adultery and incest for the purpose. And on the
same day Bothw ell and the queen returned to Edin-
burgh at the head of a numerous cavalcade, the earl
leading her horse by the bridle, and his followers
throwing away their spears, to show that she was
unconstrained; and in this fashion they rode up to
the castle of Edinburgh. As soon as tidings of her
seizure had arrived, her friends offered to arm for
her rescue; but to this she answered, that though
taken against her will, and compelled to spend several
days in the castle of Dunbar with Bothwell, she had
found no cause of complaint. This was not all ; for
she now presented herself before the nobles, expressed
her satisfaction with Bothwell's conduct, and declared
that, high as she had raised him, she meant to pro-
mote him higher still. Accordingly, on the 12th of
May, seven days after her return to Edinburgh, she
created him Duke of Orkney, and placed the coronet
on his head with her own hands; two days afterwards
she signed the contract of marriage, and on the suc-
ceeding day the marriage ceremony was performed
in Holyrood, at four o'clock in the morning. And
this after three short months of widowhood ! \Vell
might the people shudder, especially when they re-
membered the disgusting mi.xture of tragedy and
farce with which it had been preceded. And still
the nobles were silent under a deed that soiled, nay,
besmeared the escutcheons of Scottish knighthood
and nobleness with a universal reproach, which all
the rivers of their land could not wash away. Only
one man, and he too a minister of peace, had cour-
age to speak out. This was John Craig, pastor of
the High Church of Edinburgh, and colleague of
John Knox, who was now absent. On being com-
manded to proclaim the banns between the queen
and Bothwell, he steadfastly refused until he had
been allowed to confront the parties in presence of

the prixy-council ; and when this was granted, he
there charged the Duke of Orkney with the crimes
of rape, adulter)', and murder. This being done, he
proclaimed the banns, as he was bound to do, but
not without a stem remonstrance. "I take heaven
and earth to witness," he exclaimed before the con-
gregation in the High Church, "that I abhor and
detest this marriage as odious and slanderous to the
world ; and I would exhort the faithful to pray ear-
nestly that a union against all reason and good con-
science may yet be overruled by God, to the comfort
of this unhappy realm."

Bothwell had now attained an elevation at which
himself might well have been astounded. Sprung
from no higher origin than that of the house of Hailes,
and but the fourth of his line who had worn the title
of earl, he was now the highest of Scotland's nobles,
and, what was more, the sovereign of its sovereign.
She to whom he was united had been Queen of
France, the most powerful of kingdoms, and was the
unquestioned heir to England, the richest of sove-
reignties. She who had been sought in vain by the
proudest princes of Europe had come at his call, and
co-operated in humble compliance to his exaltation,
and submitted to be his leman before she became
his bride. And yet even this did not satisfy him;
for on the verj' day after their marriage she was
heard to scream in her closet, while he was beside
her, and threaten to stab or drown herself. He per-
sisted from day to day in arrogant conduct, more be-
fitting a sated voluptuarj' or merciless taskmaster
than a newly mated bridegroom; and Marj-, other-
wise so proud and impatient, submitted with spaniel-
like docility, while her affection seemed only to in-
crease in proportion to the growth of his brutality.
Strange love of woman's heart I and strange requital
of a love so misplaced ! She was all the while writ-
ing to France, to Rome, and England, announcing
her marriage, describing her happiness in havmg such
a husband, and craving the favour of these courts in
his behalf She even declared before several persons
that "she cared not to lose France, England, and
her own countrj' for him, and would go with him
to the world's end in a white petticoat before she
would leave him."

This/aia vwrgaiia had now reached its brightest,
and it was time that it should melt away. The
nobles of Scotland awoke as from a dream, and pre-
pared themselves for instant action. It was indeed
not more than necessar}-; for, independently of the
foul dishonour that had accumulated upon the nation
and themselves through the late transactions. Both-
well was now aiming at obtaining the guardianship
of the young prince; and under such a custody the
royal infant would soon have been laid beside his
murdered father, that a new dynasty might be planted
upon the Scottish throne. In the meantime the
queen and Bothwell were at Borthwick Castle, un-
conscious of the gathering storm, until the associated
lords, at the head of 2000 men, advanced and invested
the stronghold. As resistance was hopeless, Both-
well, at the first tidings of their coming, stole away,
and soon after was joined by Mary, booted and
spurred, and in the disguise of a page. They rode
through the night at full speed to Dunbar, and there
exerted themselves with such activity, that in two
days they were at the head of 2500 armed followers,
with whom they returned to the encounter. The
lords, whose forces now amounted to 3000 men, ad-
vanced to meet them mid-way, and the two armies
soon confronted each other at Carberry Hill, six
miles from Edinburgh. But ver}' different was the
spirit that animated them, for while the insurgent
army was eager to revenge the death of the late king,

JAMES IIEPBURNE — ROBERT HEPBURN.

255

and preserve his sou from the murderer, the troops
of Bothwell wavered, and talked of negotiation and
compromise. It was necessary to restore their
courage by an example of personal daring, and ac-
cordingly he sent a herald to the opposite host, offering
the trial of single combat in proof of his innocence.
Instantly, James Murray of TuUibardin started for-
ward as an opponent, but was rejected by Bothwell
as not being his equal in rank. Murray's elder
brother, William, the laird of TuUibardin, then
offered himself, alleging that he was of an older
house than that of his adversary; but him also Both-
well refused, claimed an earl for his opponent, and
specified in particular the Earl of Morton, the leader
of the insurgents. Morton, as fearless a Douglas as
any of his ancestors, accepted the challenge, and
prepared for a combat at otttrance on foot, and with
two-handed swords. But before he could step forth
to the affray, Lord Lindsay, the Ajax of the Scottish
Reformation, interposed, with the entreaty that he
should be allowed to meet the challenger, as being
the kinsman of the unfortunate Darnley. Morton
assented, and armed him with the two-handed sword
of that Douglas who was called Bell-the-cat. But
here Mary interfered : she had no wish to expose her
husband to a meeting with such a redoubted cham-
pion, and Bothwell yielded to her entreaties. His
repeated hesitations, when he should at once have
drawn his weapon and marched to the encounter, had
so confirmed the timidity of his followers, that already
most of them had disbanded, leaving none with him
but sixty gentlemen and a band of hacbutters, while
the opposite army were surrounding the hill, and
cutting off the means of retreat. In this emergency
nothing remained for Bothwell but flight, which the
queen earnestly counselled : she would surrender to
the lords, and win them back to their allegiance;
after which his recal would be easy and their future
course a happy one. After assuring him of her
fidelity, which she would keep to the last, and giving
her hand upon the promise, liothwell rode from the
field, accompanied by a few attendants, and Mary
surrendered to her subjects. She, indeed, continued
to love him to the last; but they never met again.

Brief though the rest of Bothwell's history is, it
reads the most solemn of warnings to princes and
politicians. One month only he had held the empty
title of king, for which he had sinned so deeply; and
now, not even the poor shelter of the monk's cell or
anchorite's cave over the whole wide land was ready
to receive him. Almost alone, he hastened to his
sea-girt castle of Dunbar, intending there to await
the change of events, which he hoped would end in
his restoration; but Mary, no longer a queen, was a
helpless prisoner in the hands of those who were
busied in framing a new government, while a price
was set upon his own head. Thus, finding that at any
hour he might be plucked from his place of strength,
he fled with three ships to the Orkneys; but such
was the barrenness of these islands, that he was
obliged to have recourse to piracy for the subsistence
of himself and his followers. And even this miser-
able shift soon failed, for a naval squadron was sent
against him, under the command of Kirkcaldy of
Grange, who captured two of the vessels, and obliged
the third, with tlie pirate-king on board, to take to
flight. But his ship, one of the largest in the Scottish
navy, struck upon a sandbank; and when he took to
shelter in a pinnace, he was driven by a storm to the
coast of Norway, and there taken by a Danish man-
of-war. He was asked for his papers, but having
none, he was arrested as a pirate, and carried to
Denmark. There it was not long before he was re-
cognized as the notorious Bothwell of Scotland; upon

which Frederic IT., tlie Danish king, instead of sur-
rendering him to the Scottish regency or Elizabeth
of England, threw him into close prison in the castle
of Malmoe, where he languished ten years in misery
and privation, mingled with attacks of insanity, until
death at last threw open the gate of his dungeon.
Never was the avenging Nemesis of the Greek drama
more terribly realized, or poetical justice more com-
pletely fulfilled.

HEPBURN, RoKF.RT, of P-earford, a fugitive
writer, who at a very early age distinguished himself
by the exhibition of strong talents and an original
genius, which the briefness of his life did not permit
to rise to maturity, was born about 1690 or 1691.
He studied civil law in Holland, with the intention
of becoming a member of the legal profession in his
native country. He returned home in 1 711, and in
his twenty-first year attempted to imitate in Scotland
the fugitive literature which the Tlz/Av-had introduced
to England. Hepburn's work was an avowed imita-
tion of that periodical. He named it " The Tatler,
by Donald Macstaff of the North." This work was
carried through thirty weekly numbers; it is, we
believe, extremely rare, and we have been unable to
obtain a perusal of it. Lord Woodhouselee, who
appears to have been acquainted with it, says, in his
Life of Karnes, " These papers are evidently the pro-
duction of a man of vigorous native powers, and of
a mind not meanly stored with ancient learning, and
familiar with the best writings of the moderns. The
author might have shone in the treatment of general
topics of moral discussion, or of criticism; but from
a propensity not unnatural, where talents are com-
bined with an ardent temperament and sarcastic
turn of mind, his compositions were fitted to give
much offence by the description of known characters,
and by the personal satire which he employed, with
no gentle or delicate hand, on some men of note,
both in the ecclesiastical and civil departments,
among his countrymen." In 1712 Mr. Hepburn
became a member of the Faculty of Advocates; but
death quenched his fiery and ambitious spirit before
he had an opportunity of exercising his professional
talents. He left behind him two opuscula, De7non-
stratio quod Dens sit, published at Edinburgh in 1 7 14,
and Dissertatio de Scriptis Pitcaniianis, 1715. In
the concluding number of the Tatler he announced
for publication a translation of Sir George M 'Kenzie's
curious tract. Idea Eloqiieittia Forensis ; a project
he appears to have been prevented from fulfilling.
There is extant a curious pamphlet, A Discourse
concerning t/te Character of a Man of Genius, by Mr.
Hepburn, Edinburgh, 1715. We have no doubt
that this is from the hand of Mr. Hepburn of Bear-
ford; it is the production of no ordinary mind. This
small work is divided into sections, each of which
contains a condensed moral precept, or aphorism:
the quotation of one or two of these will give the
best idea of the author's talents which can be now
furnished. The reader will be surprised to find in
our extracts reflections which have now become
commonplace, but which strikingly resemble many
of those on which some of the moral and polite philo-
sophers of the last century raised their renown.

Sec. 7. "I don't know by what fate it happens
that some men have the fortune to be counted icits
only for jesting a little out of the common road, and
for endeavouring, in opposition to all the reason
and sense of mankind, to turn into ridicule those
things which are, in their own nature, the most
sacred and venerable. But as a man is not infamous
for being defamed, so it is no disparagement to any
person or thing to be laughed at, but to deserve to

256

DAVID HERD

be so. It was a wise answer of Diogenes, wliich we
find mentioned by Plutarch, when some of his friends
told him that his enemies were laughing at him ; 'but
I,' replied he, 'am not derided.'"

Sec 9- "A man of genius ought not, in my
opinion, to think even his dress below his notice, as
the world is but too apt to judge by appearance."

Sec. 15. "A man discovers the extent of his
genius, if, upon all occasions, he handsomely acts
his part, and behaves with a good grace in even.-
scene and circumstance of human life. The care of
doing nothing unbecoming has accompanied the
greatest minds to their last moments : they avoided
an indecent posture, even in the very article of
death."

HEKD, David, an ingenious and useful inquirer
into our national antiquities, was bom in the parish
of St. Cyrus, Kincardineshire, about the year 1732.
Of his education and early life in general nothing
has been ascertained. He probably served an ap-
prenticeship under a countr)- writer, and then, like
many young men in his circumstances, sought a
situation of better promise in the capital. Through-
out a long life he appears to have lived unambitiously,
and a bachelor, in Edinburgh, never rising above
the character of a writer's clerk. He was for many
years clerk to Mr. David Russel, accountant. A de-
cided taste for antiquities, and literarj' antiquities in
particular, led Mr. Herd to spend a great part of
his savings on books : and although the volumes
which he preferred were then much cheaper than
now, his librar)' eventually brought the sum of ;^254,
19/. 10./. The same taste brought him into associa-
tion with the principal authors and artists of his own
time: Runciman the painter was one of his intimate
friends, and with Ruddiman, Gilbert Stuart, Fer-
gusson, and Robert Bums he was well acquainted.
His information regarding Scottish history and bio-
graphy was extensive. Many of his remarks ap-
peared in the periodical works of his time, and the
notes appended to several popular works were en-
riched by notes of his collecting. Sir Walter Scott,
for instance, was much indebted in his Border Min-
strelsy to a manuscript of Mr. Herd's, which is fre-
quently quoted by the editor, both for ballads and
fur information respecting them. Mr. Herd was
himself editor of what .Scott calls "the first classical
collection" of Scottish songs, which first appeared
in one volume in 1769, and secondly in two volumes
in 1772. At his demise, which took place June 25,
1 810, he was understood to have left considerable
property, which fell to a gentleman in England, sup-
posed to have been his natural son, and who is said
to have died a major in the army.

HERIOT, George, founder of the excellent hos-
pital in Edinburgh which bears his name, and jewel-
ler to King James VI., was descended from the
Heriots of Trabroun in East Lothian. This respect-
able family was connected with some of the most dis-
tinguished names in Scottish history. The mother
of the illustrious Buchanan was a daughter of the
family, and it was through the patronage of James
Heriot of Trabroun, his matemal uncle, that the
future poet and statesman was sent to prosecute
his studies at the university of Paris. Elizabeth,
daughter of James Heriot of Trabroun, was the
mother of Thomas Hamilton of Priestfield, first Earl
of Haddington, president of the Court of Session,
and secretary and prime minister to James VI. But
the family may, with more reason, boast of their
connection with the subject of this memoir, who,
though filling only the undistinguished rank of a

GEORGE HERIOT.

tradesman, has been the means of drawing forth
from obscurity j^w<r persons of high talent, and matiy
who have moved in the middle ranks with the
greatest honour to themselves and benefit to society.

George Heriot, senior, was a goldsmith in Edin-
burgh, and a person of wealth and consideration.
He filled some of the most responsible civic situations
in the Scottish metropolis : his name often occurs in
the rolls of the Scottish parliament as a commissioner
for Edinburgh in the parliaments and conventions of
estates, and he was frequently appointed a commis-
sioner by parliament for the consideration of import-
ant questions. *

George, his eldest son (the subject of our inquiry),
is supposed to have been bom in June, 1563. He
was destined to follow his father's profession, at that
time one of the most lucrative and honourable among
the burgesses. The goldsmiths of Edinburgh were in
ancient times classed with the hammermen ; at what
time they were separated seems uncertain. They re-
ceived in August, 1 58 1, a charter of incorporation
from the magistrates, in which many privileges —
amounting in fact to a monopoly of their trade-
were granted to them, and these were afterwards
(1586) confirmed by a charter from James VI.
They were, besides, for a long period the only
money-lenders ; and the high rate of interest, with
their frequent command over the resources of the
court and the nobihty, rendered them persons at
once of wealth and power.

At the age of twenty-three George Heriot entered
into a contract of marriage with Christian Marjori-
banks, daughter of Simon Marjoribanks, a substantial
burgess of Edinburgh. On this occasion his father
presented him with icxx> merks "to be ane begj-ning
and pak to him," and 5CX3 more to purchase the im-
plements of his trade and to fit out his shop. By
his wife he received 1075 merks, which appear to
have been lent out at ten per cent, interest, the usual
rate of that period. Their union does not appear to
have been of long duration, although the date of this
lady's death is unknown ; it is even doubtful if she
had any children — if she had, none of them sur^•ived
her.

Master Heriot was admitted a member of the
incorporation of goldsmiths on the 2Sth of May,
1588. In 1597 he was appointed goldsmith to
the queen by a charter from James VI., and this (to
use the expression of a contemporary chronicler,
Birrel) "was intimat at the crosse be opin proclama-
tione and sound of trumpet ; and ane Clei, the
French man, dischargit, quha was the queen's gold-
smithe befor." Heriot was soon after constituted
goldsmith and jeweller to the king, with aU the
emoluments attached to that lucrative office. It
would appear that he had already amassed a con-
siderable fortune from his transactions with the
court, but no notice of his work occurs in the trea-
surer's books till September, 1599, when we have
the following :

"Payit at his majesties special command, with
adN-j-iss of the lords of secret counsal, to George
Heriot, younger, goldsmith, for a copburd prop)-nit
to Monsieur Vetonu, Frenche ambassadour, conten-^
ing the peces following, viz. : twa basingis, twa
laweris effeiring thairto, twa flaconis, twa chandil-
leris, sex couppis with coveris, twa couppis without
coveris, ane lawer for water, ane saltfalt with ane
cover; all chissellit wark, and dowbill owii^lt,
weyand twa stane 14 pund and 5 unces at aucht
mark the unce, ;^4i6o. Item, for graving of 28 al-
messis upon the said copburd, ;^I4, ' Scots money.

' Acts of the Parliaments of Scotland /olio edition) iv. 181. 37Q.

GEORGE HERIOT JOHN HERIOT.

257

No other notice of him appears between this
period and that of the removal of the court to Eng-
land, whither he soon followed it.

Heriot was now possessed of large fortune, and
determined upon forming a marriage connection with
a family of good rank. The object of his choice
was Alison Primrose, eldest daughter of James
Primrose, clerk to the Scottish privy-council — a
gentleman whose industry and talents had raised
him to that honourable office, and who was the
grandfather of the first Earl of Roseberr)'. Heriot
was also destined to survive this lady, who died,
without leaving issue, on the l6th of April, l6l2.
"The loss of a young, beautiful, and amiable part-
ner, at a period so interesting," Sir Walter Scott
conjectures, "was the probable reason of her husband
devoting his fortune to a charitable institution."
She was interred in the south aisle of the choir of
Saint Gregor)-'s Church, where her sorrowing hus-
band erected a handsome monument, bearing a
Latin inscription, to her memory.

From the period of Heriot's settlement at Lon-
don little is known of his history. Many of the ac-
counts of jewels furnished by him to the queen have
been presen'ed, and several are printed by Mr. Con-
stable in his memoir of Heriot. These accounts,
from 1605 to 16 15, amount to many thousand
pounds sterling, but there does not appear to have
been the same liberality towards all the members of
the royal family. We find the Duke (then Marquis)
of Buckingham, writing to his "dere dad, gossip and
steward," the king, from the Spanish court in the
following manner relative to the prince: "Hitherto
you have beine so sparing [of jewels] that whereas
you thought to have sent him sufficiently for his one
[own] wearing, to present to his mistris, who, I am
sure, shall shortlie now louse that title, and to lend
me, that I to the contrarie have bene forsed to lend
him." About the same period Charles writes the
following letter from Madrid to his royal father :

"I confess that ye have sent mor Jewells then (at
my departure) I thought to had use of; but, since
my cumming, seeing manie jewels wome here, and
that my braverie can consist of nothing else, besydes
that sume of them which ye have appointed me to
give to the Infanta, in Steenie's oppinion and myne
are not fitt to be given to her; therefore I have
taken this bouldness to entreate your majesty to
send more for my own wearing, and for giving to my
mistris, in which I think your majesty shall not doe
amiss to take Carlyle's advice."^ It is said that
Heriot furnished these jewels, and that they were
never paid for by James, but that their price was de-
ducted from the purchase-money of the barony of
Broughton when bought by the trustees of the hos-
pital. " If this is the case, it is the last transaction
in which we have found Heriot engaged. He died
at London on the 12th of February, 1624, and was
buried at St.Martin's-in-the-Fields on the 20th of the
same month.

Of Heriot's private character little unfortunately is
known. He seems to have possessed those strict
business-like habits of accuracy for which he is so
distinguished in the novel of the Fortunes of Nigel.
"With his relations he must have lived on amicable
terms, for besides the munificent provision made in

1 Stark's Picture pf Ediiibiirglt, p. 232.

* Ellis's Letters Illustrative of Etiglish History (first series',
iii. 145, 6. Buckingham adds the following postscript in his
usual style: "I your doge dog sayes you have manie jewels
neyther fitt for your one own, your sones, nor your daughters,
wearing, but very fitt to bestow on those here who must ne-
cessarilie have presents; and this way will be least chargeable
to your majesty in my poure opinion."
VOL. II.

his will for the establishment of an hospital, he left
considerable sums to many of his relations. Of these
the nearest were two natural daughters.

By his will (dated 20th Januarj', 1623) he
left the whole of his fortune, after deducting the
legacies to his relations, servants, &c., to "the pro-
vost, bailiffs, ministers, and ordinary council, for
the time being, of the said town of Edinburgh,
for and towards the founding and erecting of an
hospital within the said town of Edinburgh, in
perpetuity; and for and towards purchasing of cer-
tain lands in perpetuity to belong unto the said
hospital, to be employed for the maintenance, relief,
bringing up, and education of so many poor fatherless
boys, freemen's sons of the town of Edinburgh, as
the means which I give, and the yearly value of the
lands purchased by the provost, bailiffs, ministers,
and council of the said town shall amount or come
to." The education of the boys is superintended by
able masters, and they are not only taught to read,
write, and cast accounts (to which the statutes of the
hospital originally confined the trustees), but Latin,
Greek, mathematics, &c. If the boys choose a
learned profession they are sent to the university for
four years, with an annual allowance of thirty pounds.
The greater number are bound apprentices to trades-
men in the city, and are allowed the annual sum of
ten pounds for five years; at the end of their appren-
ticeship they receive five pounds to purchase a suit
of clothes, upon producing a certificate of good con-
duct from their master.

The foundation of the present magnificent structure
(designed by the celebrated architect Inigo Jones)
was laid on the 1st of July, 1628, but from the dis-
turbed state of the country continued unfinished till
April, 1659. From the rise in the value of their
property, the yearly revenue at the disposal of the
trustees has ver)- greatly increased, especially during
the last half century. A body of statutes, by which
the institution is governed, was drawn up by Dr.
Balcanqual, Dean of Rochester, the well-known
author of a Declaration concerning the Late Ttiniults
in Scotland, 1639, published in name of King
Charies I.

HEEIOT, John. This talented and industrious
writer in miscellaneous literature was the son of
the sheriff-clerk in East Lothian, and was bom at
Haddington, on the 22d of April, 1760. He be-
longed to a literary family, his elder brother George
having been the author of a poem on the IVesf
Indies, and Travels in Canada. At the age of
twelve the subject of this memoir was sent to the
high-school of Edinburgh, from which, after having
studied the usual course, he was transferred to the
university of Edinburgh. But whatever might have
been the profession for which he was educated, the
plan was frustrated by domestic misfortune, and the
consequent dispersion of his father's family. This
event obliged him, in 1778, to repair to London, and
afterwards to betake himself to the naval service, by
enlisting in the marines. In this capacity he first
ser\-ed in the I'engeance, afterwards in the Preston,
and finally in the Elizabeth. During these changes
his experience of a nautical life was chiefly confined
to cruises upon the coast of Africa and the West
Indies; but in the Elizabeth, commanded by Captain
Maitland, he saw more active sen-ice, both at Port
Royal, and in the engagement of the British fleet,
commanded by Sir George B. Rodney, and that of
France under DeGuichen, of the 17th of April, 1 780.
On this occasion the action was indecisive; for al-
though the French line was broken, many of the
British captains hung back, from their political

52

258

JOHN IIERIOT ROBERT HEROX.

dibl.ke to Rodney, because he was a Tory, so that
he was fully secontled by only five or six ships. Of
these the Elizabeth, in which Heriot se^^■ed as a
subaltern officer of marines, was one; and in the
unequal contest, in which his ship bore up aj^ainst
two of the enemy, he was amonf; the wounded.
During the same year, having exchanged into the
Brune frigate of thirty-two guns, he was exposed off
the coast of Barbadoes to that tremendous hurricane
of the loth of October, 1780, by which the island
was so fearfully devastated, and nearly reduced to
ruin. So imminent was the danger to which the
liniiie W.1S exposed on this occasion, that Heriot
ever afterwards commemorated the return of that
day as one of solemn festival and devout gratitude.
After continuing in the service till the peace of 1783,
Mr. Heriot, in consequence of the general reduction,
retired with the rank and half-pay of a first lieu-
tenant, after he had been afloat five years.

On coming ashore Heriot found that his life was
to be commenced anew. Upon this occasion his
first proceeding was one of such filial piety as to
insure him both long life and success in whatever
career he might select; he mortgaged his half-pay
that he might assist his parents in their reduced cir-
cumstances, although he thereby left himself wholly
destitute. Having learned no regular occupation
before he went to sea, and having now neither time
nor means for such a purpose, he proceeded to turn
such scholarship and experience as he had acquired
to their best account, by becoming author; and for
several years his life was that precarious scramble to
which authorship is often doomed before it attains its
proper footing. Among his attempts in this way he
wrote a poem entitled Sorrows of the Hecu-t, and two
novels, one of which, entitled the Half-pay Officer,
contained an account of several adventures in which
he had been personally engaged; and from the profits
of these works he contrived to subsist nearly two
years. His next occupation was that of journalism,
and he was employed in the Oracle, until a mis-
understanding with the proprietor occurred, when
he removed his sers'ices into the World, of which
he became sole editor. This World, however, was
so completely a falling one, that no literary Atlas
could have propped it up; and in a short time he
was glad to escape from the burden. Still it was
fortunate that while journalism w-as now obtaining
that ascendency which the keen and public discussion
of great political questions had occasioned, Heriot,
by practice, had become an able journalist. His
support was therefore worth having; and being a
stanch Conservative, and opposed to the over-liberal
opinions which the French revolution had engen-
dered in Britain, it was natural that the officers of
government should secure the services of such an
efficient advocate. Accordingly, one of the secre-
taries of the treasury, who admired his talents, pro-
posed that he should start a daily paper, while two
other influential government functionaries engaged
to support it with funds from their own pockets.
Thus assisted, Mr. Heriot, on the 1st of October,
1792, issued the first number of the Sun, a daily
paper that soon outstripped its contemporaries in
the rapidity and wideness of its circulation. Ani-
mated by this success, he also started, on the 1st of
January, 1793, ^ daily morning paper called the
True Briton, and continued to edit both journals
with great success until 1806, when he was relieved
from this oppressive double labour by being ap-
pointed a commissioner of the lotterj'. Even while
employed in superintending his two daily newspapers,
he gave, in 1798, a proof of his indefatigable industry
and application, by publishing an interesting account

of the battle of the Nile, drawn up from the minutes
of an officer of rank in the squadron, which passed
through several editions.

After this the career of Mr. Heriot was one of
honour, profit, and comfort. In 1809 he was ap-
pointed deputy-paymaster to the troops in the \Yind-
ward and Leeward Islands, where he resided till 1816,
and discharged the duties of the office so much to
the satisfaction of the Duke of York, that at his
return to England he was appointed comptroller of
Chelsea Hospital. In this tranquil situation he re-
mained till his death, which occurred on the 29th of

July, 1833

HERON, Robert, a miscellaneous writer, was
born in the town of New Galloway, on the 6th
November, 1764. His father, John Heron, was a
weaver, generally respected for his persevering in-
dustry and exemplary piety. By his giandmother,
Margaret Murray, aunt of Dr. Alexander Murray,
he claimed no very distant relationship to that
profound philologist. He was early instructed in
his letters under the careful eye of a fond parent,
and was not sent to the school of the parish until he
had reached his ninth year. He soon became re-
markable for the love he showed for learning, and
the unwearied anxiety with which he pursued his
inquiries after every point connected with his studies.
This being early perceived by his parents, they re-
solved to give him the benefit of a liberal education
as far as their means would allow. He had scarcely
remained two years at school when, at the age of
eleven, he contrived to maintain and educate himself
by mingling with his studies the labour of teaching
and writing. From his own savings out of a very
limited income, and a small assistance from his
parents, he was enabled to remove to the university
of Edinburgh at the end of the year 1 780.

His hopes of preferment at that time being cen-
tered in the church, he first applied himself to the
course of study which that profession requires. While
attending the college he was still obliged to devote a
considerable portion of his time to private teaching,
as well as writing occasional essays for newspapers
and magazines, in order to provide for his subsistence.
To quote his own words, "he taught and assisted
young persons at all periods in the course of educa-
tion, from the alphabet to the highest branches of
science and literature." Being well grounded in a
knowledge of the French language, he found con-
stant employment from booksellers in translating
foreign works. His first literary production pub-
lished with his name appeared in 1789, A Critique
on the Genius and Writings of Thomson, prefixed to
a small edition of the Seasons. It was highly spoken
of, and reflected much credit on the judgment and
taste of the author. His next work was a version
of Fourcroyi's Chemistry, from the PVench, followed
by Salary's Travels in Greece, Dutnouriei^s Letters,
Gesner's Idyls in part, an abstract of Zimmerman on
Solitude, and several abridgments of Oriental Tales.

In 1 790-1 he says he "read lectures on the law
of nature, the law of nations — the Jewish, Grecian,
Roman, feudal, and canon law — and then on the
several forms of municipal jurisprudence established
in modern Europe;" — these lectures, he says, were to
assist gentlemen who did not study professionally
in the understanding of history. Though he devoted
much time and study to prepare these lectures, he
was afterwards unfortunate in not being able to ob-
tain a sufficient audience to repay him for their com-
position— they were consequently soon discontinued.
A syllabus of the entire course was afterwards pub-
lished. Still the sums of money he continued to

ROBERT IIEROX.

259

receive from his puliHshers were amply sufficient to
maintain him in a respectable manner, if managed
with prudence and discretion; but his unfortunate
peculiarity of temper, and extravagant desire of sup-
porting a style of living which nothing but a liberal
and certain income would admit of, frequently re-
duced him to distress, and finally to the jail. lie
might have long remained in confinement but that
some worthy friends interceded; and, on their sug-
gestion, he engaged himself to write a History of
Scotland, for which Messrs. Morrisons of Perth were
to pay him at the rate of three guineas a sheet; his
creditors, at the same time, agreeing to release him
for fifteen shillings in the pound, to be secured on
two-thirds of the copyright. Before this arrangement
was fully concluded, melancholy to relate, nearly the
^\•hole of the first volume of the History of Scotland
was written in jail. It appeared in 1793, and one
volume of the work was published every year suc-
cessively, until the whole six were completed.
During that period he went on a tour through the
western parts of Scotland, and from notes taken on
the road he compiled a work in two volumes octavo,
called A foiiriiey through the Western Parts of Scot-
land. He also gave to the world, A Topographical
Account of Scotland, A N'rw atid Complete System of
Universal Geography, A Memoir of Robert Burns,
besides many contributions to magazines and other
periodical works. He was also engaged by Sir John
Sinclair to superintend the publication of his Statis-
tical Account of Scotland. By this time he had ac-
quired great facility in the use of his pen, and being
extremely vain of the versatility of his genius, he
flattered himself there was no range in literature,
however high, that was not within the scope of his
powers. Impressed with these ideas, he made an
attempt at dramatic composition, and having some
influence with the manager of the theatre, he con-
trived to get introduced on the stage an after-piece,
written, as he says, in great haste, called St. Kilda
in Edinburgh ; or, N^r..vs from Camperdown ; — but
as if to verify the adage, "Things done in a haste are
never done well," so it turned out with St. Kilda.
Being devoid of everything like interest, and violat-
ing in many parts the common rules of decency, it
was justly condemned before it reached the second
act.

Our author's vanity must have on this occasion re-
ceived a deep wound, being present in the house at
the time ; — overwhelmed with disappointment, he
flew to his lodgings and confined himself to bed for
several days. Still blinded by vanity in the midst
of his mental sufferings, he imputed the failure of his
play to the machinations of his enemies. He there-
fore determined on "shaming the fools" by print-
ing it. It is needless to say, it neither sold nor was
talked of. The most amusing part of this affair was
the mode in which he persisted in forcing his pro-
duction on the public. We shall present our readers
with an extract from his highly inflated preface. It
commences with a quotation from Sterne's Tristram
Shandy. "The learned Bishop Hall tells us in one
of his decades, at the end of his Divine Meditations,
that it is an abominable thing for a man to commend
himself, and verily I think so; and yet, on the other
hand, when a thing is executed in a masterly kind of
fashion, which thing is not likely to be found out, I
think it is fully as abominable that a man should lose
the honour of it. This is exactly my situation." In
the following he quotes Swift : — "When a true genius
appears in the world, you may know him by this
sign — that the dunces are all in confederacy against
him." Yet, though blinded by folly and weighed
down by distress, still his filial affections were alive,

and, although he could not afford his parents any
permanent support, he seemed anxious to promote
the education of their family; which the following
extracts from his letters will sufficiently prove : —

"I hope by living more pious and carefully, by
managing my income frugally, and appropriating a
part of it to the service of you and my sisters, and by
living with you in future at least a third part of the
year, to reconcile your affections more entirely to me,
and give you more comfort than I have yet done.
Oh forget and forgive my follies; look on me as a
son who will anxiously strive to comfort and please
you, and, after all your misfortunes, to render the
evening of your days as happy as possible." And
again — "We will endeavour," says he, "to settle
our dear Grace comfortably in life, and to educate
our dear little Betty and Mary aright." He brought
his eldest brother, John, to Edinburgh, to study at
the university, with the view of his entering the
church; he was a youth of promising abilities, but of
weak constitution, and sank into an early grave in
1790. As the other children increased in years,
faithful to his promise, he brought his favourite sister,
Mary, to live with him in Edinburgh to complete her
education. His irregularities, and consequent em-
barrassments, made her situation in town anything
but an enviable one. Her mortifications, however,
in this life were not of long duration, as she died at
his lodgings in 1798. To a mind of his quick sensi-
bility this was a dreadful shock. Almost frantic
with grief at the loss he experienced, he gave him-
self up to the wildest despair : every unkind action
or word he made use of towards her rushed to his
distracted memory, until life itself was almost insup-
portable. Neither the sympathy of friends, nor the
consolations of religion, could mitigate his woes.
At the same time his means of subsistence became
every day more precarious ; his literary labours were
ceasing to pay, so that, added to his other misfor-
tunes, starvation and a jail were hourly staring him
in the face. Shunning as much as possible all his
former companions, he might now be seen wander-
ing about the suburbs of the city, with wasted cheek
and sunken eye, a miserable victim of want and care.
By degrees, however, he was recalled to a better
state of mind, when, finding his views not likely to
succeed any longer in Scotland, he was induced to
go to London in 1799. For the first few years of
his residence there, it appears he found good employ-
ment, and his application to study being very great,
his profits and prospects were alike cheering. In a
letter written to his father about the time we are
speaking of, he says — -

"My whole income, earned by full sixteen hours
a day of close application to reading, writing, ob-
sen'ation, and study, is but very little more than three
hundred pounds a year. But this is sufficient to my
wants, and is earned in a manner which I know to
be the most useful and honourable — that is, by teach-
ing beneficial truths, and discountenancing vice and
folly more effectually and more extensively than I
could in any other way. This I am here always sure
to earn while I can give the necessary application;
and if I were able to execute more literary labour I
might readily obtain more money."

He for a time pursued his literary vocations with
an unwearied industry, and there was scarcely a pub-
lication then in London of any note but contained
some of his fugitive writings. He realized in con-
sequence a good income, but unfortunately for no
great length of time. His former bad habits returned,
and while money continued to flow in, he indulged
in the wildest extravagance. Wishing to be thought
an independent man of fortune, he would carry his

26o

ROBERT HERON.

folly so far as at times to keep a pair of horses, with
a groom in hvery. All this time his pen was laid
aside; and until warned of his fate by the appearance
of his last shillintj, he seemed altogether devoid of
reflection. Then he would betake himself to his
work, as an enthusiast in everything, confining him-
self for weeks to his chamber, dressed only in his
shirt and morning-gown, and commonly with a green
veil over his eyes, which were weak and inflamed by
such fits of ill-regulated study.

In 1806 he addressed a letter to Mr. Wilberforce
on the JiistiiY and Expt-diency of the Slave-trade. He
wrote a short system of chemistry, and a few months
previous to his death he published a small work
called the Comforts of Life, which it appears met
with a ready sale.

The last years of his life were spent in the deepest
misery. His friends and associates by degrees de-
serted him ; some offended at his total want of
steadiness, others worn out by constant importu-
nities, and not a few disgusted at the vanity and
envy he displayed on too many occasions; added to
all this, his employers found they could place no
dependence on his promises, as he would only re-
sume his pen when urged to it by stern necessity, so
that he found at last it was with great difficulty he
could procure even a scanty subsistence. Deep in
debt, and harassed by his creditors, who were all
exasperated at his constant want of faith, he was at
last consigned to the jail of Newgate, where he
dragged on a miserable existence for many months.
From that prison he wrote the following appeal to
the Literary Fund, which we derive from a most ap-
propriate source, D'Israeli's Calamities of Authors: —

"Ever since I was eleven years of age I have
mingled with my studies the labour of teaching or
writing to support and educate myself During
about twenty years, while I was in constant and
occasional attendance at the university of Edinburgh,
I taught and assisted young persons at all periods in
the course of education, from the alphabet to the
highest branches of science and literature. I read
lectures on the law of nature, the law of nations, the
Jewish, the Grecian, the Roman, and the canon law,
and then on the feudal law, and on the several forms
of municipal jurisprudence established in modern
Europe. I printed a syllabus of these lectures, which
was approved; they were as introductory to the pro-
fessional study of law, and to assist gentlemen wlio
did not study it professionally in the understanding
of history. I translated Fottrcroy's Chemistry twice,
Savary's Travels in Greece, Diimoiirier's Letters,
Gesiter's Idyls in part, an abstract of Zimmerman on
Solitude, and a great diversity of smaller pieces. 1
•wxoKe. A Journey throui^ht lie Western Parts of Scotland,
which has jjassed through two editions; a History of
Scotland \n six volumes '6\o;A To/'Oi;ra/>hical Accoiatt
of Scotland, which has been several times reprinted; a
number of communications in the Edinburgh Maga-
zine; many jsrefaces and critiques. A Alei?ioir of the
Life of Burns, which suggested and promoted the
subscription for his family, has been reprinted, and
formed the basis of Dr. Currie's life of him, as I
learned by a letter from the doctor to one of his
friends; a variety ofj'eux cVcsprit, in verse and prose,
and many abridgments of large works. In the be-
ginning of 1799 I was encouraged to come to Lon-
don. Here I have written a great multiplicity of
articles in almost every branch of literature, my
education in Edinburgh having comprehended them
all. The London Reincii', the Agricultural Maga-
zine, the Universal Magazine, the Anti-Jacohin Re-
view, the Public Characta-s, the Annual A^ecrology,
with several other periodical works, contain many

of my communications. In such of these publica-
tions as have been reviewed, I can show that my
anonymous pieces have been distinguished with very
high praise. I have written also a short system of
Chemistry, and I published a few weeks since a small
work called the Comforts of Life, of which the first
edition was sold in one week, and the second edition
is now in rapid sale. In the newspapers — the
Oracle, the Porcupine, when it existed, the General
Evening Post, the Adorning Post, the British Press,
the Courier, &c. — I have published my reports of
the debates in parliament, and I believe a greater
variety of fugitive pieces than I know to have been
written by any one person. I have written also a
great variety of compositions in Latin and French,
in favour of which I have been honoured with the
testimonials of liberal approbation.

"I have invariably written to ser\'e the cause of
religion and morality, pious Christian education, and
good order in the most direct manner. I have con-
sidered what I have written as mere trifles, and I
have incessantly studied to qualify myself for some-
thing better. I can prove that I have for many years
read and written one day with another from twelve
to sixteen hours a day. As a human being I have
not been free from follies and errors; but the tenor
of my life has been temperate, laborious, humble,
quiet, and, to the utmost of my power, beneficent.
I can prove the general tenor of my writings to be
candid, and ever adapted to exhibit the most favour-
able views of the abilities, dispositions, and exertions
of others. For the last ten months I have been
brought to the very extremity of bodily and pecuniary
distress.

' ' I shudder at the thoughts of perishing in a jail.

"92 Chancery Lane, Feb. 2d, 1807.

(In confinement.)"

His life was now fast drawing to a close. With
a mind bowed down by want and despair, and a
body emaciated from increasing disease, he was in-
capable of farther exertion; and being removed to an
hospital as his last and only hope, in one week after
his entrance there he breathed his last, on the 13th
of April, 1807, without a friend to console or assist
him. Thus perished Robert Heron in the prime of
life, with talents and acquirements of a very rare
description, which, if governed by prudence, were
eminently calculated to gain for him an honourable
independence in the world. It is difficult to estimate
the true depth of his genius by his miscellaneous
publications in prose; his style was of a mixed de-
scription— sometimes pompous and declamatory, at
other times chaste and elegant. But it must be con-
sidered he was seldom allowed the choice of a sub-
ject, being all his life under the dictates of a pub-
lisher. He composed with great rapidity, and
seldom made any corrections but in his proof-sheets.
His appearance was at most times impressive and
dignified: his figure, above the middle size, stately
and erect, and his countenance had a benevolent ex-
pression, though pale and careworn from study and
confinement.

With all his faults he had still many redeeming
virtues; and above all a strong sense of the respect
which is due to religion and morality. In a diary of
his life, kept at various times, which contains a free
confession of his sentiments, he has recorded that,
in whatever manner he spent the day, he never
closed his eyes at night without humbling himself
in prayer before the throne of the Most High.

The brief memoir of this accomplished scholar
affords another striking instance of the impossibility
of shielding genius from poverty and disgrace when
blinded by passion or perverted by eccentricity.

HUGH IIEUGII.

261

HETJGH, Rev. Hugh, D.D. This estimable
divine was bom at Stirling, on the I2th of August,
17S2. He was the ninth child of the Rev. John
Heugh, minister of a Seces:^ion congregation in
Stirling. In his education he was so fortunate as
to have for his teacher Dr. Doig, who presided
over the grammar-school of Stirling, and was one of
the most accomplished scholars of his day. After
having made considerable proficiency in classical
learning under this able preceptor, Mr. Heugh,
who, from his earliest years, had selected the minis-
terial office as his future destination, repaired at the
age of fifteen to the university of Edinburgh, and
after undergoing the prescribed course of study, was
licensed as a preacher by the General Associate or
Antiburgher Presbytery of Stirling, on the 22d of
Febniarj', 1804. His youth and timidity at the out-
set, on one occasion at least, had nearly marred his
prospects. Having preached in a church at Leslie,
at that time unprovided with a minister, and being
obliged to deliver his discourse memoriter, without
which compliance he would not have been allowed
to enter the pulpit, his recollection suddenly failed;
he was at once brought to a dead stop, and no
remedy remained but to give out a psalm, while he
refreshed his memory during the inter^-al of singing.
This disaster sealed his fate so far as that vacancy
was concerned; and though his father, fifty years
before, had received a call to the same church, the
son was rejected. Two years of preaching overcame
this timidity, and made him so acceptable to his
auditories, that three different congregations pre-
sented calls to him to be their minister. Of these
calls, that from Stirling, where he was in\"ited to
become the colleague of his aged father, was pre-
ferred; and accordingly he was ordained to this
charge by the General Associate Presbyter)- of Stir-
ling, on the 14th of Augiist, 1806.

The life of a countrj- minister is seldom one of
public interest. Let him be as talented as he may,
he is confined within a particular locality, and fixed
to a particular routine of duty; and thus it often
happens, that the verj- men from whom society re-
ceives its prevailing impress live unnoticed and die
without record. Such was the case of Mr. Heugh
while labouring at Stirling; and to the common eye
he was nothing more than a diligent, pains-taking
dissenting minister, instant in his daily occupations,
and anxious for the spiritual interests of his flock.
But in his diarj- there is ample e^idence to be found
that his exertions and struggles were to the full as
heroic as those which insure distinction to the best
men of everj-day life. His twofold aim, of which
he never lost sight, was self-improvement, and the
improvement of his people, the former closely con-
nected with and stimulated by the latter; and the re-
sult was his own ad%'ance in wisdom, eloquence, effici-
ency, and spiritual-mindedness, accompanied with the
increasing attachment of his people, and their growth
in religious wisdom and piety. While thus employ-
ed, he was married, in 1809, to Isabella Clarkson,
only daughter of a minister of his own religious
denomination; and in the following year his father
died, leaving him sole minister of the congregation.
The important charge which had thus devolved upon
him only doubled his diligence, and increased his
acceptability among his flock; whUe his diary at this
period is filled with notices of his daily and hourly
labours, and his earnest desire to be continually
doing good. In this way the life of Mr. Heugh
went onward for years, alternated by two visits to
London upon ministerial duties, in which he showed
himself a sharp obsener of public characters and the
signs of the times, and by his earnest labours to

promote that union between the two bodies of the
Secession which was after^vards happily accom-
plished.

As Mr. Heugh had now attained a distinction
that placed him in the foremost rank of the religious
community to which he belonged, the town of Stir-
ling, venerable though it be from its ancient histori-
cal remembrances, was thought too limited a sphere
for his exertions; and accordingly, in 1819, an attempt
was made to secure his services for the populous and
growing city of Glasgow. This was done by a call
from the newly-formed congregation of Regent Street,
Glasgow. But this call, and another from the
same congregation, which followed soon after, was
refused; his people in Stirling had become so en-
deared to his affections that he could not reconcile
himself to the pain of parting, or the uncertainties
of a new career. Bent, however, upon what they
considered a point of most \ital interest, by securing
him for their minister, the congregation of Regent
Street made a third call; and the Secession SjTiod,
overcome by this determined perseverance, agreed,
though with reluctance, to transfer their valued
brother to the great mercantile metropolis of Scot-
land. Accordingly, he was inducted into his new
charge on the 9th of October, 1S21. But how to
part from his old congregation, among whom he
had officiated so long — among whom indeed he had
been bom I "The feelings of tenderness," he said
in his farewell discourse from the pulpit, "which
this crisis awakens, I dare not attempt to express;
but these may well be allowed to give place to this
most solemn and paramount consideration — the re-
sponsibilities incurred both by you and by me for the
opportunities which are now over. Eight hundred
Sabbaths have well nigh elapsed since my ministry in
this place began. What have you and I been doing
on so many days of the Son of Man?" His personal
adieus from house to house were also of the most
painful description. "I enter no house," he writes,
"connected with the congregation, in which tears
are not shed; and the looks, and language, and grasp
of the hand — of some of the poor especially — alto-
gether overcome me. ... It is, indeed, a sort
of li%-ing death." "Never," he added a few days
after\vards, "have I passed through such a scene,
and I often start and ask myself, Is it real? But
I must j-ield myself to the necessity. I have now no
control over arrangements which were made without
any agency of mine. Over these arrangements the
Lord of the church has presided, and his grace is
sufficient for me, and his strength can be made
perfect in my weakness." In these feelings he tore
himself from Stirling, and commenced his labours in
a new field.

The transition of this affectionate-hearted pastor
from Stirling to Glasgow was, in the first instance
at least, an\-thing but a change to greater ease and
comfort; and at the commencement, Mr. Heugh had
large demands upon his secular pmdence as well as
Christian liberality. In the communion to which
he belonged, there still lingered in Glasgow some of
those old prejudices which had disappeared from
other parts of the country*. It was not allowed, for
instance, for a family to pass from one pastoral su-
perintendence to another, unless they removed their
residence within an imaginar)' boundar)' line belong-
ing to that other congregation, which had been fixed
by the church courts. Then, too, in public worship
there were certain trifles insisted upon as stiffly and
keenly as if they had formed part of the creed or the
decalogue. Thus, a gown and bands, however be-
coming in the eyes of the younger portion of the con-
gregation, as proper clerical distinctions in the per-

262

HUGH HEUGH GEORGE HILL.

formance of the duties of the pulpit, were, in the
jutlj^ent of the older members, an utter abomina-
tion, as the badges of Erastianism, Prelacy, or even
downright Popery. Psalmody also had of late been
somewhat attended to (and verily there was need !);
and not only was the slavish practice of reading the
psalm line by line, while singing, beginning to be
discontinued, but new tunes were introduced, in
which the last line, or part of the line, of each verse,
was repeated. This was astounding to the orthodo.x:
it was like the introduction of the liturgy itself
in the days of Charles L ; and although no joint-
stools flew i>:a the occasion, it was only perhaps be-
cause such modes of church controversy could no
longer be available. These prejudices, so silly, and
worse than silly, were even tolerated and connived
at by not a few of the Secession ministers, who were
afraid, by a more manly course of action, to thin
their congregations and lessen their influence. Such
was one of the inevitable consequences of the volun-
tary system, by which Dissenterism will be hampered
to the end. It speaks not a little for the intrepid
disinterestedness of Mr. Heugh, that in spite of these
obstacles he held onward in his own course, both in
gown-wearing and psalmody, as well as in the more
important dogma of territorial distinction, to which
some of the most distinguished leaders of his own
party were obstinately wedded. Another duty in
which he was worthy of the highest commendation,
consisted in the faithful diligence of his pulpit pre-
parations. On being transferred from one charge to
another, it is natural for a minister to draw upon his
old stock of sermons, while few think of blaming
him for such a convenient substitution. But Mr.
Heugh could not be thus satisfied. Although he
brought with him to Glasgow about 2000 discourses,
which he had written during the fifteen years of his
past ministry, scarcely more than twenty of these
were delivered during the quarter of a century over
which the rest of his labours extended. Combined
with all this diligence, he possessed the true spirit of
an orator, in never rising to address an audience
without a certain degree of anxious diffidence and
tremor. "I scarcely ever enter a pulpit," he said,
"without a temporary hectic." Such a preacher can
never be dull or uninteresting; independently of feeling
the sacred nature of his message, he is keenly sensitive
to the propriety and effectiveness of its delivery. Ac-
cordingly, his hearers were in the habit of remarking
the singular equality of his pulpit labours, where every
sermon was essentially a good one. AH this was
nothing more than the result of that careful prepara-
tion that would not permit him either to trust to ex-
temporaneous oratory, or delay the study of his sub-
ject to the last. Li 1831 he enjoyed one of the
earlier drops of that thunder-shower of doctors'
caps which has lately crossed the Atlantic, and de-
scended upon our island — whether to fertilize or im-
poverish our literary spirit, time will reveal. The
degree of Doctor of Divinity was conferred upon him
by the college of Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. Such dis-
tinctions he seems to have estimated at their real
worth — and nothing more. "Considering all things,"
he said, "they are of vastly little value; a mere tinsel
shoulder-knot — neither helmet, sword, nor shield,
much less brawny arm, or valorous soul."

Such was the character and such were the labours
of Dr. Heugh in Glasgow — an earnest, diligent, pains-
taking minister, and eloquent instructor in the truths
of the gospel, while every year added to the affection
of his flock and the esteem of the public at large.
Of his share in the ecclesiastical controversies of the
day, and his visits to England and the Continent,
important though they were to himself, it is unneces-

sary to speak in a short biographical sketch. He
died at Glasgow, on the loth of June, 1846, in the
sixty-fourth year of his age.

HILL, Dr. George, an eminent leader of the
Church of Scotland, and principal of St. Mary's Col-
lege, St. Andrews, was bom in that city in the month
of June, 1750. His father, the Rev. John Hill, was
one of the ministers of St. Andrews; and he went
through his whole courseof education in the university
there. The elements of education he received very
early, after which he was sent to the grammar-school,
then taught by Mr. Dick, who afterwards obtained a
chair in the university. While he continued at school
he made a rapid progress, and was generally at the
head of his class. At the age of nine years he ex-
hibited so much precocity of talent as to compose a
sermon, superior, in his father's opinion, to many
sermons he had heard from the pulpit : and the
Countess of Buchan was so much pleased with it,
that she requested it might be dedicated to her, and
carried it to London with her, intending to have it
printed. The intention, however, without any loss
to the world we presume, was never brought into
act. He entered upon his academical course in the
eleventh year of his age, and in all the different
classes maintained a decided superiority. His tasks
he performed always with ease; and he was highly
respected by all the professors under whom he studied.
At fourteen years of age he had completed his philo-
sophical course, and was made a Master of Arts; and
having determined to devote himself to the church,
entered upon the study of theology in his fifteenth
year. During his second session of theology, the
Earl of Kinnoul, having been appointed chancellor
of the university of St. Andrews, gave, for the en-
couragement of learners, a number of prizes, to be
bestowed on the most deser\'ing in the various classes.
These prizes his lordship distributed to the success-
ful candidates with his own hand; and young HiU,
having gained one of them, though he had to con-
tend with many that were greatly his seniors, at-
tracted the particular notice of his lordship, who,
from that moment, took a warm interest in his suc-
cess in life, giving him directions for his conduct,
and aid for the prosecution of his schemes, with the
warmth of a parent rather than the cold and stately
formality of a patron. During his college vacations,
he was in the habit of visiting frequently at Temple
his uncle. Dr. M'Cormick, the biographer of Car-
stairs, by whom he was introduced to the metro-
politan of the Scottish church, Principal Robertson,
and by the principal he was recommended as tutor
to the eldest son of Piyce Campbell, M.P., and at
that time one of the lords of the treasury. In con-
sequence of this appointment he repaired to London
in November, 1767, not having completed his seven-
teenth year. Such a series of fortunate incidents
occurs in the lives of few individuals. "Educated,"
says his biographer, "in the genuine principles of
Whiggism, he considered the great design of govern-
ment to be the promotion of the liberty and the hap-
piness of the people;" but in the close of the very
same paragraph this writer introduces the subject of
his panegyric saying to his mother, "As I have seen
nothing but mobbing and the bad effects of faction
since I came to England, I am very moderate, and
think it the duty of an honest man to support
almost any ministry." Mr. Hill was, indeed, a Whig
of a somewhat odd kind; the man whom he most
admired was Lord North, and the objects of his
aversion and his vituperation were the American
colonists, Messrs. Beckford, Wilkes, and the other
members of the opposition in the House of Commons.

Mr. Hill, while at St. Andrews, had been an am-
bitious member of those associations generally formed
at colleges for the purpose of exercising the talent of
oratory, and he was not long in London till he found
his way into the Robin Hood Debating Society,
where he even then consulted his interest by defend-
ing the measures of administration. His account of
this society gives no very high idea of its members.
"Last night I went to the Robin Hood Society, and
was very highly entertained there. We had speakers
of all kinds : shoemakers, weavers, and Quakers,
whose constant topic was the dearness of provisions.
There were one or two who spoke very comically,
and with a great deal of humour. But what sur-
prised me much, I heard one of the easiest and most
masterly speakers that ever I heard in my life. His
dress was rather shabby, but he is a constant attend-
ant, and by long practice has greatly improved. I
spoke once or twice, and had the honour of being
listened to with great attention, which is a compli-
ment in a society of this kind, which is made up of
people of all descriptions. It sits on Mondays from
eight to ten. A ticket costs si.xpence, for which you
get a well-lighted room and as much porter and
lemonade as you choose to drink. There is a subject
fixed, and if that fail the president gives another.
I shall be a constant attendant, not only as it is one
of the highest entertainments, but as the best sub-
stitute for the select clubs which I have left." — "I
carried," he says in another letter to his mother,
"my pupil to the Robin Hood Society, along with
Mr. Brodie, Mr. Campbell's parochial clergyman at
Calder, who was on a visit to London. I made a
splendid oration, which had the honour of a loud
clap, and was very much approved by Mr. Brodie.
It is a fine exercise for oratorical talents." On an-
other occasion Mr. Hill thus expresses himself: — "I
am obliged to you for your observations on the know-
ledge of mankind. The true secret, certainly, for
passing through life with comfort, and especially to
a person in my situation, is to study the tempers of
those about him, and to accommodate himself to
them. I don't know whether I am possessed of
this secret, or whether there is something remarkable
in the persons with whom I converse, but I have
found everybody with whom I have had any connec-
tion since I came to England or Wales, exceedingly
agreeable. From all I have met with politeness and
attention, and from many particular marks of favour
and kindness. I may be defective in penetration
and sagacity, and in judging of character, but I am
sure I am pliable enough, more than I think some-
times quite right. I can laugh or be grave, talk
nonsense, or politics, or philosophy, just as it suits
my company, and can submit to any mortification
to please those with whom I converse. I cannot
flatter; but I can listen with attention, and seem
pleased with everything that anybody says. By arts
like these, which have perhaps a little meanness in
them, but are so convenient that one does not choose
to lay them aside, I have had the good luck to be a
favourite in most places. " This at eighteen, except
perhaps in Scotland, will be looked upon as an
amazing instance of precocious worldly sense. In
the scramble for the good things of this world, had
such a man failed, who could ever hope to succeed?

In a subsequent letter to his mother, referring to
the circumstance of a younger brother entering upon
his education, he observes, "What is the learning of
any one language, but throwing away so much time
in getting by heart a parcel of words in one language,
and another parcel corresponding to the first in
another? It is an odd thing that some more rational
and useful employment cannot be found out for boys

GEORGE HILL. 263

of his age, and that we should still throw away eight
or ten years in learning dead languages, after we
have sponged out of them all that is to be found.
God certainly never intended that so much of our
time should be spent in learning Greek and Latin.
The period allotted to us for action is so short that
we cannot too soon begin to fit ourselves for appear-
ing upon the stage. Mr. Campbell cannot read
Greek, and he is a bad Latin scholar; yet he is a
philosopher, a divine, and a statesman, because he
has improved his natural parts by reading a great
deal of English. I am, and perhaps all my life shall
continue, a close student ; but I hate learning. I
have no more than is absolutely necessary', and as
soon as I can I shall throw that little away." What-
ever was his Latinity, Mr. Campbell's interest was
good and promised still to be better, in consequence
of which Mr. Hill's friends were instant with him to
go into the Church of England, where, through the
attention of Mr. Campbell, he might be much better
provided for than he could be in the Church of Scot-
land, to which notwithstanding he still professed
not only adherence, but a high degree of veneration.
From this temptation he was delivered by the
death of Mr. Prjxe Campbell, who was cut off in the
prime of his days and in the midst of his expecta-
tions. Mr. Hill, however, was still continued with
his pupil, who was now under the protection of his
grandfather; and as great part of his estates lay in
Scotland, that his education might be corresponding
to the duties which, on that account, he might have
to perform, young Campbell was sent for two sessions
to the university of Edinburgh, and that he might be
under the eye of Principal Robertson, he was, along
with his tutor, boarded in the house of Mrs. Syme,
the principal's sister. During these two sessions
Mr. Hill attended the divinity class and the meetings
of the Speculative Society, where he acquired consid-
erable eclat from a speech in praise of the aristocracy.
He also waited on the General Assembly, in the
debates of which he took so much interest as to ex-
press his wish to be returned to it as an elder. With
Dr. Robertson his intercourse was uninterrupted, and
by him he was introduced to the notice of the prin-
cipal men in and about Edinburgh. By his uncle,
Dr. M'Cormick, he was introduced at Arniston
House, and in that family (Dundas) latterly found
his most efficient patrons. While he was thus swell-
ing the train of rank and fashion, it was his fortune
to meet for the first time, dining at General Aber-
crombie's, with the celebrated David Hume, of whom
he thus wrote immediately after: " I was veiy glad to
be in company with a man about whom the world
has talked so much; but I was greatly surprised with
his appearance. I never saw a man whose language
is more vulgar, or whose manners are more awkward.
It is no affectation of rudeness as being a philosopher,
but mere clownishness, which is ver)' surprising in
one who has been so much in high life, and many of
whose writings display so much elegance." During
all this time the progress of his pupil was not com-
mensurate to the expectations of his friends, and the
expenses it occasioned; and with the approbation of
his patron, Lord Kinnoul, Mr. Hill resigned his
charge. Mr. Morton, professor of Greek in the
university of St. Andrews, at this time wishing to
retire on account of the infirmities of age, Mr. Hill
became a candidate, was elected after some little
opposition, and on the 2ist of May, 1772, was ad-
mitted joint-professor of Greek, being yet only in
the twenty-second year of his age. He now went
to London with his former pupil, and visited Cam-
bridge, where Mr. Campbell was to finish his studies;
and, having received from Lord Kinnoul and Dr.

264

r.EORGE IIILI

Robertson ample testimonials to the ability and
faithfulness with which he had discharged his duty
while residing in Edinburgh, the family parted with
him, expressing their thankfulness, their respect, and
regret. Returning to Scotland, he spent some time
with his uncle preparing for meeting with his class,
which he did in the end of the year 1 772. The
duties of this charge did not prevent him from various
other pursuits. In the year 1774 Mr. Campbell,
in order to make the most of his parliamentary in-
terest in the shire of Nairn, gave to a number of his
friends votes upon life-rent superiorities, and among
others conferred one upon Mr. Hill, who, while at
Nairn performing his friendly office as one of Mr.
Campbell's voters, nearly lost his life by sleeping in
a room that had been newly plastered. His groans,
however, happened to be heard, and a physician
being in the house to give immediate assistance, he
was soon recovered. The year following he formed
tlie resolution of entering the church, and having
made application to the presbytery of Haddington,
with which, through his brother-in-law, Mr. Murray
of North Berwick, he considered himself in some
sort connected, he was by that reverend court licensed
to preach the gospel on the 3d of May, 1775. He
was immediately after this employed as assistant to
Principal Tullidelpli in the parochial church of St.
Leonard's, which has always been united with the
principality of the college. In this situation he con-
tinued till the death of Principal Tullidelph in the
year 1777. The same year he was offered the parish
of Coldstream by the Earl of Haddington; but he
did not think it worth accepting. The following
year, on the death of Dr. Baillie, professor of theology
in the college of Glasgow, Principal Robertson de-
sired him to stand candidate for that chair; but he
seems to have taken no steps for that purpose, pro-
bably from the circumstance of his being only a
preacher, which might have operated against him in
case of a well-supported candidate coming forward.
The same year, probably to be ready in case of a
similar emergency, he again applied to the presbytery
of Haddington, and was by them ordained to the
holy ministry. In the year 1779, through the in-
terest of Principal Robertson and his uncle, Dr.
M'Cormick, he was offered one of the churches of
Edinburgh, with the prospect of a chair in the uni-
versity in a short time. This also he declined with
a view to some contemplated arrangements of Lord
Kinnoul. In consequence of the death of Principal
Morrison, Dr. Gillespie was shortly after removed
from the first charge in the city to the principality of
the new college. Dr. Adamson, the second minister,
was promoted to Dr. Gillespie's benefice, and Mr.
Hill was elected by the town-council successor to
Dr. Adamson. In consequence of his holding the
Ijrofessorship of Greek, Mr. Hill's induction was pro-
tested against by a member of the presbytery of St.
Andrews, and the case was brought before the
General Assembly in the year 1780, which dismissed
it without ceremony, as it did also overtures on the
subject from the synods of Fife, Perth, and Stirling.
Mr. Hill was accordingly, with the full concurrence
of the congregation, admitted to the church in which
his father had officiated, on the 22d day of June,
1780. Since his settlement at St. Andrews as a
professor of Greek, he had sat in the General As-
sembly as an elder; he now appeared in the more
weighty character of a minister, and on the retire-
ment of Dr. Robertson became the most important
member of the house, and confessedly the leader of
the moderates.

We have already noticed his acceptance of a life-
rent superiority, by which he became a freeholder in

the county of Nairn in the year 1774. He continued
to stand on the roll of freeholders for that county
till the winter of 1784, when a new election came
on; but Mr. Campbell, from being on the side of the
ministry, was now violent on the side of the opposi-
tion. In this case, for Mr. Hill to have given his
vote to Mr. Campbell's candidate would have been
considered by the ministry as open rebellion against
their claims on the church, for which they might have
selected another leader, and have at the same time
withdrawn every mark of their favour from him.
They might also have prosecuted him before the
justiciary on a charge of perjury, as they had already
done some others in similar circumstances. Under
this complication of difiiculties Mr. Hill as usual had
recourse to the Earl of Kinnoul, and to his brother-
in-law, Mr. Murray of North Berwick. Lord Kin-
noul most ingeniously gave him back hrs own views;
did not, as chancellor of the university, think he was
warranted to allow him to desert his professional
duties for the purpose merely of giving a political
vote; and stated, that though he himself could have
greatly extended his interest by such votes as Mr.
Hill possessed, he had never granted one of them.
A charge of perjury, he admitted, might be brought
against any person who received them, and whether
it might be well founded or not, it was a charge to
which, in his opinion, no minister of the gospel
should expose himself The judgment of his lord-
ship we cannot but approve, though it is probable
that if the candidate had been a ministerial one, the
Greek class might have been allowed a few holidays
without the smallest impropriety. Mr. Murray,
while he regretted (though he no doubt knew it
from the first) that his friend should ever have ac-
cepted such a vote, applauded his purpose of relin-
quishing it, and of refusing, under all circumstances,
to comply with the requisition to attend the election.
Mr. Hill's biographer labours hard to clear him from
any degree of blame in this affair, but without effect:
it carries its character full in its face, and holds up a
most important lesson to all clergjmen to beware
of intermeddling in political intrigues of any kind.

In 1787 Mr. Hill was honoured by the university
with the title of D.D., and in 1788 was appointed to
succeed Dr. Spens as professor of divinity in St.
Mary's College. He had been the previous year ap-
pointed dean to the order of l.he Thistle, a place that
had been first created to gratify Dr. Jardine for his
services in support of Dr. Robertson, but with no
stated salary; the dean only claiming a perquisite of
fifty guineas on the installation of every new knight.
During Dr. Hill's incumbency no instalment took
place, and he of course derived no pecuniary benefit
from the situation. He had been little more than
three years in the divinity chair when the situation
of principal became vacant by the death of Dr. Gil-
lespie, and it was by Lord Melville bestowed on Dr.
Hill. This appointment in his letter of thanks he
considered as jjcculiarly valualjle as being the best
proof that Lord Melville approved the mode in which
he had discharged the duties of the divinity professor-
ship. "I will not attempt," he continues, "toexjiress
by words the gratitude which I feel ; but it shall be
the study of my life to persevere as a clergyman in
that line of conduct upon which you have generously
conferred repeated marks of your approbation."
This was the termination of his university prefer-
ment ; but he was shortly afterwards nominated one
of his majesty's chajilains for Scotland, with a salary
annexed; and on the death of his uncle Dr. M'Cor-
mick he succeede<l him as one of the deans of the
chapel royal. The deanery of the Thistle already
noticed was unproductive ; but the above two situa-

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//^'^

J sow EDUrBTTRGH & LONDON

GEORGE HILL JA^IES HOGG.

265

tions, while they added nothing to his labours, in-
creased his income in a material degree. In his
management of the General Assembly Dr. Hill copied
closely after Dr. Robertson ; except that the entire
satisfaction of himself and his party with the law of
patronage as it then stood, was marked by with-
drawing from the yearly instructions to the commis-
sion the accustomed order to embrace every op-
portunity of having it removed, and by still bolder
attempts to do away with tlie form of moderating
calls for presentees, and to induct them solely upon
the footing of presentations. In his progress Dr.
Hill certainly encountered a more formidable op-
position than Dr. Robertson latterly had to contend
with. In one case, and in one only, he was com-
pletely defeated. This was an overture from the
presbytery of Jedburgh concerning the imposition of
the test upon members of the Established Church of
Scotland, which, it was contended, was an infringe-
ment of the rights of Scotsmen, and a gross violation
of the privileges and independence of the Scottish
church. In opposition to the overture it was main-
tained by the moderates of the assembly that the
test act was a fundamental article of the treaty of
union ; and Dr. Hill, in particular, remarked that
there were no complaints on the subject except from
one single presbytery, nor was there any ground to
complain ; for to a liberal and enlightened mind it
could be no hardship to partake of tlie Lord's supper
according to the mode sanctioned by a church whose
views of the nature and design of that ordinance were
the same with his own. For once the popular party
gained a triumph, and the accomplished and in-
genious leader was left in a minority. A series of
resolutions moved by Sir Henry Moncrieff were
adopted, and by the unanimous voice of the as-
sembly a committee was appointed to follow out the
spirit and purpose of these resolutions. Care, how-
ever, was taken to render the committee of no avail,
and nearly thirty years elapsed without anything
further being done. We cannot enlarge on Dr.
Hill's administration of the affairs of the church, and
it is the less necessary that no particular change was
effected under him. Matters generally went on as
usual, and the influence of political men in biasing
her decisions were perhaps fully more conspicuous
than under his predecessor. Of his expertness in
business and general powers of management the very
highest sense was entertained by the public, though
differences of opinion latterly threatened to divide
his supporters.

In 1807 Dr. Hill had a severe attack, from which
it was apprehended he would not recover; contrary
to all expectation he did recover, and the following
year, on the death of Dr. Adamson, he was presented
to the first ecclesiastical charge in the city of St.
Andrews. Eight years after, namely, in 1816, we
find him as active in the General Assembly as at
any former period of his life. Shortly after this time,
however, he was attacked with slight shocks of
apoplexy, which impaired his speech and unfitted
him for his accustomed exercises. He was no more
heard in the assembly-house ; but he continued to
preach occasionally to his own congregation till the
year 1819, when he was laid aside from all public
duty. He died on the 19th of December that year,
in the seventieth year of his age, and thirty-ninth
of his ministry.

Dr. Hill married in 1782 Miss Scott, daughter to
Mr. Scott, a citizen of Edinburgh, who had chosen
St. Andrews as his place of retirement in his old age
after he had given up business. By this lady, who
survived him. Dr. Hill had a large family, several
of whom are yet alive. His eldest son was Dr,

Alexander Hill, late professor of divinity in the
university of Glasgow. In a life of Principal Hill
it would be unpardonable to pass over his various
publications, some of which possess high excellence.
We cannot, however, afford room for criticism, and
shall merely notice them in a general way. Single
sermons seem to have been his first pul:)lications,
though they are mentioned by his biographer in a
very indistinct manner. One of these, preached
before the sons of the clergy, seems to have been
sent to the Bishop of London, whose commendation
it received. Another, from the text, "Happy art
thou, O Israel; who is like unto thee, O people
saved by the Lord?" was published in the year 1792
as a sedative to the popular excitement produced by
the French revolution. The sermon was an un-
measured panegyric on the existing order of things
in Great Britain, and had for a short time an im-
mense popularity. "I believe it will be agreeable
to you," writes his bookseller, "to inform you that
I have had success with respect to your sermon
beyond my most sanguine imagination. I have
written a hundred letters upon the subject, and have
got all the capital manufacturers in Scotland to enter
into my idea. I have printed off ten thousand copies
of the coarse, and one thousand copies of the fine.
I have got letters of thanks from many capital per-
sons, with proper compliments to you I

congratulate you upon the extensive circulation of
the sermon, for never was such a number of a sermon
sold in this country before, and I flatter myself it
will, in a great measure, answer the purpose for
which it was intended." The following year he
published a third sermon, Iiistriictioiis afforded by the
Present War to the People of Gi'cat Britain. In I795
he published a volume of sermons, which is said to
have met with limited success. Several years after,
Dr. Hill published Theological Institutes, containing
heads of his lectures on divinity, a work which con-
tinues to be highly estimated as a theological text-
book ; A Vieiv of the Constitntioji of the Church of
Scotland ; and Counsels respecting the Duties of the
Pastoral Office. This last is an interesting and
valuable work. In 1812 he published Lectures upon
Portions of the Old Testament, intended to illustrate
fiToish History and Scripture Characters. To this
work is prefixed the following dedication : " To the
congregation which attends the author's ministry,
this specimen of a course of lectures, in which he
led them through the books of the Old Testament,
is, with the most grateful sense of their kindness and
the most affectionate wishes for their welfare, re-
spectfully inscribed." There is no mode of publica-
tion a minister can adopt so likely to be useful as
this. It gives a most pleasing idea of a clergyman
when he thus takes, as it were, a last farewell of his
people, who cannot fail to peruse a work bequeathed
to them under such circumstances with peculiar in-
terest. These lectures, we doubt not, were regarded
among his parishioners more than all his other works.
Of Dr. Hill's character the reader has been fumished
with materials for forming a judgment for himself.
His precocious abilities, his talents for adapting
himself to the uses of the world, his diligence in
all his offices, and his powers of managing public
business and popular assemblies, conspire to mark
him out as a very extraordinary man. It may
only be remarked that, for the most of tastes, his
conduct will in general appear too much that of a
courtier.

HOGG, James. This delightful poet of nature's
own rearing, who, of all our national bards under
similar circumstances, ranks nearest to Burns, was

266

JAMES HOGG.

bom in Ettrick Forest, on the 25th of January, 1772.*
\Vhence he derived his most unpoetical of names it
is not easy to determine, unless we are to sujipose
that it was the name of some honoured follower of
the Conqueror, subsequently fattened into its present
form by the rich fruits of the conquest, or finally by
a profitable emij^ration into Scotland in the days, it
may be, of Malcolm Canmore. But into this dan-
gerous question we have no particular wish to enter.
At all events, we know that James Hogg was fully
sensible of this grunting incongruity in connection
with the tuneful avocation of minstrel, and therefore
chose for himself the name of the Ettrick Shepherd,
as the more fitting appellative. Whatever may have
been the good fortune of his earliest ancestors in
Scotland, we well know that none of it descended to
himself; for his predecessors had been shepherds as
far back as he could trace them. His father, who
followed the same humble calling, had been so suc-
cessful in it as to save some money, which he in-
vested in a farming speculation soon after James was
bom. The young poet, who was the second of four
sons, was therefore sent to school, and would pro-
bably have received the usual amount of education
bestowed upon the children of our Scottish peasantry,
had it not been for a reverse of fortune, by which
his father was stripped of all his earnings. This
happened when James was only six years old; and
he was taken from school in consequence of his
parents and their children being " turned out of
doors," as he informs us, "without a farthing in the
world." After a resting-place had been found, James
was obliged to enter into service at the early age of
seven. His occupation was to herd a few cows, upon
a half-year's wage of a ewe lamb and a pair of new
shoes. In this lonely occupation, with nothing but
his cows for companions, the imaginative boy
could find no better amusement than to nm races
against time, or rather against himself. For this
purpose he w-as wont to strip like a regular athlete,
until his clothes were lost piece by piece, so that he
was reduced to primitive nudeness; and it was only
by a diligent search of the other servants that the
lost articles were found. After a year spent in
this kind of servitude, he was sent once more to
school. Hitherto his education had advanced so far
as reading in the Shorter Catechism and the Pro-
verbs of Solomon ; but now he was transferred
into a higher class, where the Bible itself was the
text-book of lessons. He also learned writing, after
a fashion, in a large coarse hand, where every letter
was nearly an inch in length. A quarter of a year
spent in this way completed his education; all that
was afterwards to be done depended upon his own
effons.

Having thus received a more limited tuition than
usually happens to the children even of the poorest in
our country, Hogg was again obliged to return to the
occupation of a cowherd, the lowest grade of rural
employment; and after serving in this capacity for
several years under different masters, he was raised
to the more honourable office of a shepherd. But
long before he attained this promotion, and while
still a mere boy, the first stirrings of the poetical spirit
came upon him; and like almost every poet, past,
present, and to come, his inspirations were awoke by
female beauty, tenderness, and worth. He had
already found the being who afterwards was, in all
likelihood, the "bonny Kilmeny," who bewitched
the world, as well as the animating muse of his first
rugged efforts in song. That episode, so important

* This date is given by Hogg himself in his autobiography,
but the parish register records his baptism as having taken
place on the gth of December, 1770.

in a poet's life, we give in his own tender and tmth-
ful language: "When only eight years of age, I was
sent out to a height called Broad-heads, with a rosy-
cheeked maiden, to herd a flock of new-weaned
lambs, and I had my mischievous cows to herd be-
sides. But as she had no dog, and I had an excel-
lent one, I was ordered to keep close by her. Never
was a master's order better obeyed. Day after day
I herded the cows and the lambs both, and Betty
had nothing to do but to sit and sew. Then we
dined together every day at a well near to the Shiel-
sike-head, and after dinner I laid my head down on
her lap, covered her bare feet with my plaid, and
pretended to fall sound asleep. One day I heard her
say to herself, ' Puir little laddie I he's jist tired to
death;' and then I wept till I was afraid she would
feel the warm tears trickling on her knee. I wished
my master, who was a handsome young man, would
fail in love with her and marry her, wondering how
he could be so blind and stupid as not to do it. But
I thought if I were he I would know well what to
do."

From love to music was but a step in one of such
a temperament, and when Hogg had reached the
age of fourteen he laid out five shillings, which he
had saved from his wages, in the purchase of an old
violin. This new charm of existence occupied him
so wholly that all his leisure was devoted to it; and
as his only spare hours were taken from sleep, while
his only dormitory was a stable or a cow-house, his
desperate attempts in music had commonly no better
auditory than that which was wont to gather around
the harping of Orpheus. He ever after retained his
love of music, and by dint of perseverance became a
tolerable violinist. How-ever trivial, or even ridicu-
lous, such a pursuit may be in common life, it is no
frivolous matter in that of a poet. It indicates that
the soul of harmony is within him, and that whether
he learns to fiddle well or not, he will turn it to the
best account in that music of words which forms so
necessary an adjunct in poetry. Who does not
recognize this fact in the singular melody which
characterizes the Ettrick Shepherd's versification !
No sounds can be sweeter and no notes more ap-
propriate than those which embody "Kilmeny"
and the "Abbot M'Kinnon," in the Queen's l]\ike.
The first of these poems, as illustrative of the mere
music of language, independently of its poetical
merits, has never been surpassed.

In the meantime the education of the future poet
went on, and that, too, so oddly as to give most un-
certain promise of his future destination. He had
already committed the Psalms of David in metre to
memor)'; but though he liked their rhymes, he seems
to have understood nothing else than the short
measure into which they are rendered. In his
eighteenth year T/ie Life ami Adventures of Sir
William Wallace, modernized by Hamilton of Gil-
bertfield, and forming the choice epic of our Scottish
peasantry, fell into his hands, and also the equally
popular pastoral of the Gentle Shepherd. But partly
from having almost forgotten the art of reading,
which he had learned so imperfectly, and partly
from his scanty reading having been hitherto limited
to English, the Scottish dialect, in which Wallace
and the Gentle Shepherd are written, was so new
and so puzzling, that Hogg struggled on from line
to line at a snail's pace. But what was more omin-
ous still, was his dislike at their versification, so
that he felt as if he would have relished them better
had they been written in prose. His love of reading
having been noticed by his employers, books were
lent him, chiefly of a theological character, and
newspapers; through the last of which he was wont

JAMES HOGG.

267

to wade, from the title at the beginning to the names
of printer and publisher at the end, without stint or
omission.

At length, when he had reached his twenty-fourth
year, Hogg commenced the life of a poet in earnest.
lie had now read much, although very miscella-
neously; and his imprisoned ideas, after struggling
for a vent, burst forth in the language of song. His
first -attempts were of a humble description, being
chiefly ballads and songs, intended to be sung by the
lasses of the district; while the name of "Jamie the
Poeter," by which they soon learned to distinguish
him, was the "Muses' meed" with which he rested
satisfied for the present. It was easy, indeed, for
him to compose verses: they sprang up in his mind
as rapidly as prose does with ordinary mortals; but
to embody them in form to the eye, so that others
might read and learn them — here was the crowning
dilhculty ! We have already noticed his very scanty
education in penmanship, and from want of occupa-
tion it had slumbered since his boyhood until now,
that it was urgently called into full exercise. His
writing, at the best, was a sort of laborious printing,
letter by letter; while his model was the Italian
alphabet, for want of a more concise character. To
add to his difficulties, his chief opportunities for
writing were derived from the chance intervals that
occurred in the management of his unruly flock.
Armed with a few sheets of paper, stitched together,
in his pocket, and a phial, instead of an ink-horn,
dangling from his button-hole, he used to sally
to the hill-side with his sheep; and as soon as a
season for writing occurred, he stripped off coat and
waistcoat, like one preparing for a desperate deed,
and squared his elbows for the feat. In this way
his earliest poems were committed to paper. One
advantage of this slow and toilsome process was that
it afforded sufficient time for reflection and correction;
so that his MS., however uncouth, was not defiled
with those many erasures and alterations that so
sorely trouble the author, as well as perplex the
printers. The word once down was as immutable
as the laws of the Medes and Persians. The habit
thus established was of immense service to Hogg
when he acquired greater facility in penmanship,
and to this perhaps we may attribute the ready
accuracy he afterwards acquired, both in prose and
verse, and the numerous productions which he was
enabled to give to the world in the midst of his other
avocations.

It was now full time that Hogg should have higher
models than Ettrick ballads, and better judges than
the rude peasantry of the district. Accordingly,
after he had harped and preluded for a twelvemonth,
he was so fortunate as to hear of Robert Burns, who
had died only a year before. His informant was a
"half-daft man," who recited to him the whole of
Tarn O'Shanter, and told him that its author was
the sweetest poet that ever was born; that he was
now dead, and had left a place that would never be
filled. Hogg, who was so delighted with Tarn
O'Shanter that he quickly learned every line by
heart, had now full proof that there was still higher
poetry than his own, and a better poet than himself;
and his whole enthusiasm thenceforth was to become
the rival, or at least the worthy successor, of Robert
Bums. And why not? For had he not been bom,
of all days in the year, upon the 25th of January,
the very birthday of Robert Burns? And was he
not, in a great measure, an uneducated and self-
taught man, even as Bums was? And, moreover,
was not his own occupation of herding sheep every
whit as poetical as following the plough, if not even
more so? All this was such proof demonstrative,

that he never afterwards seems to have lost sight of
the hope that the Ettrick Shepherd would at last
become as famed as the Ayrshire Plougliman. In
other individuals such soaring ambition is not only
kept a secret from the world, but as much as possible
from their own hearts also; but with James Hogg
there never was such concealment. He uttered
what he felt, so that those who loved were often
compelled to laugh at him, and reckon him not
only the simplest of poets, but the most vainglorious
of poetical simpletons. For this, however, he cared
very little, while he felt within himself that new-born
ardent enthusiasm which, he judged, would cany
him far, even though it should fall short of the
mark. And in this he was right; for if he did not
become wholly a Burns, he still distanced others as
far as he was himself distanced by his prototype.

The first publication of Hogg was a song and no-
thing more — but it was such a song as the best of
our poets would not have been ashamed of Such
was the general suffrage, by the high popularity
which this patriotic lay, called Donald 1\I Donald,
attained, and continued to hold for years. It ap-
peared in l8cx3, in consequence of Napoleon's threat-
ened invasion; and, while it denounced all manner
of calamity and disaster upon the intmder — which,
luckily, were not brought to the test — it kindled,
wherever it was sung, such an ardent spirit of patriot-
ism as Alcaeus himself would have longed to second.

In the following year he made a still more intrepid
plunge into authorship. Having come to Edinburgh
with a flock of sheep for sale, and being encumbered
with several days of intei'val, he resolved to spend
the time in writing out such of his compositions as
he could most readily remember, and publishing them
in the form of a poetical pamphlet. He transcribed
them accordingly, placed them in the hands of a
publisher, and then retired to the Forest; where his
production afterwards followed him, unrevised and
uncorrected, with not a few blunders gratuitously
added by the printer. This was but a sorry com-
mencement; and like many poets after their first
work appears, his lucubrations seemed in his own
eyes so inferior in the form of a published book, that
he wished them cancelled and annihilated. But the
press had clutched them, and their recall was too
late.

Soon after this commencement, Hogg, impatient
of the narrow circumstances within which he was
hampered, and conscious that he was fitted for some-
thing better, resolved to amend his fortunes by
migrating either to the Highlands or the Hebrides,
and finding occupation as the superintendent of an
extensive sheep-farm. But, strongly recommended
though he was, especially by Sir Walter (then Mr.)
Scott, who had thus early recognized a kindred
genius in the Shepherd, the attempt was unsuccess-
ful; and poor Hogg, on returning home, lost all the
money he still possessed, and that, too, in the short
space of a week. Something was needful to be done
immediately; and in this strait he was advised, by
his steadfast friend Sir Walter Scott, to publish a
volume of poetry. The materials were already at
hand; for Hogg, dissatisfied with the imitations of
the ancient ballads which Scott had published in the
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, had made several
attempts of the same kind himself, which were highly
estimated. It is worthy of remark, by the way, that
the three great poets of Scotland — Scott, Hogg, and
Allan Cunningham — commenced their poetical career
not upon the refinements of the modem school, but
the rough spirit-stirring songs of shepherds and moss-
troopers. Hogg's collection was soon in readiness;
and on reaching Edinburi/h Scott introduced him to

268

TAMES HOGG.

Constable, by whom the vohime was published,
under the title of the Mountain BarJ. By this
work, which, notwithstanding the roujjhness of a still
uncultivated mind, iio^sessed indications of great ori-
ginality and poetical merit, and by a prose work
which he produced about the same period, being an
Essay on Sluep, Hogg cleared the sum of /300.

It was at this time, and, we believe, during this
visit to Edinburgh in search of a publisher, that
Scott, who admircil the genius of Hogg, and was
amused with his rough-spun simplicity, invited him
to dinner in Castle Street, where a party, admirers
of the Mountain BarJ, were assembled to meet with
its most singular author. Hogg arrived, but in the
dusty shepherd costume in which he had attended
the cattle-market, and with hands embrowned with
the processes of recent sheep-smearing. In this state
he entered the drawing-room: —

" Gentles, mcthinks you frown :
And wherefore g.ize this goodly conip.-iny :
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some comet, or unusual prodigy?"

But Hogg does not appear to have disturbed himself
with their astonishment: he had made up his mind
to be a finished courtier by imitating the lady of the
house. Mrs. Scott, who was in a delicate state of
health, was reclining upon a sofa; upon which Hogg,
faithful to his fair exemplar, threw himself in the
same attitude upon a sofa opposite, to the great dismay
of the lady, who saw her fine chintz crushed and
soiled beneath its unwonted burden. During the
dinner he delighted the company by his pithy and
original conversation, his Doric breadth of dialect,
his stories and songs, which were all produced as
from a long-imprisoned fountain. But as the con-
versation warmed and the wine circulated, he became
less and less mindful of the pattern of manners he
had adopted, and more completely at every step the
unsophisticated boon companion of Ettrick Forest;
and after addressing his host successively as "Mr.
Scott," "Sherra," "Scott," "Walter," and "Wattie,"
he wound up the climax at supper, by hailing Mrs.
Scott with the familiar title of "Charlotte."

The Ettrick Shepherd, as we have already seen,
had now made considerable advance in his resem-
blance to Robert Burns. When his hour was at the
darkest he had published a volume of poetry that
raised him at once from poverty to comparative
wealth. He had established for himself a poetical
reputation, and obtained an entry into the literary
society of the capital. But, unfortunately, the parallel
was not to end here, for, like Burns, he was to lose
the fortune which his genius had created almost as
rapidly as it had been won. Master of the enormous
sumof ;^30O, Hogg seems to have thought that it could
accomplish everything; and accordingly he rushed
headlong into agricultural speculations, to more than
tentimes theamount, and soon found himself penniless
and in debt. After struggling, or rather flcnmdering
on, impeded at every step by the new character he had
acquired, of a man that could win but not keep — a
character most unfavourable in the eyes of his coun-
trymen— Hogg cast about for other occupation. But
his clioice was more poetical than pnideiit: he wished
to obtain a commission in a militia regiment. This
was about the year 1808, when our captains of militia
were menaced with something more serious than
the annoyances of pipe-clay and parades; for an inva-
sion was imminent, and it was thought that Hogg,
although a poet and admirable writer of war-songs,
was more likely, in a charge of bayonets, to play the
part of a Horace than a Tyrtceus. Such, at least,
was the suspicion of Sir Walter Scott, a good judge
in such matters, whose influence Hogg solicited in

this affair, but who endeavoured to dissuade his
friend by representing the smallness of pay attached
to a militia ensign's commission. Disappointed in
this, his next ambition was a place in the excise; but
although in this case Scott exerted himself with all
his influence, the Ettrick Shepherd soon found that
he had as little chance of becoming an exciseman as
a soldier. It was perhaps as well for him that this
further assimilation to Burns was not accomplished.
Thus frustrated in all his efforts, Hogg now re-
solved to embrace authorship as a profession. It
was his last resource, for nothing remained to him
but his pen, and he had already tried its efficacy.
Full of this purpose, he threw his plaid over his
shoulders, turned his back on Ettrick Forest, and
entered Edinburgh as if he had dropped from the
clouds. Prudence, experience, tact, a graceful con-
ciliatory manner, and money-making money-saving
habits — in each and all of these, indeed, he was
wofully wanting; all that he brought to the tug of
life, which was now to begin in earnest, was high
enthusiastic genius and indomitable perseverance.
He was now at the age of thirty-eight, and therefore
too old to study the graces, or unlearn the habits of
his former life. His first application was to journal-
ists, publishers, editors of magazines, and booksellers;
but after going the round in quest of literary occupa-
tion, he found himself rebuffed at every point. At
last he resolved to try a volume of poetry; but so
much had he discontinued for years the practice of
verse-making, that he was obliged to draw for mate-
rials upon his early compositions. The result was
the Forest Minstrel, a collection of songs, of which
two-thirds were his own; but as they were almost
wholly the crude productions of his early days, they
acquired little popularity, and brought him no profit
— if we are to except the kindness of the Countess of
Dalkeith, to whom they were dedicated, who sent
him a present of one hundred guineas through the
hands of Sir Walter Scott, and afterwards befriended
him still more substantially when she became Duchess
of Buccleugh. Chagrined at the bad success of his
Forest Minstrel, he resolved to abandon publishers
as the enemies of all genius, and turn to the printers;
but these he found as stiffnecked as the former class,
for they would not print his lucubrations without the
name of a bookseller as publisher on the title-page.
His proposal also was little calculated to win them,
for it was to publish a weekly newspaper called the
Spy, devoted to belles-lettres, morals, and criticism.
Such a journal, and by such a man! — the whole trade
cried out against it. At length, in his researches,
he stumbled upon an obscure bookseller who under-
took the office of printing and publishing, and the
Spy in due time came forth; but its language by
the third or fourth number waxed so unruly and
indecorous, that many of the subscribers sent in their
resignation. But Hogg, who was stifily confident in
his own good intentions, and unable to comprehend
what he reckoned their unreasonable fastidiousness,
persisted in his delinquency, until he managed to
drive all the subscribers out of the field, and bring
the Spy to an untimeous end before it had lived and
fretted for a short twelvemonth.

Hogg had now plunged into the unfathomed sea
of authorship, and found that he must sink or swim
as the case might be. He still felt his deficiency for
a literary life, and laboured earnestly to amend it;
but as he was too old for a regular training ab initio,
he endeavoured to attain his end by a short cut, and
for this purpose attended a forum, or debating society,
that had been set up by a few aspiring young men in
Edinburgh, who opened their meetings to the public
at the rate of sixpence a-head as the price of admis-

JAMES HOGG.

269

sion. Here the Shepherd, who entered with his
wonted ardour into the work, became a frequent
speaker; and his strange medley of broad Scotch and
homely quaint phraseology, coml)ined with the rich
original ideas that flashed from him at every move-
ment, made him a wondrous favourite with his audi-
tors, who laughed, wondered at, and admired this
most singular orator all in one breath. lie ever
afterwards retained a grateful recollection of the
benefits he derived from this kind of schooling, and
declared that without these weekly lessons he never
could have succeeded as he did. As this was only
preliminary to something better, he now set himself
in good earnest to produce a work that should sur[)ass
all he had yet written, and give him a place among
the poets of the day — an aim that was not a little
strengthened by the success of Scott and Byron, whom
he secretly hoped to rival. As on former occasions,
he had lying beside him sundry ballads and tales, the
composition of his former days, which he was unwill-
ing to lose; and in the plan of his new production
these were to be interwoven with new materials into
the form of a consecutive story. A few months of
application sufficed to complete the work, and the
result was the Qicee/i^s IVake. To find a publisher
was now his task. He repaired to head-quarters at
once, by applying to Mr. Constable; but " the Crafty,"
who no doubt was inundated with similar applica-
tions, and was too wise to buy a pig in a poke, re-
fused to have anything to do in the affair until he
had seen the manuscript. This reasonable request
the poet refused, with "What skill have you about
the merits of a book?" "It may be so, Hogg," re-
plied the Jupiter Tonans of Scottish publishers, "but
I know as well how to sell a book as any man, which
should be some concern of yours, and I know how
to buy one too." Another publisher was ultimately
found, and in the spring of 1813 the Qiwc'ii's IVake
appeared.

Of this beautiful poem, universally known and ad-
mired as it has been and still continues to be, nothing
can now be said, whether in criticism or laudation,
that has not already been said a hundred times over.
It has appropriately taken its permanent place in
British poetry, where it promises to be as highly
valued, and to last as long, as anything that has been
produced by Campbell, Scott, or Byron. On its ap-
pearance the whole reading public were struck with
astonishment. That tales so striking, that pictures
so full of ethereal beauty and grandeur, and a versifi-
cation so graceful and musical, should have been the
produce of an uneducated shepherd ! — it was one of
those literary phenomena which occur only at rare
intervals, for the perplexity of criticism, and the sub-
version of its authority and rule. By what strange
power or chance had such a man been able to de-
scribe the fairy queen and her glittering train riding
along to the music of their own silver bells; or the
unearthly voyages and revels of the witch of Fife; or
that vast pillared temple of nature, Staffa, amidst the
deep eternal anthem of its waves; or the phantom-
seer Columba, bewailing the iniquities of his once
hallowed isle, and dooming its sinful abbot and
monks to the ruin they had merited ! But above all
these, the tale of " Kilmeny" bore the pre-eminence;
for in it the poet's excellences were concentrated,
whether in the wild and wonderful of conception or
beauty of execution; while the music of the language
arrested the ear, as did the rich compositions of Weber
when his Dlt Freischiitz and Oberon first broke upon
the public.

By the publication of the Qiurn's JVake its author
was recognized not only as a veritable poet, but one
of the highest order; and as it went through five edi-

tions in a short time, it tended greatly to relieve his
straitened circumstances. At this time also he was
in the practice of contributing articles to the Scottish
Revieii), a quarterly periodical of some literary repu-
tation; and on the appearance of the Isle of Palms,
by John Wilson, then little known to fame, Hogg,
who was delighted with the striking incidents and.
rich imagery of the poem, wrote a eulogistic criticism,
which was published in the Keinciv. But amidst so
much warm-hearted commendation which he doled
out, it was necessary to find fault somewhere; and,
accordingly, he fastened upon the incident of the
hero and heroine having been sent in an open boat
over some hundred leagues of ocean, without the
slightest mention of any victualling for such a voyage.
Had Hogg but read a romance or two of the chival-
rous ages, he would have known how easily people
can live without food, as well as be hacked to pieces
without dying. He was impatient to come into con-
tact with the talented author of the poem, and as no
one was at hand to introduce him, he introduced
himself. On this occasion he quoted once more
what he thought the crying grievance of the Isle of
Palms, with "Ye ken that it was arrant nonsense to
set a man and wife awa sailing ower the sea wi' nae-
thing to fill their stamach but the cauld wind. You
should most certainly ha'e put some o' provisions in
the boat." "O, sir," replied the future Christopher
North, with a look of great gravity, while inwardly
the cockles of his heart were dancing with laughter,
"they were on the water only a single night; and,
moreover, let me tell you, filling the belly is scarcely
one of the poetical occupations. You know, sir,
t/uy }nay have had bread and cheese in their pockets
without my taking the trotible of mentioning that in
the poem!" This was perfectly satisfactory to his
unsophisticated hearer, who replied, "Faith, I dare
say you're right after a'; but, do you ken, the thing
never struck me, man?"

Before proceeding with the literary labours of
James Hogg, it may be as well to notice an incident
characteristic of so singular a man, in which he en-
deavoured to re-establish himself in life as a farmer
— the department for which he thought himself best
fitted. For this, as in most of his other attempts,
patronage was necessary; and he bethought himself
of the Duchess of Buccleuch, whose kindness and
condescension he had more than once experienced
already. Having screwed up his courage to the point
of requesting, he made his application to her grace
in the following strange epistle: —

" To her Grace the Dtichess of Buccleuch, Dalkeith

Palace. Foiivarded by Messrs. Grieve and Scott,

Hatters, Edinburgh.

"May it Please your Grace, — I have often
grieved you by my applications for this and that.
I am sensible of this, for I have had many instances
of your wishes to be of service to me, could you have
known what to do for that purpose. But there are
some eccentric characters in the world, of whom no
person can judge or know wdiat will prove beneficial,
or what may prove their bane. I have again and
again received of your grace's private bounty, and
though it made me love and respect you the more,
I was nevertheless grieved at it. It was never your
grace's money that I wanted, but the honour of your
countenance ; indeed, my heart could never yield to
the hope of being patronized by any house save that
of Buccleuch, whom I deemed Ijound to cherish
every plant that indicated anything out of the common
way on the braes of Ettrick and Yarrow.

"I know you will be thinking that this long pre-
lude is to end with a request. No, madam ! I have

JAMES HOGG.

taken the resolution of never making another request.
I will, however, tell you a story, which is, I believe,
founded on a fact: —

"There is a small (arm at the head of a water
called . . . possessed by a mean fellow named
... A third of it has been taken off, and laid into
another farm; the remainder is as yet unappropriated.
Xow, there is a certain poor bard, who has two old
parents, each of them upwards of eighty-four years
of age, and that bard has no house nor home to shelter
these poor parents in, or cheer the evening of their
lives. A single line from a certain very great and very-
beautiful lady, to a certain Mr. Riddle,* would in-
sure that small f)endicle to the bard at once. But
she will grant no such thing ! I appeal to your
grace if she is not a very bad lady that? I am your
grace's ever obliged and grateful,

"James Hogg,
"The Ettrick Shepherd."

"Ettrick Bank, March 17, 18 14."

This curious application, which the duchess re-
ceived only a few months before her death, remained
unanswered — not from remissness, however, but the
fear of "seeing herself in print," should she vouch-
safe a reply. She sent the letter to Sir Walter Scott,
requesting him to inform his poetical friend of the
duke's unwillingness to displace a tenant, and assure
him withal of her wish to serve him whenever a suit-
able opportunity occurred. On Scott's first visit to
the duke after the death of the duchess, the case of
Hogg was introduced, and his grace feelingly said,
"I must now consider this poor man's case as her
leg^y. " The ultimate result of this resolution was
the establishment of Hogg, three years afterwards,
in a snug farm on Altrive Lake, at a merely nominal
rent, where he might have every opportunity of
securing comfort and independence.

In the meantime, however, it was necessary for
Hogg to bestir himself to keep poverty both from
hearth and door. Notwithstanding the fame of the
Queen s Wake, its publication was attended with so
many mischances, that the profits were inadequate
and at wide intervals. Besides, it must be remem-
bered that money, which can make to itself wings
even in the custody of the prudent, has its chances
of escape multiplied fifty-fold when in the keeping
of a poet, and such a poet as the Ettrick Shepherd,
whose knowledge of man and life was anything but
practical. In 1815 his Pilgrims of the Sun appeared.
But, notwithstanding its many powerful descriptions
and poetical passages, the reception which the pub-
lic gave to the work betokened disappointment: their
hopes had been raised so high by the Ifaie, that
anything short of it had little chance of success. In
America, however, it had a better reception, where
the sale of 10,000 copies extended the author's re-
putation, but without bettering his finances. A
rebuff like this would have deterred most authors;
but Hogg had such an implicit faith in hisown genius,
that he believed himself to be right in his estimate
of the poem, and the whole literary world in the
wrong, and that the publishers were in a conspiracy
to arrest the progress of the Pilgrims. This was
soon after followed by Mador of the Moor, a poem
in the Spenserian stanza, and which he reckoned his
masterpiece of versification. But here again the
world outvoted him, for Mador of the Moor was
reckoned inferior even to its predecessor — a judg-
ment which has never as yet been reversed.

"My next literary adventure," says Hogg in one

' This was Major Riddell, chamberlain to the Duke of Buc-
deuch.

of his autobiographies, "was the most extravagant
of any. I took it into my head that I would collect
a poem from ever)' living author in Britain, and pub-
lish them in a neat and elegant volume, by which
I calculated I might make my fortune." It was easy
to ask, but to obtain such a favour was the difficulty;
for the best poets refused a contribution of any kind,
while those of a second or third rate, who complied,
sent what was little better than the dregs of their
ink-horns. Of these refusals, that of Sir Walter Scott
especially incensed him ; and in an angry letter which
he wrote to the great minstrel on the occasion, he
changed the prefatory "dear sir" into "damned sir,"
and ended with "yours with disgust, &c." A quar-
rel of some weeks' standing was the consequence
between the reckless, hot-headed, but warm-hearted
Shepherd, and equally warm-hearted but wiser friend
and patron. At length, finding that he could not
obtain materials, or at least such as were fitted for
his purpose, Hogg resolved to create them. With
great glee he accordingly set to work to produce such
an imitation of each distinguished poet as might be
mistaken for an original, and frolicked through this
arduous task as if it had been capital fun. The
whole series of imitations, except a ver)' small pro-
portion, was written in three weeks; and when com-
pleted, the volume was published under the title of
The Poetic Mirror, or Living Bards of Britain. It
was so successful that the first edition w-as sold in
si.x weeks. Still, it must be owned, that it never
attained the same universal popularitj- as the Rejected
Addresses, notwithstanding its superior poetical merit
to the latter production. The imitation was, in most
cases, too exaggerated to pass current, so that the
public lost the lu.xurj- of being cheated. Of this he
was himself partly conscious, and says, "I was led
to think that, had the imitations of Wordsworth been
less a caricature, the work might have passed, for a
season at least, as the genuine productions of the
authors themselves whose names were prefixed to the
several poems."

In the year after the appearance of the Poetic
Mirror, Hogg published two volumes under the title
of Dramatic Tales. Among his poetical aspirations
had been that of producing something for the stage;
but, in common with most candidates for such honour,
he had been repelled by the difficulties of access to
the green-room, so that "'sdeath I'U print it!" the
only alternative of a disappointed dramatic poet, was
adopted by the Shepherd. But the drama was not
his forte, notwithstanding his own opinion to the
contrar)'; and the cold reception of his plays by the
reading public so incensed him, that, with the ex-
ception of an occasional idle song to beguile a leisure
hour, he resolved to write poetry no more. Still,
write he must, for his necessities required it, and
therefore he turned to prose. Like Sir Walter Scott,
he would become a novelist, and perhaps succeed as
well as Sir Walter had done. He accordingly pro-
duced The Braiunie of Bodsbeck and other Tlz/ey, which
was published in two volumes. Unfortunately for
the "Browmie," the ground which it entered was so
fully occupied by Old Mortality, that there was little
chance of its obtaining fair play, even had its merits
been greater than they were ; and although it advo-
cated the cause of the aspersed Covenanters, it was
regarded after all as a humble and unsuccessful imi-
tation of the Great Unknown, who was then in the
ascendency. Hogg, in his own vindication, has told
us that the Bro^u.'nie of Bodsbeck was written consider-
ably prior to the publication of Old Mortality, and
might have appeared a year before the latter but for
the obstinacy of the publisher, whose taste it did not
happen to suit.

JAMES HOGG.

271

The next attempt of Hogg was to collect the Jaco-
bite Relics of Scotland for putlicalion, a measure which
had been proposed to the Highland Society of Lon-
don by its noble chairman the Duke of Sussex.
Of his quest on this new track Sir Walter Scott thus
writes in one of his letters: "Hogg is here, busy
with his Jacobite songs. I wish he may get hand-
somely through, for he is profoundly ignorant of
history, and it is an awkward thing to read in order
that you may write. I give him all the help I can,
but he sometimes poses me. For instance, he came
yesterday, open mouth, inquiring what great dignified
clergj'man had distinguished himself at Killiecrankie
— not exactly the scene where one would have ex-
pected a churchman to shine — and I found with some
difficulty that he had mistaken Major-general Canon,
called, in Kennedy's Latin song, Canonicus Gallo-
vidlensis, for the canon of a cathedral." This was
ridiculous enough; but we suspect there are hundreds
in Scotland who have passed through the high-
school, and, it may be, the college to boot, who
would have fallen into the same mistake. This
ignorance of Latin and history was not the only
difficulty that Hogg encountered, for he found the
Highland peasantry themselves very jealous about
giving up their old tokens of Jacobitism to a stran-
ger, fearing that they might be manufactured into
a matter of high-treason. But he persevered stoutly
in his task ; and the first volume of the work was
brought out in 1819, and the second in 1821. To
his industry as a collector was also added his own
native poetical talent, for some of the best songs
were his own composition ; and nothing delighted
him so much as the mistake of the Edi)ihin-gh Re-
view, when, in its sweeping condemnation of these
Jacobite Relics, it made a most favourable exception
in behalf of Donald M'Gillavry — the produce of his
own pen. Hogg, who was wont to praise or blame
himself as unscrupulously and frankly as if he had
been speaking of some neutral person, regarded the
completion of this work with no little complacency,
and has said of it in one of his autobiographies, "I
am sure I produced two volumes of Jacobite Relics,
such as no man in Scotland or England could have
produced but myself." Between the inter\-al of the
first and second volume of the Relics, he published,
in 1820, his Winter Evening Tales, the greater part
of which he had written in early life, when he was a
shepherd among the mountains. These tales, though
written under such circumstances, are among the
best of his prose productions; and none who read
them can fail to be struck with the life-like reality
and air of truthfulness with which they are pervaded.
Let the event narrated be however absurd or impos-
sible, the reader is compelled to swallow it; for while
the author writes as if he were deponing upon oath,
and descends to the minutest circumstantiality, he
goes onward with such earnestness as leaves little
room for doubt or disputation.

We have already mentioned the singular manner
in which Hogg obtained his little farm at Altrive,
upon a merely nominal rent, which, by the way, was
never exacted. One would have thought that here,
even in spite of the precariousness of authorship, he
would have been able to seat himself in comfort
under his own vine and fig-tree. But he soon showed
that while he had too little prudence to be a money-
making poet, he had too much genius to be a plod-
ding successful farmer. He removed to his farm in
181 7, and after building upon it a handsome cottage,
he took to himself a partner of his home and his
cares in 1820, when he had reached the ripe age of
forty-eight. After his marriage, finding the farm
of Altrive Lake too small for his wants or ambition,

he took on lease the larger adjoining one of Mount
Benger; but although the profits of his past literary
labours enabled him to expend ;i^iooo in stocking
it, he soon found that this was not half enough. He
therefore encountered such difficulties at the outset
as obliged him to renew his literary labours, and
continue his dependence upon publishers. Com-
mencing now the trade of novelist in good earnest,
he wrote, on the spur of the moment, the 7/u-ee
Perils of Man, viz. War, Women, and Witchcraft,
a strange medley of extravagant incident and beauti-
ful description; and soon after a similar work in three
volumes, entitled the Three Perils of Women. Be-
fore these works were published, the coronation of
George IV. occurred, and Sir Walter Scott, think-
ing that a memorial of this august spectacle from the
pen of the Ettrick Shepherd would be a rich origi-
nality, and might produce him a golden requital,
solicited and obtained a place for Hogg, as well as
himself, in the Hall and Abbey of Westminster, to
witness the coronation. With this permission was
coupled an invitation from Lord Sidmouth to dine
with him after the solemnity, when the two poets
would meet the Duke of York and a few other Jaco-
bites. Here was an opportunity of princely patron-
age such as few peasant-poets have enjoyed ; and
Scott accordingly announced the affair to Hogg,
requesting him to join him at Edinburgh, and set
off with him to the great metropolis. But poor
Hogg I — he wrote "with the tear in his eye," as he
declared, to say that his taking such a journey was
impossible — and why? because the great yearly
Border fair, held in St. Boswell's Green, in Rox-
burghshire, happened at the same period, and he
could not absent himself from the meeting ! In the
following year (1822) the king's visit to Edinburgh
occurred; and Hogg, either infected with the national
epidemic, or to vindicate his loyalty, that had slum-
bered so strangely at the time of the coronation,
produced a poetical welcome to the memorable
advent, entitled The Royal Jubilee, a Scottish Masqne.
As such courtly masques are but forced productions
at the best, that of the Shepherd was scarcely better
than the best laureate lays, if we except a few genuine
poetical touches here and there, such as royal favour
can seldom purchase. In speaking of this effusion,
the Shepherd Jiaively adds, "I got no money for it;
but I got what I held in higher estimation — his
majesty's thanks for this and my other loyal and
national songs. The note is written by Sir Robert
Peel, in his majesty's name, and I have preserved it
as a relic."

After this Hogg continued for several years to write
in prose and verse for the periodicals, "sometimes
receiving liberal payment," he tells us, "and some-
times none, just as the editor or proprietor felt dis-
posed." But the periodical to which he chiefly
adhered, and of which he had been one of the ori-
ginal founders, was Blackzvood^s Magazine. And
who that has read the jXoctes Ambrosiance can fail to
recollect the full portrait of the Shepherd given there
as he dressed and looked, as he thought, spoke, and
acted ; even as he ate, drank, and slept? Over-
charged the picture certainly was, and of this he
vehemently complained ; but still, how few have sat
to such a limner, and have received such justice,
where justice was most required? Still more reason-
ably he complained of the many sentiments attributed
to him which he never conceived, as well as the
tales and songs which he had never composed, al-
though they were given as his own in these widely-
admired Nodes. He now collected his own veritable
prose contributions to Blackwood, and published them
in two volumes, under the title of the She/herd's

272

JAMES HOGG JOHN HOLVBUSH.

Calendar — a work more vigorously written, and
which attained a higher popularity, than any of his
former prose productions.

But, in the meantime, what had become of the
Ettrick Shepherd's farming? The reader may well
conclude that all this authorship was either cause or
effect — that it either brought his farm to nought, or
was the desperate resource of utter failure in all his
agricultural endeavours. Both conjectures are but
too correct. His extensive connection with the liter-
ary society of Edinburgh, and the taste he had ac-
quired for popular laudation, made the occupations
of a farmer a perfect weariness to his heart, so that
he was more frequently to be found among the in-
tellectu.il throng of the metropolis than with the
ploughmen and shepherds of Mount Benger. Nor
was it better when he betook himself to his rural
home; for every idle tourist, every lion-hunter,
every wandering poet, ever}- effete or embryo scrib-
bler, must needs make a pilgrimage to the wonder-
ful poet of Altrive Lake ; and Hogg, whose heart
overflowed with hospitality, entertained them at his
board, and not only squandered upon them his hard-
won resources, but, what was more valuable, his time
also. It is not wonderful, therefore, that when his
lease of Mount Benger had expired, he found himself,
at the age of sixty, not a sixpence richer than when
he began the world. One resource was still in pro-
spect. It was now the fashion to bring out the well-
established works of our popular authors in reprints
of monthly volumes, by which plan the gleaning was
often more abundant than the original harvest ; and
Hogg resolved to avail himself, like others, of such
a promising opportunity. For this purpose he
entered into negotiation with a London publisher to
bring out a selection of his prose productions in
volumes ever}- two months, under the title of Altrive
Tales : and, to perfect the engagement, he resolved to
repair in person to the metropolis. This he did on
the I St of Januar}-, 1S32, when, for the first and last
time in his life, he who had appeared to the English
admirers of the Qmeri's Wake as a poetical myth, and
not an uneducated shepherd of real flesh and blood,
presented himself, in all his rustic simplicity and
reality, to the wondering coteries of London. It is
needless to add how he was welcomed and feted.
He was not only a lion, but such a lion as the whole
kingdom of Cockaigne had never been pri\41eged to
witness ; and they could not sufficiently admire the
whole man, combining, as he did, such warmth of
heart and richness of thought, with such genuine un-
varnished simplicity of speech, appearance, and bear-
ing. He was a real shepherd after all — and he was
the Shepherd. But in spite of all this flatter}- and
welcome with which he was received by wonder-
loving London during a three months' stay, his ill
luck, which abode with him to the last, made his
coming a mere holiday visit, and nothing more. As
soon as the first volume of the Altrh-e Tales appeared
the publisher failed, and the work was stopped, so
that, with hopes utterly blighted in a matter upon
which he had placed so much reliance, he fell back
upon the precarious resource of magazine writing.
Two years after he published a volume of lay ser-
mons, or rather essays, which issued from a London
press, but brought him slender remuneration. A
third attempt, which he made the following year
('835), was the publication of the Montrose Tales,
in three volumes. This was also published by the
same luckless bookseller in whose hands the Altrh-e
Tales had become bankrupt ; but a fresh insolvency,
only eight months after the new work had appeared,
sent the author's hopes of profit to the winds. Cer-
tainly none but a genuine child of nature to the last

— one holding to the ver}- end of his days the confid-
ing faith of infancy and the unexperienced simplicity
of boyhood, in spite of all that had come and gone
— could have so failed, and failed continually ! But
such was Hogg ; and if before a bargain he neither
doubted nor suspected, so, after its failure, he neither
desponded nor despaired. He was always elate
with cheerfulness and hope, and ready for new ad-
venture.

But the most elastic bow, however enduring, must
finally yield ; and Hogg, who had now reached his
si.xty-fourth year, and enjoyed such a state of robust
health, actiNity, and \'igour as falls to the lot of few
poets, combined with a constitutional cheerfulness
of temperament, such as the most fortunate might
have envied, was to close his eventfiil career. Much
as he had written, the wonder had continued to the
last that one so educated and circumstanced could
write so well. His closing days, which at first gave
no premonition of their result, found him employed
in compiling a small volume of sacred poetn-, while
his walks in the moors, amidst the fresh heather-bells
and the bleating of flocks, made him feel as if the
season of decay were still distant. But his com-
plaint, which was an affection of the liver, so rapidly
increased, that, after an illness of four weeks, he died
at his cottage of Altrive Lake, on the Yarrow, on
the 2 1 St of November, 1835, lea\-ing a widow and
five children dependent upon the gratitude of a coun-
try whose scenes he has described, and whose worth
he has eulogized so eloquently. * His works, of
which we have not enumerated the full amount in
poetr}- and prose, have since been published at Glas-
gow, entire, in eleven volumes, and subsequently in
two large volumes of double-columned royal octavo.
In i860 a public monument was erected to his me-
mor}- on a picturesque spot midway between the
Loch of the Lowes and Sl Mary's Loch, where the
figure of the poet is represented as seated upon an
oak root, with his faithful dog Hector couched at
his feet Thus passed away a man whose name will
continue to be coeval with that of Ettrick or the
Yarrow, and whom Scotland at large, as long as
she cherishes the remembrance of her past national
genius, will never willingly forget.

HOLYBTJSH, John, a celebrated mathematician

and astronomer, better known by the Latin terms
De Sacrobosco, or De Sacrobusto, occasionally also re-
ceiving the vernacular appellations of Holywood and
Hallifix, and by one writer barbarously named
Sacerbiischius. The period when this eminent man
flourished is not known with an}thing approaching
even to the usual certainty in such cases, and it is
matter of doubt whether he existed in the 13th or
14th centur}-. Nor is his birthplace less dubious;
as in many other instances during the same period,
England, Scotland, and Ireland have contended for
the honour — the two former with almost equal suc-
cess, the last with apparently no more claim than
the absence of certain e\-idence of his belonging to
any other particular nation. AVhen a man has ac-
quired a fame apart from his own country, and in
any pursuit not particularly characteristic of or con-
nected with his native land, the establishment of a
certainty of the exact spot of his birth is of little
consequence, and when easily ascertained, the fact
is only useful for the purpose of pointing out the
particular branch of biography (as that subject is
generally divided) to which the indi\-idual belongs,
and thus preventing omission and confusion. Enter-

• After a bpse of nearly twenty years, the w-idow of the

Ettrick Shepherd was peQiioned by government.

JOIIX IIOLYBUSII SIR EVERARD HOME.

273

taining such an opinion, we sliall just glance at the
arguments ad. luce J by the writers of the two nations
in defence of their respective claims, and not pre-
tending to decide a matter of such obscurity, con-
sider it a sufficient reason why he should be a fit
subject for commemoration in this work, that no
decision can be come to betwixt the claimants. It
will be very clear, where there are doubts as to the
century in which he lived, that he is not mentioned
by any authors who did not exist at least a century
or two later. In an edition of one of his works,
published at Lyons in 1606, it is said, " Patria fuit
quK nunc Anglia Insula, olim Albion et Brettania
appellata." Although the apparent meaning of this
sentence inclines towards an opinion that our author
was an Englishman, the sentence has an aspect of
considerable ignorance of the divisions of Britain,
and confounds the England of later times with the
Albion or Britannia of the Romans, which included
England and Scotland. Leland and Camden vindi-
cate his English birth on the ground that John of
Halifax in Yorkshire forms a translation (though it
must be admitted not a very apt one) of Joannes de
Sacrobosco. On the other hand Dempster scouts
the theory of Leland with considerable indignation,
maintaining that Halifax is a name of late invention,
and that the mathematician derived his designation
from the monastery of Holywood in Nithsdale, an
establishment of sufficient antiquity to have admitted
him within its walls. M'Kenzie repeats the asser-
tions of Dempster with a few additions, stating that
after having remained for some years in the monas-
tery, he v.^ent to Paris, and was admitted a member of
the university there. "Upon the 5th of June, in the
year 1221," Sibbald in his Manuscript History of
Scottish Literature^ asserts, that besides residing in
the monastery of Holywood, he was for some time a
fellow-student of the monks in Dryburgh, and like-
wise mentions, what M 'Kenzie has not had the can-
dour to allude to, and Dempster has sternly denied,
that he studied the higher branches of philosophy
and mathematics at the university of Oxford. Pre-
suming Holybush to have been a Scotsman, it is not
improbable that such a circumstance as his having
studied at Oxford might have mduced his continental
commentators to denominate him an Englishman.
M'Kenzie tells us that he entered the university of
Paris "under the syndic of the Scots nation;" for
this he gives us no authority, and we are inclined not
only to doubt the assertion, but even the circum-
stance that at that early period the Scottish nation
had a vote in the university of Paris, disconnected
with that of England — at all events, the historians
of literature during that period are not in the habit
of mentioning a Scottish nation or syndic, and in-
stead of the faculty of arts being divided, as M'Kenzie
will have it, "into four nations, France, Scotland,
Picardy, and Normandy," it is usually mentioned as
divided into France, Britain, Picardy, and Nor-
mandy. That Holybush was admitted under a
Scottish syndic was not a circumstance to be omitted
by Bulasus, from his elaborate and minute History of
the University of Paris, where the mathematician is
unequivocally described as having been an English-
man. There cannot be any doubt that Holybush
became celebrated at the university for his mathe-
matical labours ; that he was constituted professor
of or lecturer on that science; that many of the first
scholars of France came to his school for instruction;
and that if he was not the first professor of the
mathematics in Paris, he was at least the earliest
person to introduce a desire for following that branch

' Hist. Lit. Gentis Scot. MS. Adv. Lib. p. 164.
VOL. II.

of science. M'Kenzie states that he died in the year
1256, as appears from his tombstone. The author
of the Histoiy of the University of Paris, referring
with better means of knowledge to the same tomb-
stone, which he says was to be seen at the period
when he writes, places the date of his death at the
year 1340. The same well-informed author men-
tions that the high respect paid to his abilities and
integrity prompted the university to honour him
with a public funeral, and many demonstrations of
grief On the tombstone already referred to was en-
graved an astrolabe, surrounded by the following
inscription : —

"De Sacrobosco qui computista Joannes,
Tempora discrevit, jacet hie a tempore raptus.
Tempora qui sequeris, memor esto quod morieris;
Si miseres, plora, miserans pro me precor ora."

The most celebrated work of Holy^vood was a
treatise on the Sphere, discussing in the first part the
form, motion, and surface of the earth; in the second
those of the heavenly bodies, and, as was customary
before the more full revival of philosophy, mingling
his mathematics and astronomy with metaphysics and
magic. Although the discoveries displayed in this
work must be of great importance, it is impossible to
give any account of their extent, as the manuscripts
of the author seem to have lain dormant till the end
of the 15th or beginning of the 1 6th century, when
they were repeatedly published, with the comments
and additions of able mathematicians, who mingled
the discoveries of Holybush with those which had
been made since his death. The earliest edition of
this work appears to have been that published at
Padua in 1475, entitled Francisci Capuani Expositio
Sphcrrce jfoannis a Sacrobosco. In 1485 appeared
Sphcera cum Theoricis Ptcrbackii et Disptitationibus
Johannis Regiomontani contra Cremonensitim Delir-
amenta in Planetariim Theoricas, being a mixture of
the discoveries of Holywood with those of George
Purbach (so called from the name of a town in Ger-
many in which he was bom) and Regiomontanus,
whose real name was Muller, two celebrated astrono-
mers and mathematicians of the 15th century. During
the same year there appears to have been published a
Commentary on Holywood by Cichus Ascolanus. In
1507 appeared an edition for the use of the university
of Paris, with a commentary by John Bonatus. In
1547 an edition was published at Antwerp, with
figures very respectably executed, and without the
name of any commentator. Among his other com-
mentators were Morisanus, Clavius, Vinetus, and
many others of high name, whom it were useless here
to enumerate. Some late authors have said that
Melancthon edited his Computus Ecclesiastictis ; of
this edition we have not observed a copy in any
library or bibliography, but that great man wrote
a preface to the Sphccra, prefixed to an edition pub-
lished at Paris in 1550. Besides these two works,
Holybush wrote De Algorismo, and De Katione Anni.
Dempster also mentions a Breziarium Juris, which
either has never existed or is now lost. M'Kenzie
mentions a treatise De A/gorismo, and on Ptolemy's
Astrolabe, fragments of which existed in MS. in the
Bodleian Library. In the catalogue of that institu-
tion the former is mentioned, but not the latter.

HOME, Sir Everard, Bart. This eminent
surgeon was a descendant of the ancient border
farnily of that name, and son of Robert Home, Esq.,
of Greenlaw Castle, county of Berwick, by Mary,
daughter of Colonel Hutchinson. Sir Everard was
bom in 1756. His father having been an eminent
and successful medical practitioner, he emulated the
paternal example ; and studied surgery under the

53

274

IIEXRV HOME.

celebrated John Hunter, who was his brulher-in-law.
Under such an instructor an ordinary ))ui)il was cer-
tain to surpass the general averaj^e in the knowlcd[,'e
of his profession; and this was more especially the
case with Everard Home, who possessed talents of
no common kind. Having completed his prepar-
atory studies, he commenced practice as a surgeon
in London, where his success was almost without a
rival for more tlian forty years. On January 2d,
1813, George IV'., while prince-regent, raised him
to the rank of a baronet by patent, and also conferred
on him the ai>pomtment of sergeant-surgeon, an
office which was continued to him by William IV.
Sir Everard was also surgeon to Chelsea Hospital,
and honorary professor of anatomy and surgery to
the Royal College of Surgeons, of which college he
was moreover the president for many years. After
a long and active life in his profession, by which he
won both fortune and honourable distinction, he died
in his apartments at Chelsea College on the 31st of
August, 1S32, at the age of seventy-six. In 1792 he
had married Jane, daughter and co-heiress of the
Rev. Dr. Tunstall, by whom he had two sons and
four daughters, and^was succeeded in his title by his
eldest son, Sir James, who was a captain in the
royal navy.

Besides being a distinguished medical practitioner,
Sir Everard Home acquired reputation by his pro-
fessional writings, and was author of the following
works: — Practical Obso-oations on the Treatment of
Ulcers on the Legs, considered as a Braiich of Mili-
tary Surgery, 1797. — Observations on Cancer, 1805.
— Practical Obse?i'alions on the Treatment of Stricture
in the Urethra and in the (Esophagus, 3 vols. 8vo. —
Lectures on Comparative Anatomy, in 2 vols. 410, in
which are explained the preparations in the Ilun-
terian collection, illustrated by 171 engravings. —
Ilunterian Oration, in honour of surgery, and in
memory of those practitioners by whose labours it
has been advanced; delivered in the theatre of the
college, Feb. 14th, 1814. Besides these, he wrote
other surgical works, which were of high repute, and
which greatly aided in the advance of the science to
its present state of excellence. He also contributed
largely to the Philosophical Transactions, and a
variety of ably-wriltcn articles to the medical period-
icals of the day.

HOME, He.n'ry (Lord Kames), a lawyer and
metaphysician, son of George Home of Kames, was
born at his father's house in the county of Berwick,
in the year 1696. The paternal estate of the family,
which had once been consideral)le, was, at the period
of the birth of the subject of this memoir, consider-
ably burdened and reduced by the extravagance of
his father, who appears to have pursued an easy
hospitable system of living, unfortunately not com-
patible with a small income and a large family.
With the means of acquiring a liberal education,
good connections, and the expectation of no per-
manent provision but the fruit of his own labours,
the son was thrown upon the world, and tlic history
of all ages has taught us, that among individuals so
circumstanced science has chosen her brightest orna-
ments, and nations have found their most industrious
and powerful benefactors. In the earlier part of the
last century, few of the country gentlemen of Scotland
could afford to bestow on their children the expensive
education of an English university, and an intuitive
horror at a contact with the lower ranks frequently
induced them to reject the more simple system of
education provided by the universities of Scotland.
Whether from this or some other cause, young Home
was denied a public education, and received instruc-

tions from a private tutor of (he name of Wingate, of
whose talents and temper he appears to have retained
no hajipy recollection.* The classical education
which he received from this man ai)i)ears to have
been of a very imjierfect description, and although
on entering the study of his profession he turned his
attention for some length of time to that branch of
study, he never accjuired a knowledge of ancient
languages sufficiently minute to balance his other
varied and extensive acquirements. Mr. Home was
destined by his family to follow the profession of the
law, the branch first assigned him being that of an
agent. He was in consequence apprenticed to a
writer to the signet in the year 17 12, and he con-
tinued for several years to jierform the usual routine
of drudgery, unpleasant to a cultivated and thinking
mind, but one of the best introductions to the accu-
rate practice of the more formal part of the duties of
the bar. The ample biographer of Home has de-
tailed in very pleasing terms the accident to which
he dates his ambition to pursue a higher branch of
the profession than that to which he was originally
destined. The scene of action is represented as being
the drawing-room of Sir Hew Dalrymple, lord-pre-
sident of the Court of Session, where Home, on a
message from his master, finds the veteran judge in
the full enjoyment of elegant ease, with his daughter,
a young beauty, performing some favourite tunes on
the harpsichord. "Hajipy the man," the sentimen-
tal youth is made to say to himself, "whose old age,
crowned with honour and dignity, can thus repose
itself after the useful labours of the day in the bosom
of his family, amidst all the elegant enjoyments which
affluence, justly earned, can command! such are the
fruits of eminence in the profession of the law !" If
Home ever dated his final choice of a profession from
the occurrence of this incident, certain praises which
the president chose to bestow on his acuteness and
knowledge of Scottish law may have been the part
of the interview which chiefly influenced his deter-
mination.

Having settled the important matter of his future
profession, Mr. Home apjalied himself to the study
of the laws, not through the lectureship which had
just been established in Edinburgh for that purpose,
but by means of private reading and attendance at
the courts.

He put on the gown of an advocate in the year
1723. From the period when Mr. Home com-
menced his practice at the bar he seems to have for
a time forgot his metaphysics, and turned the whole
of his discriminating and naturally vigorous intellect
to the study ol the law; in 1728 he published the
first of his numerous works, a collection of the Re-
markable Decisiotis of the Court of Session, from 1716
to 1728, a work purely professional, which from the
sj>ecies of technical study being seldom embodied by

' Tytler, in his Life of Kames, mentions an amusing scene
which took place betwixt the scholar and master some time
after their separation. When Home was at the height of his
celebrity as a barrister, the pedagogue had contrived to amass
a sum of money, which he cautiously secured on land. Anxious
about the security of his titles, he stalked one morning into
the study of his former pupil, requesting an opinion of their
validity. The lawyer having carefully examined the several
steps of the investment, .issumed an aspect of concern, and
hoped Mr. Wingate had not concluded the bargain; but Mr.
Wingate had concluded the bargain, and so he had the plea-
sure to listen to a long summ.ary of objections, with which the
technical knowledge of his former pupil enabled him to pose the
uninitiated. When the lawyer was satisfied with the effect of
his art, the poor man was relieved from the torture, with an
admonition, which it were to be wished all followers of "the
delightful task" would hold in mind: "You may remember,
sir, now you m.ide me smart in days of yore for very small
offences— now I think our accounts are closed. Take up your
papers, man, and go home with an easy mind; your titles are
excellent."

H'

ji

.'J 3^^^'^

IIEXRY HOME.

275

an nuthor so comparatively youthful, seems to have
attracted much attention from the court and the lead-
ing lawyers of the time. It is probable that the hue
and arrangement given to the pleadings, now the
chief defect of that compilation, may have rendered
it at the time it was published attractive from the
originality of the method. A small volume of essays
Upon Several Subjects in Scots Law, \\'hich he pub-
lished four years afterwards, afforded more scope for
ingenuity and refinement of reasoning than could
possibly be infused into other men's arguments; and
in the choice of the subjects, and the method of
treating them, full advantage has been taken of the
license. Such of the arguments and obser\-ations as
stood the test of more mature consideration were
afterwards embodied by the author in one of his more
extensive popular law-books. Mr. Home seems to
have been one of those gifted individuals who could
enjoy hilarity without dissipation, and gaiety with-
out frivolity. In early life he gathered round him a
knot of familiar and congenial spirits, with whom he
enjoyed the fashionable and literary society of Edin-
burgh, then by no means despicable as a school of
politeness, and just dawning into a high literary
celebrity. Hamilton of Bangour, Oswald, and Lord
Binning were among his early and familiar friends,
and though he soon extended to more gifted minds
the circle of his philosophical correspondence, an
early intercourse with men so refined and learned
must have left a lasting impression on his susceptible
intellect.

In 1 741, at the prudent age of forty-seven, Mr.
Home married Miss Agatha Drummond, a younger
daughter of Mr. Drummond of Blair, in Perthshire,
a lady of whom we hear little except that she had a
turn for quiet humour, and that she perplexed her
husband's economical principles by an inordinate
affection for old china, being in other respects gene-
rally reported to have been a jirudent and docile
wife. In 1 741 Mr. Home published the well-known
Dictionary of the Decisions of the Court of Session,
afterwards continued and perfected by his friend
and biographer Lord Woodhouselee; a very labo-
rious work, and of great practical utility, though
now superseded by the gigantic compilation of Mori-
son, and the elaborate digest of the late Mr. Brown.
During the rebellion of 1745 the business of the
Court of Session was suspended for eleven months,
and those lawyers whose minds were not engaged in
the feverish struggles of the times, had to seek some
occupation in their retirement. Mr. Home seems at
no time to have busied himself in active politics,
excepting such as came within the range of his judi-
cial duties — and the early predilection of his family
to the support of the Stuart dynasty may have been
an additional motive for his preserving a strict neu-
trality during that disorderly period. In the midst
of his retirement he gathered into a few short treatises,
which in 1747 he published under the title of
Essays upon Several Subjects concerning British An-
tiquities, some facts and obsei-vations intended to
allay the unhappy differences of the period, although
it is rather doubtful whether the Highlanders or their
intelligent chiefs found any solace for their defeat
and subjection to the laws, in discussions on the
authority of the regiain majestatem, or nice theories
of descent. The subjects discussed are of a highly
useful and curious nature; and had the author brought
to the work an extensive collection of facts, and a
disposition to launch into no theories but such as his
own good sense dictated to be applicable and sound,
the country might have had to thank him for a just
and satisfactory account of her ancient laws and cus-
toms, and the rise of the constitution, which the

talent of her bar has not yet produced. But these
essays are brief and desultory, the facts are few and
paltry, and the reasoning fanciful and unsatisfactory.
The arguments against "the hereditary and indefeas-
ible right of kings," if they ever produced any good
effect, would certainly constitute a proof that the
human mind, as exhibited in any arguments which
might be used by his opponents, was then more per-
verted by prejudice than it is generally believed to
have been in any civilized country. To the tniisms
contained in that essay, the refinements on hereditary
descent form a curious converse; where the feudal
system has its origin from the tendency of bodies in
motion to continue in a straight line, and the con-
sequent tendency of the mind to pursue its objects
in a course equally direct, which proves that "as in
tracing out a family, the mind descends by degrees
from the father first to the eldest son, and so down-
wards in the order of age, the eldest son, where but
one can take, is the first who presents himself."

The next production of Mr. Home's pen was one
of a nature more congenial to his habits of thought :
— in 1 75 1 he published Essays on the Principles of
Morality and Natural Religion. One of the grand
leading aims of this work is the maintenance of in-
nate ideas, or principles of right and wrong, in oppo-
sition to the opinions of Locke and Hume. After
the clear logical deductions of these great men, the
duty of an opponent was a task of difficulty; while
it is at the same time generally allowed by both
parties in this grand question, that the view adopted
by Lord Kames, while it agrees more happily with
the general feelings of the world, cannot bear the
application of the same chain of clear and subtle
reasoning which distinguishes the position of his an-
tagonists. Like too many of the best works on
metaphysics, the Essays on Morality give more in-
struction from the ingenuity of the arguments, and
the aspects of the human mind brought before the
reader in the course of deducing them, than in the
abstract truths presumed to be demonstrated. It has
been frequently noticed, to the prejudice of most of
the works of the same author, that instead of arrang-
ing his arguments for the support of some general
principle, he has subdivided his principles, and so
failed to bring his arguments to a common point.
The failing, if characteristic of Lord Kames, was not
unusual at the period, and is one which time and the
advantage of the labours of previous thinkers tend
to modify. In the work we are just considering, the
line of argument maintained bids defiance to the
adoption of any one general principle, while much
confusion is prevented by the author having given
a definition of what he understands those laws of
nature to which he refers our consciousness of good
and evil to consist of. Although the author in the
advertisement avows the purpose of his work to be
"to prepare the way for a proof of the existence of
the Deity," and terminates the whole with a very
pious and orthodox prayer, he had the misfortune to
bring the Church of Scotland like a hornet's nest
about him, on the ground of certain principles tend-
ing to infidelity. A zealous clergj'man of the name of
Anderson published, in 1753, An Estimateof the Profit
and Loss of Religion, Personally and Publicly Stated;
illustrated 'with References to ^"^ Essays on Morality and
N'atural Religion;" in which the unfortunate philo-
sopher is treated with no more politeness than the
opponent of any given polemical disputant deserves.
This blast of the trumpet was followed up by an
Analysis of the same subject, "addressed to the con-
sideration of the Church of Scotland;" and the
parties rousing themselves for battle, the hand of the
respected Dr. Blair stretched forth in moderation of

276

HENRY HOME.

party rancour, and defence of his esteemed friend,
protracted but did not prevent the issue. A motion
was made in the committee for overtures of the
General Assembly, " How far it was proper for them
to call before them and censure the authors of infidel
books." After a stormy debate the motion was lost,
but the indefatij^able Mr. .Vnderson presented, in
name of himself and those who adhered to his
opinions, a i)etition and complaint to the presbytery
of Edinburgh, praying that the author of the Essays
on Momlitv, A:c., might be censured "according to
the law of the gospel, and the practice of this and
all other well-governed churches." Defences were
given in, and the petitioner obtained leave to reply,
but before the matter came to a conclusion he had
breathed his last, and the soul of the controversy
perishing along with him, Lord Kames was left to
pursue his philosophical studies unmolested. The
chief subject of this controversy may be discovered
in the curious and original views maintained by the
author of the essays on the subject of liberty and
necessity. Full freedom to the will of mankind he
maintains to be in opposition to the existence and
operation of a Deity, who prejudges all his actions,
and has given him certain motives which he cannot
avoid following; while, to preserve common uniform-
ity with the doctrine of an innate sense of right and
wrong previously maintained, the author is obliged
to admit that man must have a consciousness of free-
will to enable him to act according to that innate
sense : he therefore arrives at a sort of intermediate
doctrine, which may be said to maintain that while
the will is not in reality free, it is the essence of our
nature that it should appear to us to be so. "Let
us fairly own," says the author, "that the truth of
things is on the side of necessity; but that it was
necessary for man to be formed with such feelings
and notions of contingency as would fit him for the
part he has to act." "It is tme that a man of this
belief, when he is seeking to make his mind easy
after some bad action, may reason upon the princi-
ples of necessity, that, according to the constitution
of his nature, it was impossible for him to have acted
any other part. But this will give him little relief.
In spite of all reasonings his remorse will subsist.
Nature never intended us to act upon this plan: and
our natural principles are too deeply rooted to give
way to philosophy." . . . "These discoveries are
also of excellent use, as they furnish us with one of
the strongest arguments for the existence of the Deity,
and as they set the wisdom and goodness of his pro-
vidence in the most striking light. Nothing carries
in it more express characters of design; nothing can
be conceived more opposite to chance, than a plan so
artfully contrived for adjusting our impressions and
feelings to the purposes of life." The doctrine may
appear at first sight anomalous; but it displays equal
ingenuity in its discovery, and acuteness in its sup-
port, and is well worthy of the deepest attention.
A certain clergjTnan of the Church of Scotland is
said to have seen in this theory an admirable exposi-
tion of the doctrine of predestination, and to have
hailed the author as a brother; and certainly a little
comparison will show no slight analogy betwixt the
two systems; but other persons thought differently,
and the reverend gentleman was superseded. These
fiery controversies have carried us beyond an event
which served to mitigate their rancour — the elevation
of Mr. Home to the bench of the Court of Session,
where he took his seat in February 1 752, by the title of
Lord Kames; an appointment which, as it could not
be but agreeableand satisfactorv- to the learned and in-
genious, seems to have met the general concurrence
and approbation of the common people of the country.

In 1755 Lord Kames was appointed a member of
the board of trustees for the encouragement of the
fisheries, arts, and manufactures of Scotland, and
likewise one of the commissioners for the manage-
ment of the annexed estates, on both of which im-
portant duties it would appear he bestowed the at-
tention his ever-active mind enabled him to direct
to many different subjects. In the midst of his varied
judicial and ministerial labours, two legal works ap-
peared from the pen of Lord Kames. IVie Statute
Imw of Scotlatui Abridged, with Historical Notes, pub-
lished in 1759, was never known beyond the library
of the Scots lawyer, and has now almost fallen into
disuse even there. Historical Lazo Tracts, published
in 1757, was of a more ambitious sort, and acquired
something beyond professional celebrity. The mat-
ters discussed in this volume are exceedingly miscel-
laneous, and present a singidar mixture of "first
principles" of morality, metaphysics, &c., and Scots
law. The author has here displayed in the strongest
light his usual propensity for hunting all principles
so far back into the misty periods of their origin, that
attempting to find the lost traces of the peculiar idea
he is following, he pursues some fanciful train of
thought, which has just as much chance of being
wrong as of being right. "I have often amused
myself," says the author, "with a fanciful resem-
blance of law to the river Nile. When we enter
upon the municipal law of any country in its present
state, we resemble a traveller, who, crossing the
Delta, loses his way among the numberless branches
of the Egyptian river. But when we begin at the
source, and follow the current of law, it is in that
case no less easy and agreeable ; and all its relations
and dependencies are traced with no greater difficulty
than are the many streams into which that magnifi-
cent river is divided before it is lost in the sea." If
the philosopher meant to compare his searches after
first principles to the investigation of the source of
the Nile, the simile was rather unfortunate, and
tempts one by a parody to compare his speculations
to those of one who will discover the navigability
or fertilizing power of a river by a confused and
endless range among its various sources, when he
has the grand main body of the river open to his
investigations, from which he may find his way, by
a sure and undoubted course, to its principal sources,
should he deem it worth his while to penetrate them.
This work exhibits in singularly strong colours the
merits and defects of its author. While his ingen-
uity has led him into fanciful theories, and prompted
him to attribute to the actions of barbarous govern-
ments subtle intentions of policy, of which the actors
never dreamed, it has enabled him to point out con-
nections in the hijtorj' of our law, and to explain the
natural causes of anomalies, for which the practical
jurisconsult might have long looked in vain. The
history of criminal jurisprudence is a prominent part
of this work. The author attempts to confute the
well-founded theories of Voltaire, Montesquieu, and
many others, tracing the origin of punishment, and
consequently the true principles of criminal juris-
prudence, from the feelings of vindictiveness and
indignation inherent in human nature when injured
— a principle we fear too often followed to require
a particular vindication or approval. We cannot
pass from this subject without attracting attention
to the enlightened views thrown out by Lord Kames
on the subject of entails, views which he has seen
the importance of frequently repeating and inculcat-
ing, though with many others he spoke to the deaf
adder, who heeded not the wisdom of his words.
He proposed the entire repeal of the statute of 1685,
which, by an invention of the celebrated Sir Thomas

HENRY HOME.

277

Hope, had been prepared for the purpose of clench-
ing the fetters of Scots entails, in a manner which
might put at defiance such efforts as had enabled
the lawyers of England to release property from its
chains. But the equity of the plan was shown in
the manner in which the author proposed to settle
the nice point of the adjustment of the claims on
estates previously entailed. The regulations enforced
by these he proposed should continue in force in as
far as respected the interests of persons existing, but
should neither benefit nor bind persons unborn at
the time of the passing of the act proposed. Such
an adjustment, though perhaps the best that could
possibly be supposed, can only be put in practice
with great difficulty ; the circumstance of an heir
being expected to be born nearer than any heir alive,
and numberless others of a similar nature, would
render the application of the principle a series of
difficulties. Lord Kames communicated his views
on this subject to Lord Hardwick and Lord Mans-
field, and these great judges admitted their propriety;
it had been well had the warning voice been heeded
— but at that period the allegiance of Scotland might
have been endangered by such a measure. The
Duke of Argyle was then the only Scotsman not a
lawyer who could look without horror on an attempt
to infringe on the divine right of the lairds.

Li 1760 appeared another philosophically legal
work from our author's prolific pen, entitled Prin-
ciples of Equity, composed with the ambitious view
of reconciling the distinct systems of jurisprudence
of the two nations — a book which might be of great
use in a country where there is no law, and which,
though it may now be applied to but little practical
advantage in Scotland, it is rather humiliating to
think should have ever been considered requisite as
a guide to our civil judges. But the opinions of this
volume, which referred to the equity courts of Eng-
land, received a kindly correction from a masterly
hand. In tracing the jurisdiction of the Court of
Cliancery, Lord Kames presumed it to be possessed
of perfectly arbitrary powers (something resembling
those at one time enjoyed by the Court of Session),
enabling it to do justice according to the merits, in
every case which the common law-courts did not
reach ; and with great consideration laid down rules
for the regulation of its decisions, forgetting that, if
such rules could be applied to any court so purely
arguing from circumstances and conscience, the rules
of an act of parliament might have been as w^ell
chosen, and rather more strictly followed, than those
of the Scottish judge. But it appears that Lord
Kames had formed erroneous ideas of the powers
of the English equity courts; and in a portion of Sir
William Blackstone's Commentary, attributed to the
pen of Lord Mansfield, he is thus corrected: "On
the contrary, the system of our courts of equity is a
laboured, connected system, governed by established
rules, and bound down by precedents, from which
they do not depart, although the reason of some
of them may perhaps be liable to objection."

Passing over the introduction to the Art of Think-
ing, published in 1761, we turn with much pleasure
to the contemplation of another of the philosophical
productions of this eminent writer, the work on
which his reputation chiefly depends. In 1762 was
published, in three octavo volumes, The Elements of
Criticism. The correspondence and previous studies
of the author show the elaborate and diversified
matter of these volumes to have been long the fav-
ourite subject of his reflections. It had in view
the aim of tracing the progress of taste, as it is vari-
ously exhibited and acknowledged to exist, to the
organic principles of the mind on which, in its vari-

ous departments, it is originally founded, displaying
the art of what his biographer justly calls "philo-
sophical criticism," in opposition to that which is
merely practical, or applicable to objects of taste as
they appear, without any reference to the causes why
the particular feelings are exhibited. But that Lord
Kames was in this "the inventor of a science," as
his biographer has termed him, is a statement which
may admit of some doubt.

The doctrine of reflex senses propounded by Hut-
chinson, the father of the Scottish system of philo-
sophy, had many years previously laid a firm foun-
dation for the system afterwards so ably erected.
Some years previously to the publication of the
Elements of Criticism, Hume and Gerard had drawn
largely from the same inexhaustible source, and, if
with less variety, certainly with more correctness and
logical accuracy of deduction; and Burke, though he
checked the principle of the sensations he has so
vividly illustrated by arbitrary feelings assigned as
their source, contributed much to the advancement
of that high study. Nor is it to be denied that the
ancients at least knew the existence of this untried
tract, if they did not venture far within its precincts,
for few can read Cicero de Oratore, Longinus, or the
Institutions of Quinctilian, without perceiving that
these men were well acquainted with the fundamental
principles of the rules of criticism. But relinquish-
ing the discussion of its originality, the Elements of
Criticism is a book no man can read without ac-
quiring many new ideas, and few without being
acquainted with many new facts : it is full of useful
information, just criticism, and ingenious reasoning,
laying down rules of composition and thought which
have become classical regulations for elegant writers.
The author is, however, a serious transgressor of his
own excellent rules; his mind seems to have been so
perpetually filled with ideas, that the obstruction
occasioned by the arrangement of a sentence would
cause a considerable interraption in their flow; hence
he is at all times a brief, unmelodious composer, and
the broken form of his sentences frequently renders
their meaning doubtful. It has been said, and not
without reason, that the critical principles of Lord
Kames are more artificial than natural, more the
produce of refined reasoning than of feeling or sen-
timent. The whole of his deductions are indeed
founded on the doctrine of taste being increased and
improved, and almost formed, by art, and his personal
character seems not to have suggested any other
medium for his own acquisition of it. The Elements
of Criticism had the good fortune to call forth a little
of the virulence of Warburton, who seems to have
complacently presumed that Lord Kames composed
his three thick volumes with the sole and atrocious
aim of opposing some of the theories of the learned
divine ; and Voltaire, celtifying the author by the
anomalous name of Makaims, has bestowed on him
a few sneers, sparingly sprinkled with praise, pro-
voked by the unfortunate Scotsman having spoken
of the Henriade in slighting terms, and having lauded
Shakspeare to the prejudice of the French drama.

In April, 1 763, Lord Kames was appointed a lord
of justiciary in the criminal court of Scotland. Sur-
rounded by judicial duties and immersed in profes-
sional and literary studies, he w-as still an active
supporter of the useful institutions which he had
some time previously joined, investigating, along with
the celebrated Dr. Walker, the proper grounds for
improving the cultivation and manufactures of the
Western Isles and the more remote parts of Scot-
land. In 1766 a new field was opened for his exer-
tions by his succession, through the death of his
wife's brother, to the extensive estate of Blair-Drum-

278

HENRY HOME JOHN HOME.

mond, which made him a richer but not a more
illustrious man. The chief circumstance which
renders this accession to his fortune interesting to
the world, is the commencement of a vast system of
improvement, by floating into the Firth of Forth the
surface of a moss, extending over portions of his own
and many contiguous estates, and shrouding what
cultivation has made, and is still making, the finest
land in .Scotland. The next issue from the pen of
Lord Karnes were a small pamphlet on the Progress
of Flax Husbandry itt Scotland, published in the year
1765, and in the ensuing year a continuation of his
ReinarkiihU Decisions from 1 730 to 1752. He now
began to approach that age which has been marked
out as a period reached by a small proportion of the
human race; but though stricken in years, and
pressed upon by official duties, he did not flinch
from a new and elaborate undertaking on a subject
of many diversitied branches — some of which were
totally disconnected with his previous literary labours.
Lord Karnes appears to have had his mind per-
petually fdled with the matter he was preparing to
discuss, and to have constantly kept open to the
world the engrossing matter of his thoughts ; it is
thus that, for some time previously to the publica-
tion of his Sketches of the History of Man (which
appeared in 1774), we find an ample correspondence
with his literary friends — with Dr. Walker, Sir James
Nasmith, Ur. Reid, and Ur. Black, affording some
most interesting speculations on the gradations of the
human race, and the analogy between plants and
animal subjects — which had long been speculated
upon by our author. On these l)ranchcs of philo-
sophy he has bestowed considerable attention in the
Sketches of the History of A/an to little satisfaction.
In reasoning a priori from the history of man in the
world, and the various aspects of his tribe, the author
erects a system in opposition co that of revelation,
to which, however, he afterwards yields as to the
authority of the court, allowing it to be true, not by
any means from the superiority of the system to his
own, but because holy writ has told it. But if the
work be hereafter perused, to gratify an idle hour
with its amusing details, few will search in it for
much information on a subject which has received so
much better illustration from Blumenbach, Pritchard,
and Lawrence. But the subjects of these sketches
are multifarious; Ossian's poems are ingeniously in-
troduced as part of the history of man, constituting
a sort of barbaro-civilized period, when probably the
same amount of polish and of rudeness which still
exists held sway, though without neutralizing each
other, and both displayed in the extreme ; govern-
ment is also discussed, and finances. The political
economy is old and narrow, looking upon national
means too much in the light of an engine to be
wielded rather than as a self-acting power, which
only requires freedom and room to enal)le it to act;
nevertheless, it is sprinkled with enlightened views,
such as the following: — " It appears to be the inten-
tion of Providence, that all nations should benefit
by commerce as by sunshine; and it is so ordered
that an unequal balance is prejudicial to the gainers
as well as to the losers: the latter are immediate
sufferers; but not less so ultimately are the former."
In his latter days the subject of our memoir jiro-
duced four more extensive works, of which we shall
only mention the names and dates: — The Gentleman
Farmer, in 1776; Elucidations respecting the Common
Law of Scotia )id, in 1777; Select Decisions of the Court
of Session from 1752 to 1768, published in 1780;
Loose Hints on Education. The last of his works
was published in 1781, in the eighty-fifth year of the
author's age, a period when the weakness of the body

cannot fail to communicate itself to the thoughts.
The green old age of Lord Kames seems to have
been imbittered by no disease but that of general
decay. He continued his usual attention to the
agricultural and manufacturing projects of the coun-
try; gratified his few leisure hours in the society of
his select literary friends; attended the Court of Session,
and even performed the arduous duty of travelling
on the circuits: he was indeed a singular specimen
of a mind whose activity age could not impede. His
correspondence continues till within a short time of
his death, and before leaving the world he could
spare some consideration for assisting in the estab-
lishment of an institution, the pleasures and profits
of which could not be reaped by him — the Royal
Society of Scotland. During his short and last ill-
ness he expressed no dread except that he might
outlive the faculties of his mind; to the usual solicita-
tions, which friends can never avoid making on such
occasions, that he would submit himself to the care
of a physician — "Don't talk of my disease," he an-
swered, "I have no disease but old age. I know
that Mrs. Drummond and my son are of a different
opinion; but why should I distress them sooner than
is necessary. I know well that no physician on earth
can do me the smallest service: for I feel that I am
dying ; and I thank God that my mind is prepared
for that event. I leave this world in peace and good-
will to all mankind. You know the dread I have
had of outliving my faculties; of that I trust there is
now no great probability, as my body decays so fast.
My life has been a long one, and prosperous, on the
whole, beyond my deserts: but I would fain indulge
the hope that it has not been useless to my fellow-
creatures."

A week before he died Lord Kames took a final
farewell of his old friends and professional com-
panions, on that bench to which he had been so long
an ornament. He parted from each as a private
friend, and on finally retiring from the room, is said
to have turned round on the sorrowful group and bid
his adieu in an old favourite epithet, more expressive
of jovial freedom than of refinement. He died on
the 27th of December, 1782, in the eighty-seventh
year of his age. We have narrated the events of his
life with so much detail, that a summary of his char-
acter is unnecessary ; he is said to have been par-
simonious, but if the epithet be applicable, the
private defect will be forgotten in the midst of his
public virtues. He possessed the dangerous and
powerful engine of sarcasm; but he used it to heal,
not to wound. The following instance of his reluct-
ance to give pain, to be found in a letter to Mr.
Creech, is so characteristic of a truly worthy man,
that we cannot abstain from quoting it. "In the
fifth volume of Dodsley's collection of poems there

is one by T D , at page 226, which will make

a good illustration of a new rule of criticism that is
to go into the new edition of the Elements ; but, as
it is unfavourable to the author of that poem, I wish
to know whether he is alive; for I would not willingly
give pain."

HOME, JiiHN, an eminent dramatic poet, was
born at Leith on the 22d of September (o.s. ), 1722.
He was the son of Mr. Alexander Home, town-clerk
of Leith, whose father w'as the son of Mr. Home, of
Flass in Berwickshire, a lineal descendant of Sir
John Home of Cowdenknowes, from whom the pre-
sent Earl of Home is descended. John Home, who
during his whole life retained a proud recollection
of his honourable ancestry, was educated, first at the
grammar-school of his native town, and then at the
university of Edinburgh. In both of these seminaries

i -.lUn. uj' joug ., a;

■1AG;'UV icC.

BLACIITE X. sou GLASGCT/r ilUIlmUPGH tl.airDOlT .

\

\

JOIIX HOME.

279

he prosecuted his studies witli reiTiarka])le diligence
and success. While he attended the university, his
talents, his progress in literature, and his peculiarly
agreeable manners, soon excited the attention, and
procured in no small degree the favour, both of the
professors and of his fellow-students. He here formed
an acquaintance which lasted through life with many
of those eminent men who elevated the literary
character of Scotland so highly during the eighteenth
century. After qualifying himself by the ordinary
course of studies to undertake the duties of a clergy-
man in the Scottish church, he was licensed to
preach on the 4th of April, 1745.

The natural character of Ilome was ardent and
aspiring. Under the meek garb of a Scottish licen-
tiate he bore a heart which throbbed eagerly at the
idea of military fame, and the whole cast of his mind
was romantic and chivalrous. It might have been
expected that, in the celebrated quarrel which divided
the national mind in 1745, such a person would have
been unable to resist the temptation of joining Prince
Charles. It happened, however, that the chivalry
of Home was of a Whiggish cast, and that his heart
burned for civil freedom as well as for military glory.
He therefore became a volunteer in a royal corps
which was raised at Edinburgh to repel the attack
of the Chevalier. This corps, when the danger
approached in all its reality, melted almost into thin
air: yet Home was one of a very small number who
protested against the pusillanimous behaviour of the
rest. Having reluctantly laid down his arms, he
employed himself next day in taking observations of
the strength of the Highland forces, which he appears
to have communicated to Sir John Cope: while thus
engaged, he was near enough to the prince to mea-
sure his stature against his own. In the early part
of the succeeding year he reappeared in arms as a
volunteer, and was present at the disgraceful affair
of Falkirk, where he was taken prisoner. Being
conveyed to Doune Castle, then under the keeping
of a nephew of Rob Roy, he was confined for some
d.T.ys, along with several companions in misfortune;
but the whole party at length escaped, by cutting
their blankets into shreds and letting themselves
down upon the ground. He now took up his re-
sidence at Leith, and for some time prosecuted his
professional duties, mixed, however, with a kind of
reading to which his inclination led, that of the his-
torians and classics of Greece and Rome.

"His temper," says his friendly biographer Mac-
kenzie, "was of that warm susceptible kind which
is caught by the heroic and the tender, and which is
more fitted to delight in the world of sentiment than
to succeed in the bustle of ordinary life. His own
favourite model of a character, and that on which
his own was formed, was the ideal being young
Korval in his own play of Douglas, one endowed
with chivalrous valour and romantic generosity,
eager for glory beyond any other object, and, in the
contemplation of future fame, entirely regardless of
the present objects of interest and ambition. The
same glowing complexion of mind which gave birth
to this creature of fancy, coloured the sentiments and
descriptions of his ordinary discourse; he had a very
retentive memory, and was fond of recalling the in-
cidents of past times, and of dramatizing his stories
by introducing the names and characters of the per-
sons concerned in them. The same turn of mind
threw a certain degree of elevation into his language,
and heightened the narrative in which that language
was employed; he spoke of himself with a frankness
which a man of that disposition is apt to indulge,
but with which he sometimes forgot that his audience
was not always inclined to sympathize, and thence

he was accused of more vanity than in truth belonged
to his character. The same warm colouring was
employed in the delineation of his friends, to whom
he assigned a rank which others would not always
allow. So far did he carry this propensity, that, as
Dr. Robertson used jokingly to say, he invested
them with a sort of supernatural privilege above the
ordinary humiliating circumstances of mortality.
'He never,' said the doctor, 'could allow that a
friend was sick till he heard of his death.' To the
same source were to be traced the warm eulogies
which he was accustomed to bestow upon them.
' He delighted in bestowing as well as in receiving
flattery,' said another of his intimates; 'but with
him it had all the openness and warmth of truth.
He flattered all of us, from whom his flattery could
gain no favour, fully as much, or indeed more will-
ingly, than he did those men of the first consequence
and rank, with whom the circumstances of his future
life associated him; and he received any praise from
us with the same genuine feelings of friendship and
attachment.' There was no false coinage in this
currency which he used in his friendly intercourse;
whether given or received, it had with him the stamp
of perfect candour and sincerity."

Such was the enthusiastic young man who was
destined for the strange glory of producing in Scot-
land a tragedy upon a Scottish tale. In 1746 he
was presented by Sir David Kinloch of Gilmerton
to the church and parish of Athelstaneford in East
Lothian, then vacant by the death of the Rev. Robert
Blair, the author of the Grave. Previous to this
peiiod his passionate fondness for Plutarch had led
him to commence a tragedy upon one of his heroes
— Agis — which he finished soon after he was settled
in Athelstaneford. In 1749 he went to London, and
offered his work to Garrick, for representation at
Drury Lane, of which that great actor had recently
become manager. But the English Roscius did not
think it well adapted to the stage, and declined
bringing it on, much to the mortification of the
author, who, with the feeling natural to such a situa-
tion, wrote the following verses on the tomb of
Shakspeare in Westminster Abbey : —

Image of Shakspeare I to this place I come.
To ease my bursting bosom at thy tomb ;
For neither Greek nor Roman poet fired
My fancy first — thee chiefly I admired;
And, day and night revolving still thy page,
I hoped, like thee, to shake the British stage ;
But cold neglect is now my only meed,
And heavy falls it on so proud a head.
If powers above now listen to my lyre,
Charm them to grant, indulgent, my desire;
Let petrifaction stop this falling tear,
And fix my form for ever marble here.

After this unsuccessful journey to London, he
turned his mind to the composition of the tragedy of
Douglas, which was founded upon the beautiful old
ballad of Gil Rlorris. Having finished this in the
intervals of his professional labours, he set out upon
another expedition to the metropolis, Febiniarj', 1755,
with the favourable hopes of a circle of most intelli-
gent friends, to whom he had intrusted it for perusal.
It was, however, as ill received as Agis: Mr. Garrick
returned it with the declaration that it was totally
unfit for the stage. With this opinion, which many
excellent English critics still maintain, neither the
poet nor his friends were at all satisfied. Those
friends, looking upon it with the eyes of Scotsmen,
beheld in it something quite superior to the ordinary
run of English tragedies; and accordingly they re-
commended that it should be presented upon the
Edinburgh stage, Avhich was then conducted by a
gentleman named Digges, whom Mr. Mackenzie
describes as possessed of great powers (though with

28o

JOHN HOME.

many defects), and of ^eat popularity in Scotland.
The recommendation was carrietl into effect; and all
Edinburgh was presently in a state of wild excite-
ment from the circumstance of a play l)eing in pre-
paration by a minister of the Established church.'
The actors at the Edinburgh theatre happened to be
in general men of some ability in their profession,
and the play was thus cast: Digges, Young Xon\it ;
Hayman, Old Xorfal; Love, GUnahon; Mrs. Warde,
Lady Randolph. But the name Bamet was at this
time used for Randolph, and Xorval was called
Norman. The first representation, which took
place December 14, 1756, was honoured by the

' If we are to believe an authority good in theatrical matters
— the Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle newspaper, while under
the management of Mr. Edward Hislop — Dr. Carlyle, and
others ofTiis brethren, not only attended the rehearsals of
Douglas, but themselves performed in the first of them: "It
may not be generally known," says the authority just referred
to, "that the first rehearsal took place in the lodgings in the
Canongate occupied by Mrs. Sarah Warde, one of Digges's
company ; and that it was rehearsed by, and in presence of, the
most distinguished literary characters Scotland ever could
boast of. The following was the cast of the piece on the
occasion : —

Dramatis Persona.
Lord Randolph, . . Dr. Robertson, principal, Edinburgh.

Glenalvon Da\-id Hume, historian.

Old Xor\-al Dr. Carlyle, minister of Musselburgh.

Douglas John Home, the author.

Lady Randolph, . . Dr. Fei^son, professor.
Anna the Maid , . . Dr. Blair, minister. High Church.
The audience that day, besides Mr. Digges and Mrs. Warde,
were the Right Honourable Patrick Lord Elibank, Lord
Milton, Lord Kames, Lord Monboddo the two last were
then only lawyers , the Rev. John Steele and William Home,
ministers. The company, all but Mrs. Warde, dined after-
wards at the Grisken Club, in the Abbey. The above is a
signal proof of the strong passion for the drama which then
obtained among the literati of this capital, since then unfor-
tunately much abated. The rehearsal must have been con-
ducted with very great secrecy; for what would the kirk, which
took such deep offence at the composition of the piece by one
of its ministers, have said to the fact of no fewer than four of
these being engaged in rehearsing it, and two others attending
the e.xhibition? The circumstance of the gentle Anna having
been personated by 'Dr. Blair, minister of the High Church,'
is a very droll one." — Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle, Januarj-
21, 1829.

This statement may not be accurate — it is only a quotation
from a newspaper; but assuming that it has some truth in it,
we hesitate not to say that it is far from being either "droll"
or creditable to the eminent persons to whom it refers: "Sir,"
said Dr. Johnson, upon one occasion, "this merriment of par-
sons is very offensive."

As to Dr. Robertson's share in these transactions, it is only
fair to quote what b said by his biographer. Mr. Stewart's
words are as follows: "The extraordinary merits of Mr.
Home's performance, which is now become to Scotsmen a
subject of national pride, were not sufficient to atone for so
bold a departure from the austerity expected in a Presbyterian
divine; and the offence was not a little exasperated by the
conduct of some of Mr. Home's brethren, who, partly from
curiosity, and partly from a friendly wish to share in the
censure bestowed on the author, were led to witness the first
representation of the piece on the Edinburgh stage. In the
whole course of the ecclesiastical proceedings connected with
these incidents. Dr. Robertson distinguished himself by the
ablest and most animated exertions in defence of his friends ;
and contributed greatly, by his persuasive eloquence, to the
mildness of that sentence in which the prosecution at last
terminated. His arguments on this occasion had, it may be
presumed, the greater weight, that he had never himself
entered within the walls of a playhouse; a remarkable proof,
among numberless others which the historj- of his life affords,
of that scrupulous circumspection in his private conduct, which,
while it added so much to his usefulness as a clerg>'man, was
essential to his influence as the leader of a party; and which
so often enabled him to recommend successfully to others the
same candid and indulgent spirit that was congenial to his
own mind." — Account 0/ tite Life and Writings c/ Dr.
Robertson, by Dugald Stewart, Est]., p. 12.

In this passage Mr. Stewart discountenances, in general
terms, the belief that the principal gave the tragedy of Douglas
any active patronage, by attending the representations or
otherwise: but the statement that Dr. Robertson "had never
himself entered within the walls of a playhouse," cannot be
considered as an absolute contradiction of his haWng been
present at the rehearsal "in the lodgings in the Canongate
occupied by Mrs. Sarah Warde."

presence of a large audience, comprising many
friends of the author, clerical as well as otherwise.
It was received with enthusiastic applause, and, in
the conclusion, drew forth many tears, which were
perhaps a more unequivocal testimony to its merits.
The town w.as in an uproar of exultation, that a
Scotsman should write a tragedy of the first rate,
and that its merits were first submitted to them.

But the most remarkable circumstance attending
its representation was the clerical contest which it
e.xcited, and the proceedings of the Church of Scot-
land regarding it. Owing to certain circumstances
— among which was reckoned the publication of Lord
Kames' Essays on A'atural and Rciealed Religion,
which were suspected of a tendency to infidelity,
besides the issue of a work in England entitled
England's Alarm, in which Scotland M-as accused of
cherishing great corruptions in religion — there ob-
tained in the church a more zealous disposition
than usual to lop off heresies and chastise peccant
brethren. Hence the prosecution raised against Mr.
Home, which at any rate must have taken place,
was characterized by an appearance of rancour
which has often since been the subject of ridicule.

The presbyter)' of Edinburgh commenced the pro-
ceedings by publishing a solemn admonition, in which
they expressed deep regret at the growing irreligion
of the times, and warned all persons within their
bounds, especially the young, against the danger of
frequenting stage-plays. This document only pro-
voked the mirth of the public ; it was replied to by a
perfect torrent oi jeux d'esp-;t. The church, how-
ever, though unable to inflict any punishment upon
the people at large for their admiration of the play,
had the author and all his clerical abettors completely
in their power. Mr. Home only escaped degrada-
tion by abdicating his pulpit, which he did in June,
1757. His friends who had been present at the
representation were censured or punished according
to the degree of their supposed misconduct. Mr.
White, the minister of Libberton, was suspended for
a month — a mitigated sentence in consideration of
his apolog}-, which was — that he had attended the
representation only once, when he endeavoured to
conceal himself in a corner, to avoid giving offence.

The misfortune of the Scottish church on this oc-
casion consisted only in a little want of discrimina-
tion. They certainly did not err in characterizing
the stage as immoral ; for the stage, both then and
since, and in almost all periods of its existence, has
condescended to represent scenes, and give currency
to language, which, in the general society of the
period, could not be tolerated. But though the
stage seems thus to claim a privilege of lagging
behind the moral standard of every age, and in
general calculates itself for the gratification of only a
secondary order of tastes, there was surely something
to be said in favour of a man who, having devoted
his leisure to the cultivation of an elegant branch of
the belles-lettres, had produced a work not calculated
to encourage the immoral system complained of, but
to correct it by introducing a purer taste, or which
could at least not be played without for that night
preventing the representation of something more
fatal to good manners. There were many, no doubt,
who were rather rejoiced than saddened at finding a
stream of purer feeling disposed to turn itself into
the Augean stable of the theatre, because they calcu-
lated that since men cannot be withheld from that
place of amusement, the next best course is to make
the entertainment as innocent as possible.

Mr. Home had been introduced some years before
by Sir David Kinloch, the patron of his parish, to
Lord Justice-clerk Milton, who then acted as sotis

JOHN HOME.

281

viiiiistre for Scotland, under Archibald Duke of
Argyle. Being introduced by Lord Milton to the
duke, his grace said that, being now too old to be of
any material service in improving his prospects, he
would commit him to his nephew the Earl of Bute,
who was succeeding to that nameless situation of
trust and patronage which had been so long held by
himself Accordingly, on Mr. Home's going to
London in 1757, he was kindly received by Lord
Bute, who, having that influence with Garrick which
had been found wanting in the merit of the play itself,
soon caused it to be brought out at Urury Lane.
Notwithstanding Garrick's unchanged opinion of its
merit, it met with distinguished success.

Lord Bute, besides procuring Mr. Home this
highest gratification which he was capable of receiv-
ing, provided for liis personal wants by obtaining for
iiim the sinecure situation of conservator of Scots
privileges at Campvere. Thus secure as to the
means of subsistence, the poet reposed with tran-
quillity upon his prospects of dramatic fame. His
tragedy of Agis, which had been written before
Douglas, but rejected, was brought forward, and
met with success, Garrick and Mrs. Gibber playing
the principal characters. The Siege of Aquileia was
represented in 1750, but, owing to a want of interest
in the action, did not secure the favour of the audience.
Li 1760 he printed his three tragedies in one volume,
and dedicated them to the Prince of Wales, whose
society he had enjoyed through the favour of the
Earl of Bute, preceptor to the prince. When this
royal personage became king, he signified his favour
for Mr. Home by granting him a pension of £^00 a
year from his privy-purse — which, in addition to an
equal sum from his office of conservator, rendered
him what in Scotland might be considered affluent.
About this period he spent the greater part of his
time in London, but occasionally came to Scotland
to attend his duties as an elder in the General As-
sembly, being appointed to that trust by the ecclesi-
astical establishment at Campvere, which then en-
joyed a representation in the great clerical council of
the nation. In 1767 he forsook almost entirely the
company of the Earl of Bute and his other distin-
guished friends at London, and planted himself down
in a villa which he built near his former residence in
East Lothian, and where he continued to reside for
the next twelve years. To increase the felicity of a
settled home, he married a lady of his own name in
1770, by whom he never had any children.

Three tragedies, the Fatal Discovery., Alonzo, and
Alfred, successively appeared in 1769, 1773, and
1778; but, though received at first with considerable
applause, they took no permanent hold of the stage,
and thus seemed to confirm the opinion which many
English critics had avowed in regard to the success
of Douglas — that it was owing to no peculiar powers
of dramatic composition in the author, but simply to
the national character of the piece, with a slight aid
from its exhibition of two very popular passions,
maternal and filial tenderness. ' The reception of

' "As we sat over our tea," says Boswell on this subject,
"Mr. Home's tragedy of Douglas was mentioned. I put
Dr. Johnson in mind that once, in a coffee-house at Oxford,
he called to old Mr. Sheridan, 'How came you, sir, to give
Home a gold medal* for writing that foolish play?' and defied
Mr. Sheridan to show ten good lines in it. He did not insist
that they should be together; but that there were not ten good

* "The elder Sheridan, then manager of the theatre at
Dublin, sent Mr. Home a gold medal in testimony of his
admiration of Douglas; and his wife, a woman not less re-
spectable for her virtues than for genius and accomplishments,
drew the idea of her admired novel of Sydney Biddulpk, as
her introduction bears, from the genuine moral effect of that
excellent tragedy." — Mackenzie's Z;)^ <2/'//i7;«f, p. 47.

the last-mentioned play was so cool, that he ceased
from that time to write for the stage.

Mr. Home, as already mentioned, lived in terms
of the greatest intimacy with all the literary men of
his time : he seems, however, to have cherished no
friendship with so much ardour as that which he
entertained for his philosophical namesake, David
Hume. During the course of a lengthened period
of friendly intercourse with this individual, only two
trifling differences had ever risen between them.
One referred to the orthography of their name,
which the dramatic poet spelled after the old and con-
stant fashion of his family, while the philosopher had
early in life assumed the spelling indicated by the
pronunciation. David Hume at one time jocularly
proposed that they should determine this controversy
by casting lots, but the poet answered, "Nay, that
is a most extraordinary proposal indeed, Mr. Phil-
osopher, for, if you lose, you take your own name,
whereas, if I lose, I take another man's name."

The other controversy referred merely to their
taste in wine. Mr. John Home had the old Scottish
prepossession in favour of claret, and utterly detested
port. When the former drink was expelled from
the market by high duties, he wrote the following
epigram, as it has been called, though we confess we
are at a loss to observe anything in it but a narrative
of supposed facts :

lines in the whole play. He now persisted in this. I endea-
voured to defend that pathetic and beautiful tragedy, and re-
peated the following passage :

Sincerity,
Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave
Thy onward path, altho' the earth should gape,
And from the gulf of hell destruction cry,
To take dissimulation's winding way.

Johnson. 'That will not do, sir. Nothing is good but what is
consistent with truth or probability, which this is not. Juve-
nal indeed gives us a noble picture of inflexible virtue:

Esto bonus miles, tutor bonus, arbiter idem
Integer: ambiguae si quando citabere testis
Incertaeque rei, Phalaris licet imperet, ut sis
Falsus, et admoto dictet perjuria tauro,
Summum crede nefas, animam pra;ferre pudori,
Et, propter vitam, vitae perdere causas.'

He repeated the lines with great force and dignity; then
added, 'And after this comes Johnny Home, with his earth
gaping ^tlA his destruction cryitig 1 — Pooh !' " — Boswell's "Jour-
nal of a Tour to the Hebrides.

It must be acknowledged Boswell was not fortunate in the
specimen he produced, and that the passage quoted by John-
son from Juvenal is infinitely superior. The circumstances
attending the representation of Douglas were not such as to
dispose an English critic to allow its merit. In the first place,
the national taste was in some degree committed in the judg-
ment passed upon the play by the favoiirite actor and manager;
and it was not only galling to himself, but to all who relied
upon his taste, that he should have been mistaken. In the
next place, the Scots did not use their triumph with discretion;
they talked of the merits of Douglas in a strain quite prepos-
terous, and of which no unfair specimen is to be found in the
anecdote of a Caledonian who, being present in the pit of
Drury Lane one night of its performance, is said to have ex-
claimed, in the insolence of his exultation, "Whar's your
Wully Shakspeare nou?" Such ridiculous pretensions are
now forgotten, but they were advanced at the time, and, from
their extreme arrogance and absurdity, could not fail to exas-
perate a mind so ready to repel insult as Johnson's, and so
keenly alive as his was to the honour of the national literature
of England. The natural consequence followed : he decried
Douglas perhaps as much as it was ovei-valued by its admirers;
and his acquaintance with far superior compositions must have
enabled him, as in the instance above quoted, to pour derision
upon it with an effect which the more judicious part of its ad-
mirers could not contend with, the more especially as the
noise of undiscriminating applause with which it was hailed,
had induced them to assume higher ground than their sober
judgment would have led them to fix upon. And indeed, it
may be a question whether the same cause that contributed
to the first popularity of Douglas does not still continue to
operate, preserving to our only tragedy a higher rank than it
really is entitled to occupy : it is rare that the parents of an
only child do not love and admire him for virtues which all the
world else fails to discover that he is possessed of.

282

JOIIX HOME SIR JOHN HOPE.

"Firm and erect the Caledonian stood,
Old was his mutton, and his claret good;
' Let him drink port," an English statesman cried —
He drank the poison, and his spirit died."

David Hume, who to his latest breath continued
the same playful personage he had ever been, made the
following allusion to the two controversies in a codicil
to his will, dated only eighteen days before his death :
— "I leave to my friend Mr. John Home of Kilduff,
ten dozen of my old claret at his choice, and one
other bottle of that other liquor called port. I also
leave him six dozen of port, provided that he attests,
under his hand, signed John Hume, that he has him-
self alone finished that bottle at two sittings. By
this concession he will at once terminate the only two
differences that ever arose between us concerning
temporal matters."

When this eccentric philosopher was recommended
for his health to pay a visit to Bath, his faithful
friend Home accompanied him, and was of great
service, by his lively conversation and kind atten-
tions, in supporting him against the attacks of a
virulent disease. The journey took place in April,
1776, and Mr. Mackenzie has preserved a curious
diary by Mr. Home, detailing the principal matters
which passed between him and his fellow-traveller
in conversation. Many of the anecdotes told by the
philosopher are exceedingly valuable as snatches of
what is styled secret history.

Mr. Home spent the latter moiety of his long life
in a state little removed from indolence. He re-
moved to Edinburgh in 1779, and thenceforward
lived in the enjoyment of that high literary society
which the character of his mind fitted him to enjoy,
and in which his income fortunately permitted liim
to indulge. Careless of money in the highest de-
gree, he delighted in entertaining large companies of
friends, and often had his house filled to a degree
which would now be considered intolerable with
permanent guests.

The only production of his later years was a
History of the Rebellion of 1745 — a transaction of
which he was entitled to say, parsfiii. He had pro-
jected something of the kind soon after the event,
but did not proceed with it till after he had given up
dramatic writing. If there was any literary man of
the day from whom, rather than from any other, a
good work upon this subject might have been confi-
dently expected, it was Mr. Home, who had not only
taken a strong personal interest in the affair, but pos-
sessed that generous and chivalrous colour of mind
which was most apt to do it justice in narration.
Unfortunately, before setting about this work, he
had met with an accident by a fall from his horse,
in consequence of which his intellect was permanently
affected. As a pensioner of King George HI. he
was also prevented from giving that full expression
to his sentiments which was so necessary in the his-
torian of such an event. This work, therefore, when
it appeared in 1802, was found to be a miserable
sketchy outline of the transaction, rather than a com-
plete narrative — here and there, indeed, as cojiious
as was to be wished, and also showing occasional
glimpses of the poetical genius of the author, but in
general "stale, flat, and unprofitable." The imper-
fections of the work have been partly accounted for,
without contradiction, by the circumstance of its
having been submitted to the inspection of the reign-
ing family, with the understanding that they were at
liberty to erase such passages as they did not wish to
be made public.

Mr. Home died on the 5th of September, 1808,
when he was just on the point of completing his
eighty-sixth year. As a man, he was gentle and

amiable, a very warm friend, and incapable of an
ungenerous feeling. As a poet, he deserves the
credit of having written with more fervid feeling, and
less of stiffness and artificiality, than the other poets
of his time; his genius in this respect approaching to
that of his friend Collins. The present age, however,
has, by its growing indifference to even his sole suc-
cessful play, pronounced that his reputation on ac-
count of that exertion was in a great measure the
result of temporary and local circumstances, and
that, being ill based, it cannot last.

HOPE, Sir John, latterly Earl of Hopetoun, a
celebrated military commander, was son to John,
second Earl of Hopetoun, by his second marriage
with Jane, daughter of Robert Oliphant of Rossie,
in the county of Perth. He was born at Hopetoun,
in the county of Linlithgow, on the 17th of August,
1766. After finishing his education at home, he
travelled on the Continent, where he had the advan-
tage of the superintendence of Dr. Gillies, author of
the History of Greece, afterwards historiographer to
the king. Mr. Hope entered the army as a volunteer
in the fifteenth year of his age, and on the 28th of
May, 1784, received a cornetcyln the loth regiment
of light dragoons. We shall briefly note his gra-
dual rise as an officer until he reached that rank in
which opportunities were afforded of distinguishing
himself. On the 24th of December, 1785, he was
appointed to a lieutenancy in the looth foot ; on the
31st October, 17S9, to a company in the 17th dra-
goons; on the 25th of April, 1792, to a majority in
the 2d foot; and on the 26th of April, 1793, to a
lieutenant-colonelcy in the 25th foot. It was the
period when the claims of rank began to meet with
less observance in the British army, and severer
duties called for the assistance of active and persever-
ing men ; and these had before them a sure road to
honour. So early as 1794 Lieutenant-colonel Hope
was appointed to the arduous situation of adjutant-
general to Sir Ralph Abercromby when sening in
the Leeward Islands ; during the three ensuing years
he was actively employed in the campaigns in the
West Indies, where he held the rank of brigadier-
general ; during this service he is characterized in
the despatches of the commander-in-chief as one who
"on all occasions most willingly came forward and
exerted himself in times of danger, to which he was
not called from his situation as adjutant-general."

In the parliament of 1796 Mr. Hope was returned
as member for Linlithgowshire: as a legislator he has
been very little known, and he soon relinquished a
duty not probably accordant with his taste and talents.
As a deputy adjutant-general he attended the ex-
pedition to Holland in August, 1799, having, in the
interval betwixt his services abroad, performed the
duty of a colonelcy in the North Lowland fencibles.
In the sharp fighting at the landing at the Helder,
with which the proceedings of the secret expedition
to Holland commenced. Colonel Hope had the mis-
fortune to be so severely wounded as to render his
farther attendance on the expedition impracticable.
From the effects of his wound he recovered during
the ensuing October, when he was appointed ad-
jutant-general to the Duke of York, Lieutenant-
colonel Alexander Hope, his brother by his father's
third marriage, being appointed his successor as
deputy adjutant-general. In 1800 Colonel Hope
joined the expedition to Egypt under Sir Ralph
Abercromby, who had been his commanding officer
at the attack on the Helder. He still acted as
adjutant-general, and on the 13th of May he was
appointed brigadier-general in the Mediterranean.
Were we to follow this active officer's footsteps

SIR JOHX HOPE.

283

through the progress of the Egyptian war, we should
merely repeat what the best pens in Europe have
been engaged in discussing for thirty years, and
what generally is known; suffice it to say, that he
was engaged in the actions of 8th and 13th March,
1801, and that he received a wound on the hand at
the battle of Alexandria. In June he was able to
proceed with the anny to Cairo, where he has re-
ceived credit as an able negotiator, for the manner
in which he settled the convention for the surrender
of that place with the French commander, General
Belliard. On the lith of May, 1S02, he was pro-
moted to the rank of a major-general. On the 30th
of June, 1S05, he was appointed deputy-governor of
Portsmouth — an office he resigned the same year, on
being nominated to a command with the troops sent
to the Continent under Lord Cathcart. On the 3d
of October, 1S05, he was made colonel of the 2d
battalion of the 60th foot, and on the 3d of January,
1S06, colonel of the gad foot. On the 25th of
April, 1 80S, he was made a lieutenant-general.'

Lieutenant-general Hope was among the most
eminent and persevering partakers in that exter-
minating war in the Peninsula, where, as in the
conflicts of ancient nations, everything gained was
the price of blood. On the 8th of August he landed
with the British forces in Portugal ; during the en-
suing month he was appointed British commandant
at Lisbon ; and on the French gradually evacuating
the town, in terms of their convention, he took pos-
session of the castle of Belem on the lOth, and of the
citadel on the 12th. The restless spirit of the Por-
tuguese, on the knowledge that the French were to
leave the country, caused their long-smothered in-
dignation to appear in insults, threats, and even
attempts on the lives of the general officers; to depart
in safety was the object of the French, and General
Hope had the difficult task of preventing the op-
pressed people from making dangerous displays of
public feeling — a duty he performed with modera-
tion and energy, and which he was enabled finally
to complete.

Sir John Moore divided his forces into twocolumns,
one of which, under his own command, marched by
Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo, while the other pro-
ceeded to the Tagus under the command of General
Hope. While thus separated from his celebrated
commander, both experienced the full danger and
doubt which so amply characterized the disastrous
campaign. The few Spanish troops who had struck
a blow for their country, fleeing towards the Tagus,
brought to General Hope the traces of the approach
of the victorious French. His column, consisting
of three thousand infantry and nine hundred cavalry,
were in want and difficulty. The inhospitable
country afforded insufficient supplies of provision;
they were destitute of money, and of many necessary
articles of military store. To enable his troops in
some measure to obtain supplies he separated his
whole column into six divisions, each a day's march
distant from the others, and thus passing through an
uncultivated country destitute of roads, whose few
inhabitants could give no assistance and could not
be trusted, and harassed by the neighbourhood of
a powerful enemy, he had to drag his artillery and
a large park of ammunition to join the commander-
in-chief, whose safety depended on his speedy ap-
proach. At Almaraz he endeavoured to discover

' These dry details of military advancement, which we
would willingly spare our readers were they not necessary for
the completeness of a biography, we have copied from the
Annual Biography and Obituary for 1824, a source from
which we derive all the dates in this memoir, judging it one
likely to be depended oa.

some path which might guide him through the hills
to Ciudad Rodrigo, but not finding one easily ac-
cessible, the jaded state of his few remaining horses
compelled him to relinquish the attempt to cross these
regions. On reaching Talavera, to the other evils
with which he had to contend was added the folly
or perfidy of the Spanish functionaries: the secretary
at war recommended to him a method of passing
through Madrid, which on consideration he found
would have been the most likely of all methods to
throw him into the hands of the French army. Re-
solving to make a last effiart to obtain assistance
from the nation for which the British troops were
wasting their blood, he proceeded in person to ^ladrid ;
but the uncontrolled confusion of the Spanish govern-
ment threw additional discouragements on his pro-
spects, and he found that the safety of his men must
depend on their own effijrts. Avoiding the path so
heedlessly proposed, he passed Naval Camero, and
reached Escurial, where he halted to bring up his
rear, and to obtain bullocks for dragging his artil-
lers- and ammunition. Having crossed the mountains
on the sixth day after leaving Madrid, his situation
became more melancholy, and he fell into deeper
difficulties. He received the intelligence of additional
disasters among the Spaniards; and his scouts traced
the vicinity of parties of the enemy. ' ' The general's
situation," says Colonel Napier in his History of
the Peninsular liar, "was now truly embarrass-
ing. If he fell back to the Guadarama, the army
at Salamanca would be without ammunition or ar-
tillery. If he advanced, it must be by a flank march
of three days, with a hea\'y convoy, over a flat coim-
tr}% and within a few hours' march of a very superior
cavalry. If he delayed where he was, even for a few
hours, the French on the side of Segovia might get
between him and the pass of Guadarama, and then,
attacked in front, flank, and rear, he would be re-
duced to the shameful necessity of abandoning his con-
voy and guns to save his men in the mountains of
Avila. A man of less intrepidity and calmness
would have been ruined ; but Hope, as enterprising
as he was prudent, without any hesitation ordered
the cavalry to throw out parties cautiously towards
the French, and to maintain a confident front if the
latter approached; then moving the infantry and
guns from Villacastin, and the convoy from Espin-
osa, by cross-roads to Avila, he continued his march
day and night until they reached Peneranda : the
cavalry covering this movement, closed gradually to
the left, and finally occupied Fontiveros on the 2d
of December."^ Not without additional dangers
from the vicinity of the enemy, to the number of
10,000 infantrv' and 2000 cavalry, with 40 gnns, he
at length reached Salamanca, and joined the com-
mander-in-chief. He partook in the measures
which the army, thus recruited, endeavoured to pur-
sue, as a last effort of active hostility, passing with
his division the Douro at Tordesillas, and directing
his march upon Villepando. In the memorable re-
treat which followed these proceedings he had a la-
borious and perilous duty to perform. He com-
manded the left wing at the battle of Corunna ; of
his share in an event so frequently and minutely re-
corded it is scarcely necessary to give a detailed ac-
count. After the death of the commander-in-chief,
and the wound which compelled Sir David Baird to
retire from the field, General Hope was left with the
honour and responsibility of the supreme command,
and, in the languageofthe despatches, to his "abilities
and exertions in the direction of the ardent zeal and
unconquerable valour of his majesty's troops, is to be

2 Vol. i. p. 437.

2S4

SIR JOHN IIOrE.

attributed, under Providence, the success of the day,
which terminated in the complete and entire repulse
and defeat of the enemy."

It was the immediate decision of Sir John Hope
not to follow up a victory over so powerful an enemy,
but taking advantage of the confusion of tlie French,
to proceed with the original design of embarking
the troops, a measure performed with true military
alacrity and gt)od order, not without the strenuous
exertions of the general, who, after the fatigues of
the day, personally searched till a late hour the
purlieus of the town, to prevent stragglers from fall-
ing into the hands of the enemy. General Hope
wrote to Sir David Baird a succinct and clear account
of the battle, in which his own name seldom occurs.
As exhibiting the subdued opinion he expressed of
the advantage gained, and as what is very probably
a specimen of his style of composition, we quote the
following passage from this excellent document : —
"Circumstances forbid us to indulge the hope that
the victory with which it has pleased Providence to
crown the efforts of the army can be attended with
any very brilliant consequences to Great Britain.
It is clouded by the loss of one of her best soldiers.
It has been achieved at the termination of a long
and harassing service. The superior numbers and
advantageous position of the enemy, not less than
the actual situation of this army, did not admit of
any advantage being reaped from success. It must
be, however, to you, to the army, and to our country,
the sweetest reflection, that the lustre of the British
arms has been maintained, amidst many disadvan-
tageous circumstances. Tlie army, which had entered
Spain amidst the fairest prospects, had no sooner
completed its junction, than, owing to the multiplied
disasters that dispersed the native armies around us,
it was left to its own resources. The advance of the
British corps from Douro afforded the best hope that
the south of Spain might be relieved, but this gener-
ous effort to save the unfortunate people also afforded
the enemy the opportunity of directing every effort
of his numerous troops, and concentrating all his
principal resources, for the destruction of the only
regular force in the north of .Spain."

The grateful acknowledgements of his country
crowded thickly on General Hope after the arrival
of the despatches in England; a vote of thanks to him
and to the officers under his command was unanimously
passed in the House of Lords, on the motion of the
Earl of Liverpool; in the House of Commons, on that
of Lord Castlereagh. As a reward for his services,
his brother (the ICarl of Hopetoun) was created a
baron of the United Kingdom by the title of Baron
Hopetoun of Hopetoun in the county of Linlithgow,
and himself received tlie order of the Bath, in wliich
he was installed two years afterwards, alcjng with
twenty-two other knights. .Soon after his returii to
Britain .Sir John was appointed to superintend the
military department of the unsatisfactory expedition
to the .Scheldt. It was the intention of the planners
of the expedition, that by landing on the north side
of South Bcveland, and taking possession of the
island. Sir John miglit incommode the French fleet
while it remained near Flushing, and render its
retreat more difficult, while it might be subject to
the attacks of the British ships. Sir John's division
landed near Ter-(ioes, took possession of the impor-
tant post of Baltz, and removed all impediments
to the progress of the British vessels in the West
Scheldt. For nine days .Sir John occupied his post,
waiting impatiently for the concerted arrival of the
gun-boats under the command of .Sir Home Popham,
harassed by frequent attacks from the enemy, in one
of which they brought down about twenty-eight gun-

vessels, and kept up a cannonade for several hours,
but were, after much exertion on the part of the
general, compelled to retreat. The termination and
effect of the expedition are well known, and need
not be here repeated. At the termination of the
expedition Sir John Hope was appointed commander-
in-chief of the forces in Ireland, but he soon left this
unpleasing sphere of duty, to return in 1 81 3 to the
scene of his former exertions in the Peninsula. At
the battle of Nivelle he commanded the left wing,
and driving in the enemy's outposts in front of their
entrenchments on the Lower Nivelle, carried the
redoubt above Orogue, and established himself on
the heights immediately opposite Sibour, in readi-
ness to take advantage of any movement made by
the enemy's right. On the loth of December nearly
the whole army of the enemy left their entrenchments,
and having drawn in the piquets, advanced upon Sir
John Hope's posts on the highroad from Bayonne
to St. Jean de Luz. At the first onset Sir John took
500 prisoners, and repulsed the enemy, while he
received in the course of the action a severe contusion
on the head. The same movement was repeated
by the enemy, and they were in a similar manner
repulsed. The conduct of Sir John on this occasion
has received the approbation of military men, as
being cool, judicious, and soldierly; and he received
the praises of the Duke of Wellington in his de-
spatches.

In this campaign, which began on the frontiers
of Portugal, the enemy's line of defence on the Douro
had been turned, and after defeat at Vittoria, Soult
had been repulsed in his efforts to relieve St. Se-
bastian and Pamplona, and the army of France had
retreated behind the Pyrenees. On the fall of the
latter place the army entered France, after many
harassing operations, in which the progress of the
allies was stoutly impeded by the indomitable Soult.
In the middle of February, 1814, the passage of the
Adour was accomplished. While the main body
of the army under the Duke of Wellington prosecuted
the campaign in other quarters, Sir John Hope was
left with a division to invest the citadel and town
of Bayonne on both banks of the river. Soon after
these operations commenced. Sir John received in-
formation from two deserters that the garrison was
under arms, and prepared for a sortie before daylight
next morning. By means of a feint attack at the
moment they were so expected, and by the silent
and stealthy movements of some of their men through
the rough ground, many of the sentinels were tilled,
and several lines of piquets broken. The nature of
the spot, with a hollow way, steep banks, and inter-
cepting walls, deprived those so attacked of the
jiower of retreating, and the whole vicinity was a
series of scattered battles, fought hand to hand, with
deadly bitterness. The chief defence of the besiegers
lay in the fortified convent of St. Bernard, and in
some buildings in the village of St. Etienne; to the
latter post .Sir John Hope proceeded with his staff
at the commencement of the attack. Through one
of the inequalities of the ground already mentioned,
which formed a sort of hollow way, Sir John ex-
pected to find the nearest path to the village. When
almost too late, he discovered that the banks had
concealed from him the situation of the enemy, whose
line he was just approaching, and gave orders to
ret reat ; before, however, being extricated from the
hollow way, the enemy approached within twelve
yards' distance, and began firing : Sir John Hope's
horse received three balls, and falling, entangled its
rider. While the staff attempted to extricate him,
the close firing of the enemy continued, and several
British officers were wounded, among whom was

SIR THOMAS IIOrE.

285

Sir John himself, and the French soldiers pouring
in, made them all prisoners. The French with
difficulty extricated him from the fallen horse, and
while they were conveying him to the citadel, he
was severely wounded in the foot by a ball supposed
to have come from the British piquets. From the
effects of this encounter he suffered for a considerable
period.

On the 3d of May Sir John was created a British
peer by the title of Baron Niddry of Niddry, county
of Linlithgow. He declined being a partaker in the
pecuniary grant which, on the 9th of June ensuing,
was moved by the chancellor of the exchequer, as a
reward for the services of him and other distinguished
generals. On the death of his brother by his father's
prior marriage, he succeeded to the family title of
Earl of Hopetoun, and in August, 1819, he attained
to the rank of general. He died at Paris, on the 27th
August, 1823, in the fifty-eighth year of his age.
From the Edinburgh Annual Register for 1823 we
extract a character of this excellent and able man,
which, if it have a small degree too much of the
beau ideal in its composition, seems to be better
fitted to the person to whom it is applied than it
might be to many equally celebrated.

"As the friend and companion of Moore," says
this chronicle, "and as acting under Wellington in
the Pyrenean campaign, he had rendered himself
conspicuous. But it was when, by succession to the
earldom, he became the head of one of the most
ancient houses in Scotland, and the possessor of one
of its most extensive properties, that his character
shone in its fullest lustre. He exhibited then a
model, as perfect seemingly as human nature could
admit, of the manner in which this eminent and use-
ful station ought to be filled. An open and magni-
ficent hospitality, suited to his place and rank, with-
out extravagance or idle parade, a full and public
tribute to the obligations of religion and private
morality, without ostentation or austerity; a warm
interest in the improvement and welfare of those
extensive districts with which his possessions brought
him into contact — a kind and generous concern in
the welfare of the humblest of his dependants — these
qualities made him beloved and respected in an ex-
traordinary degree, and will cause him to be long
remembered."'

HOPE, Sir Thom.\s, an eminent lawyer and
statesman of the seventeenth century, and the founder
of a family distinguished for its public services, was
the son of Henry Hope, a considerable Scottish
merchant, whose grandfather, John de Hope, was
one of the gentlemen attending Magdalene de Valois,
first consort of James V., at her coming into this
country in 1 537.

Henry Hope, a younger brother of the subject of
this memoir, following the profession of his father,
was the progenitor of the great and opulent branch
of the Hopes of Amsterdam ; a house, for extent of
commerce and solidity of credit, long considered
superior, without exception, to any private mercan-
tile company in the world.

Thomas Hope, after having distinguished himself
at school in no small degree, entered upon the study

' The esteem and affection in which the earl was held in the
scenes of private life, and in his character as a landlord, has
since his death been testified in a remarkable manner, by the
erection of no fewer than three monuments to his memory, on
the tops of as many hills— one in Fife on the monnt of Sir
David Lindsay, another in Linlithgowshire near Hopetoun
House, and the third in the neighbourhood of H.addington.
An equestrian st.atue of his lordship has also been erected in
St. Andrew's Square, Edinburgh, with an inscription from the
pen of Sir Walter Scott.

of the law, and made so rapid a progress in juridical
knowledge, that he was at a very early age called
to the bar. However, like the generality of young
lawyers, he enjoyed at first a very limited practice;
in 1606 he burst at once upon the world on the fol-
lowing occasion.

Six ministers of the Church of Scotland, having
thought proper to deny that the king and his council
possessed any authority in ecclesiastical affairs, were
on that account imprisoned for some months in
Blackness Castle, indicted for high-treason, and on
the loth of January, 1606, put upon trial at Linlith-
gow, before a jury consisting chiefly of landed gentle-
men of the three Lothians. As it was carefully pro-
mulgated that the king and court had openly expressed
the highest displeasure against the ministers, and
had declared that they would show no favour to any
person that should appear in their behalf, none of
the great lawyers chose to undertake their cause ;
even .Sir Thomas Craig, although he was procurator
for the church, refused to be concerned in this affair,
and Sir William Oliphant, who had at first promised
to plead for them, sent word the day before that
he must decline appearing. The ministers, thus
abandoned, applied to Mr. Hope, who, pitying their
case, with the greatest cheerfulness and resolution
undertook their defence ; and, notwithstanding the
reiterated endeavours of the court to perplex and
browbeat him, conducted himself in so skilful and
masterly a manner, that he made a deep impression
on the jury. However, by an unlawful tampering
with the jurors (some of the lords of council having
procured admittance to them after they were locked
up), and assurance that no harm was intended against
the persons or goods of the accused, nine of the
fifteen jurymen were induced to bring in a verdict
of guilty, and the ministers were sentenced to banish-
ment forth of the kingdom, which was accordingly
executed.

By the commendable intrepidity, knowledge of the
law, and singular abilities manifested by Mr. Hope
at this important trial, he became so greatly the
favourite of the Presbyterians, that they never after-
wards undertook any important business without con-
sulting him; and he was retained in almost every
cause brought by that party into the courts of justice,
so that he instantly came into the first practice of any
lawyer at that period. By this, in a few years he
acquired one of the most considerable fortunes ever
made at the Scottish bar; which enabled him to pur-
chase, between 1613 and 1642, the lands of Gran-
toun, Edmonstoun, and Cauldcolts in Mid Lothian;
Prestongrange in East Lothian; Kerse in Stirling-
shire; Mertoun in the Merse; Kinninmonth, Arnydie,
Craighall, Ceres, Hiltarvet, and others, in Fife.

It was the policy of King Charles I. to bestow
honours and emoluments upon those who had most
power to obstruct his designs, and hence, in 1626,
the great Presbyterian barrister was made king's ad-
vocate, with permission, revived in his favour, to sit
in the bar, and be privy to the hearing and determin-
ing of all causes, except those in which he was re-
tained by any of the parties. He was also in 1628
created a baronet of Nova Scotia. If the king ex-
pected by these means to gain him over from the
Presbyterians, he was grievously disappointed, for
although Sir Thomas dischajged the duties of his
high office with attention and propriety, his gratitude,
principles, and inclination were all too powerfully
engaged to his first friends and benefactors to admit
of his deserting them: it was, on the contrary', with
pleasure that he beheld that party increasing every
day in numbers and consequence. It would draw
out this account to too great a length to enumerate

2S6

EARL OF HOPETOUN

FRANCIS IIORXER.

all the various steps taken by them in pursuance of
his advice; it is enough to say that he acted as their
confidant throughout the whole affair of the resist-
ance to the litur^jy in 1637, and that he was inti-
mately concerned in framing the bund of resistance
entitled the National Covenant, which was subscribed
by nearly the whole population of Scotland in the
succcedmjj year. The king, with fatal weakness,
nevertheless retained him in an office which, of all
others in the state, implied and required a hearty
service of the royal cause. In 1643, when a jiarlia-
mcnt was re<|uired to meet in order to settle the
solemn leaj^ue and covenant with the English par-
liament, Sir Thomas, to get over the dilemma of
illegality which must have characterized such a meet-
ing, as it could not legally take place till the next
year, recommended a convention of estates upon the
precedent of some such transaction in the reign of
James V. ; and thus was achieved a measure which,
more than any other, perhaps, was fatal to the royal
cause: the army voted in this irregular meeting being
of great avail in the decisive battle of Longmarston-
moor, which was fought soon after.

Charles, nevertheless, still persisting in his unfor-
tunate policy, appointed Sir Thomas Hope to be his
commissioner to the General Assembly, which met
in August, 1643; an honour never before or since
bestowed upon a commoner. The royalists were so
much incensed at the appointment of an enemy in-
stead of a friend, that they very generally absented
themselves from the assembly, and the field was there-
fore left in a great measure clear to the Covenanters,
who carried all before them. As the sanction of
this body was necessary to the transaction above
alluded to, the credit of the whole, direct or indirect,
lies with Sir Thomas Hope.

In 1645 Sir Thomas Hope was appointed one of
the commissioners for managing the exchequer, but
did not long enjoy that office, dying the next year,
1646. He had the singular happiness of seeing,
before his death, two of his sons seated on the bench
while he was lord-advocate; and it being judged by
the Court of Session unbecoming that a father should
plead uncovered before his children, the privilege of
wearing his hat while pleading was granted to him.
This privilege his successors in the office of king's
advocate have ever since enjoyed, though it is now
in danger of being lost through desuetude.

The professional excellencies of Sir Thomas Hope
are thus discriminated by Sir George Mackenzie, in
liis Characieres Advocatoruin : — " Hopius mira inven-
tione poUcbat, totque illi fundebat argumenta ut am-
plificatione tempus deesset; non ornabat, sed argue-
bat, modo uiiiformi, sed sibi proprio. Nam cum
argumentum vel exceptionem protulisset, rationcm
addebat; et ubi dubia videbatur, ralionis rationem.
Ita rhetorica non illi defuit, sed inutilis apparuit."

The following are the written or published works
of Sir Thomas Hope: — I, Carmen Scculare in Sercn-
issimuin Curolum I. Britanniariim Ahmarcham,
Edin. 1626. — 2, Psalini Davidis d Caniiciim Solo-
vionis Latino Carmine Redditum, MS. — 3, Major
Practicks. — 4, Minor Practicks (a very well-known
work). — 5, Paratttillo in Univcrso Juris Corpore. —
And 6, // Genealoi^ic- of the Earls of Mar, MS.

In Wood's Ancient and Modern Account of the
Parish of Cramond, fujm which the above facts are
chiefly taken, is given a very perfect account of the
numerous descendants of Sir Thomas Hope, includ-
ing the noble race of Ilopetoun, and many other
races distinguished in the two past centuries by
ollicial eminence and public service.

HOPETOUN, Earl of. See Hope (Sir John).

HORNER, Francis, whose virtues, talents, and
eloquence raised him to an eminent rank in public
life while yet a young man, was born at Edinburgh
on the I2lh of August, 1778. His father, who was
at that time a linen manufacturer and mercer upon
an extensive scale, took delight in cultivating the
excellent talents which his son early displayed, and
doubtless contributed much to the formation of those
intellectual habits, and sound and liberal principles,
which marked the boy as well as the full-grown
man. Francis was sent to the high-school, where
he soon became a favourite with Dr. Adam, who
then presided over that eminent seminary as rector,
and who was accustomed to say of his distinguished
pupil, that "P'rancis Horner was the only boy he
ever knew who had an old head upon young
shoulders." Nor was this remark dictated by undue
partiality, although some of the most eminent men
of the day were among young Horner's class-
fellows: for he was never known to join in the field-
sports or recreations of any of the boys, and he kept
the rank of dux at school by his own industry and
talents alone, having no private tutor to direct his
studies. Francis indeed needed no adventitious aid;
but it has been thought by some of his medical friends
that these early propensities to retirement and con-
stant study contributed to sow the seeds of that pul-
monary disease which assailed his youth, and finally
laid him in an untimely grave.

When removed to the university he enjoyed the
instnictions of several eminent professors, and in
particular attracted the notice of Dugald Stewart:
but the theatre, perhaps, which tended more than
any other to unfold his talents and views was the
Speculative Society, an institution for improvement
in public speaking, and in science in general, with-
out peculiar reference to any of the learned profes-
sions, the members of which met weekly during the
sitting of the college. There are few associations of
this kind which have numbered so many young men
of splendid talents on their roll of members. Lord
Henry Petty, the second son of the fust Marquis of
Lansdowne, and Messrs. Brougham and Jeffrey, were
amongst Mr. Horner's associates in the arena of
debate, and contributed by their mutual influence on
each other's minds to invigorate and sharpen those
intellectual powers which were afterwards to raise
them to stations of the highest eminence and widest
influence in society. Mr. Horner first directed his
attention to the Scottish bar, but, like his two last-
mentioned friends, with very limited success. The
attainment of sufficient practice before the Scottish
court can only be the result of undismayed persever-
ance and great industry; real talent will ultimately
reach its object there, but the necessary probation is
apt to dishearten conscious merit. There was some-
thing also in the political character of the times in-
auspicious to young men of independent principles,
who sought to make their way without friends or
interest by dint of talent alone; the aristocracy pos-
sessed overwhelming influence, and a considerable
amount of prejudice existed in the midst of the com-
monalty against the first manifestations of that more
liberal spirit which now began to show itself in vari-
ous quarters, and more especially characterized the
debates of the Speculative Society. The interven-
tion of a jury was also unknown in civil causes, and
thus the principal field for forensic eloquence was
denied to the youthful aspirant. These considera-
tions appear to have so far weighed with Mr. Homer
as to induce him, though already admitted a member
of faculty, to direct his attention to the English bar;
and with this view he left his associates, now busily
engaged with the early numbers of the Edinburgh

FRANXIS IIORXER.

287

/\t '.■>:.', and repaired to London, where he com-
menced the study of English jurisprudence.

In the meantime his friend Lord H. Petty, after
having taken his degree at Cambridge, and visited
the Continent, returned to England, and was imme-
diately elected one of the two representatives of Calne.
Li the new parliament just then convoked, this young
nobleman soon began to be considered a very able and
formidable ally of the opposition; and upon the final
success of Mr. Fox's party, Lord Henry Petty found
himself, at the very early age of twenty-one, chan-
cellor of the exchequer, a member of the privy-
council, and M.P. for the university of Cambridge.
In this commanding situation he strongly recom-
mended his young Scottish friend to the notice of
his coadjutor, as a gentleman whose principles, char-
acter, and talents eminently fitted him for supporting
the new ministry. Mr. Horner was accordingly
brought into parliament for the borough of St. Ives
in 1806. By the dismission of the Foxo-Grenville
administration, Mr. Horner was for a time deprived
of his parliamentary seat; but the talents and integrity
which he had exhibited while in ofiice pointed him
out to the friends of liberal principles as an ally too
important to be consigned to oblivion. Accordingly,
on the retirement of Viscount Mahon from the repre-
sentation of Wendover, IMr. Horner was immediately
nominated for that place, and soon afterwards was
appointed one of the commissioners for investigat-
ing the claims on the Nabob of Arcot, whose debts
had been guaranteed by the East India Company —
an office of considerable emolument but proportion-
ate labour. This situation, however, he afterwards
resigned, though receiving little or no emolument
from professional business, which indeed he did not
aim at acquiring. Once established, however, in
parliament, Mr. Horner continued gradually to ac-
quire the confidence of the house, and that hold upon
public opinion without which no member of the
British senate can be an efficient statesman. His
speeches were little remarkable for ornament, or in
a high degree for what is generally called eloquence;
but he brought to the examination of every subject
the power of a clear and matured understanding; and
as he made it a point never to address the house upon
any subject of which he had not made himself fully
master, he never failed to command attention and
respect. The excellence of the speaker consisted in
accurate reasoning, logical arrangement of the facts,
and clear and forcible illustration.

On the 1st of February, 1810, Mr. Homer entered
upon that part of his parliamentary career in which
he reaped his most brilliant reputation. The extra-
ordinary depreciation of the paper-currency, and the
unfavourable state of the exchanges for the last two
years, had attracted the attention of the best econo-
mists of the day, and engaged Messrs. Mushet,
Ricardo, and Huskisson, and many others, in the
investigation of the general principles of circulation,
and of the various results which are occasioned in
different countries by the variations in their respec-
tive currencies. This was a subject upon which Mr.
Horner felt himself at full liberty to enter. He had
early turned his attention to economical subjects, and
had given the result of his inquiries to the public in
various articles which he contributed to the Edi7i-
burgh Rez'ieiv, which had attracted very considerable
notice from their first appearance. Accordinglj',
pursuant to notice, he moved for a variety of accounts
and returns, and during the spring of that year called
the attention of the house at different times to the
important subject of the circulating medium and
bullion trade. At the same time that i\Ir. Horner
was establishing his reputation as an economist, he

neglected not the other duties of a statesman. On
the loth of May, 1810, when Alderman Combe made
a motion censuring the ministers for obstracting the
address of the Livery of London to his majesty in
person, we find Mr. Horner supporting it in the fol-
lowing constitutional terms: "He considered it as a
question of vital importance, respecting which minis-
ters had attempted to defend themselves by drawing
the veil from the infirmities of their sovereign. It
was the right of the Livery of London, as it was of
other subjects, to have access to his majesty's person
in the worst times — even in those of Charles II. these
had not been refused. The most corrupt ministers
indeed had no idea it would ever be refused. How
complete would have been their triumph if they had
discovered the practice which of late had prevailed !
The obstruction of petitions was a subversion of the
fundamental law of the land." Towards the conclu-
sion of the same session the house marked its sense
of Mr. Horner's superior information by placing his
name at the head of "the bullion committee." Mr.
Homer presided for some time as chairman of that
committee during the examination of the evidence,
and drew up the first part of the report; the second
was penned by Mr. Huskisson; and the third by Mr.
Henry Thornton. They reported "that there was
an excess in the paper circulation, of which the most
unequivocal symptoms were the high price of bullion,*
and next to that the low state of the continental ex-
change;" that the cause of this excess was to be found
in the suspension of cash-payments, there being no
adequate provision against such an excess, except in
the convertibility of paper into specie; and that the
unfavourable state of the exchange originated in the
same cause, and was farther increased by the anti-
commercial measures of the enemy." They added
"that they could see no sufficient remedy for the
present, or security for the future, except the repeal
of the law suspending the cash-payments of the bank;
this, they thought, could not be safely done at an
earlier period than two years from the time of their
report ; but they recommended that early provision
should be made by parliament for this purpose."
This report excited much discussion both within and
without the walls of the house. The press swaiTned
with pamphlets on the present state of the currency
and the remedies proposed; — the journals teemed
with dissertations on the same subject; — the com-
parative merits of a metallic and a paper currency
formed the topic of discussion in every company; —
ministers opposed the committee's proposition; — and
finally, Mr. Vansittart, at the head of the anti-bul-
lionists or practical vtoi, as they called themselves,
got a series of counter-resolutions passed after four
nights' keen discussion, in which the speeches of Mr.
Homer and several other members extended to three
hours' length.

Although defeated in their struggle, the appearance
which Mr. Homer made in it was so highly respect-
able as to deepen the impression which his talents
and knowledge had already made on the house; and
from this period he appears to have exercised very
considerable influence with all parties. Indeed, the
urbanity of his manners, and the moderation with
which he pressed his own views, were such as secured
for him the respect, at least, of those from whom he
differed in opinion; and while steadily and consist-
ently supporting the party to which he belonged, he
displayed a spirit of tolerance towards his opponents

■ Gold had attained a maximum of 1$% per cent, above the
mint price.

* The exchanges on Hamburg and Amsterdam had been de-
pressed towards the latter end of 1809 from 16 to 20 per cent,
below par; while the exchange on Paris was still lower.

2SS

FRANCIS HORNER JAMES HORSBURGII.

which totally suMued anything like personal ani-
niusity on their part. His clTorts were then often
more succeisful than those of more gifted men, who,
with greater talents, have nevertheless greater preju-
dice, fre<iuently amounting to personal dislike, to
struggle against. It has liccn suisposed that had
Mr. Horner been in ])arlianient after the death of
Mr. Fonsonby, he would have become the leader of
the opposition. Uut for an honour so great as this
Providence had not destined him. Constant applica-
tion to business and the increasing weight and multi-
plicity of his engagements at last overpowered a
constitution which never was very strong. Indica-
tions of pulmonary consumption soon appeared, and
immediate removal to a warmer climate was deemed
necessary by his physicians. Crossing, therefore, to
the Continent, he passed through France and entered
Italy; but the seeds of mortal disease had begun to
spring before he took farewell of his own country,
and he expired at Pisa on the 8th of February,
1817, in the thirty-eighth year of his age. His
remains were interred in the Protestant burying-
ground at Leghorn, which also contains the ashes of
Smollett.

On the occasion of a new writ being moved for
the borough of St. Mawes, which Mr. Horner had
represented, the character of the deceased member
was elegantly sketched by Lord Morpeth, and elo-
quent and affecting tributes of respect paid to his
memory by several of the most distinguished members
of the house.

A contemporary, who was acquainted with Mr.
Horner both at school and at the university, thus
expresses his opinion of him: "The characteristics
of Mr. Horner's mind, if I apprehend them rightly,
were clearness of perception, calmness of judgment,
and patience of investigation : producing as their
consequences, firmness of conduct and independence
of principles. Carrying these qualities into public
life, he evinced greater moderation and forbearance
than are often found in the narrow and comparatively
unambitious strifes of a less extended scene. He
entered parliament at rather an early age, and soon
became not only a useful and conspicuous man of
business, but drew more respect to his personal
character, and was regarded by both orders of the
House of Commons with greater confidence and
interest, than any young member had attracted,
perhaps, since the early days of Mr. Pitt. This
will appear higher praise when it is added, with
truth, that no man coming into that house under
the patronage of a Whig nobleman could have acted
with greater lii)erality towards extended ideas of
popular right — with more fairness and firmness to
the persons of his opponents — or with more apparent
latitude of individual judgment, on some of the most
trying occasions, in all those scenes that have oc-
curred in our recent parliamentary history. As a
public speaker, he was not remarkable for the popu-
lar graces and attractions. If eloquence consists
in rousing the passions by strong metaphors — in
awakening the sympathies by studied allusions — or
in arresting attention by the sallies of a mind rich in
peculiar associations, Mr. Horner was not eloquent.
But if eloquence be the art of persuading by accurate
reasoning, and a right adjustment of all the parts of
a discourse, by the powers of a tact which is rather
intellectually right than practically fine, Mr. Horner
was eloquent. He spoke with the steady calmness
of one who saw his way on principle, while he felt
it simply and immediately, through sobriety of judg-
ment and good conduct ; and never seemed to be
more excited by his subject, or more carried away
in the vehemence of debate, than to make such ex-

ertions as left one uniform impression on the minds
of his hearers that he spoke from an honest internal
conviction and from a real desire to be useful. In
private life he was distinguished by an impressive
graveness which would have appeared hea\'y had it
not been observed in permanent conjunction with
an easy steadiness of conversation, and a simplicity
of manners very far from anything cold, affected,
or inelegant. His sense of honour was high and
decided. His taste for literature, like his taste for
conduct, was correct. As his acts of friendship or
of duty were done without effort or finesse, so did
he enjoy with quietness and relish those tender and
deeply felt domestic affections which can sweeten or
even adorn almost any condition of life. He was
not fitted to win popularity, but his habitual modera-
tion— his unaffected respect for everything respect-
able that was opposed to him — and the successful
pains which he took to inform himself well on the
grounds and nature of every business in which he
bore a part, gained him an influence more valuable
to a man of judgment than popularity."

Mr. Horner sat to the celebrated Raebum for his
picture some years before his demise. The painter
has produced a faithful likeness, but no engraving of
it has yet been executed.

HORSBURGH, James, F.R.S. This eminent
hydrographer, whose charts have conferred such in-
estimable benefits upon our merchant princes and
the welfare of our eastern empire, was a native of
Fife, that county so prolific of illustrious Scotchmen
from the earliest periods of our national history.
James Ilorsburgh was born at Elie on the 23d Sep-
tember, 1762. As his parents were of humble rank,
his education in early life at the village school was
alternated with field-labour. Being intended, like
many of those living on the coast of Fife, for a sea-
faring life, his education was directed towards this
destination; and at the age of sixteen, having acquired
a competent knowledge of the elements of mathe-
matics, navigation, and book-keeping, he entered
his profession in the humble capacity of cabin-boy,
to which he was bound apprentice for three years.
During this time the different vessels in which he
served were chiefly employed in the coal trade, and
made short trips to Ostend, Holland, and Hamburg.
These were at length internipted in May, 1780, in
consequence of the vessel in which he sailed being
captured by a French ship off Walcheren, and him-
self with his shipmates sent to prison at Dunkirk.
When his captivity, which was a brief one, had
ended, he made a voyage to the West Indies, and
another to Calcutta ; and at this last place he found
an influential friend in Mr. D. Briggs, the ship-
builder, by whose recommendation he was made
third mate of the N^ancy. For two years he con-
tinued to be employed in the trade upon the coasts
of India and the neighbouring islands, and might
thus have continued to the end wdth nothing more
than the character of a skilful, hardy, enterprising
sailor, when an event occurred by which his ambi-
tion was awakened, and his latent talents brought
into full exercise. In May, 1786, he was sailing
from Batavia to Ceylon, as first mate of the Atlas,
and was regulating the ship's course by the charts
used in the navigation of that sea, when the vessel
was unexpectedly run down and wrecked upon the
island of Diego Garcia. According to the map he
was in an open sea, and the island was elsewhere,
until the sudden crash of the timbers showed too
certainly that he had followed a lying guide. The
loss of this vessel was repaid a thousand-fold by the
effects it produced. James Horsburgh saw the neces-

JAMES IIORSBURGir.

289

sity for more correct charts of the Indian Ocean than
liad yet been constructed, and he resolved to devote
himself to the task, by making and recording nautical
observations. The resolution from that day was put
in practice, and he began to accumulate a store of
nautical knowledge tliat served as the materials of his
future productions in hydrography.

In the meantime Ilorsburgh, a shipwrecked sailor,
made his way to Bombay, and, like other sailors thus
circumstanced, looked out for another vessel. This
he soon found in the Guujava, a large ship employed
in the trade to China ; antl for several years after he
sailed in the capacity of first mate in this and other
vessels between Bombay, Calcutta, and China. And
during this time he never lost sight of the resolution
he had formed in consequence of his mishap at Diego
Garcia. His notes and observations had increased
to a mass of practical knowledge that only required
arrangement ; he had perfected himself by careful
study in the whole theory of navigation, and during
the short intervals of his stay in different ports had
taught himself the mechanical part of his future occu-
pation by drawing and etching. It was time that
these qualifications should be brought into act and
use by due encouragement, and this also was not
wanting. During two voyages which he made to
China by the eastern route he had constructed three
charts, one of the Strait of Macassar, another of the
west side of the Philippine Islands, and a third of
the tract from Dampier Strait through Pitt's Passage
towards Batavia, each of these accompanied with
practical sailing directions. He presented them to
his friend and former shipmate Mr. Thomas Bruce,
at that time at Canton; and the latter, who was well
fitted to appreciate the merits of these charts, showed
them to several captains of India ships, and to Mr.
Drummond, afterwards Lord Strathallan, then at
the head of the English factory at Canton. They
were afterwards sent home to Mr. Dalrymple, hydro-
grapher to the East India Company, and published
by the court of directors for the benefit of their
eastern navigation, who also transmitted a letter of
thanks to the author, accompanied with the present
of a sum of money for the purchase of nautical in-
struments. In 1796 he returned to England in the
Carron, of which he was first mate; and the excellent
trim in which he kept that vessel excited the admira-
tion of the naval connoisseurs of our country, while
his scientific acquirements introduced him to Sir
Joseph Banks, Dr. Maskelyne, the royal astronomer,
and other men distinguished in science. After a trip
to the West Indies, in which the Cai'i'on was em-
ployed to convey troops to Porto Rico and Trinidad,
he obtained in 1798 the command of the Anna, a
vessel in which he had formerly served as mate, and
made in her several voyages to China, Bengal, and
England. All this time he continued his nautical
observations, not only with daily but hourly solici-
tude. His care in this respect was rewarded by an
important discovery. From the beginning of April,
1802, to the middle of Februaiy, 1804, he had kept
a register every four hours of the rise and fall of the
mercury in two marine barometers, and found that
while it regularly ebbed and flowed twice during the
twenty-four hours in the open sea, from latitude 26°
N. to 26° S., it was diminished, and sometimes
wholly obstructed, in rivers, harbours, and straits,
owing to the neighbourhood of the land. This fact,
with the register by which it was illustrated, he trans-
mitted to the Royal Society, by whom it was pub-
lished in the Philosophical Transactions for 1 805.
Having also purchased, at Bombay, the astronomical
clock used by the French ships that had been sent
in quest of the unfortunate La Fcrouse, he used it in

VOL. II.

ascertaining the rates of his own chronometers, and
in making observations upon the immersions and
emersions of Jupiter's satellites, which he forwarded
to the Greenwich Observatory. About the same
period he constructed a chart of the Straits of Alias,
and sent it, with other smaller surveys, to Mr.
Dalrymple, by whom they were engraved.

It was now full time that Captain Horsburgh should
abandon his precarious profession, whicli he had
learned so thoroughly, and turn his useful acquire-
ments to their proper account. It was too much
that the life of one upon whose future labours the
safety of whole navies was to depend, should be ex-
posed to the whiff of every sudden gale, or the chance
starting of a timber. Already, also, he had completed
for publication a large collection of charts, accom-
panied with explanatory memoirs of the voyages from
which they had been constructed, and these, with his
wonted disinterestedness, he was about to transmit
to his predecessor Mr. Dalrymple. Fortunately, Sir
Charles Forbes interposed, and advised him to carry
them home and publish them on his own account;
and as Horsburgh was startled at the idea of the
expense of such a venture in authorship, his whole
savings amounting by this time to no more than ,^5000
or ;!^6ooo, the great Indian financier soon laid his
anxieties to rest, by procuring such a number of
subscribers for the work in India as would more than
cover the cost of publishing. Thus cheered in his
prospects. Captain Horsburgh returned to England
in 1805, and forthwith commenced his important
publication, from which his memory was to derive
such distinction, and the world such substantial
benefit. So correct were these charts, that even this
very correctness, the best and most essential quality
of such productions, threatened to prevent their pub-
lication; for with such accuracy and minuteness were
the bearings and soundings of the harbour of Bombay
laid down, that it was alleged they would teach an
enemy to find the way in without the aid of a pilot.
It was no wonder indeed that these soundings were
so exact; for he had taken them with his own hands,
during whole weeks, in which he worked from morn-
ing till night under the fire of a tropical sun. In the
same year that he returned to England he married,
and had by this union a son and two daughters, who
survived him. In 1806 he was elected a fellow of
the Royal Society; and in 1810 he was appointed
hydrographer to the East India Company, by the
court of directors, on the death of Mr. Dalrymple.
Just before this appointment, however, he published
his most important work, entitled Directions for
Sailing to and from the £ast Indies, China, A\'w Hol-
land, the Capeof Good Hope, andthe Literjacent Ports.
These Directions, undertaken at the request of several
navigators of the eastern seas, and compiled from his
journals and observations during twenty-one years,
have ever since continued to be the standard and
text-book of eastern ocean navigation.

On being appointed hydrographer to the East India
Company, Mr. Horsburgh devoted himself, w-ith all
his wonted application, to the duties of his office.
He constructed many new^ charts, the last of which
was one of the east coast of China, with the names
of the places in Chinese and English; and published
an Atmospherical Register for indicating storms at
sea, besides editing Alackenzie's Treatise on Marine
Siin'cying, and tlie East India Pilot. From 1810,
the year of his appointment, till 1836, the year of
his death, he was indefatigable in that great work of
humanity to which he may be said to have ultimately
fallen a martyr — for his long- continued labours
among the scientific documents contained in the cold
vaults and crypts of the India House, and his close

54

290

JOHN HORSLEV.

attention to the countless minutix of which the science
of hydrography is composed, broke down a constitu-
tion that, under other circumstances, might have en-
dured several years longer. But even while he felt
his strength decaying, ho continued at his post until
it was cxchangeil for a death-bed. Ilis last labour,
upon which he tasked his departing powers to the
uttermost, was the preparation of a new edition of
his Directions for Sailiii^^, ice, his favourite work,
published in 1809, to which he had made large addi-
tions and improvements. He had completed the
whole for the press except the index, and in his last
illness he said to ."^ir Charles Forbes, "I would have
died contented had it pleased God to allow me to
see the book in printi" His final charge was about
the disposal of his works, so that they might be made
available for more extensive usefulness; and to this
the directors of the East India Company honourably
acceded, while they took care that his children should
be benefited by the arrangement. He died of hydro-
thorax on the 14th of May, 1836. His works still
obtain for him the justly merited title of "The Nauti-
cal Oracle of the\Vorld." It is pleasing also to add,
that the lessons which he learned from his pious
affectionate father before he left the paternal roof,
.ibode with him in all his subsequent career: he was
distinguished by the virtues of gentleness, kindness,
and charity ; and even amidst his favourite and
absorbing studies, the important subject of religion
employed much of his thoughts. This he showed
by treatises which he wrote in defence of church
establishments, where his polemic theology was ele-
vated and refined by true Christian piety. Of these
occasional works, his pamphlet of A Xational Church
Vindicated was written only a few months before his
death.

HORSLEY, John, an eminent antiquary, his-
torian, and divine, was born at Pinkie House in
Mid-Lothian, in the year 1685. His parents were
English nonconformists, who are supposed to have
fled into Scotland on account of the persecution in
the reign of Charles II. How it happened that they
resided at Pinkie House, then the property of the
Earl of Dunfermline, as successor to the estates of
the abbey of Dunfermline, is not known. It is
clearly ascertained that his progenitors belonged to
Northumberland, and were of no mean standing.
His parents returned to Northumberland immedi-
ately after the Revolution, and it is understood that
the subject of this notice received the initiatory part
of his education at the Newcastle grammar-school.
He was thereafter sent to pursue his academical
studies at Edinburgh; and it would appear that, at a
very early age, as we find by the laureation book of
the college, he was admitted Master of Arts in 1701,
being then just sixteen years of age. After finishing
his theological course he returned to England, and
preached for several years merely as a licentiate; but
in 1 72 1 he was ordained minister of a congregation
of Protestant dissenters at Morpeth. His mind,
however, was directed to other pursuits besides his
profession, and his great attainments in geology,
mathematics, and most of the other abstruse sciences,
of which he gave unquestionable proofs, would pro-
bably have gained him a wider and more permanent
f.ime in the present day than at a time when their
principles were in general little understood, and less
attended to. In 1722 he invented a simple and in-
genious mode of determining the average quantity
of rain which fell by means of a funnel, the wider
cylinder of which was thirty inches in diameter, and
terminated in a pipe three inches in diameter and
ten in lengtli; the latter being graduated in inches

and tenths. Ten measures of the pipe being equal to
one inch of the cylinder, one measure to one-tenth of
an inch, one inch of the measure to one-hundredth,
and one-tenth to one-thousandth part — the depth of
any particular quantity of rain which fell might be
set down in decimals with ease and exactness; and
the whole, at the end of each month or year, summed
up without any trouble. Shortly after, and probably
in consequence of this invention, he was elected a
fellow of the Royal Society, and commenced giving
public lectures on hydrostatics, mechanics, and vari-
ous branches of natural philosophy, at Morpeth,
Alnwick, and Newcastle. His valuable apparatus
for illustrating and explaining his lectures, having
passed through various hands after his death, were
in 1 82 1 deposited in the library belonging to the
dissenters in Red Cross Street, London, being be-
queathed to the public by Dr. Daniel Williams. By
manuscripts afterwards found among Mr. Horsley's
papers, it appears that about the year 1728 he con-
ceived the idea of writing a history of Northumber-
land, and from the extensive design of the work
which he had sketched out, embracing its antiqui-
ties, traditions, geological structure, &c., and his
ability for the task, it is much to be regretted
that he did not live to complete it. A map of the
same county, commenced by him, was afterwards
completed by Mr. Mark, the surveyor employed by
him, and published at Edinburgh in 1753. Mr.
Horsley also published a small book on experimental
philosophy, in connection with the course of lectures
above noticed. His great work, however, by which
his name will most probably be transmitted to pos-
terity, and to which he dedicated the greater part
of his short but busy career, is his Brita/tnia Ro-
viana, or the Roman affairs of Britain, in three
books. This work is in folio, and consists of 520
pages, with plates exhibiting maps of the Roman
positions, copies of ancient coins, sculptures, in-
scriptions, &c. It is dedicated to Sir Richard
Ellys, Bart., contains a lengthy preface, a chrono-
logical table of occurrences during the Roman
domination, a copious index of the Roman names
of people and places in Britain, &c. It was
printed at London for John Osborne and Thomas
Longman, &c. , in 1732; but Mr. Horsley lived not
to see the fate of a work which had unceasingly
engrossed his time, thoughts, and means for several
years. His death took place at Morpeth, on the
15th January, 1732, exactly thirteen days after the
date of his dedication to Sir Richard Ellys, and
while yet in his forty-sixth year. The enthusiastic
ardour with which he devoted himself to this work
may be gleaned from the following passage in the
preface: — "It is now four years since I was prevailed
with to complete this work, for which time I have
pursued it with the greatest care and application.
Several thousand miles were travelled, to visit ancient
monuments and re-examine them where there was
any doubt or difficulty." He also went to London
to superintend the progress of his work through the
press, and engaged in an extensive correspondence
on the subject with many of the most learned writers
and antiquaries of the day. The Britannia is now
a very rare work, and it would appear that the
plates engraved for it are entirely lost. Mr. Horsley
was married early in life to a daughter of a Pro-
fessor Hamilton, who, according to Wood in his
Ancient and Modern State of Crainond, was at one
time minister of that parish. By her he had two
daughters, one of whom was married to a Mr.
Randall, clerk in the Old South Sea House, London;
the other to Samuel Halliday, Esq., an eminent sur-
geon at Newcastle. From a passage in his manu-

ALEXANDER HUME.

291

script history of Northumberland, it would also ap-
pear that he had a son, but we find no other mention
made of him, either in his own writings or else-
where. The greater part of Mr. Horsley's various
unfinished works, correspondence, and other manu-
scripts, fell after his death into the hands of John
Cay,Esq. of Edinburgh, great-grandson of Mr. Robert
Cay, an eminent printer and publisher at Newcastle,
to whose judgment in the compiling, correcting, and
getting up of the Brilannia Rornaiia Mr. Horsley
appears to have been much indebted. From these
papers, as printed in a small biographical work by
the Rev. John Hodgson, vicar of Whclpington in
Northumberland, published at Newcastle in 1S31,
the most of the facts contained in this brief memoir
were taken.

HUME, Alex.\nder, a vernacular poet of the
reign of James VI., was the second son of Patrick
Hume, fifth Baron of Polwarth. Until revived by
the tasteful researches of Dr. Leyden, the works of
this, one of the most elegant of our early poets, lay
neglected, and his name was unknown except to the
antiquary. He had the merit of superseding those
"godlie and spiritual sangis and ballatis," which,
however sacred they may have once been held, are
pronounced by the present age to be ludicrous and
blasphemous, with strains where piety and taste
combine, and in which the feelings of those who
wish to peruse writings on sacred subjects are not
outraged. The neglect which has long obscured the
works of this poet has impeded inquiries as to his
life and {character. He is supposed to have been
bom in the year 1560, or within a year or two
prior to that date. Late investigators have found
that he studied at St. Andrews, and that he may be
identified with an Ale.xander Hume, who took the
degree of Bachelor of Arts at St. Leonard's College
of that university in the year 1574. The outline of
his further passage through life is expressed in his
own words, in his epistle to Mr. Gilbert Moncrieff,
the king's physician. He there mentions, that, after
spending four years in France, he was seized with a
desire to become a lawyer in his own country, and
he there draws a pathetic picture of the miseries of
a briefless barrister, sufficient to e.xtract tears from
half the faculty.

"To that effect, three years, or near that space,
I haunted maist our highest pleading place
And senate, where great causes reason'd war;
My breast was bruisit with leaning on the bar;
My buttons brist, I partly spitted blood,
My gown was trail'd and trampid quhair I stood;
My ears were deif 'd with maissars cr>'es and din
Quhilk procuratoris and parties callit in."

Nor did the moral aspect of the spot convey a more
soothing feeling than the physical. He found

The puir abusit ane hundredth divers wayes;
Postpon'd, deffer"d with shifts and mere delayes,
Consumit in gudes, ourset with grief and paine."

From the corrupt atmosphere of the law he turned
towards the pure precincts of the court ; but here he
finds that

" From the rocks of Cyclades fra hand,
1 struck into Charj-bdis sinking sand."

He proceeds to say that, "for reverence of kings he
will not slander courts," yet he has barely main-
tained his politeness to royal ears in his somewhat
vivid description of all that the calm poet experienced
during his apprenticeship at court.

'■ In courts, Montcrief is pride, env-ie, contention,
Dissimulance, despite, disceat, dissention.
Fear, whisperings, reports, and new suspition.
Fraud, treason, lies, dread, guile, and sedition;
Great greadines and prodigalitie;
Lusts sensual, and partialitie,"

with a continued list of similar qualifications, whose
applicability is likely to be perceived only by a dis-
appointed courtier or a statesman out of place.
During the days of his following the bar and the
court, it is supposed that Hume joined in one of
those elegant poetical amusements called "flytings,"
and that he is the person who, under the designation
of "Polwart," answered in fitting style to the abuse
of Montgomery. That Alexander Hume was the
person who so officiated is, however, matter of great
doubt : Dempster, a contemporary, mentions that
the person who answered Montgomery was Patrick
Hume, a name which answers to that of the elder
brother; and though Leyden and Sibbald justly pay
little attention to such authority, knowing that
Dempster is, in general, as likely to be wrong
as to be right, every Scotsman knows that the
patrimonial designation "Polwart" is more appro-
priately the title of the elder than of the younger
brother; while Patrick Hume of Polwarth, a more
fortunate courtier, and less seriously disposed than
his brother, has left behind him no mean specimen
of his genius in a poem addressed to James VL,
entitled the Promise. Whichever of the brothers
has assumed Polwart's share in the controversy, it
is among the most curious specimens of the employ-
ments of the elegant minds of the age.

If the sacred poet Alexander Hume was really
the person who so spent his youthful genius, as life
advanced he turned his attention to more serious
matters: that his youth was spent more unprofitably
than his riper years approved is displayed in some
of his writings, in terms more bitter than those which
are generally used by persons to whom expressions
of repentance seem a becoming language. He
entered into holy orders, and at some period was
appointed minister of Logic, a pastoral charge of
which he performed with vigour the humble duties,
until his death in 1609.

Before entering on the works which he produced
in his clerical retirement, it may be right to observe
that much obscurity involves his literary career, from
the circumstance that three other individuals of the
same name, existing at the same period, passed lives
extremely similar, both in their education and in
their subsequent progress. Three out of the four at-
tended St. Marj-'s College at St. Andrews in com-
pany;— presuming that the subject of our memoir
took his degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1574, one of
his comDanions must have passed in 157 ') the other
in 1572. It is supposed that one of these was minister
of Dunbar in 1582; the other is known to have been
appointed master of the high-school of Edinburgh
in 1596, and to have been author of a few theological
tracts, and of a Latin grammar, appointed by act of
parliament and by the privy-council to be used in
all grammar-schools in the kingdom: this individual
has been discovered by Dr. M'Crie to have afterwards
successively officiated as rector of the grammar-
schools of Salt-Preston and of Dunbar. The fourth
Alexander Hume was a student at St. Leonard's
College, St. Andrews, where he entered in 1578.

Alexander Hume, minister of Logie, is, however,
the undoubted author of ' ' Jly vines or Sacred Songs,
wherein the right Use of Poesie may be espied:
whereunto are added, the Experience of the Author's
Youth, and certain Precepts ser\'ing to the Practice
of Sanctification." This volume, printed by Walde-
grave in 1599, was dedicated to Elizabeth Melvill, by
courtesy styled Lady Culross, a woman of talent and
literar> habits, the authoress of Ane Godlie Dream,
compylit in Scottish Meter, printed at Aberdeen in
1644. The Hynines and Sacred Songs have been
several times partially reprinted, and the original

293

ALEXANDER HUME.

having fallen into extreme rarity, the whole has been
reprinted by the Bannatyne Club. In the prose intro-
duction the author, addressing the youth of Scotland,
exhorts them to avoid "profane sonnets and vain
ballads of love, the fabulous feats of Palmerine, and
such like reveries." — "Some time," he adds, "I de-
lighted in such fantasies myself, after the manner
of riotous young men: and had not the Lord in his
mercy pulled me aback, and wrouj^ht a great repent-
ance in me, I had doubtless run fonvard and em-
ployed my time and study in that profane and un-
profitable exercise, to my own perdition." The first
of his hymns he styles his " Recantation:" it commences
in the following solemn terms : —

" Alace, how lone h.ive I delayed

To leave thelaits* of youth !
Alace how oft have I essayed

To daunt my lascive mouth.
And make my'vayne polluted thought,

My pen and speech prophaine,
ExtoU the Lord quhilk made of nocht

The heaven, the earth, and maine,

Skarce nature yet my face about

Her \-irile net had spun,
Quhen als oft as Phoebea stout

Was set agains the Sun:
Vea, als oft as the fierie flames

Arise and shine abroad,
I minded was with sangs and psalms

To glorific my God.

But ay the cancred camall kind,

Quhilk lurked me within,
Seduced my heart, withdrew my mind.

And made me sclave to sin.
My senses and my sauU I saw

Debait a deadlie strife.
Into my flesh I felt a law

Gainstand the law of life.

Even as the falcon high, and hait,

Furth fleeing in the skye,
With wanton wing hir game to gaif,

Disdaines her caller's crj';
So led away with liberty.

And drowned in delight,
I wandred after vanitie —

My ^ce I give the wight."

But by far the most beautiful composition in the col-
lection is that entitled the "Day Estival," the one
which Leyden has thought worthy of revival. This
poem presents a description of the progress and
effects of a summer day in Scotland, accompanied
by the reflections of a mind full of natural piety, and
a delicate perception of the beauties of the physical
world. The easy flow of the numbers, distinguishing
it from the harsher productions of the same age, and
the arrangement of the terms and ideas, prove an
acquaintance with English poetry; but the subject
and the poetical thoughts are entirely the author's
own. They speak strongly of the elegant and fasti-
dious mind, tired of the bar and disgusted with the
court, finding a balm to the wounded spirit in being
alone with nature, and watching her progress. The
style has an unrestrained freedom which may please
the present age, and the contemplative feeling thrown
over the whole, mingled with the artless vividness of
the descriptions, bringing the objects immediately
before the eye, belong to a species of poetry at which
some of the highest minds have lately made it their
study to aim. We shall quote the commencing
stanza, and a few others scattered in different parts
of the poem: —

" O perfect light I which shed away

The darkness from the light.
And left one ruler o'er the day,

Another o'er the night;
Thy glorj', when the day forth flies,

_More vively does appear,
Nor at mid-day unto our eyes

The shining sun is clear.

1 Habits or manners.

The sh-iHow of the earth anone

Removes and drawis by;
Syne in the east, when it is gone

.Appears a clearer sky:
Which soon perceives the little larks,

The lapwing, and the snipe :
And tunes their songs, like nature's clerks.

O'er meadow, moor, and stripe.

The time so tranquil is and still,

That no where shall ye find,
Save on a high and barren hill.

An air of passing wind.
All trees and simples, great and small,

That balmy leaf do bear.
Nor they were painted on a wall

No more they move or stir.
Calm is the deep and purpour sea,

Yea smoother nor the sand:
The waves that weltering wont to be

Aj-e stable like the land.

What pleasure 'twere to walk and see.

Endlong a river clear.
The perfect form of every tree

Within the deep appear;
The salmon out of crooves and cree'.s

Up hauled into skouts,
The bells and circles on the weills

"Through louping of the trouts.
O then it were a seemly thing,

\Vh\\e all is still and calme.
The praise of God to play and sing

With comet and with shalme."

Rowe, in his manuscript History of the Church of
Scotland, has told us that Hume "was one of those
godlie and faithful ser\ants who had witnessed against
the hierarchy of prelates in this kirk." He proceeds
to remark, "as to Mr. Ale.xander Hoome, minister
at Logie, beside Stirlin, I nixt mention him: he has
left ane admonition behind him in write to the Kirk
of Scotland, wherein he affirmes that the bishops,
who were then fast rising up, had left the sincere
ministers, who wold gladlie have keeped still the
good old government of the kirk, if these corrupt
ministers had not left them and it; earnestlie entreat-
ing the bishops to leave and forsake that course
wherin they were, els their defection from their
honest brethren (with whom they had taken the
covenant), and from the cause of God, would be re-
gistrate afterwards to their etemale shame." The
person who has reprinted Hume's Hymnes and Sacred
Songs for the Bannatyne Club has discovered, among
the elaborate collections of \Vodrow in the Advo-
cates' Library, a small tract, entitled Ane Afold Ad-
monition to the Ministerie of Scotland, be ane Deing
Brother, which he, not without reason, presumes to
be that mentioned by Rowe; founding the supposi-
tion on the similarity of the title, the applicability of
the matter, and a minute circumstance of internal
evidence, which shows that the admonition was writ-
ten very soon after the year 1607, and verj- probably
at such a period as might have enabled Hume (who
died in 1609) to have denominated himself "ane
deing brother." The whole of this curious produc-
tion is conceived in a style of assumption which
cannot have been very acceptable to the spiritual
pride of the Scottish clerg)'. It commences in the
following terms of apostolical reprimand: — "Grace,
mercy, and peace, from God the Father, through our
Lord Jesus Christ. It is certainlie knawin, bretheren,
to the greiff of monie godlie heartes and slander of
the gospell, that thair ar dissentionis among you:
not concerning the covenant of God, or the seales of
the covenant, but chieflie concerning twa po)Titis of
discipline or kirk government, wharanent you are
divydit in twa factionis or opinionis." From this as-
sumed superiority, the admonitionist stalks forth,
bearing himself in lofty terms, never condescending
to argue, but directing like a superior spirit; and

DAVID nUME.

293

under the Christian term of humility, "bretheren,"
concealing an assumption of spiritual superiority,
which the word "sons" would hardly have suffi-
ciently expressed.

HUME, David, of Godscroft. The scantiness of
the materials for lives of literary Scotsmen has, with
us, often been a subject of remark and regret; and we
are sure that every one who has had occasion to make
investigations into this department of our national
history will at once acquiesce in its truth. Our
statesmen have been applauded or condemned — at
all events they have been immortalized — by contem-
porary writers; the deeds of our soldiers have been
celebrated in works relative to our martial achieve-
ments; and our divines have always, and more espe-
cially in the darker ages, preserved a knowledge of
themselves and their transactions, — but literarj' men
are nearly forgotten, and for what is known of them
we are principally indebted to the labours of conti-
nental biographers. It would be difficult to point
out a more striking illustration of this than the well-
known individual whose name appears at the head of
this article. His name is familiar to every one w^ho
is in the least degree conversant with Scottish historj'
or poetry; — he was descended from an honourable
family — -he acted a prominent part in some of the
earlier transactions of his own time — and still almost
nothing is kno\vn of his history. The indefatigable
^Vodrow has presented many scattered hints regard-
ing him in his Biographical Collections in the library
of Glasgow College, and except this we are not aware
of any attempt at a lengthened biographical sketch
of him. In drawing up the following we shall take
many of our facts from that biography, referring also
to the excellent works of Dr. M'Crie, and occasion-
ally supplying deficiencies from the few incidental
notices of himself in Hume's works.

David Hume, it is probable, was bom about, or a
few years prior to, the period of the Reformation.
His father was Sir David Hume, or Home, of Wed-
derbum, the representative of an old and distinguished
family in the south of Scotland. His mother was
Mary Johnston, a daughter of Johnston of Elphin-
stone. This lady died early, and her husband, after
having married a second wife, who seems to have
treated his family in a harsh and ungenerous manner,
died of consumption while the subject of this memoir
was a very young man. The family thus left consisted
of fours sons — George, David, James, and John; and
four daughters — Isabell, Margaret, Julian, and Joan.

Of the early education of David Hume we have
not been able to learn almost anything. His elder
brother and he were sent to the public school of
Dunbar, then conducted by Mr. Andrew Simson,
and there is abundant evidence that he made very
considerable progress in the acquisition of classical
knowledge. He has left a poem entitled Daphn-
Amaryllis, written at the age of fourteen, and he in-
cidentally mentions the expectations George Buchanan
formed of his future eminence from his early produc-
tions. After receiving, it may be conjectured, the
best education that a Scottish university then afforded,
Hume set out for France, accompanied by his rela-
tion John Haldane of Gleneagles. His intention
was to have also made the tour of Italy, and for that
purpose he had gone to Geneva, when his brother's
health became so bad as to make his return desirable.
On receiving the letters containing this information
he returned to Scotland without delay, "and arrived,"
to use his own words in his History of the Family of
Wedderburn, "much about the time that Esme,
Lord Aubigny (who was afterwards made Duke of
Lennox), was brought into Scotland — and that

Morton began to decline in his credit, he being soon
after first imprisoned, and then put to death;" that
is, about the beginning of 1 581.

Sir George Home seems to have recovered his
health soon afterwards, and David was generally left
at his castle to manage his affairs, while he was en-
gaged in transactions of a more difficult or hazardous
nature. This probably did not continue long, for the
earliest public transaction in which we have found
him engaged took place in 1 583. When King
James \T. withdrew from the party commonly known
by the name of the Ruthven Lords, and readmitted
the Earl of Arran to his councils, Archibald, "the
good Earl" of Angus, a relation of Hume's family,
was ordered to confine himself to the north of Scot-
land, and accordingly resided for some time at the
castle of Brechin, the property of his brother-in-law
the Earl of Mar. At this period Hume seems to
have lived in Angus' house in the capacity of a
"familiar servitour," or confidential secretary.

When the Ruthven party were driven into England
Hume accompanied his master and relation ; and
while the lords remained inactive at Newcastle, re-
quested leave to go to London, where he intended
pursuing his studies. To this Angus consented, with
the ultimate intention of employing him as his agent
at the English court. During the whole period of
his residence at the English capital he maintained a
regular correspondence with the earl, but only two
of his letters (which he has printed in the History of
the Houses of Douglas and Angus) have come down
to us.

The Ruthven Lords returned to Scotland in 1585,
but soon oflfended the clergy by their want of zeal in
providing for the security of the church. Their
wrath was still farther kindled by a sermon preached
at this time before the king at Linlithgow, by John
Craig, in which the offensive doctrine of obedience
to princes was enforced. A letter was accordingly
prepared, insisting upon the claims of the church,
and transmitted to Mr. Hume, to be presented to
Angus. A very long conference took place betwixt
the earl and Hume, which he has set down at great
length in the above-mentioned work. He begins his
own discourse by refuting the arguments of Craig,
and shows, that although it is said in his text, ' ' I
said ye are gods," it is also said, "Xeverthelesiye
shall die;" "which two," Hume continues, "being
put together, the one shows princes their duty — Do
justice as God doth; the other threateneth punishment
— Ye shall die if you do it not.'''' He then proceeds
to show that the opinions of Bodinus in his work
De Republica, and of his own countrjnian Blackwood
[see Blackwood], areabsurd; and having established
the doctrine that tyrants may be resisted, he applies
it to the case of the Ruthven Lords, and justifies the
conduct of Angus as one of that party. He then
concludes in the following strain of remonstance: —
"Your declaration which ye published speaks much
of the public cause and common weal, but you may
perceive what men think of your actions since they do
not answer thereto by this letter, for they are begun
to think that howsoever yo>i pretend to the public,
yet your intention was fixed only on your own par-
ticular, because you have done nothing for the church
or country, and have settled your own particular.
And it is obsened, that of all the parliaments that
were ever held in this country, this last, held since
you came home, is it in which alone there is no
mention of the church, either in the beginning thereof
(as in all others there is), or elsewhere throughout.
This neglect of the state of the church, and country,
as it is a blemish of your fact, obscuring the lustre of
it, so is it accounted an error in policy by so doing.

394

DAVID HUME.

to separate your particular from the common cause
of the church and country, which, as it hath been the
niea i of your particular restitution, so is it the only
niean to maintain you in this estate, and to make it
sure and firm."

During the subsequent short period of this earl's
life Hume seems to have retained his confidence,
«nd to have acted the part of a faithful and judicious
adviser. After Anjjus death, which took place in
1588, it is probable that he lived in retirement. Ac-
cordinjiiy, we do not find any further notice of him
till he appeared as an author in 1605.

One of Kin^ James' most favourite projects was
the union of the kingdoms of England and Scotland,
and soon after his accession to the English throne
commissioners were appointed to consider the grounds
upon winch this object could be safely and advantage-
ously attained. It would altogether exceed our limits
were we to give even a faint outline of the proceed-
ings of these commissioners, and it is the less neces-
sary as their deliberations did not lead to the desired
result. The subject, however, met with the attention
of the most learned of our countrymen. The first
work written on this subject was from the pen of
Robert l^ont, one of the most respectable clergymen
of his day, and a senator of the College of Justice,
while ecclesiastics were permitted to hold that office.
His work, which was published in 1604, is in the
form of a dialogue between three imaginary person-
ages— Irenx'us, Folyhistor, and Hospes, and is now
chiefly interesting as containing some striking re-
marks on the state of the country and the obstacles
to the administration of justice. Pont was followed
by David Hume, our author, who published next year
his treatise De Unioite IiisuIlC Brihuinia, of which
Bishop Nicliolson only says that "it is written in a
clear Latin style, such as the author was eminent for,
and is dedicated to the king: it shows how great an
advantage such a union would bring to the island in
general, and in particular to the several nations and
people of England and Scotland, and answers the
objections against the change of the two names into
that of Britain — the alteration of the regal style in
■writs and processes of law — the removal of the parlia-
ment and other courts into England," &c. The first
Siart only of this work of Hume's was published.
Jishop Nicholson mentions that a MS. of tiie second
part was in Sir Robert Sibbald's collection, and
NVodrow also possessed what he considered a very
valuai)le copy of it.

In the year 1608 Hume commenced a correspond-
ence on the subject of Episcopacy and Presbytery
with James Law, then Bisliop of Orkney, and after-
wards promoted to thearchiepiscopal see of Glasgow.
This epistolary warfare took its rise in a private con-
versation between Mr. Hume and the bishop, when
he came to visit the presbytery of Jedburgh in that
year. The subject presented by much too large a
field to be exhausted at a private meeting, and ac-
cordingly su])plied materials for their connnunica-
tions for about three years. But here again we are
left to lament that so little of it has been preserved.
CaUlerwood has collected a few of the letters, but
the gaps arc so frequent, and consequently so little
connection is kept up, that they would be entirely
uninteresting to a general reader. In 1613 Hume
began a correspondence of the same nature with
Bisliop Cowper on his accepting the diocese of Gal-
loway. The bishop set forth an apology for him-
self, and to this Hume wrote a reply, which, how-
ever, was not printed, as it was unfavourable to
the views of the court. Cowper answered his
statements in his Dicaiolo,s;y, but jirinted only such
parts of Hume's argument as could be most easily

refuted. To this Hume once more replied at great
length.

Shortly before this period he undertook the His-
tory of the House of Wedderlniru^ (written) by a Son
of the Family, in the year 161 1 " — a work which has
hitherto remained in manuscript. "It has some-
times grieved me," he remarks, in a dedication to
the Earl of Home and to his own brother, " when
I have been glancing over the histories of our coun-
try, to have mention made so seldom of our ances-
tors— scarce above once or twice — and that too very
shortly and superficially ; whereas they were always
remarkable for bravery, magnanimity, clemency,
liberality, munificence, hospitality, fidelity, piety in
religion, and obedience to their prince; and indeed
there never was a family who had a greater love and
regard for their country, or more earnestly devoted
themselves to, or more frequently risked their
lives for, its service. It ought, in a more particular
manner, to grieve you that they have been so long
buried in oblivion; and do you take care that they
be so no more. I give you, as it were, the prelude,
or lay the ground- work of the history; perhaps a pen
more equal to the task, or at least who can do it
with more decency, will give it the finishing stroke."
He does not enter into a minute inquiry into the
origin of the family, a species of antiquarianism of
which it must be confessed our Scottish historians
are sufficiently fond: — "My intention," he says,
"does not extend farther than to write those things
that are peculiar to the house of Wedderbum." The
work begins with "David, first laird of Wedder-
burn," who appears to have lived about the end of
the fourteenth century, and concludes with an ac-
count of the earlier part of his brother's life.

During the latter period of his life Hume appears
to have devoted himself almost entirely to literary
pursuits. He had appeared before the world as a
poet in his Liisics Foetid, published in 1605, and
afterwards incorporated into the excellent collection
entitled Deliciw Poetariun Scctoriim, edited by Dr.
Arthur Johnston. He seems to have added to his
poetical works when years and habits of study might
be supposed to have cooled his imaginative powers.
When Prince Henry died he gave vent to his grief
in a poem entitled Heiirici Principis Jiista, which,
Wodrow conjectures, was probably sent to Sir James
Semple of Beltrees, then a favourite at court, and by
whom it is not improbable that it was shown to his
majesty. A few years afterwards (161 7) he wrote
his Regi Siw Gratictilatio — a congratulatory poem on
the king's revisiting his native country. In the same
year he prepared (but did not publish) a prose work
underthe following title, " Ca»ilide)iia; id est, Examen
nonnullorum a Gulielmo Cambdeno in 'Britannia'
sua positorum, prrecipue qure ad irrisionem Scoticaj
gentis, ct eorum et Pictorum falsam originem." "In
a very short preface to his readers," says Wodrow,
"Mr. Hume observes that nothing more useful to
this island was ever proposed, than the union of the
two islands, and scarce ever any proposal was more
opposed ; witness the insults in the House of Com-
mons, and Paget's fury, rather than speech, against
it, for which he was very justly fined. After some
other things to the same purpose, he adds, that Mr.
Canibdcn hath now in his Britannia appeared on
the same side, and is at no small labour to extol to
the skies England and" his Britons, and to depress
and expose Scotland — how unjustly he does so is
Mr. Hume's design in this work." Cambden's asser-
tions were also noticed by William Drummond in
his Nuntins Scoto-Britatiniis, and in another of his
works more professedly levelled against him, entitled
A Fair of Spectacles for CainMen,

DAVID HUME.

295

The last work in which we are aware of Hume's
having been engaged, is his largest, and that by
which he is best known. The History of the House
and Race of Douglas and Angus seems to have been
first printed at Edinburgh by Evan Tyler in 1644,
but this edition has several discrepancies in the title-
page. Some copies bear the date 1648, " to be sold
by T. W. in London;" and others have a title alto-
gether different, ">-i Generall History of Scotland,
together with a particular History of the Houses of
Douglas and Angus," but are without date. After
mentioning in the preface that, in writing such a
work, it is impossible to please all parties — that some
may say that it is an unnecessary work — others, that
it is merely a party-statement — and a third complain
of "the style, the phrase, the periods, the diction,
and the language," Hume goes on to say, " In all
these particulars, to satisfy all men is more than we
can hope for; yet thus much shortly of each of them
to such as will give ear to reason : that I write, and
of this subject, I am constrained to do it, not by any
violence or compulsion, but by the force of duty, as
I take it; for, being desired to do it by those I would
not refuse, I thought myself bound to honour that
name, and in it and by it, our king and countrey. . . .
Touching partiality, I deny it not, but am content
to acknowledge my interest. Neither do I think
that ever any man did set pen to paper without some
particular relation of kindred, countrey, or such like.
The Romans in writing the Romano, the Grecians
in writing their Greek histories ; friends writing to,
of, or for friends, may be thought partiall, as coun-
treymen and friends. The vertuous may be deemed
to be partiall towards the vertuous, and the godly
towards the godly and religious; all writers have some
such respect, which is a kind of partiality. I do not
refuse to be thought to have some, or all of these
respects, and I hope none wil think I do amisse in
having them. Pleasing of men, I am so farre from
shunning of it, that it is my chief end and scope: but
let it please them to be pleased with vertue, other-
wise they shal find nothing here to please them. If
thou findest anything here besides, blame me boldly;
and why should any be displeased that wil be pleased
with it? would to God I could so please the world,
I should never displease any. But if either of these
(partiality or desire to please) carry me besides the
truth, then shal I confesse myself guilty, and esteem
these as great faults, as it is faultie and blame-worthy
to forsake the truth. But otherwise, so the truth be
stuck unto, there is no hurt in partiality and labour-
ing to please. And as for truth, clip not, nor champ
not my words (as some have done elsewhere), and I
beleeve the worst affected will not charge mee with
lying. I have ever sought the truth in all things
carefully, and even here also, and that painfully in
every point : where I find it assured, I have set it
down confidently ; where I thought there was some
reason to doubt, I tell my authour : so that if I de-
ceive, it is my self I deceive, and not thee; for I hide
nothing from thee that I myself know, and as I know
it, leaving place to thee, if thou knowest more or
better, which, if thou doest, impart and communicate
it; for so thou shouldest do, and so is truth brought
to light, which else would lye hid and buried. My
paines and travel in it have been greater tlian every
one would think, in correcting my errours; thine will
not bee so much, and both of us may furnish matter
for a third man to finde out the truth more exactly,
than either of us hath yet done. Help, therefore, but
carp not. . . . For the language, it is my mother-
tongue, that is, Scottish : and why not, to Scottish
men ? why should I contemne it ? I never thought
the difference so great, as that by seeking to speak

English, I would hazard the imputation of affectation.
Every tongue hath its own vertue and grace. Some
are more substantial!, others more ornate and succinct.
They have also their own defects and faultinesses;
some are harsh, some are effeminate, some are rude,
some affectate and swelling. The Romanes spake
from their heart, the Grecians with their lips only,
and their ordinary speech was complements ; espe-
cially the Asiatick Greeks did use a loose and blown
kind of phrase. And who is there that keeps that
golden mean ? For my own part, I like our own,
and he that writes well in it, writes well enough to
me. Yet I have ycelded somewhat to the tyrannic
of custome and the times, not seeking curiously for
words, but taking them as they come to hand. I
acknowledge also my fault (if it be a fault), that I
ever accounted it a mean study, and of no great com-
mendation to learn to write or to speak English,
and have loved better to bestow my pains and time
on forreign languages, esteeming it but a dialect of
our own, and that perhaps more corrupt." The
work commences with a preface concerning "the
Douglases in general, that is, their antiquity, to
which is joined their original, nobility, and descent,
greatness and valour of the family of the name of
Douglas. " The history begins with Sholto Douglas,
the first that bore the name, and the vanquisher of
Donald Bane in the reign of King Salvathius, and
concludes with the death of Archibald ninth Earl
of Angus, who has been already noticed in the course
of this memoir. With this work closes ever)- trace
of David Hume of Godscroft. It is supposed to
have been written about 1625, or between that period
and 1630, and it is not probable that he survived that
period long. Supposing him to have been bom about
1560, he must then have attained to the age of three-
score years and ten.

Respecting Hume's merits as a poet, different
opinions exist. \Vhile in the estimation of Dr.
Irving he never rises above mediocrity. Dr. M'Crie
places him in a somewhat higher rank : — "The easy
structure of his verse reminds us continually of the
ancient models on which it has been formed; and if
deficient in vigour, his fancy has a liveliness and
buoyancy which prevents the reader from wear}^ing
of his longest descriptions." These opinions are,
after all, not irreconcilable; the poetry of Hume pos-
sesses little originality ; but the reader is charmed
with the readiness and the frequency of his imitations
of the Roman poets.

As a historian Hume can never become popular.
He is by much too prolix — nor will this be wondered
at when we consider the age at which he wrote his
principal historical work. To the reader, however,
who is disposed to follow him through his windings,
he will be a most valuable, and in many cases a
most amusing author. As the kinsman of the Earls
of Angus, he had access to many important family
papers, from which he has compiled the history prior
to his own time. But when he writes of transac-
tions within his own recollection, and more especially
those in which he was personally engaged, there is
so much judicious remark and honesty of intention,
that it cannot fail to interest even a careless reader.

Besides the works which we have mentioned,
Hume wrote '■'Apologia Basilica, sat Machiavelli
Ingeniiim Exatninatiim, in libro quem inscripsit
Princeps, 4to, Paris, 1626." De Episcopatii, May I,
1609, Patricio Simsono ; A Treatise on Things In-
different; Of Obedience to Superiors. In the Bio-
graphie Universelle there is a memoir of him, in
which it is mentioned that "Jaques I'er- Temploye
a concilier les differends qui s'estaient eleve entre
Dumoulin et Tilenus au sujet de la justification,"

296

DAVID HUME.

and he is also there mentioned as having written Le
Conir' Assassin, ou Rfponse a tApologie des JcsuiUs,
Geneva, 1612, 8vo, and '■'■ VAssassntat du Roi, ou
Maximes Pratiquccs en la Pcrsonne du Dcfaut Henrie
le Grand," 161 7, 8vo.

HTJME, David, the celebrated metaphysician,
historian, and political economist, was the second
son of Joseph Hume of Ninewells, near Dunse, and
was bom in the Tron Church parish, Edinburgh, on
the 26th of April, 1711, o. s. His mother was
daughter to Sir David Falconer, a judge of the
Court of Session, under the designation of Lord
Newton, and for some years president of the College
of Justice. The family of Hume of Ninewells was
ancient and respectable, and the great philosopher
has himself informed us, that on the side both of
father and mother he was the descendant of nobility,
a circumstance from which he seems to have derived
a quiet satisfaction, probably owing more to his re-
sjject for the manners and feelings of the country and
age in which he lived, than to his conviction of the
advantages of noble birth. It is to be regretted that
little is known about the early life of Hume, and the
habits of his boyish years. In early infancy he was
deprived of his father, and left to the guidance of his
mother and an elder brother and sister; with the
brother, who succeeded by birthright to the family
property, he ever lived on terms of fraternal intimacy
and afTection, and towards his two female relatives
he displayed through all the stages of his life an
unvarying kindness and unremitted attention, which
have gone far, along with his other social virtues, in
causing him to be respected as a man by those who
were his most bitter opponents as a philosopher.

The property of the respectable family of Nine-
wells was not large, and the limited share which fell
to the younger brother precluded the idea of his
supporting himself without labour. He attended for
some time the university of Edinburgh, then rising
in reputation ; and of his progress in study he gives
us the following account: — "I passed through the
ordinary course of education witli success, and was
seized very early with a passion for literature, which
has been the ruling passion of my life, and the great
source of my enjoyments ; my studious disposition,
my sobriety, and my industry, gave my family a
notion that the law was a proper profession for me:
but I found an insurmountable aversion to everything
but the pursuits of jihilosophy and general learning ;
an<l while they fancied I was poring upon Voet and
Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil were the authors I was
secretly devouring."' Of this aversion not only to
the practice, but to the abstract study, of the law, in a
mind constituted like that of Hume, guided by rea-
son, acute in the perception of differences and con-
jiections, naturally prone to industry, and given up
to the indulgence neither of passion nor sentiment,
it is difficult to account.

In 1734 the persuasions of his friends induced Mr.
Hume to attempt the bettering of his income by
entering into business, and he established himself in
the office of a respectable merchant in Bristol ; but
the man who had rejected the study of the law was
not likely to be fascinated by the bustle of com-
merce, and probably in opposition to the best hopes
and wishes of his friends, in a few months he relin-
quished his situation, and spent some years in literary

* It is a'most unnecessary to mention, that when we use the
words of Hume about himself, we quote from that curious
httle memoir called My Own Life, written by Hume on his
death-bed, and published in 1777, by Mr. Strahan to whom
the manuscript was consigned', previously to its publication in
the ensuing edition of the History 0/ England.

retirement in France, living first at Rheims, and
after%vards at La Fleche in Anjou. "I there," he
says, "laid that plan of life which I have steadily
and successfully pursued. I resolved to make a very
rigid frugality supply my deficiency of fortune, to
maintain unimpaired my independency, and to regard
every object as contemptible, e.xcept the improve-
ment of my talents in literature ;" and with the con-
sistency of a calm and firm mind he kept his resolu-
tion. For some time previous to this period Hume
must have been gradually collecting that vast mass
of observation and reflection which he employed
himself during his retirement in digesting into the
celebrated Treatise 011 Human Nature. In 1 737 he
had finished the first two volumes of this work, and
he then returned to London to superintend their
publication. From this date commenced the earliest
traces of that literary and social correspondence which
furnishes many of the most characteristic commen-
taries on the mental habits of the philosopher. With
Henry Home, afterwards Lord Karnes, a near neigh-
bour of the family of Ninewells, and probably a
connection of the philosopher (for he was the first
member of the family who adopted the name of
JIume, in preference to the family name Home), he
contracted an early friendship, and a similarity of
pursuits continued the intercourse. To that gentle-
man we find the subject of our memoir writing in
the following terms, in December, 1737: — "I have
been here near three months, alwajs within a week
of agreeing with my printers : and you may imagine
I did not forget the work itself during that time,
when I began to feel some passages weaker for the
style and diction than I could have wished. The
nearness and greatness of the event roused up my
attention, and made me more difficult to please than
when I was alone in perfect tranquillity in France."
The remaining portion of this communication, though
given in the usual placid and playful manner of the
author, tells a painful tale of the difficulties he had
to encounter, and of hope deferred. "But here,"
he says, " I must tell you one of my foibles. I have
a great inclination to go down to Scotland this spring
to see my friends, and have your advice concerning
my philosophical discoveries: but cannot overcome a
certain shame-facedness I have to appear among you
at my years without having got a settlement, or so
much as attempted any. How happens it, that we
philosophers cannot as heartily despise the world as
it despises us ? I think in my conscience the con-
tempt were as well founded on our side as on the
other." With this letter Mr. Hume transmitted to
his friend a manuscript of his Essay on Miracles, a
work which he at that period declined publishing
along with his other productions, looking on it as
more likely to give offence, from the greater refer-
ence of its reasonings to revealed religion.

Towards the termination of the year 1738 Hume
published his " Treatise on Hmnan Nature; being an
Attempt to Introduce the Experimental Method of
Reasoning into Moral Subjects." The fundamental
principles on which the whole philosophy of this
work is reared, discover themselves on reading the
first page, in the division of all perceptions — in other
words, of all the materials of knowledge which come
within the comprehension of the human mind — into
impressions and ideas. Differing from almost all
men who, using other terms, had discussed the same
subject, he considered these two methods of acquir-
ing knowledge to differ, not in quality, but merely
in degree; because by an observation of the qualities
of the mind, on the principle of granting nothing
which could not be demonstrated, he could find no
real ground of distinction, excepting that the one set

DAVID HUME.

297

of perceptions was always of a more vivid descrip-
tion than the other. Tlie existence of impressions he
looked on as prior in the mind to the existence of
ideas, the latter being merely dejiendent on or re-
flected from the former, which were the first inlets of
all knowledge. Among pe)xeptioHS he considered
the various methods by which the senses make the
mind acquainted with the external world, and along
with these, by a classification which might have ad-
mitted a better arrangement, he ranked the passions,
which he had afterwards to divide into those which
were the direct consequents of the operations of tlie
senses, as pain antl pleasure, and those which the
repetition of impressions, or some other means, had
converted into concomitants, or qualifications of the
mind, as hatred, joy, pride, &c. By ideas Mr. Hume
understood those arrangements of the perceptions
formed in the mind by reasonings or imagination;
and although he has maintained the distinction be-
tween these and the impressions of the senses to be
merely in degree, all that has been either blamed or
praised in his philosophy is founded on the use he
makes of this distinction. He has been accused,
and not without justice, of confusion in his general
arrangement, and disconnection in the subjects he
has discussed as allied to each other; but a careful
peruser of his works will find the division of subject
we have just attempted to explain, to pervade the
whole of his extraordinary investigations, and never
to be departed from where language allows him to
adhere to it. The ideas, or more izSxvt perceptions,
are made by the author to be completely dependent
on the impressions, showing that there can be no
given idea at any time in the mind, to which there
has not been a corresponding impression conveyed
through the organs of sense. These ideas once ex-
isting in the mind are subjected to the operation of
the memory, and form the substance of our thoughts,
and a portion of the motives of our actions. Thus,
at any given moment, there are in the mind two
distinct sources of knowledge (or of what is generally
called knowledge) — the impressions which the mind
is receiving from surrounding objects through the
senses, and the thoughts which pass through the
mind, modified and arranged from such impressions
previously experienced and stored up. Locke, in
his arguments against the existence of innate ideas,
and Dr. Berkeley, when he tried to show that the
mind could contain no abstract ideas (or ideas not
connected with anything which the mind had expe-
rienced), had formed the outline of a similar division
of knowledge; but neither of them founded on such
a distinction a system of philosophy, nor were they,
it may be well conceived, aware of the extent to
which the principles they suggested might be logi-
cally carried. The division we have endeavoured to
define is the foundation of the sceptical philosophy.
The knowledge immediately derived from impressions
is that which truly admits the term "knowledge" to
be strictly applied to it; that which is founded on ex-
perience, derived from previous impressions, is some-
thing which always admits of doubt. While the
former are always certain, the mind being unable to
conceive their uncertainty, the latter may not only be
conceived to be false, but are so much the mere subjects
of probability, that there are distinctions in the force
which the mind attributes to them — sometimes ad-
mitting them to be doubtful, and making no more
distinction, except in the greater amount of prolia-
bilities betwixt that which it pronounces doubtful
and that which it pronounces certain. As an in-
stance, when a man looks upon another man, and
hears him speak, he receives through the senses of
hearing and sight certain impressions, the existence

of which he cannot doubt; on that man, however,
being no longer the object of his senses, the impres-
sions are arranged in his mind in a reflex form, con-
stituting what Mr. Hume has called ideas: and al-
tliough he may at first be convinced in a manner
sufficiently strong for all practical purposes that he
has actually seen and heard such a man, the know-
ledge he has is only a mass of probabilities, which
not only admit him to conceive it a possibility that
he may not have met such a man, but actually decay
by degrees, so as probably after a considerable period
to lapse into uncertainty, while no better line of dis-
tinction can be drawn betwixt the certainty and the
uncertainty, than that the one is produced by a
greater mass of probabilities than the other. The
author would have been inconsistent had he admitted
the reception of knowledge of an external world,
even through the medium of the senses : he main-
tained all that the mind had really cognizance of to
be the perceptions themselves; there was no method
of ascertaining with certainty what caused them.
The human mind then is thus discovered to be
nothing but a series of perceptions, of which some
sets have such a resemblance to each other that we
always naturally arrange them together in our
thoughts. Our consciousness of the identity of any
given individual is merely a series of perceptions so
similar, that the mind glides along them without ob-
servation. A man's consciousness of his own identity
is a similar series of impressions. "The mind,"
says the author, "is a kind of theatre, where several
perceptions successively make their appearance —
pass, repass, glide away, and mingle in an infinite
variety of postures and situations. There is pro-
perly no simplicity in it at one time, nor identity in
different, whatever natural propension we may have
to imagine that simplicity and identity. The com-
parison of the theatre must not mislead us. They
are the successive perceptions only that constitute the
mind; nor have we the most distant notion of the
place where these scenes are represented, or of the
materials of which it is composed."^ From such a
conclusion the passage to scepticism on the imma-
teriality of the soul was a natural and easy step : but
on such a subject we must be cautious as to the man-
ner in which we make remarks on the obsen-ations
made by Hume — we neither appear as among his
vindicators, nor for the purpose of disputing his con-
clusions— our purpose is, as faithful biographers,
to give, as far as our limits and our knowledge of the
subject may admit, a sketch of his leading doctrines;
and if we have anything to vindicate, it will be
the author's real meaning, which certain zealous
defenders of Christianity have shown an anxiety to
turn as batteries against it. In his reasonings on the
immateriality of the soul he is truly sceptical; that
is, while he does not deny the immateriality of the
soul, he endeavours to show that the mind can form
no certain conception of the immaterial soul. Re-
fining on the argument of a reasoning poet, who pro-
bably was not aware of the full meaning of his own
words when he said —

"Of God above, or man below,

What can we reason, but from what we know?"

the author of the Treatise on Human A'atnre main-
tained that the mere succession of impressions, of
which the mind was composed, admitted of no such
impression as that of the immateriality of the soul,
and consequently did not admit of the mind compre-
hending in what that immateriality consisted. Let
it be remembered, that this conclusion is come to in
the same manner as that against the consciousness

' Works ,1826;, i. 322.

29S

DAVin HUME.

of the mind to the existence of matter; and that in
neither case does the author maintain certain opinions
which men believe to be liss Cfrtain than they are
generally conceived to be, but gives to them a name
different from that which lanjjuaije generally bestows
on them — that of masses of probalitlities instead of
certaintUi — the latter being a term he reserves solely
for the impressions of the senses. "Should it here
be asked me," says the author, "whether I sincerely
assent to this argument, which I seem to take such
pains to inculcate, and whether I be really one of
those sceptics who hold that all is uncertain, and
that our jutlgment is not in any thing possessed of
any measures of truth and falsehood; 1 should reply,
that this question is entirely superfluous, and that
neither I, nor any other person, was ever sincerely
and constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an ab-
solute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined
us to judge as well as to breathe and feel; nor can
we any more forbear viewing certain objects in a
stronger and fuller light, upon account of their cus-
tomary connection with a present impression, than we
can hinder ourselves from thinking as long as we are
awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies when we turn
our eyes towards them in broad sunshine. Whoever
has taken the pains to refute the cavils of this total
scepticism has really disputed without an antagonist,
and endeavoured by arguments to establish a faculty
which nature has antecedently implanted in the mind
and rendered unavoidable."' \Vith this extremely
clear statement, which shows us, that while Hume had
a method of accounting for the sources of our know-
ledge differing from the theoriesof other philosophers,
in the abstract certainty which he admitted to per-
tain to any knowledge beyond the existence of an
impression, his belief in the ordinary admitted sources
of human knowledge was not less practically strong
than that of other people, — let us connect the con-
cluding words of the chapter on the immortality of
the soul: "There is no foundation for any conclusion
a priori, either concerning the operations or duration
of any object, of which it is possible for the human
mind to form a conception. Any object may be
imagined to become entirely inactive, or to be an-
nihilated in a moment : and it is an evident principle
that whatei'ir we can imai^ine is possible. Now this
is no more true of matter than of spirit — of an ex-
tended compounded substance, than of a simj^le and
unextended. In both cases the metaphysical argu-
ments for the immortality of the soul are equally in-
conclusive; and in both cases the moral arguments,
and those derived from the analogy of nature, are
equally strong and convincing. If my philosophy
therefore makes no addition to the arguments for
religion, I have at least the satisfaction to think it
takes nothing from them, but that cverjthing remains

[>recisely as before."- Without iirctending to calcu-
ate the ultimate direction of the philosophy of Hume,
as it regards revealed religion, let us repeat the re-
mark, that many persons busied themselves in in-
creasing its terrors as an engine against the Christian
faith, that they might have the merit of displaying a
chivalrous resistance. The presumptions thus formed
and fostered caused a vigorous investigation into
the grounds of all belief, and many good and able
men were startled to find that it was necessary to
admit many of the positions assumed by their subtle
antagonist, and that they must employ the vigorous
logic they had brought to the field in stoutly fortify-
ing a position he did not attack. They found "the
metaphysical arguments inconclusive," and "the
moral arguments, and those derived from the analogy

' Ifarts, vol. i. p. 240.

- ll'orks, i. p. 319.

of nature, equally strong and convincing:" and that
useful and beautiful system of natural theology
which has been enriched by the investigations of
Derham, Tucker,' and Paley, gave place to obscure
investigations into first causes, and idle theories on
the grounds of belief, which generally landed the
philosophers in a circle of confusion, and amazed the
reader with incomprehensibilities. One of the most
clear and original of the chapters of the Treatise on
Human A^atttre has provided us with a curious prac-
tical instance of the pliability of the sceptical philo-
sophy of Hume. In treating the subject of cause and
effect, Mr. Hume, with fidelity to his previous division
of perceptions, found nothing in the effect produced
on the mind by any two phenomena, of which the one
received the name of cause, the other that of effect,
but two impressions, and no connection betwixt them,
but the sequence of the latter to the former; attri-
buting our natural belief that the one is a cause, and
the other its effect, to the habit of the mind in run-
ning from the one impression to that which is its
immediate sequent or precedent; denying that we
can have any conception of cause and effect beyond
those instances of which the mind has had experience,
and which habit has taught it; and finally, denying
that mankind can penetrate farther into the mystery
than the simple knowledge that the one phenomenon
is experienced to follow the other. Men of un-
doubtedly pure religious faith have maintained the
justness of this system as a metaphysical one, and it
has found its way into physical science, as a check
to vague theories and the assumption of conjectural
causes: in a memorable instance it was, however, at-
tacked as metaphysically subversive of a proper belief
in the Deity as a first cause. The persons who
maintained this argument were answered, that an
opposite supposition was morally subversive of a
necessity for the constant existence and presence of
the Deity; because, if "a cause had the innate power
within it of producing its common effect, the whole
fabric of the universe had an innate power of exist-
ence and progression in its various changes, which
dispensed wdth the existence of a supreme regu-
lator."

The second volume of the Treatise on Human
N^ature discusses the passions on the principles laid
down at the commencement of the previous volume.
The subjects here treated, while they are not of so
strikingly original a description as to prompt us to
enlarge on their contents, may be a more acceptable
morsel to most readers, and certamly may be perused
with more of what is termed satisfaction, than the
obscure and somewhat disheartening investigations
of the pure metaphysician. Of the usual subtlety
and acuteness of the author they are of course not
destitute; but the theatre of investigation does not
admit of much abstraction, and these qualities exer-
cise themselves on subjects more tangible and com-
prehensible than those of the author's prior labours.

The production of the Treatise on Human A'ature
stands almost alone in the history of the human
mind. Let it be remembered that the author had
just reached that period of existence when the animal
spirits exercise their strongest sway, and those whom
nature has gifted with talents and observation are
exulting in a brilliant world before them, of which
they are enjoying the prospective felicity without
tasting much of the bitterness; and that this exten-
sive treatise, so varied in the subjects embraced, so

8 Not Josiak, but Abraham Tucker, who, under the .as-
sumed name of " Search," wrote a book on the h'ght of nature,
in g vols. 8vo. An unobtrusive and profound work, not ver>'
inviting, and little read, which later philosophers have pillaged
without compunction.

DAVID HUME.

299

patiently collected by a lengthened labour of inves-
tigation and reflection, and entering on views so
adverse to all that reason had previously taught men
to believe, and so repulsive to the common feelings
of the world, was the first literary attempt which
the author deigned to place before the public. Per-
haps a very close examination of the early habits and
conduct of the author, could the materials of such
be obtained, would scarcely furnish us with a clue
to so singular a riddle; but in a general sense, we
may not diverge far from the truth in supposing that
the circumstances of his earlier intercourse with the
world had not prompted the author to entertain a
very charitable view of mankind, and that the bitter-
ness thus engendered coming under the cognizance
of his reflective mind, instead of turning him into a
stoic and practical enemy of his species, produced
that singular system which, holding out nothing but
doubt as the end of all mortal investigations, struck
a silent blow at the dignity of human nature, and at
much of its happiness. In a very singrdar passage
he thus speaks of his comfortless philosophy, and of
the feelings it produces in the mind of its Cain-like
fabricator. "I am first affrighted and confounded
with that forlorn solitude in which I am placed in
my philosophy, and fancy myself some strange un-
couth monster who, not being able to mingle and
unite in society, has been expelled all human com-
merce, and left utterly abandoned and disconsolate.
Fain would I run into the crowd for shelter and
warmth, but cannot prevail with myself to mix with
such deformity. I call upon others to join me in
order to make a company apart, but no one will
hearken to me. Every one keeps at a distance, and
dreads that storm which beats upon me from every
side. I have exposed myself to the enmity of all
metaphysicians, logicians, mathematicians, and even
theologians; and can I wonder at the insults I must
suffer? I have declared my disapprobation of their
systems; and can I be surprised if they should express
a hatred of mine and of my person? When I look
abroad, I foresee on every side dispute, contradiction,
anger, calumny, and detraction. When I turn my
eye inward, I find nothing but doubt and ignorance.
All the world conspires to oppose and contradict me:
though such is my weakness, that I feel all my
opinions loosen and fall of themselves when unsup-
ported by the approbation of others. Every step I
take is with hesitation, and every new reflection
makes me dread an error and absurdity in my reason-
ing."^ In the same spirit he writes to his friend
Mr. Henry Home, immediately after the publication
of the Treatise: "Those," he says, "who are accus-
tomed to reflect on such abstract subjects are com-
monly full of prejudices; and those who are unpre-
judiced, are unacquainted with metaphysical reason-
ings. My principles are also so remote from all the
vulgar sentiments on the subject, that were they to
take place they would produce almost a total altera-
tion in philosophy; and you know revolutions of this
kind are not easily brought about."*

Hume, when the reflection of more advanced
life, and his habits of unceasing thought, had made
a more clear arrangement in his mind of the prin-
ciples of his philosophy, found many things to blame
and alter in his treatise, not so much in the funda-
mental arguments, as in their want of arrangement,
and the obscure garb of words in which he had
clothed them. On the feelings he entertained on this
subject we find him afterwards writing to Dr. John
Stewart, and we shall here quote a rather mutilated
fragment of this epistle, which has hitherto been

Works, i. p. 335.

2 Tytler's Life 0/ Karnes.

unprinted, and is interesting as containing an illus-
tration of his arguments on belief: — "Allow me to
tell you that I never asserted so absurd a proposition,
as that anything might arise without a cause. I
only maintained that our certainty of the falsehood
of that proposition proceeded neither from intuition
nor demonstration, but from another source. That
Cesar existed, that there is such an island as Sicily ;
for these propositions, I affirm, we have no demon-
stration nor intuitive proof. Would you infer that
I deny their truth, or even their certainty? and some
of them as satisfactory to the mind, though perhaps
not so regular, as the demonstrative kind. Where
a man of sense mistakes my meaning, I own I am
angry, but it is only with myself, for having expressed
my meaning so ill as to have given occasion to the
mistake. That you may see I would no way scruple
of owning my mistakes in argument, I shall acknow-
ledge (what is infinitely more material) a very great
mistake in conduct ; viz. my publishing at all the
Treatise on Human iVatiire, a book which pretended
to innovate in all the sublimest parts of philosophy,
and which I composed before I was five and twenty.
Above all, the positive air which pervades that book,
and which may be imputed to the ardour of youth,
so much displeases me, that I have not patience to
review it. I am willing to be unheeded by the pub-
lic, though human life is so short that I despair of
ever seeing the decision. I wish I had always con-
fined myself to the more easy paths of erudition; but
you will excuse me from submitting to proverbial
decision, let it even be in Greek."

The effect produced on the literary w-orld by the
appearance of the Treatise on Hii?iian Nature, was
not flattering to a young author. "Never literary
attempt," says Mr. Hume, "was more unfortunate
than my Treatise on Human Nature. It fell dead-
born from the press, without reaching such distinction
as even to excite a murmur among the zealots. But
being naturally of a cheerful and sanguine temper,
I very soon recovered the blow, and prosecuted with
great ardour my studies in the country." The third
part of Mr. Hume's Treatise on Human Nature was
published in 1740 : it treated the subject of morals,
and was divided into two parts, the first discussing
"Virtue and Vice in general," the second treating
of "Justice and Injustice." The scope of this essay
is to show that there is no abstract and certain dis-
tinction betwixt moral good and evil ; and while it
admits a sense of virtue to have a practical existence
in the mind of every human being (however it may
have established itself), it draws a distinction betwixt
those virtues of which every man's sense of right is
capable of taking cognizance; and justice, which it
maintains to be an artificial virtue, erected certainly
on the general wish of mankind to act rightly, but
a virtue which men do not naturally follow, until
a system is invented by human means, and based on
reasonable principles of general utility to the species,
which shows men what is just and what is unjust,
and can best be followed by the man who has best
studied its general artificial form, in conjunction with
its application to utility, and who brings the most
acute perception and judgment to assist him in the
task.^ Before publishing this part of the work Hume
submitted the manuscript to Francis Hutcheson,

3 Thus this portion of the system bore a considerable re-
semblance to the theory so elaborately expounded in the
Leviathan of Hobbes, with this grand distinction, that Hume,
while maintaining the necessity that a system of justice should
be framed, does not maintain that it had its origin in the na-
tural injustice of mankind, and their hatred of each other, nor
does he attribute the formation of the system to a complicated
social contract, like that which occurred to the mind of the
IMalmesbury philosopher.

DAVID HUME.

professor of moral philosophy in the university of
Glasgow, whose opinions he was more disposed to
receive with deference than those of any other man.
Nevertheless, it was only in matters of detail that he
would consent to be guided by that eminent person.
The fundamental principles of the system he firmly
dcfeniled. The corresjxjndence w hich passed betwixt
them shows how far Hume saw into the depths of
the utilitarian system, and proves that it was more
completely formed in his mind than it appeared in
his book. "To every virtuous action (says he) there
must be a motive or imp>elling passion distinct from
the virtue, and virtue can never be the sole motive
to any action. " The greater plainness of the subject,
and its particular reference to the hourly duties of
life, made this essaj- more interesting to moral philo-
sophers, and laid it more widely open to criticism,
than the Treatise on the Understanding, and even
that on the Passions. The extensive reference to
principles of utility produced discussions to which
it were an idle and endless work here to refer ; but
without any disrespect to those celebrated men who
have directly combated the principles of this work,
and supported totally different theories of the forma-
tion of morals, those who have twisted the principles
of the author into excuses for vice and immorality,
and the destruction of all inducements to the practice
of virtue, deserve only the fame of being themselves
the fabricators of the crooked morality of which
they have endeavoured to cast the odium upon
another. When Mr. Hume said, "The necessity
of justice to the support of society is the sole founda-
tion of that virtue : and since no moral excellence
is more highly esteemed, we may conclude that
this circumstance of usefulness has in general the
strongest energ)', and most entire command over our
sentiments. It must, therefore, be the source of a
considerable part of the merit ascribed to humanity,
benevolence, friendship, public spirit, and other
social virtues of that stamp ; as it is the sole source
of the moral approbation paid to fidelity, justice,
veracity, integrity, and those other estimable and
useful qualities and principles:'' — when he said this,
it was not difficult for those benevolent guardians of
the public mind who sat in watch to intercept such
declarations, to hold such an opinion up to public
indignation, and to maintain that it admitted every
man to examine his actions by his own sense of their
utility, and to commit vice by the application of a
theor)- of expediency appropriated to the acL

The neglect with which his first production was
received by the public, while it did not abate the
steady industry of its author, turned his attention
for a time to subjects which might be more accept-
able to general readers, and in the calm retirement
of his brother's house at Ninewells, where he pursued
his studies with solitar)' zeal, he prepared two volumes
of unconnected dissertations, entitled Essays Moral
and Phtlosophical, which he published in 1 742.
These essays he had intended to have published in
weekly papers, after the method pursued by the
authors of the Spectator; "but," he observes, in an
advertisement prefixed to the first edition, "having
dropped that undertaking, partly from laziness,
partly from want of leisure, and being willing to
make trial of my talents for writing before I ventured
upon any more serious compositions, I was induced
to commit these trifles to the judgment of the public."
A few of the subjects of these essays are the follow-
ing: "Of the Delicacy of Taste and Passion," "That
Politics may be reduced to a Science," "Of the In-
dependency of Pariiament," "Of the Parties in
Great Britain," "Of Superstition and Enthusiasm,"
•'Of Liberty and Despotism," "Of Eloquence,"

"Of Simplicity and Refinement," "-\ Character of
Sir Robert Walpole," inc. Of these miscellaneous
productions we cannot venture the most passing
analysis in a memoir which must necessarily be
brief: of their general character it may be sufficient
to say, that his style of writing, which in his Treatise
was far from approaching the purity and elegance
of composition which he afterwards displayed, had
made a rapid advance to excellence, and that the
reading world quickly discovered from the justness
and accuracy of his ^•iews, the elegance of his senti-
ments, and the clear precision viith which he stated
his arguments, that the subtle calculator of the origin
of all human knowledge could direct an acute eye
to the proceedings of the world around him, and
that he was capable of making less abstract calcula-
tions on the motives which affected mankind. A
few of these essays, which he seems to have de-
nounced as of too light a nature to accompany his
other works, were not republished during his life ;
among the subjects of these are "Impudence and
Modesty," "Love and Marriage," "Avarice," &c.
Although these have been negatively stigmatized by
their author, a general reader wiU find much gratifi-
cation in their perusal : the subjects are handled with
the careless touch of a satirist; and in drawing so
lightly and almost pla)-fully pictures of what is con-
temptible and ridiculous, one can scarcely avoid the
conviction that such is the aspect in which the author
wishes to appear. But on the other hand there is
such a complete absence of all grotesqueness, of
exa^eration, or attempt at ridicule, that it is ap-
parent he is drawing a picture of what he knows to
be unchangeably rooted in human nature, and that
knowing railler)' to be useless, he is content as a
philosopher merely to depict the deformity which
cannot be altered. Among the essays he did not
republish, is the "Characterof Sir Robert AValpole," a
singular specimen of the author's abOity to abstract
himself from the pohtical feelings of the time, calmly
describing the character of a living statesman, whose
conduct was perhaps more feverishly debated by his
fiiends and enemies than that of almost any minister
in any nation, as if he were a person of a distant age,
with which the author had no s}Tnpathy, or of a
land with which he was only acquainted through the
pages of the traveller. It was after the publication
of this work that Hume first enjoyed the gratifica-
tion of something like public applause. "The
work," he saj-s, "was favourably received, and soon
made me entirely forget my former disappointment."
He still rigidlj' adhered to his plans of economy and
retirement, and continued to reside at Ninewells,
applying himself to the study of Greek, w hich he had
pre\-iously neglected. In 1 745 he was invited to be-
come tutor to tlie Marquis of Annandale, a young
nobleman whose state of mind at that period ren-
dered a superintendent necessarj' ; and though the
situation must have been one not conducive to study,
or pleasing to such a mind as that of Hume, he found
that his circumstances would not justify a refusal of
the invitation, and he continued for the period of a
year in the family of the marquis.

During his residence in this family, the death of
Mr. Cleghom, professor of moral philosophj' in the
university of Edinburgh, caused a vacancy, which
Mr. Hume verj^ naturally considered he might be
capable of filling. The patrons of the university,
however, and their advisers, took a different view
of the matter, and judged that they would be at least
more safe in considering a person of his reputed
principles of philosophy as by no means a proper
instructor of youth : nor were virulence and party
feeling unmixed with cool judgment in fixing their

DAVID HUME.

choice. The disappointment of not being able to
obtain a situation so desirable as affording a respec-
table and permanent salary, and so suited to his
studies, seems to have preyed more heavily than any
other event in his life on the spirits of Air. Hume;
and with the desire of being independent of the world,
he seems for a short time to have hesitated whether
he should continue his studies, or at once relinquish
the pursuit of philosophical fame by joining the
army. During the ensuing year his desire to be
placed in a situation of respectability was to a certain
extent gratified, by his being appointed secretary to
Lieutenant-general St. Clair, who had been chosen
to command an expedition avowedly against Canada,
but which terminated in a useless incursion on the
coast of France. In the year 1747 General St. Clair
was appointed to superintend an embassy to the
courts of Vienna and Turin, and declining to accept
a secretary from government, Hume, for whom he
seems to have entertained a partiality, accompanied
him in his former capacity. He here enjoyed the
society of Sir Henry Erskine and Captain (afterwards
General) Grant, and mixing a little with the world,
and joining in the fashionable society of the places
which he visited, he seems to have enjoyed a partial
relaxation from his philosophical labours. Although
he mentions that these two years were almost the
only interruptions which his studies had received
during the course of his life, he does not seem to
have entirely neglected his pursuits as an author ;
in a letter to his friend Henry Home he hints at the
probability of his devoting his time to historical sub-
jects, and continues, "I have here two things going
on, a new edition of my Essays, all of which you
have seen except oneoiiht "Protestant Succession,"
where I treat that subject as coolly and indifferently
as I would the dispute betwixt Cesar and Pompey.
The conclusion shows me a Whig, but a very scep-
tical one."'

Lord Charlemont, who at this period met with Mr.
Hume at Turin, has given the following account of
his habits and appearance, penned apparently with
a greater aim at effect than at truth, yet somewhat
characteristic of the philosopher: "Nature I believe
never formed any man more unlike his real character
than David Hume. The powers of physiognomy
were bafHed by his countenance ; neither could the
most skilful in that science pretend to discover the
smallest trace of the faculties of his mind in the un-
meaning features of his visage. His face was broad
and fat, his mouth wide, and without any other ex-
pression than that of imbecility. His eyes vacant
and spiritless ; and the corpulence of his whole per-
son was far better fitted to communicate the idea of
a turtle-eating alderman than of a refined philosopher.
His speech in English was rendered ridiculous by
the broadest Scottish accent, and his French was,
if possible, still more laughable ; so that wisdom,
most certainly, never disguised herself before in so
uncouth a garb. Though now near fifty years old,"
he was healthy and strong ; but his health and
strength, far from being advantageous to his figure,
instead of manly comeliness, had only the appearance
of rusticity. His wearing a uniform added greatly
to his natural awkwardness, for he wore it like a
grocer of the train-bands. Sinclair was a lieutenant-
general, and was sent to the courts of Vienna and
Turin as a military envoy, to see that their quota of
troops was furnished by the Austrians and Piedmon-
tese. It was therefore thought necessary that his

' Tytler's Li/e of Karnes.

^ His lordship must have made a miscalculation. Hume
was then only in his thirty-eighth year.

secretary should appear to be an officer; and Hume
was accordingly disguised in scarlet."^

The letter to Mr. Home we have quoted above,
gives an idea of the literary employments of the
author during the intervals of his official engagements
at Turin, and on his return to Britain he exhibited
the fruit of his labour in a second edition of his
Essays Afo7-al and Political, which was published in
1748, with four additional essays, and in a recon-
struction of the first part of his Tj-eatise on Unman
A^ature, which he published immediately after, under
the title Pliilosophical Essays concerning the Human
Understanding, and formed the first part of the well-
known corrected digest of the Treatise of Uiitnan
Nature into the Inipciry cottcerning Unman Nature.
In the advertisement the author informs the public
that "most of the principles and reasonings in this
volume were published in a work in three volumes,
called A Treatise on Human Nature, a work which
the author had projected before he left college, and
which he wrote and published not long after. The
philosophy of this work is essentially the same as
that of which he had previously sketched a more
rude and complicated draught. The object (or more
properly speaking, the conclusion arrived at, for the
person who sets out without admissions, and inquires
whether anything can be ascertained in philosophy,
can scarcely be said to have an object in view) is the
same system of doubt which he previously expounded;
a scepticism, not like that of Boyle and others, which
merely went to show the uncertainty of the conclu-
sions attending particular species of argument, but a
sweeping argument to show that by the structure of
the understanding, the result of all investigations,
on all subjects, must ever be doubt." The Inquiry
must be to every reader a work far more pleasing,
and we may even say instructive, than the T7-eatise.
Whilemanyofthemore startling arguments, assuming
the appearance of paradoxes, sometimes indistinctly
connected with the subject, are omitted, others are
laid down in a clearer form; the whole is subjected
to a more compact arrangement, and the early style
of the writer, which to many natural beauties united
a considerable feebleness and occasional harshness,
makes in this work a very near approach to the
elegance and classic accuracy which much persever-
ance and a refined taste enabled the author to
acquire in the more advanced period of his life.
Passing over, as our limits must compel us, any
attempt at an analytical comparison of the two
works, and a narrative of the changes in the author's
opinions, we must not omit the circumstance, that
the Essay on Miracles, which it will be remembered
the author withheld from his Treatise, was attached
to the Inquiry, probably after a careful revision and
correction. Locke had hinted in a few desultory
observations the grounds of a disbelief in the miracles
attributed to the early Christian church, and Dr.
Conyers Middleton, in his "Free Inquiry into the
Miraculous Powers supposed to have subsisted in
the Christian Church from the Earliest Ages," pub-
lished very nearly at the same period with the Essay
of Hume, struck a more decided blow at all super-
natural agency beyond what was justified by the
sacred Scriptures, and approached by his arguments
a dangerous neighbourhood to an interference with
what he did not avowedly attack. Hume considered
the subject as a general point in the human under-
standing to which he admitted no exceptions. The
argimient of this remarkable Essay is too well known
to require an explanation. Hume is repeatedly at
pains to pretest against his being supposed to be

•* Hardy's Li/e of Lord Charleiiioitt, p. 8.

302

DAVID HUME.

arming in the Essay against the Christian faith.
'I'hesc protests, however, as his biographer, Mr.
Burton, is constrained to admit, were uttered briefly
and coldly, and in such a manner as made people
feel, that if Hume believed in the iLoctrines of the
Bible, he certainly had not his heart in them. A
want of proper ilefcrence for religious feeling (adds
this writer) is a defv-xt that lOins through all his
works. There is no ribaldr)', but at the same
time there are no expressions of decent reverence.
It is to be observed, also, that the argument of
Hume against miracles is still a favourite weapon of
the enemies of revealetl religion. At the same time,
it must be admitted that, under proper regulation,
the argument is of use in defining the boundaries of
inductive reasoning, and in this way has proved un-
doubtedly serviceable to the progress of science.

The work by Dr. Campbell in confutation of this
Essav, at first produced in the form of a sermon,
and afterwards expanded into a treatise, which was
published in 1762, is well known and appreciated.
This admirable and conclusive production, while
yet in manuscript, was shown to Hume by Dr.
Blair. Hume was much pleased with the candour
of the transaction; he remarked a few passages hardly
in accordance with the calm feelings of the other
portions of the work, which at his suggestion the
author amended; and he personally wrote to Dr.
Campl)ell, with his usual calm politeness, thanking
him for treatment so unexpected from a clergyman
of the Church of Scotland; and, with the statement
that he had made an early resolution not to answer
attacks on his opinions, acknowledged that he never
felt so violent an inclination to defend himself
The respect which Campbell admitted himself to
entertain for the sceptic is thus expressed: — "The
Essay on Miracles deserves to be considered as one
of the most dangerous attacks that have been made
on our religion. The danger results not solely from
the merit oi the piece: it results much more from that
of the author. The piece itself, like every other
work of Mr. Hume, is ingenious; but its merit is
more of the oratorical kind than of the philosophical.
The merit of the author, I acknowledge, is great.
The many useful volumes he has published oi history,
as well as on criticism, politics, and trade, have justly
procured him, with all persons of taste and discern-
ment, the highest reputation as a writer. ... In
such analysis and exposition, wdiich I own I have
attem])ted without ceremony or reserve, an air of
ridicule is unavoidable; but this ridicule, I am well
aware, if founded on misrepresentation, will at last
rebound upon myself"' Dr. Campbell was a man
of strong good sense, and knew well the description of
argument which the world would best apjircciate, ap-
prove, and comiirehend, in answer to the jierplexing
subtleties of his opponent. He struck at the root of
the system of percejnions merging intoexperience, and
experience regulating the value of testimony, which
had been erected by his adversary — and appealing,
not to the passions and feelings in favour of religion,
but to the common convictions which we deem to
be founded on reason, and cannot se]5arate from our
minds, maintained that "testimony has a natural
and original influence on belief, antecedent to ex-
perience," from which position he proceeded to show
that the miracles of the gospel had received attesta-
tion sufficient to satisfy the reason.

About this period Hume suffered the loss of a
mother, who, according to his own account, when
speaking of his earlier days, was "a woman of
singular merit, who, though young and handsome,

' Edit. 1797, Advert, p. viii.

devoted herself entirely to the rearing of her chil-
dren ;" and the philosopher seems to have regarded
her with a strong and devoted affection. He was a
man whose disposition led him to unite himself to the
world by few of the ordinary ties, but the few which
imperceptibly held him were not broken without
pain ; on these occasions, the ]:)hilosopher yielded to
the man, and the cold sceptic discovered the feelings
with which nature had gifted him, which at other
moments lay chained by the bonds of his powerful
reason. A very different account of the effect of this
event, from what vve have just now stated, is given
in the passage we are about to quote (as copied in
the Quarterly A'ez'iew) from the Travels of the Ame-
rican .Silliman. Without arguing as to the pro-
bability or improbability of its containing a true
statement, let us remark that it is destitute of proof,
a quality it amply require.s, being given by the tra-
veller forty years after the death of the philosopher,
from the report of an individual, while the circum-
stance is not one which would have probably escaped
the religious zeal of some of Mr. Hume's commen-
tators.

"It seems that Hume received a religious educa-
tion from his mother, and early in life was the subject
of strong and hopeful religious impressions ; but as
he approached manhood they were effaced, and con-
firmed infidelity succeeded. Maternal partiality,
however, alarmed at first, came at length to look
with less and less pain upon this declension, and
filial love and reverence seem to have been absorbed
in the pride of philosophical scepticism; for Hume
now applied himself with unwearied and unhappily
with successful efforts to sap the foundation of his
mother's faith. Having succeeded in this dreadful
work, he went abroad into foreign countries; and as
he was returning, an express met him in London,
with a letter from his mother, informing him that
she was in a deep decline, and could not long survive:
she said she found herself without any support in her
distress: that he had taken away that source of com-
fort upon which, in all cases of affliction, she used
to rely, and that she now found her mind sinking
into despair. She did not doubt but her son would
afford her some substitute for her religion, and she
conjured him to hasten to her, or at least to send her
a letter containing such consolations as philosophy
can afford to a dying mortal. Hume was over-
whelmed with anguish on receiving this letter, and
hastened to Scotland, travelling day and night ; but
before he arrived, his mother expired. No per-
manent impression seems, however, to have been
made on his mind by this most trying event ; and
whatever remorse he might have felt at the moment,
he soon relapsed into his wonted obduracy of heart."

On the appearance of this anecdote. Baron Hume,
the philosopher's nephew, communicated to the
editor of the Quarterly Kez'iew the following anec-
dote of a more pleasing nature connected with the
same circumstance ; and while it is apparent that it
stands on better ground, we may mention that it is
acknowledged by the reviewer as an authenticated
contradiction to the statement of Silliman. "David
and he (the Hon. Mr. Boyle, brother of the Earl of
Glasgow) were both in London at the period ivhen
David'' s mother died. M r. Boyle, hearing of it, soon
after went into his a]iartinent, for they lodged in the
same house, where he found him in the deepest afflic-
tion, and in a flood of tears. After the usual topics
of condolence Mr. Boyle said to him, 'My friend,
you owe this uncommon grief to your having thrown
off the principles of religion; for if you had not, you
would have been consoled with the firm belief that
the good lady, who was not only the best of

DAVID HUME.

303

mothers, but the most pious of Christians, was com-
pletely happy in the realms of the just.' To which
David replied, 'Thouijh I throw out my speculations
to entertain the learned and metaphysical world, yet,
in other things, I do not think so differently from
the rest of mankind as you imagine.' "

Hume returned in 1749 to the retirement of liis
brother's house at Ninewells, and during a residence
there for two years continued his remodelling of his
Treatise on Human Nature, and prepared for the
press his celebrated Political Discourses. The former
production appeared in 1 75 1, under the title of an
Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, published
by Millar, the celebrated bookseller. Hume con-
sidered this the most perfect of his works, and it is
impossible to resist admiration of the clearness of the
arguments, and the beautiful precision of the theories;
the world, however, did not extend to it the balmy
influence of popularity, and it appeared to the author
that all his literary efforts were doomed to the un-
happy fate of being little regarded at first, and of
gradually decaying into oblivion. "In my opinion,"
he says "(who ought not to judge on that subject), [it]
is, of all my writings, historical, philosophical, or
literary, incomparably the best. It came unnoticed
and unobserved into the world."

In 1752, and during the author's residence in
Edinburgh, appeared his Political Discourses. The
subjects of these admirable essays were of interest to
every one, the method of treating them was compre-
hensible to persons of common discernment ; above
all, they treated subjects on which the prejudices of
few absolutely refused conviction by argument, and
the author had the opportunity of being appreciated
and admired, even when telling truths. The book
in these circumstances was, in the author's words,
"the only work of mine that was successful on the
first publication. It was well received abroad and
at home." The chief subjects were, "Commerce,
Money, Interest, the Balance of Trade, the Populous-
ness of Ancient Nations, the Idea of a Perfect Com-
monwealth." Sir Josiah Child, Sir William Petty,
Hobbes, and Locke had previously given the glim-
merings of more liberal principles on trade and
manufacture than those which they saw practised,
and hinted at the common prejudices on the use of
money and the value of labour ; but Hume was the
first to sketch an outline of some branches of the
benevolent system of political economy framed by
his illustrious friend Adam Smith. He laid down
labour as the only criterion of all value, made a near
approach to an ascertainment of the true value of
the precious metals, a point not yet fully fixed among
economists ; discovered the baneful effects of com-
mercial limitations as obliging the nation to trade in
a less profitable manner than it would choose to do
if unconstrained, and predicted the dangerous con-
sequences of the funding system. The essay on the
populousness of ancient nations was a sceptical
analysis of the authorities on that subject, doubting
their accuracy, on the principle of political economy
that the number of the inhabitants of a nation must
have a ratio to its fruitfulness and their industry.
The essay was elaborately answered by Dr. Wallace
in a Dissertation of the Ahcmbers of Mankind ; but
that gentleman only produced a host of those
"authorities," the efficacy of which Mr. Hume has
doubted on principle. This essay is an extremely
useful practical application of the doctrines in the
Essay on Miracles. Mr. Hume's " Idea of a Perfect
Commonwealth" has been objected to as an im-
practicable system. The author probably had the
wisdom to make this discovery himself, and might
have as soon expected it to be applicable to practice

as a geometrician might dream of his angles, straight
lines, and points being literally accomplished in the
measurement of an estate or the building of a house.
The whole represents men without passions or pre-
judices working like machines; and Hume no doubt
admitted, that while passion, prejudice, and habit
forbade the safe attempt of such projects, such ab-
stract structures ought to be held up to the view of
the legislator, as the forms into which, so far as he
can do it with safety, he ought to stretch the systems
under his administration. Plato, More, Harrington,
Hobbes, and (according to some accounts) Berke-
ley^ had employed their ingenuity in a similar
manner, and Hume seems to have considered it
worthy of his attention.

In February, 1752, David Hume succeeded the
celebrated Ruddiman as librarian to the Faculty of
Advocates. The salary was at that time very trifling,
somewhere we believe about £\0, but the duties
were probably little more than nominal, and the
situation was considered an acquisition to a man of
literary habits. It was with this ample field of
authority at his command, that he seems to have
finally determined to write a portion of the History
of England. In 1757 he relinquished this appoint-
ment on his removing to London, when preparing
for publication the History of the House of Tudor.

In 1752 appeared the first (published) volume of
the History of E)igland, embracing the period from
the accession of the house of Stuart to the death of
Charles I. ; and, passing over intermediate events,
we may mention that the next volume, containing a
continuation of the series of events to the period of
the Revolution, appeared in 1756, and the third,
containing the "History of the House of Tudor,"
was published in 1759. "I was, I own," says the
author with reference to the first volume, "sanguine
in my expectations of the success of this work. I
thought that I was the only historian that had at
once neglected present power, interest, and author-
ity, and the cry of popular prejudices ; and as the
subject was suited to every capacity, I expected pro-
portional applause. But miserable was my dis-
appointment; I was assailed by one cry of reproach,
disapprobation, and even detestation; English, Scot-
tish, and Irish, Whig and Tory, churchman and
sectary, freethinker and religionist, patriot and cour-
tier, united in their rage against the man who had
presumed to shed a generous tear for the fate of
Charles I. and the Earl of Strafford ; and after the
first ebullitions of their fury were over, what was
still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink into
oblivion." Of the second he says, "This perform-
ance happened to give less displeasure to the Whigs,
and was better received. It not only rose itself, but
helped to buoy up its unfortunate brother." Of the
History of England it is extremely difficult to give a
fair and unbiased opinion, because, while the author
is, in general, one of the most impartial writers on
this subject, it is scarcely a paradox to say, that the
few partialities in which he has indulged have done
more to warp the mind than the violent prejudices
of others. Previous to his history, those who wrote
on political subjects ranged themselves in parties,
and each man proclaimed with open mouth the side
for which he was about to argue, and men heard him
as a special pleader. Hume looked over events with
the eye of a philosopher; he seemed to be careless
of the extent of the good or bad of either party.
On neither side did he abuse, on neither did he laud
or even justify. The side which he adopted seldom
enjoyed approbation or even vindication, and only

> In the anonymous Advcntiircs of Giovanni de Lucca,

304

DAVID HUME.

in apology did he distinguish it from that to which
he was inimical. Krom this peculiarity the opin-
ions to which he leaned acijuiretl strcn^jth from the
suffrage of one so a|iparently impartial and uncon-
cerneil. Notwithstanding the prejudices generally
attributed, however, to Hume as a historian, we can-
not Set him down as an enemy to liberty. No man
had grander views of the power of the human mind,
and of the higher majesty of intellect, when compared
with the external attributes of rank; and the writings
of a republican could not exceed in depicting this
feeling the picture he has drawn of the parliament
of Charles I., and of the striking circumstances of
the king's condemnation. The instances in which
he has shown himself to be inconsistent, may perhaps
be more attributed to his habits than to his opinions.
His indolent benevolence prompted a sympathy with
the oppressed, and he felt a reluctance to justify those
who assumed the aspect of active assailants, from
whatever cause; while in m.atters of religion, viewing
all persuasions in much the same aspect, unprejudiced
himself, he felt a contempt for those who indulged in
prejudice, and was more inclined to censure than to
vindicate those who acted from religious impulse.
With all his partialities, however, let those who
study the character of the author while they read his
history recollect, that he never made literature bow
to rank, that he never flattered a great man to ob-
tain a favour, and that, though long poor, he was
always independent. Of the seeming contradiction
between his life and opinions, we quote the following
applicable remarks from the Edinburgh Re^neiv:

"Few things seem more unaccountable, and in-
deed absurd, than that Hume should have taken part
with high church and high monarchy men. The
persecutions which he suffered in his youth from the
Presbyterians may, perhaps, have influenced his
ecclesiastical partialities. But that he should have
sided with the Tudors and the Stuarts against the
people seems quite inconsistent with all the great
traits of his character. His unrivalled sagacity must
have looked with contempt on the preposterous
arguments by which iht Jus dh'iiiu?n wdi-i maintained.
His natural benevolence must have suggested the
cruelty of subjecting the enjoyments of thousands to
the caprice of one unfeeling individual: and his own
practical independence in private life might have
taught him the value of those feelings which he has
so mischievously derided. Mr. Fox seems to have
been struck with some surprise at this strange trait
in the character of our philosopher. In a letter to
Mr. Laing he says, 'He was an excellent man, and
of great powers of mind ; but his partiality to kings
and princes is intolerable. Nay, it is, in my opinion,
quite ridiculous: and is more like the foolish admira-
tion which women and children sometimes have for
kings, than the opinion, right or wrong, of a philo-
so])her.'"

It would be a vain task to enumerate the contro-
versial attacks on Hume's History of Etiglaiid. Dr.
Hard in his Dialogues on the English Constitution
stoutly combated his opinions, ^iiller brought the
force of his strongly thinking mind to a consideration
of the subject at great length, but he assumed too
much the aspect of a special pleader. Dr. Birch
and Dr. Towers entered on minute examinations
of particular portions of the narrative; and Major
Cartwright, with more fancy than reason, almost
caricatured the opinions of those who considered
that Hume had designedly painted the government
of the Tudors in arbitrary colours, to relieve that of
the Stuarts. Mr. Laing appeared as the champion
of the Scottish patriots, and Dr. M'Crie as the vin-
dicator of the Presbyterians; and in our own day

two elaborate works have fully examined the state-
ments and representations of Hume — the British
Empire of Mr. Brodie, and the extremely impartial
Constitutional History of Hallam.

In the interval betwixt the publication of the first
and second volumes of the History, Hume produced
the Natural History of Religion. This production
is one of those which Warburton delighted to honour.
In a pamphlet which Hume attributed to Hurd he
thus politely notices it: — "The few excepted out of
the whole race of mankind are, we see, our philoso-
pher and his gang, with their pedlers' ware of matter
and motion, who penetrate by their disquisitions into
the secret structure of vegetable and animal bodies,
to extract, like the naturalists in Gulliver, sunbeams
out of cucumbers; just as wise a project as this of
raising religion out of the intrigues of matter and
motion. We see what the man would be at through
all his disguises, and no doubt he would be much
mortified if we did not; though the discovery we J
make is only this, that of all the slanders against re- B
velation, this before us is the tritest, the dirtiest, and
the most worn in the drudgery of free-thinking, not
but it may pass with his friends, and they have my
free leave to make their best of it. What I quote it
for is only to show the rancour of heart which pos-
sesses this unhappy man, and which could induce
him to employ an insinuation against the Christian
and the Jewish religions not only of no weight in
itself, but of none, I will venture to say, even in his
own opinion."' Hume says he "found by Warbur-
ton's railing" that his "books were beginning to be
esteemed in good company;" and of the particular
attention which the prelate bestowed on the sceptic,
such specimens as the following are to be found in
the correspondence of the former: "I am strongly
tempted too to have a stroke at Hume in parting.
He is the author of a little book called Philosophical
Essays: in one of which he argues against the hope
of a God, and in another (very needlessly, you will
say) against the possibility of miracles. He has
crowned the liberty of the press, and yet he has a
considerable post under government. I have a great
mind to do justice on his arguments against miracles,
which I think might be done in few words. But
does he deserve notice? Is he known among you?
Pray answer me these questions; for if his own weight
keeps him down, I should be sorry to contribute to
his advancement to any place but the pillor)'."^

Of the very different manner in which he esteemed
a calm and a scurrilous critic, we have happily been
able to obtain an instance, in a copy of a curious
letter of Hume, which, although the envelope is un-
fortunately lost, and the whole is somewhat mutilated,
we can perceive from the circumstances to have been
addressed to Dr. John Stewart, author of an Essay
on the Lazi's of Motion. It affords a singular instance
of the calm and forgiving spirit of the philosopher:
"I am so great a lover of peace that I am resolved
to drop this matter altogether, and not to insert a
syllable in the preface which can have a reference to
your essay. The truth is, I could take no revenge
but such a one as would have been a great deal too
cruel, and much exceeding the offence; for though
most authors think that a contemptuous manner of
treating their writings is but slightly revenged by
hurting the personal character and the honour of their
antagonists, I am very far from being of that opinion.
Besides, as I am as certain as I can be of anything
(and I am not such a sceptic as you may perhaps
imagine), that your inserting such remarkable altera-

' Warburton's Works, vii. 851, 868.

' Lettcrs/rom a Late Rev. Prelate to One o/his Friends,
180S, p. II.

DAVID HUME.

305

tions in the printed copy proceeded entirely from
precipitancy and passion, not from any formed inten-
tion of deceiving the society, I would not take advan-
tage of such an incident to throw a slur on a man of
merit whom I esteem, though I might have reason
to complain of him. When I am abused by such a
fellow as Warburton, whom 1 neither know nor care
for, I can laugh at him. But if Dr. Stewart approaches
any way towards the same style of writing, I own it
vexes me; because I conclude that some unguarded
circumstances of my conduct, though contrary to my
intention, had given occasion to it. As to your situa-
tion with regard to Lord Kames, I am not so good
a judge. I only know that you had so much the
better of the argument that you ought upon that ac-
count to have been more reserved in your expressions.
All railleiy ought to be avoided in philosophical
argument, both because (it is) unphilosophical, and
because it cannot but be offensive, let it be ever so
gentle. What then must we think with regard to so
many insinuations of irreligion to which Lord Kames'
paper gave not the least occasion? This spirit of the
inquisitor is, in you, the effect of passion, and what
a cool moment would easily correct. But when it
predominates in the character, what ravages has it
committed on reason, virtue, truth, sobriety, and
everything that is valuable among mankind!" We
may at this period of his life consider Hume as having
reached the age when the mind has entirely ceased
to bend to circumstances, and cannot be made to
alter its habits. Speaking of him in this advanced
period of his life, an author signing himself G. N.,
and detailing some anecdotes of Hume, with whom
he says he was acquainted, states (in the Sfofs Maga-
zine) that "his great views of being singular, and a
vanity to show himself superior to most people, led
him to advance many axioms that were dissonant to
the opinions of others, and led him into sceptical
doctrines, only to show how minute and puzzling
they were to other folk; in so far, that I have often
seen him (in various companies, according as he saw
some enthusiastic person there) combat either their
religious or political principles; nay, after he had
struck them dumb, take up the argument on their
side, with equal good-humour, wit, and jocoseness,
all to show his pre-eminency." The same person
mentions his social feelings, and the natural disposi-
tion of his temper to flow with the current of what-
ever society he was in; and that while he never
gambled he had a natural liking to whist-playing,
and was so accomplished a player as to be the subject
of a shameless proposal on the part of a needy man
of rank, for bettering their mutual fortunes, which it
need not be said was repelled. But Henry M 'Kenzie,
who has attempted to embody the character of the
sceptic in the beautiful fiction of La Roche, has
drawn, from his intimate knowledge of character,
and his great acquaintance with the philosopher, a
more pleasing picture. His words are: "The unfor-
timate nature of his opinions with regard to the theo-
retical principles of moral and religious truth never
influenced his regard for men who held very opposite
sentiments on those subjects, which he never, like
some vain shallow sceptics, introduced into social
discourse; on the contrary, when at anytime the con-
versation tended that way, he was desirous rather of
avoiding any serious discussion on matters which he
wished to confine to the graver and less dangerous
consideration of cool philosophy. He had, it might
be said, in the language which the Grecian historian
applies to an illustrious Roman, two minds; one
which indulged in the metaphysical scepticism which
his genius could invent, but which it could not always
disentangle; another simple, natural, and playful,

VOL. H.

which made his conversation delightful to his friends,
and even frequently conciliated men whose principles
of belief his philosophical doubts, if they had not
power to shake, had grieved and offended. During
the latter period of his life I was frequently in his
company amidst persons of genuine piety, and I
never heard him venture a remark at which such
men, or ladies — still more susceptible than men —
could take offence. His good nature and benevo-
lence prevented such an injury to his hearers; it was
unfortunate that he often forgot what injury some of
his writings might do to his readers."^

Hume was now a man of a very full habit, and
somewhat given to indolence in all occupations but
that of literature. An account of himself, in a letter
to his relation Mrs. Dysart, may amuse from its calm
pleasantry and good-humour: "My compliments to
his solicitorship. Unfortunately I have not a horse
at present to carry my fat carcass to pay its respects
to his superior obesity. But if he finds travelling re-
quisite either for his health or the captain's, we shall
be glad to entertain him here as long as we can do
it at another's expense, in hopes that we shall soon
be able to do it at our own. Pray, tell the solicitor
that I have been reading lately, in an old author
called Strabo, that in some cities of ancient Gaul
there was a fixed legal standard established for cor-
pulency, and that the senate kept a measure, beyond
which, if any belly presumed to increase, the pro-
prietor of that belly was obliged to pay a fine to the
public, proportionable to its rotundity. Ill would it
fare with his worship and I (me), if such a law should
pass our parliament, for I am afraid we are already
got beyond the statute. I wonder indeed no harpy
of the treasury has ever thought of this method of
raising money. Taxes on luxury are always most
approved of, and no one will say that the carrying
about a portly belly is of any use or necessity. 'Tis
a mere superfluous ornament, and is a proof too that
its proprietor enjoys greater plenty than he puts to
a good use; and, therefore, 'tis fit to reduce him to
a level with his fellow-subjects by taxes and imposi-
tions. As the lean people are the most active, un-
quiet, and ambitious, they everj'where govern the
world, and may certainly oppress their antagonists
whenever they please. Heaven forbid that Whig
and Tory should ever be abolished, for then the
nation might be split into fat and lean, and our faction,
I am afraid, would be in a piteous taking. The only
comfort is, if they oppress us very much we should
at last change sides with them. Besides, who knows
if a tax were imposed on fatness, but some jealous
divine might pretend that the church was in danger.
I cannot but bless the memory of Julius Csesar for
the great esteem he expressed for fat men, and his
aversion to lean ones. All the world allows that the
emperor was the greatest genius that ever was, and
the greatest judge of mankind."

In the year 1756, the philosophical calm of Hume
appeared in danger of being disturbed by the fulmina-
tions of the church. The outcry against his doubting
philosophy became loud, scepticism began to be
looked on as synonymous with infidelity, and some
of the fiercer spirits endeavoured to urge on the
church to invade the sacred precincts of freedom of
opinion. The discussion of the subject commenced
before the committee of overtures on the 27th of May,
and a long debate ensued, in which some were pleased
to maintain that Hume, not being a Christian, was
not a fit person to be judged by the venerable court.
For a more full narrative of those proceedings we
refer to the life of IIenry Home of Kames, who

I Mackenzie's Life of Home, p. 20.

55

3o6

r)AVir) HVMK.

was subjected to the same attempt at persecution.
In an analysis of the works of the two authors, pub-
lished during the session of the assembly, and circu-
lated among the members, the writer laid down the
following as propositions which he would be enabled
to prove were the avowed opinions of Mr. Hume: —
" 1st, All distinction between virtue and vice is merely
imaginary — 2d, Justice has no foundation further
than it contributes to public advantage — 3d, Adultery
is ver)" lawful, but sometimes not expedient— 4th,
Religion and its ministers are prejudicial to mankind,
and will always be found either to run into the heights
of superstition or enthusiasm — 5th, Christianity has
no evidence of its being a divine revelation — 6th, Of
all the moiles of Christianity, Popery is the best, and
the reformation from thence was only the work of
madmen and enthusiasts. " The overture was rejected
by the committee, and the indefatigable vindicators
of religion brought the matter under a different shape
before the presbytery of Edinburgh, but that body
very properly decided on several grounds, among
which, not the least applicable was, "to prevent their
entering further into so abstruse and metaphysical a
subject," that it "would be more for the purposes of
edification to dismiss the process."

In 1759 appeared Dr. Robertson's History of Siot-
land, and the similarity of the subjects in which he
and Hume were engaged produced an interchange of
information, and a lasting friendship, honourable to
both these great men. Hume was singularly desti-
tute of literary jealousy; and of the unaffected wel-
come which he gave to a work treading on his own
peculiar path, we could give many instances did our
limits permit. He never withheld a helping hand
to any author who might be considered his rival,
and, excepting in one instance, never peevishly men-
tioned a living literary author in his works. The
instance we allude to is a remark on Mr. Tytler's
vindication of Queen Mary, and referring the reader
to a copy of it below,* it is right to remark, that it
seems more dictated by contempt of the argimients,
than spleen towards the person of the author.

Any account of the literary society in which Hume
spent his hours of leisure and conviviality would in-
volve us in a complete literary history of Scotland
during that period, unsuitable to a biographical dic-
tionary. With all the eminent men of that illustrious
period of .Scottish literature he was intimately ac-
quainted; as a philosopher, and as a man of dignified
and respected intellect, he stood at the head of the
list of great names; but in the less calm employments
in whicii literary men of all periods occupy them-
selves, he was somewhat shunned, as a person too
lukewarm, indolent, and good-humoured, to support
literary warfare. An amusing specimen of his char-
acter in this respect is mentioned by M'Kenzie in
his life of Home. When two numbers of a periodical
work, entitled the EJiitbttrgh A'cfitr.o, were published
in 1755, the bosom friends of Hume, who were the

' "But there is .t person that has written an /w^w/ry, histori-
cal and critical, into the evidence against Mary Queen of
Scots; and has attempted to refute the foregoing narrative.
He quotes a single passage of the narrative, in which NIary is
said simply to refuse answering; and then a single p.issage
from Goodall, in which she bo.asts simply that she will answer;
.•ind he very civilly, and almost directly, calls the author a
liar, on account of this pretended contradiction. That whole
Inautry, from beginning to end, is composed of such scaii-
d.aliius articles; and from this instance the reader may judge
of the candour, fair dealing, veracity, and good manners of
the inquirer. There are, indeed, three events in our history
which may be regarded as touchstones of party-men. An
English Whig, who asserts the reality of the Popish Plot— an
'"*'i t:atholic, who denies the massacre in 1641 — and a Scottish
Jacobite, who maintains the innocence of Queen Mary — must
be considered as men beyond the reach of argument or reason-
and must be left to their prejudices."

conductors, concealed it from him, because, "I have
heard," says M'Kenzie, "that they were afraid both of
his extreme good nature, and his extreme artlessness;
that, from the one, their criticisms would have been
weakened or suppressed, and, from the other, their
secret discovered;" and it was not till Hume had re-
peated his astonishment that persons in Scotland
beyond the sphere of the literary circle of Edinburgh
could have produced so able a work, that he was
made actjuainted with the secret. In whimsical re-
venge of the want of confidence displayed by his
friends, Hume gravely maintained himself to be the
author of a humorous work of Adam Ferguson, The
History of Sister Peg, and penned a letter to the
publisher, which any person who might peruse it
without knowing the circumstances could not fail to
consider a sincere acknowledgment. Hume was a
member of the Philosophical Society, which after-
wards merged into the Royal Society of Edinburgh,
and acted as joint secretary along with Dr. Monro,
junr. He was also a member of the illustrious Poker
Club, and not an uncongenial one, so long as the
members held their unobstrusive discussion in a
tavern, over a small quantity of claret; but when
this method of managing matters was abolished, antl
the institution merged into the more consequential
denomination of "The Select Society," amidst the
exertions of many eloquent and distinguished men,
he was only remarkable, along with his friend Adam
Smith, for having never opened his mouth.

In 1 761 Mr. Hume published the two remaining
volumes of the History of E^iglami, treating of the
period previous to the accession of the house of
Tudor. He tells us that it was received with
"tolerable, and but tolerable success." Whitaker,
Hallam, Turner, and others, have examined their
respective portions of this period of history with care,
and pointed out the inaccuracies of Hume ; but the
subject did not possess so much political interest as
the later periods, and general readers have not been
much di.sposed to discuss the question of his general
accuracy. Men such as the first name we have
mentioned have attacked him with peevishness on
local and obscure matters of antiquarian research,
which a historian can hardly be blamed for neglecting :
others, however, who seem well informed, have found
serious objections to his accuracy. In an article on
the "Saxon Chronicle," which appeared in the A";-
trospective Reznei^', by an apparently well-informed
writer, he is charged in these terms: "It would be
perfectly startling to popular credulity should all the
instances be quoted in which the text of Hume, in the
remoter periods more especially, is at the most positive
variance with the authorities he pretends to rest upon.
In a series of historical inquiries which the writer of
this article had some years since particular occasion
to superintend, aberrations of this kind were so fre-
quently detected, that it became necessary to lay it
down as a rule never to admit a quotation from that
popular historian when the authorities he pretends
to refer to were not accessible for the purpose of pre-
vious comparison and confirmation."

Hume, now pretty far advanced in life, had formed
the resolution of ending his days in literary retirement
in his own country, when, in 1 763, he was solicited
by the Earl of Hertford to attend him on his embassy
to Paris, and after having declined, on a second in-
vitation he accepted the situation. In the full blaze
of a wide-spread reputation the philosopher was now
surrounded by a new world of literary rivals, imita-
tors, and admirers, and he received from a circle
of society ever searching for what was new, bril-
liant, and striking, numberless marks of distinction,
highly flattering to his literary pride, though not un-

DAVID HUME.

307

mixed with affectation. In some very amusing letters
to his friends written during this period he shows
that if he was weak enough to feel vain of these dis-
tinctions, he had sincerity enough to say so.

The fashionable people of Paris, and especially
the ladies, practised on the patient and good-hu-
moured philosopher every torture which their ex-
t reme desire to render him and themselves distinguished
could dictate. "From what has been already said of
him," says Lord Charlemont, "it is apparent that his
conversation to strangers, and particularly to French-
men, could belittle delightful, and still more particu-
larly one would suppose to French women ; and yet
no lady's toilette was complete without Hume's at-
tendance. At the opera his broad unmeaning face
was usually seen eiitre deux jolis inhiois. The ladies
in France gave the ton, and the ton was deism."
Madame D'Epinay, who terms him "Grand et gros
historiographe d'Angleterre," mentions that it was
the will of one of his entertainers that he should act
the part of a sultan, endeavouring to secure by his
eloquence the affection of two beautiful female slaves.
The philosopher was accordingly whiskered, tur-
baned, and blackened, and placed on a sofa betwixt
two of the most celebrated beauties of Paris. Ac-
cording to the instructions he had received, he bent
his knees, and struck his breast (or, as madame has
it, "le ventre"), but his tongue could not be brought
to assist his actions further than by uttering "Eh
bien ! mes demoiselles — Eh bien ! vous voila done —
Ehbien! vous voila — vous voila ici?" exclamations
which he repeated until he had exhausted the pa-
tience of those he was expected to entertain. ■^

In 1765, Lord Hertford being appointed lord-lieu-
tenant of Ireland, Mr. Hume, according to his ex-
pectation, was appointed secretary to the embassy,
and he officiated as charge d'affaires until the arrival
of the Duke of Richmond. Hume, who had a
singular antipathy to England, and who had previ-
ously enjoyed himself only in the midst of his social
literary circle at Edinburgh, insensibly acquired a
relish for the good-humoured politeness and the
gaiety of the French ; and on his return home in
1766 he left behind him a number of regretted
friends, among whom were two celebrated females,
the Marchioness De Barbantane and the Countess
De Boufilers, who conducted a friendly, and even
extremely intimate, correspondence with the philoso-
pher to the day of his death. ''■

In the order of time we come now to the discus-
sion of an incident connected with his residence on
the Continent which forms a very remarkable epoch
in the life of Hume — we mean his controversy with
Rousseau. Before making any statements, however,
it is right to warn our readers that an account of this
memorable transaction, sufficient to give him an ac-
quaintance with all its peculiarities, would exceed
our limits, which permit of but a slight glance at the
incidents, and that indeed it is quite impossible to
form a conception of the grotesqueness of some of
the incidents, and the peculiarities of character so
vividly displayed, without a perusal of the original
documents, which are easily accessible, and will well
repay the trouble of perusal.

When in 1762 the parliament of Paris issued an
m-ret against Rousseau on account of his opinions,
Hume was applied to by a friend in Paris to discover
for him a retreat in England, Hume willingly under-
took a task so congenial, but it did not suit the cele-
brated exile at that time to avail himself of his offer.
Rousseau, taking every opportunity to complain of

' Memoirs et Correspondance de Madame D'Epinay, iii. 284.
^ Cenerai Correspondence o/I)avidHutne,i,\.o, 182S, passi>Ji.

the misfortunes he suffered, the transaction with
Hume was again set on foot at the instigation of the
Marchioness De Verdlin. Hume wrote to Rousseau,
offering his services, and the latter returned him
an answer overflowing with extravagant gratitude.
Rousseau had, it appeared, discovered an ingenious
method of making himself interesting : he pretended
extreme poverty, and had offers of assistance re-
peatedly made him, which he publicly and disdain-
fully refused, while he had in reality, as Hume
afterwards discovered, resources sufficient to provide
for his support. In pure simplicity Hume formed
several designs for imposing on Rousseau's ignorance
of the world, and establishing him comfortably in
life, without allowing him to know that he was as-
sisted by others ; and the plan finally concluded and
acted on was, that he should be comfortably boarded
in the mansion of Mr. Davenport, at Wooton, in the
county of Derby — a gentleman who kindly undertook
to lull the suspicions of the irritable philosopher by
accepting of a remuneration amounting to ^^30 a year.
Rousseau arrived in London, and appearing in pub-
lic in his Armenian dress, excited much notice, both
from the public in general, and from literary men.
Hume, by his interest with the government, obtained
for him a pension of ;^ioo a year, which it suited
those in authority to wish should be kept secret.
Rousseau expressed much satisfaction at this condi-
tion, but he afterwards declined the grant, hinting
at the secresy as an impediment to his acceptance of
it ; his zealous friend procured the removal of this
impediment, and the pension was again offered, but
its publicity afforded a far more gratifying oppor-
tunity of refusal. Immediately after he had retired
to Wooton with his housekeeper and his dog,
nothing occurred apparently to infringe his amicable
intercourse with Hume ; but that individual was
little aware of the storm in preparation. The foreign
philosopher began to discover the interest of his first
appearance in Britain subsiding. He was not in a
place where he could be followed by crowds of won-
dering admirers; the press was lukewarm and regard-
less, and sometimes ventured to bestow on him a
sneer; and above all, no one sought to persecute
him. The feelings which these unpleasing circum-
stances occasioned appear to have been roused to
sudden action by a sarcastic letter in the name of
the King of Prussia, of which Rousseau presumed
D'Alembert to have been the author, but which was
claimed by Horace Walpole, and which made the
'circle of the European journals; and by an anony-
mous critique of a somewhat slighting nature, which
had issued from a British magazine, but which ap-
pears not to have been remarked or much known at
the period. Of these two productions it pleased
Rousseau to presume David Hume the instigator,
and he immediately framed in his mind the idea of a
black project laid for his ruin, countenanced and
devised by his benefactor under the mask of friend-
ship. Rousseau then wrote a fierce letter to Hume,
charging him in somewhat vague terms with a num-
ber of horrible designs, and in the general manner
of those who bring accusations of unutterable things,
referring him to his own guilty breast for a more full
explanation. Hume naturally requested a farther
explanation of the meaning of this ominous epistle,
and he received in answer a narrative which occupies
forty printed pages. It were vain to enumerate the
subjects of complaint in this celebrated document.
There was an accusation of terrible affectation on the
part of Hume in getting a portrait of the unfortunate
exile engraved; he had insulted him by procuring
dinners to be sent to his lodgings in London (a cir-
cumstance which Hume accounted for on the ground

3o8

DAVID IIUMn.

of there having been no convenient chop-house in the
neighbourhood). He had also flattered him (an at-
tention which Hume maintains was not unacceinable
at the period) witli a dce[)-laid mahgnity. llume
had also formed a plan of opening all his letters and
examining his correspondence (an accusation which
Hume denied). Hume was intimate with the son
of an individu.ll who entertained towards Rousseau
a mortal hatred. A narrative of the treatment which
Rousseau had met with at Xeufchatel, and which he
wished to have published in England, was delayed
at the press; but we shall give in Rousseau's own
words (as translated) the most deadly article of the
charge, premising that the circumstances were occa-
sioned by Hume's having attempted to impose on
him a coach hired and payed for as a retour vehicle:
— "As we were sitting one evening, after supper,
silently by the fire-side, I caught his eye intently
fixed on mine, as indeed happened very often: and
that in a manner of which it is very difticult to give
an idea. At that time he gave me a steadfast,
piercing look, mi.ved with a sneer, which greatly dis-
turbed me. To get rid of the embarrassment I lay
under, I endeavoured to look full at him in my turn;
but in fixing my eyes against his I felt the most in-
expressible terror, and was obliged soon to turn them
away. The speech and physiognomy of the good
David is that of an honest man; but where, great
God ! did this good man borrow those eyes he fixes
so sternly and unaccountably on those of his friends?
The impression of this look remained with me and
gave me much uneasiness. My trouble increased
even to a degree of fainting; and if I had not been
relieved by an effusion of tears I had been suffocated.
Presently after this I was seized with the most vio-
lent remorse; I even despised myself; till at length
in a transport, which I still remember with delight,
I sprang on his neck, embraced him eagerly, while
almost choked with sobbing, and bathed in tears, I
cried out in broken accents, Xo, no, David Hume
cannot be treacherous. If he be not the best of men,
he must be the basest of mankind. David Hume
politely returned my embraces, and, gently tapping
me on the back, repeated several times, in a good-
natured and easy tone, Why, wliat, my dear sir !
nay, my dear sir! Oh, my dear sir ! He said nothing
more. I felt my heart yearn within me. We went
to bed; and I set out the next day for the country."
The charge terminates with accusing Hume of
wilful blindness, in not being aware, from the ne-
glect with which Rousseau treated him, that the
blackness of his heart had been discovered. Soon
after the controversy was terminated, a ludicrous
account of its amusing circumstances was given to
the i)ublic; the extreme wit and humorous jiun-
gency of which will excuse our insertion of it, while
we may also mention, that with its air of raillery it
gives an extremely correct abstract of the charge of
Rousseau. It is worthy of remark, that the terms
made use of show the author to have been colloqui-
ally acquainted with the technicalities o{ Scot/is/i law,
although it is not likely that a ])rofessional person
would have introduced terms applicable only to civil
transactions into the model of a criminal indictment.
We have found this production in the Scots Mat^a-
zhte. Mr. Ritchie says it appeared in the St. James'
Chrouick: in which it may have been first pub-
lished.

HEADS OF AN INDICTMENT LAID BY J. J. ROUS.SEAU,
rilll-OSOPHER, AGAI.NST D. HUME, ESQ.

I. That the said David Hume, to the great scandal
of philosophy, and not having the fitness of things
before his eyes, did concert a plan with Messrs.

Froachin, Voltaire, and D'Alembert, to ruin the said
J. J. Rousseau for ever by bringing him over to Eng-
land, and there settling him to his heart's content.

2. That the said David Hume did, with a mali-
cious and traitorous intent, procure, or cause to be
procured, by himself or somebody else, one pension
of the yearly value of £\oo, or thereabouts, to be
])aid to the said J. J. Rousseau, on account of his
being a philosopher, either privately or publicly, as
to him, the said J. J. Rousseau, should seem meet.

3. That the said David Hume did, one night after
he left Paris, put the said J. J. Rousseau in bodily
fear by talking in his sleep; although the said J. J.
Rousseau doth not know whether the said David
Hume was really asleep, or whether he shammed
Abraham, or what he meant.

4. That, at another time, as the said David Hume
and the said J. J. Rousseau were sitting opposite
each other by the fireside in London, he, the said
David Hume, did look at him, the said J. J. Rous-
seau, in a manner of which it is difficult to give any
idea; that he, the said J. J. Rousseau, to get rid of the
embarrassment he was under, endeavoured to look
full at him, the said David Hume, in return, to try
if he could not stare him out of countenance; but in
fixing his eyes against his, the said David Hume's,
he felt the most inexpressible terror, and was obliged
to turn them away, insomuch that the said J. J.
Rousseau doth in his heart think and believe, as
much as he believes anything, that he the said David
Hume is a certain composition of a white- witch and
a rattlesnake.

5. That the said David Hume on the same even-
ing, after politely returning the embraces of him, the
said J. J. Rousseau, and gently tapping him on the
back, did repeat several times in a good-natured easy
tone, the words, "Why, what, my dear sir ! Nay, my
dear sir ! Oh, my dear sir 1" — From whence the said
J. J. Rousseau doth conclude, as he thinks upon solid
and sufficient grounds, that he the said David Hume
is a traitor; all)eit he, the said J. J. Rousseau, doth
acknowledge that the physiognomy of the good David
is that of an honest man, all but those terrible eyes
of his, which he must have borrowed ; but he, the
said J. J. Rousseau, vows to God he cannot conceive
from whom or what.

6. That the said David Hume hath more inquisi-
tiveness about him than becometh a philosopher, and
did never let slip an opportunity of being alone with
the governante of him, the said J. J. Rousseau.

7. That the said David Hume did most atrociously
and flagitiously put him, the said J. J. Rousseau,
philosopher, into a passion; as knowing that then he
would be guilty of a number of absurdities.

8. That the said David Hume must have published
Mr. Walpole's letter in the newspapers, because, at
that time, there was neither man, woman, nor child
in the island of Great Britain, but the said David
Hume, the said J. J. Rousseau, and the printers of
the several newspapers aforesaid.

9. That somebody in a certain magazine, and
somebody else in a certain newspaper, said some-
thing against him, the said John James Rousseau,
which he, the said J. J. Rousseau, is persuaded, for
the reason above mentioned, could be nobody but
the said David Hume.

10. That the said J. J. Rousseau knows that he,
the said David Hume, did open and peruse the letters
of him, the said J. J. Rousseau, because he one day
saw the said David Hume go out of the room after
his owTi servant, who had at that time a letter of the
said J. J. Rousseau's in his hands; which must have
been in order to take it from the servant, open it, and
read the contents.

DAVID HUME JOSEPH HUME.

309

11. That the said David Hume did, at the instiga-
tion of the devil, in a most wicked and unnatural
manner, send, or cause to be sent, to the lodj^ings of
him, the said J. J. Rousseau, one dish of beef-steaks,
thereby meaning to insinuate that he, the said J. J.
Rousseau, was a beggar, and came over to England
to ask alms; whereas, be it known to all men by
these presents, that he, the said John James Rous-
seau, brought with him the means of sustenance, and
did not come with an empty purse; as he doubts not
Init he can live upon his labours with the assistance
of his friends; and in short can do better without
the said David Hume than with him.

12. That besides all these facts put together, the
said J. J. Rousseau did not like a certain appearance
of things on the whole.

Rousseau, with his accustomed activity on such
occasions, loudly repeated his complaints to the
world, and filled the ears of his friends with the
villany of his seeming benefactor. The method
which Hume felt himself compelled to adopt for his
own justification was one which proved a severe
inmishment to his opponent; he published the cor-
respondence, with a few explanatory observations,
and was ever afterwards silent on the subject. Some
have thought that he ought to have remained silent
from the commencement, and that such was his wish
we have ample proof from his correspondence at
that period, but to have continued so in the face of
the declarations of his enemy, he must have been
more than human; and the danger which his fame
incurred from the acts of a man who had the means
of making what he said respected will at least justify
him.

Hume had returned to Edinburgh with the re-
newed intention of there spending his days in retire-
ment, and in the affluence which his frugality, per-
severance, genius, and good conduct had acquired
for him; but in 1765, at the solicitation of General
Conway, he acted for that gentleman as an under-
secretary of state. It is probable that he did not
make a better under-secretary than most men of
equally diligent habits might have done, and nothing
occurs worthy of notice during his tenure of that
office, which he resigned in January, 1768, when
General Conway resigned his secretaryship.

We have nothing to record from this period till
we come to the closing scene of the philosopher's
life. In the spring of 1775 he was struck with a
disorder of the bowels, which he soon became aware
brought with it the sure prognostication of a speedy
end. "I now," he says, "reckon upon a speedy
dissolution. I have suffered very little pain from my
disorder; and what is more strange, have, notwith-
standing the great decline of my person, never suf-
fered a moment's abatement of my spirits, insomuch,
that were I to name the period of my life which I
should most choose to pass over again, I might be
tempted to point to this latter period. I possess the
same ardour as ever in study, and the same gaiety
in company. I consider, besides, that a man of
sixty-five, by dying, cuts off only a few years of in-
firmities, and though I see many symptoms of my
literary reputation breaking out at last with addi-
tional lustre, I know that I could have but few years
to enjoy it. It is difficult to be more detached from
life than I am at present."

The entreaties of his friends prevailed on Hume
to make a last effort to regain his health by drinking
the Bath waters, and he left Edinburgh for that pur-
pose in the month of April, after having prepared
his will and written the memoir of himself so often
referred to. The journey had the effect of partly

alleviating Mr. Hume's disorder, but it returned with
renewed virulence. While his strength jjcrmitted
such an attempt, he called a meeting of his literary
friends to partake with him of a farewell dinner.
The invitation sent to Dr. Blair is extant, and is in
these terms: "Mr. John Hume, alias Home, alias
the late lord-conservator, alias the late minister of
the gospel at Athelstaneford, has calculated matters
so as to arrive infallibly with his friend in St. David
.Street on Wednesday evening. He has asked several
of Dr. Blair's friends to dine with him there on
Thursday, being the 4th of July, and begs the favour
of the doctor to make one of the number." Sub-
joined to the card there is this note in Dr. Blair's
handwriting: '^ Mciii. This the last note received from
David Hume. He died on the 25th of August,
1776." This mournful festival, in honour as it were
of the departure of the most esteemed and illustrious
member of their brilliant circle, was attended by
Lord Elibank, Adam Smith, Dr. Blair, Dr. Black,
Professor Ferguson, and John Home. On Sunday,
the 25th August, 1776, Mr. Hume expired. Of the
manner of his death, after the beautiful picture which
has been drawn of the event by his friend Adam
Smith, we need not enlarge. The calmness of his
last moments, unexpected by many, was in every
one's mouth at the period, and it is still well known.
He was buried on a point of rock overhanging the
old town of Edinburgh, now surrounded by build-
ings, but then bare and wild — the spot he had him-
self chosen for the purpose. A conflict betwixt a
vague horror at his imputed opinions, and respect
for the individual who had passed among them a life
so irreproachable, created a sensation among the
populace of Edinburgh, and a crowd of people at-
tended the body to its grave, which for some time
was an object of curiosity. According to his request
Hume's Dialogues on Natural Religion were pub-
lished after his death, a beautifully classic piece of
composition, bringing us back to the days of Cicero.
It treats of many of the speculations propounded in
his other works.

HUME, Josp:ph, M.P. This distinguished mem-
ber of parliament and political reformer was one of
the many Scotsmen who, without the advantages of
birth, rank, inheritance, or social influence, raised
himself to place and political eminence, and won for
himself a high name among the chief men of the age.
He was born at Montrose, in January, 1777. His
father, who was master of a small coasting vessel
trading from that town, died, leaving his widow and
a numerous family, of whom Joseph was a younger
son, in very narrow circumstances. But this circum-
stance only roused the mother's heart to double ex-
ertion: she opened a small crockery shop (some allow
it was only a stall) in the town of Montrose, and
from the profits of her humble trade supported her
children. The education of Joseph was owing to a
curious circumstance. The Honourable William
Maule, father of the present Earl of Dalhousie, pro-
fessed himself a believer in animal magnetism, or
mesmerism, at that time a new and wonderful science,
and to convince his incredulous companions who
were assembled with him at the inn of Montrose, he
engaged at that distance so powerfully to magnetize
the old lady that she would break her whole stock
of crockery. He accordingly commenced his con-
jurations in the wonted fonn — and to the astonish-
ment as well as awe of the young unbelievers, Mrs.
Hume commenced the work of destruction until
every cup and pitcher was shivered into potsherds.
It is unnecessary of course to add that the whole
affair was preconcerted, and that she acted according

3«o

JOSEPH HUME.

to his instructions. When Mr. Maule had liberally
repaid her for the damage, he added, "and now,
my good woman, is there anything else I can do
for you?" She replied, ".She had a son, a sharp
little fellow, whom she wished to receive a better
education than she could give him." She alluded
to Joseph, the future smaslier of abuses and super-
fluities in the House of Commons. Mr. Maule
saw the hoy, was well pleased with him, and sent
him to school, ami afterwards assisted him at college.
His provident mother, who afterwards traded in
coals, was of such an industrious independent spirit,
that after providing for her family she continued her
occupation to the last, and refused every offer of her
son to place her in a better position. In such a
resolute disinterested spirit who can fail to recognize
the character which was inherited by the member for
Montrose and Middlesex?

The education which Joseph Hume received in the
schools of Montrose was more practical and useful
than ample, consisting of reading, writing and
arithmetic, and a little Latin. At the age of thirteen
he was apprenticed to a surgeon in his native town,
with whom he remained three years, chiefly employed
in compounding prescriptions, and in 1793 he at-
tended the medical classes of tlie college of Etlin-
burgh. In 1796 he was admitted a member of the
College of .Surgeons, after which he repaired to Lon-
don, "walked the hospitals," and through the influ-
ence of tlie late Mr. Daniel Scott, M.P. for Forfar,
and Maule of Panmure, he was entered assistant-
surgeon in the marine service of the East India Com-
pany. In 1797, and the following year, he made
nis first voyage to India and then home, which occu-
pied eighteen months. In his second voyage to
India, in one of those wretched arks which the Com-
pany employed, and which was filled, or rather
crammed, with all kinds of passengers, high and low,
delicate and desperate, that most important function-
ary, the purser, accidentally died. In this dilemma
Joseph Hume volunteered to supply his place, and
discharged the duties of the office in addition to his
own as surgeon so effectually as to secure the good-
will of all on board. In consequence of this, when
the ship arrived in Calcutta, he received a grateful
testimonial from all on board — officers, crew, and
passengers — for his gratuitous services, through which
he landc-d with the best of recommendations, and
was enabled to commence the business of life with
every prospect of success.

On landing in India for his professional duties,
the quick eye and practical sense of the young Scotch
surgeon detected a grievous error in the Anglo-Indian
government. Although the C(jnipany was the rul-
ing power, and held its dominion by a precarious
tenure, few of its officials were acquainted with the
language of the people. It was the same unpardon-
able negligence which at a later day allowed the
Indian mutiny to ripen undetected, until it burst forth
into action, and nearly occasioned the loss of our
empire in India. Mr. Hume forthwith set himself
to learn the Indian languages, and especially the
Persian, the court language of India; and to these
difficult studies, which he mastered with rapidity and
e.ase, he added a knowledge of the religions of the
country through all their muUi])licd sects and super-
stitions. Nor was the fit reward of all these studies
long delayed. In 1802-3, when Lord Lake's Mah-
ratta war was about to break out, it was discovered
with dismay that the gunpowder in store was useless
from (lamp. This carelessness, by which the whole
camp.ugn would have been arrested, was happily
remedied by Hume's knowledge of chemistry : he
offered to restore the gunpowder to its former state

of efficiency, and completely succeeded. The atten-
tion of government was now fixed upon him as a
most able and useful servant, and too much could
not be done for one who had relieved them in such
a difficulty. In the camj^aign his knowledge of the
Eastern tongues was equally available. Being at-
tached to a regiment in his medical capacity, the
commander-in-chief was in need of an interpreter to
negotiate with the hostile powers, and none in the
army was found so capable of the office as Joseph
Hume. His services in this department led to em-
ployment in others, so that he was not only army
surgeon and interpreter, but was also paymaster and
postmaster of the forces, in the prize agencies, and
the commissariat. Each office, in itself sufficient
for one man, he discharged either collectively or
successively, with an ability that never blundered
and an energj' that never was weary. The effect of
this wonderful power of application was exemplified
near the close of his life, when he was an active and
most efficient member of a select committee of the
House of Commons on the military, ordnance, and
commissariat expenditure. On this occasion, when
Mr. Hume's colleagues were astounded at his minute
and intelligent examination of witnesses, and could
not help expressing their astonishment, he observed,
"You forget I was once commissary-general to an
army of 12,000 men in India." For such an amount
and variety of labour Mr. Hume was so fortunate as
to be adequately rewarded; and when after five years
this Indian war terminated, he had realized a fortune
of thirty or forty thousand pounds. And yet though
rapidly, it had been honestly and worthily, won. He
had as yet only passed his thirtieth year, and by ten
or twenty more years of similar industry he might
have retired from India with the fortune of a mil-
lionaire, and the prospect of continued years to enjoy
it. But content with what he had already won, and
which was more than sufficient for his simple wants,
he retired from his profession in the service of the
East India Company, and returned to England. It
is probable that having tried his strength, and ascer-
tained what he might accomplish, he already con-
templated that public career at home for which his
Indian training was a hopeful commencement.

On returning to England in 1808, and enjoying a
short period of rest, Mr. Hume started afresh for the
new career that lay before him. In acquiring the
knowledge of European politics he resolved to ex-
amine and judge for himself, and in 1809 he visited
nearly every populous town in the United Kingdom,
examining the condition of their inhabitants, and the
state of their ports, commerce, and manufactures.
Having made this exploration of England, Scot-
land, and Ireland, he devoted the years 1810 and
1811 to foreign travel, and applied a similar inquest
to the Continent, Spain, Portugal, Sicily, Malta,
Sardinia, Creece, the Ionian Isles, Turkey, Egypt,
&c. As yet his political opinions, so far as party
was concerned, leaned to the Tory side: among its
members his earlier associations had been formed,
and his first political convictions adopted, while his
life of constant occupation in India had afforded little
opportunity for further inquiry. To men so situated
the orthodoxy of their political creed is but a matter
of secondary consideration, and so it was with Joseph
Hume. On returning from his foreign tour, his first
aim was to obtain a seat in the House of Commons;
and in this he was soon successful. Sir John Low-
ther Johnstone, patron of the borough of Weymouth,
and also its representative in the commons, having
died, a Scotch solicitor of the deceased baronet intro-
duced Mr. Hume to the constituents for a valuable
consideration, and the latter succeeded to the vacant

JOSEPH HUME.

3"

seat in January, 1812. In this manner the future
Radical came into parliament as a Tory, and at his
entrance took his seat on the treasury bench, and
supported the Perceval administration. As this
was the last session of parliament, his bargain
had included his re-election, and on the dissolution
in the following autumn he naturally expected to be
returned anew. ]5ut a difficulty had already occurred
sufficient to prevent his re-election. On becoming
a member of parliament, his radical and reforming
tendencies had begun to break out like an instinct.
He had been wont, in periodically visiting his con-
stituents, to give them an account of his stewardship,
and this the tranquil borough regarded as a work of
supererogation. He had also advocated schools and
other social benefits, a proceeding that savoured of
Radicalism. There were suspicious tendencies which
the Duke of Cumberland and his associate trastees
could not away with, and Mr. Hume was not re-
appointed to represent Weymouth and Melcombe-
Regis. An arbitration followed, by the verdict of
which he was paid an equivalent in money for breach
of contract; but this instance of the corruptions of the
borough system seems to have convinced Mr. Hume
of the existing abuses in our government, and the
necessity of reforming them. The die was cast, and
he would be a Tory no longer.

During the six years that Mr. Hume ceased to
have a seat in the House of Commons his mind was
not idle, and we find him constantly employed, chiefly
in those pursuits that qualified him for readmission to
parliament. He was an active member of the cen-
tral committee of the Lancasterian school system.
He formed an acquaintanceship with Francis Place,
John Mill, .Sir John Bowring, and other leading
members of the Bentham school of political reformers,
whose ideas he afterwards turned to practical account
in the moral and intellectual interests of the working
classes, and in the improvement of their physical
condition. He published a pamphlet advocating the
establishment of savings-banks, and explanatory of
the principles on which they were subsequently
founded. But of all Mr. Hume's aspirations, next
to a seat in the House of Commons, was that of a
directorship in the East India Company, as no one
had studied more closely the nature and necessities
of our Indian government. But these qualifications
were such as many of the electors did not value, and
not a few were interested in excluding. His re-
peated applications were therefore unsuccessful, and
these rejections only made him more earnest in ex-
posing the abuses of our Indian government at every
meeting of the proprietors. It happened however
with him, as with a few of the choice favourites of
fortune, that while seeking what he could not obtain,
he unexpectedly got something better in its room.
The late Mr. Burnley of (niildford Street had four
votes, and great influence at the India House, but a
rooted dislike to all canvassing for directorships.
This Mr. Hume knew; but knowing also that truth
is great and must in the end prevail, he obtained
access to this gentleman, and besought his interest,
representing the greatness of Indian abuses, the effi-
cacy of his remedy, and the advantages that would
accrue to the holders of India stock, were he ad-
mitted to the directorship. His earnestness, his
knowledge of the subject, and the lucid manner in
which he explained it, moved the worthy gentleman,
and what was of still more account, his daughter
also, so that although the canvasser did not become
a director of the East India Company, he became
Miss Burnley's husband — a union by which his for-
tune, and better still, his happiness, was more than
doubled.

Having remained un.seated for six long years, but
which were not years of idleness, Mr. Hume at last
re-entered parliament, which met on the 14th January,
1819. His political principles were matured, his
deeds had announced them both to friend and enemy,
and there was no danger that he would take his seat
as a neutral or as a doubtful partisan. He entered
as reiiresentative of the Aberdeen district of burghs,
which comprised his native town of Montrose, with
Brechin, Inverbervie, and Aberbrothock. The elec-
tion also was suited to the man and the political
doctrines he held, for it was made through the in-
fluence of the liberal party of the north of Scotland,
with his early patron Lord Panmure at their head,
after a hard fight with the borough-mongers, who
wished to return a man of their own stamp. In 1830
Mr. Hume gave up his seat for Montrose, being re-
turned unopposed for Middlesex, having for his col-
league Mr. Byng, the late "father of the House of
Commons." For Middlesex he continued to sit
until the dissolution of parliament in 1837, when in
July Colonel Wood defeated him by a small majority.
In the same month, however, he was returned through
the influence of Mr. Daniel O'Connel for Kilkenny.
In 1841 he contested for Leeds, and there also was
unsucces-sful. But in 1842, on the retirement of Mr.
Chalmers from Montrose, Mr. Hume succeeded him,
and continued to represent his native town until the
close of his life. Such a long political career, and
one of such incessant action, however, it would be
impossible to detail or even to epitomize within
ordinary limits. "How," exclaims an eloquent
writer in the Times newspaper, "are we to charac-
terize or even note the herculean labours of this pro-
digy in representative government? It is impossible,
within the limits of volumes, to record his innumer-
able speeches in parliament, his motions, his returns,
his select committees, his reports, his personal and
party contests in the House of Commons, much less
his various agitations 'out of doors.' His speeches
alone, during thirty-seven years, occupy volumes of
Hansard. In some, Mr. Hume's speeches occur in
150 pages, on various political and legislative ques-
tions."

Continuing the theme, the writer contents himself
with the following very brief summary: " We cannot
attempt even an analysis of the chief subjects of his
active and busy discussion. He is the modem Prj'nne,
who defies all reprint, comment, or review. In this
age of levelling legislation on social interests, he was
always 'on his legs.' He spoke oftener, and fre-
quently made longer speeches, than any other mem-
ber of the commons since England enjoyed a House
of Commons. In the court of directors and in par-
liament he stood for many years almost alone con-
tending for the freedom of trade against the East
India monopoly. He proposed sweeping and re-
peated plans of reform of the army, navy, and ord-
nance, and of almost every civil department, of the
established churches and ecclesiastical courts, of the
civil and criminal laws, of the system of public
accounts, of general taxation, duties, and customs.
He early advocated the abolition of military flogging,
naval impressment, and imprisonment for debt. He
carried, almost single-handed, the repeal of the old
combination laws, the prohibition of the export of
machinery', and the act preventing workmen from
going abroad. He led forlorn hopes against colonial
abuses, against town and countPi- municipal self-elect
government, election expenses, the licensing systems,
the duties on paper, print, 'on tea, tobacco, and
snuff.' He assaulted and carried by storm Orange
lodges and close vestries, to say nothing of his aid
of Catholic emancipation, the repeal of the test and

3«2

TOSEPH HUME.

corporation acts, and the reform act of 1832. He-
was the unrelenting j>ersccutor of sinecurists, drones,
and old men pretending to do the work of the young
in the state. Out of doors he was a member of
every liberal and radical club and association. He
occupietl for years the throne at the old Crown and
Anchor Tavern, in Palace-yard, and in Covent-gar-
den meetings."

In the preceding enumeration of Joseph Hume's
jiolitical achievements the carrying of Orange lodges
by storm has been mentioned — and as this event was
little understooil at the time, and was afterwards
hushed up, some explanation of the event may be
necessary. From Ireland these Orange institutions
had been transplanted into England, where they
took root and flourished, but where they also ac-
fiuired a new and strange character from the change
of soil and climate. Their avowed object was the
preser^•ation of the Protestant religion, but to effect
this object they contemplated political changes such
as the (Jrange societies of Ireland had never dreamt
of. In 1828 they elected the Duke of Cumberland
for their grand- master, and on ascending his Orange
throne he appointed a certain Lieutenant-colonel
Fairman as his envoy, to establish Orangeism where-
ever he could, and by whatever means he thought
proper. This commission the colonel executed with
zeal and secrecy at least, if not with honesty and
loyalty: he went to Dublin for the purpose of com-
bining its lodges with those of England, and tra-
versed the island of Great Britain to establish lodges
in the principal towns of England and Scotland.
The last illness of George IV. and the carrying of
the catholic emancipation act happened oppor-
tunely for the purpose, and the leaders of these
mysterious associations began to express themselves
more freely. They pretended that the religion of
these Protestant kingdoms was to be overthrown,
and that, in the event of the royal demise, the Duke of
Wellington would seize the vacant throne. To avert
such consequences, they also suggested that on the
death of George IV. William should be set aside,
and a regency formed, of which the Duke of Cum-
Ixrrland should be the head. The conspiracy, al-
though a crazy one, and known to a few leaders, was
also full of danger, as of the 3S1 lodges existing in
(ireat Britain, 30 were in the army: their members
were 140,000 in Great Britain, and 175,000 in Ire-
land, among whom were several peers and members
of parliament, with a right reverend prelate for their
grand chajilain. It was a coalition sufficient when
the opportunity had arrived to overthrow a govern-
ment and revolutionize a kingdom. But dark and
treasonable as were its ulterior designs, the danger
was revealed by the circulars of the lodges and the
letters of Colonel Fairman, and the merit of the
discovery was due to the energy and diligence of
Mr. Hume. No sooner was the full blaze of day-
light thrown upon this infamous plot than it shrank
into helplessness, and even the members them-
selves were astonished at the designs of which they
had been made the accomplices. A committee of
inquiry was appointed in the House of Commons,
the convicting letters and documents were laid be-
fore it, and Mr. Hume moved eleven resolutions, by
which Orange lodges were suppressed, and the Duke
of Cumberland censured. The exposure of the con-
spiracy had united all classes in politics against it,
while the high rank and political influence of its
leading members procured its extinction in a silent
and gentle form. It was thus little noticed at the
time, and is now almost forgot. And yet, it was not
the less a slumbering volcano, that might be kindled
at any moment, and the upheaving of which would

have been attended with dangers too great to calcu-
late. Soon after the Duke of Cumberland became
King of Hanover, and Queen Victoria peacefully
succeeded to the British throne.

After the brief enumeration which we have given
from the Times of a few of those principal objects to
which the attention of Joseph Hume as a reformer
was directed, we cannot do better than quote from
another influential journal the following summary of
the moral and political effects of his statesmanship
during his long and active career: — "His greatest
merit was his usefulness. An uncompromising
honesty; an instinctive hatred of abuses; an innate
love of liberty; and an unflinching will to extend its
benefits to others — these, and the close experience of
men derived by himself during the earlier part of his
life, rendered Mr. Hume one of the most powerful,
and at the same time one of the most practical, of
reformers in a reforming age. Others might make
more flowery speeches, but he secured more lasting
fruits. His long, independent, and disinterested
career; his untiring advocacy of the extension and
improvement of the education of the people; his un-
flinching opposition to official abuses; his resolute ex-
posure of their causes and consequences; his constitu-
tional hatred of extravagance — enabled him to effect
reforms of the most useful kind, of which few men
have kept a record, but of which the effects are shown
in the improved condition of the people, in the sim-
plification and lucidity of the public accounts, in the
establishment of a system of public morality till his
time unknown, and, above all, in the guarantees
established against the renewal of the abuses he over-
threw. It would, however, be wrong to suppose
that Mr. Hume's mind was contracted to the effect-
ing mere pecuniary savings, although the mountain
of abuses he had to destroy rendered necessary an
incessant application to the task. He was a reformer
of a higher order, quite capable of appreciating the
influence of public honesty and morality on the
national character, and desirous to elevate by educa-
tion the standard of national intelligence. He met
with his reward in the tardy but sincere homage paid
to his integrity and long serv'ice by his most inveter-
ate political opponents, and in the eulogy publicly
passed on him by the most competent parliamentary
judge of modem times — the late Sir Robert Peel.
Mr. Hume passes to the grave honoured not more
for his public services than for his private worth, his
unswerving integrity, his unselfishness, his gentle-
ness, and his unvarying consideration for others.
II is unostentatious but eminently successful and use-
ful career remains as an example to those who may
succeed him, in the admirable qualities he displayed,
although happily his exertions have left them with-
out the same field for their display."^

After having shamed down the scorn and overcome
the opposition of such a long political conflict — after
having made his small minority the chief power in
the state, and established his obnoxious principles as
recognized axioms in British government — and after
having been the artificer of his own fortune and fame,
and risen from the office of an obscure surgeon to
that of a leader in the British parliament and a
statesman of European reputation, Mr. Hume died
at his seat, Burnley Hall, Norfolk, on February 20,
1855, at the age of seventy-eight years. Such a long
life amidst the incessant wear and tear of public
action was owing to that saiia mens in corpoi-e sano
for which he was so remarkable, combined with those
regular and temperate habits from which he was
never known to deviate. No difficultv could deter

Morning Chronicle.

PATRICK IRMi:

313

and no amount of labour weary him, and any crisis,
however sudden or annoying, seemed to have no
effect in ruffling his equanimity. lie was always
self-possessed, and always reatly for the occasion,
whether of the hour or the moment, while his square
broad-set frame, the perfection of health, strength,
and endurance, seemed not only to defy but to court
opposition, in the sure confidence that he could bear
it down and surmount it. Thus, even his (jualities,
physical as well as mental, were admirably accom-
modated to his field of action and the work that lay
before him. At the time of his death, besides being
M.P. for the Montrose district of burghs, he was
deputy-lieutenant of Middlesex, a magistrate in West-
minster and the counties of Middlesex and Norfolk,
a vice-president of the Society of Arts, F.R.S.
and F.R. A.S. He had also been twice lord-rector
of the university of Aberdeen. He was survived by
his wife and a numerous family; S(jme of the latter
are married — and although himself the most un-
poetical and unideal of men, he was the father of
two poets, of whom one, his eldest son, Mr. Joseph
Burnley Hume, a barrister- at -law, published a
poetical memoir of his parent; while the other, a
daughter, dedicated to him a volume of her poetry,
which was favourably received by the public.
Amidst the universal excitement occasioned by the
death of Mr. Hume, it was resolved to erect for him
a national monument, and for the purpose of includ-
ing every class of society, and every individual how-
ever poor in such a testimonial, it was resolved that
the contribution of each subscriber should not exceed
one penny. But the Crimean war which had al-
ready commenced, and the terrible Indian mutiny
which followed, were of too exciting a character for
the immediate realization of such a purpose. We
trust, however, that although postponed it has not
been abandoned, and that before the present genera-
tion passes away the proposal will be resumed of
thus signalizing the worth of a universal benefactor.
In the meantime, the political history of Britain dur-
ing the first half of the present century, and the
manifold improvements in its government — form a
monument to the memory of Joseph Hume more
graceful than any mausoleum, and more lasting
than any pyramid.

HUME, Patrick, first Earl of Marchmont, a
distinguished patriot and statesman, was born Januaiy
13th, 1 64 1. His original place in society was that
of the laird of Polwarth, in Berwickshire, being the
eldest son of Sir Patrick Hume of Polwarth, the
representative of an old baronial family, by Christian
Hamilton, daughter of Sir Alexander Hamilton of
Innerwick. The subject of our memoir succeeded
his father in 1648, while as yet a mere child; and
was accordingly indebted to his excellent mother for
the better part of his early education. He appears
to have been brought up by her in the strictest tenets
of the Presbyterian religion, which flourished, with-
out any constraint upon its private exercise, during
all his early years, till it was discountenanced by
government after the Restoration. Sir Patrick, how-
ever, was not only an admirer of the form of worship
enjoined by that religious system, but a zealous main-
tainer of its pretensions to a divine right as the only
true church of Christ; and this, it is said, was what
first inspired him with the feelings of a patriot. Plav-
ing been sent to parliament in 1665 as representative
of the county of Berwick, he soon distinguished him-
self by the opposition which he gave, along with the
Duke of Hamilton and others, to the headlong mea-
sures of the government. In 1673 the king sent a
letter to parliament desiring a levy of soldiers and

money to support them, and the L)ake of Lauderdale
moved that it be referred to the lords of the articles,
who were always at the beck of government. This
proposal, though strictly in accordance with the
custom of the .Scottish parliament, was opposed by
the Duke of Hamilton, who asserted that the royal
wishes ought to be considered by the whole assembled
representatives of the nation. On Sir Patrick Hume
expressing his concurrence with the duke, he was
openly pointed out to jiarliament by Lauderdale as
a dangerous person. Hereupon Sir Patrick said,
"he hoped this was a free parliament, and it con-
cerned all the members to be free in what concerned
the nation." In the ensuing year he was one of
those who went with the Duke of Hamilton to lay
the grievances of the nation before the king, whose
delusive answer to their application is well known.
It was not possible that a person who maintained so
free a spirit in such an age could long escape trouble.
In 1675, having remonstrated against the measure
for establishing garrisons to keep down the people,
he was committed by the privy-council to the tol-
booth of Edinburgh, as "a factious person, and one
who had done that which might usher in confusion."
After suffering confinement for six months in Stirling
Castle, he was liberated through the intercession of
friends, but not long after was again confined, and
altogether suffered imprisonment for about two years.
The order for his liberation, dated 17th April, 1679,
states that "he had been imprisoned for reasons
known to his majesty, and tending to secure the
public peace;" and adds, "the occasions of suspi-
cion and public jealousy being over, he is ordered to
be liberate." To continue our memoir in the words
of Mr. George Crawfurd,' who had received infor-
mation from .Sir Patrick's own mouth, "Finding
after this that the ministers of state were most ear-
nestly set on his destruction, and that he could not
live in security at home, he went to England, and
entered into a strict friendship with the Duke of
Monmouth, the Earl of Shaftesbuiy, and the Lord
Russell, who was his near relation. With them he
often met, and had many conferences on the state of
.Scotland, and what might be done there to secure
the kingdom from Popery and arbitraiy power, in
the event of a popish successor. But, as his lordship
protested to me, there never passed among them the
least intimation of any design against the king's life,
or the Duke of York's; that was what they all had
an abhorrence of. But he said he thought it was
lawful for subjects, being under such pressures, to try
how they might be relieved from them; and their
design never went further."

Notwithstanding the pure intentions of this little
band of patriots, the government, as is well known,
was able to fasten upon them the charge of having
conspired the deaths of the king and his brother;
and to this infamous accusation Lord Russell fell a
victim in England, and Mr. Baillie of Jer\iswood
in Scotland. It was on the 24th of December, 1684,
that the latter individual suffered; before that time
Sir Patrick LIume, though conscious of innocence,
had gone into hiding, being justified in that step by
a degree of personal infirmity, which unfitted him
for enduring imprisonment. The place selected for
his concealment was the sepulchral vault of his
family, underneath the parish church of Polwarth,
about two miles from Redbraes Castle, the house in
which he generally resided. Here he lived for many
weeks of the autumn of 1684, without fire and hardly
any light, and surrounded by the ghastly objects

1 Lives and Characters 0/ the Officers of the Croivti, and 0/
the State in Scotland.

PATRICK HUME

which usually furnish forth iuch a scene. He was
enabled, however, by the firmness of his own mind
and the affections of his amiable family to suffer
this dreary self-imprisonment without shrinking. No
one knew of his concealment but his family, and one
"Jamie Winter," a caq>enter, of whose fidelity they
had good reason to be assured. Having been pro-
vided with a bed through the aid of this humble
friend. Sir Patrick depended for food and other
necessaries uynm the heroic devotedness of his daugh-
ter Grizcl, who, though only twelve years of age,
nightly visitetl this dismal scene, without manifest-
ing the least agitation either on account of real or
imaginary dangers. Supported by such means, Sir
Patrick never lost his cheerfulness of temper, but,
on the contrarj-, could laugh heartily at any little in-
cident detailed to him by his daughter. The noble
child had no other means of obtaining his food except
by secret mg part of what she had upon her own plate
at the family meals. Her having one day secured
an entire sheep's-head, which her younger brother
Alexander thought she had swallowed in a moment,
supplied one of those domestic jests with which the
fugitive father was entertained. While in this lonely
place. Sir Patrick had no other reading than Bu-
chanan's Psalms, which he conned so thoroughly
that he ever after had the most of them by heart.
As the winter advanced Lady Polwarth contrived a
retreat underneath the floor of a low apartment at
Redbraes, and thinking that this might serve to con-
ceal her husband in the event of any search taking
place, had him removed to his own house, where he
accordingly lived for some time, till it was found one
morning that the place designed for concealment had
l>ecome half filled with water.

Warned by this incident, and by the execution of
his friend ^Ir. Baillie, he resolved to remain no
longer in his native country. It was projected that
he should leave the house next morning in disguise,
attended by his grieve or farm-overseer, John Allan,
•who was instructed to give out that he was going to
attend a horse-market at Morpeth. The party stole
away by night, and had proceeded a considerable
distance on their way, when Sir Patrick, falling into
a reverie, parted company with his attendant, and
did not discover the mistake till he found himself on
the banks of the Tweed. This, however, was a most
fortunate misadventure, for, soon after his parting
with Allan, a company of soldiers that" had been in
search of him at Redbraes, and followed in the ex-
pectation of overtaking him, came up, and would
have inevitably discovered and seized him if he had
not been upon another track. On learning what
had happened, he dismissed his servant, and, leaving
the main road, reached London through by-ways.
On this journey he represented himself as a surgeon,
a character which he could have supported effectually,
if called upon, as he carried a case of lancets, and
was acquainted with their use. From London he
found his way to France, and thence, after a short
stay, walked on foot to Bnissels, intending to con-
verse with the Duke of Monmouth. Finding the
duke had gone to the Hague, he proceeded to Hol-
land, but did not immediately obtain a conference
with that ill-fated nobleman. He had an audience,
however, of the Prince of Orange, who, "looking
on him (to use the words of Crawfurd) as a confessor
for the Protestant religion and the liberties of his
country, treated him with a very particular respect."

On the death of Charies II., in February, 1685,
and the accession of the Duke of York, whose at-
tachment to the Catholic faith rendered him, in their
eyes, unfit to reign, the British refugees in Holland
concerted two distinct but relative expeditions, for

the salvation of the Protestant religion, and to main-
tain "the natural and native rights and liberties of
the free people of Britain and Ireland, and all the
legal fences of society and property there established."
One of these expeditions was to land in England,
under the Duke of Monmouth, whose prosecution
of his own views upon the crown, under the favour
of the Protestant interest, is well known. The other
was to be under the conduct of the Earl of Argyle,
and was to land in Scotland, where it was expected
that an army would be formed in the first place from
his lordship's Highland retainers, and speedily re-
inforced by the malcontents of A}Tshire and other
parts of the Lowlands. Sir Patrick Hume has left
a memoir respecting the latter enterprise, from which
it clearly appears that Monmouth gave distinct pledges
(afterwards lamentably broken) as to the deference
of his own pei'sonal views to the sense of the party
in general — and also that Argyle acted throughout
the whole preparations, and in the expedition itself,
with a wilfulness, self-seekiiig, and want of energy,
which were but poorly compensated by the general
excellence of his motives and the many worthier
points in his character. Sir Patrick Hume and Sir
John Cochrane of Ochiltree, alike admirable for the
punty and steadiness of their political \'iews, were
next in command, or at least in the actual conduct
of affairs, to the earl. The sword of the former
gentleman is still preserved, and bears upon both
sides of its blade the following inscription in Ger-
man :

" Got bewarr die aufrechte Schotten,"

that is, God preserve the righteous Scots. It was
not destined, however, that fortune should smile on
this enterprise. The patriots sailed on the 2d of
May, in three small vessels, and on the 6th arrived
near Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands. The impru-
dent landing of two gentlemen, who were detained
by the bishop, ser\-ed to alarm the government, so
that when the expedition reached the country of
Argyle, he found that all his friends, upon whom
he depended, had been placed under arrest at the
capital. After trifling away several weeks in his
own district, and affording time to the government
to collect its forces, he formed the resolution of
descending upon Glasgow. Meanwhile, Sir Patrick
Hume and others were forfaulted, their estates con-
fiscated, and a high reward offered for their apprehen-
sion. While Argyle was lingering at Rothesay, Sir
Patrick conducted the descent of a foraging party
upon Greenock, and, though opposed by a party of
militia, succeeded in his object. Allo\ving as largely
as could be demanded for the personal feelings of
this gentleman, it would really appear from his
memoir that the only judgment or vigour displayed
in the whole enterprise resided in himself and Sir
John Cochrane. When the earl finally resolved at
Kilpatrick to give up the appearance of an army,
and let each man shift for himself, these r\vo gentle-
men conducted a party of less than a hundred men
across the Clyde, in the face of a superior force of
the enemy, and were able to protect themselves till
they reached Muirdykes. Here they were assailed
by a large troop of cavalry, and were compelled each
man to fight a number of personal contests in order
to save his o\\'n life. Yet, by a judicious disposition
of their little force, and the most unflinching braver)'
and perseverance, Hume and Cochrane kept their
ground till night, when, apprehending the approach
of a larger body of foot, they stole away to an un-
frequented part of the country, where they deliber-
ately dispersed.

Sir Patrick Hume found protection for three weeks
in the house of Montgomerv of Lainshaw, where, or

PATRICK HUME.

315

at Kilwinning, it would appear that he wrote the
memoir above alluded to, which was first printed
* in Rose's observations on Foxe's historical work,
and latterly in the J/f/rr/'Wi';// /'t/iV-j (1831). The
better to confound the search made for him, a report
of his death was circulated by his friends. Having
escaped by a vessel from the west coast, he proceeded
by Dublin to Bordeaux, where we find he was on
the 15th of November. lie now resumed his sur-
gical character, and passed under the name of Dr.
Peter Wallace. Early in 1686 he appears to have
proceeded by Geneva to Holland, where his family
joined him, and they resided together at Utrecht for
three years. The picture of this distressed, but
pious and cheerful family, is very affectingly given
by Lady Murray, in the well-known memoirs of her
mother. Lady Grizel Baillie. They were reduced
to such straits through the absence of all regidar
income, that Lady Hume could not keep a servant,
and Sir Patrick was obliged — but this must have
been a labour of love — to teach his own children.
They were frequently compelled to pawn their plate
to provide the necessaries of life until a fresh supply
reached them. Yet, even in this distress, their house
was ever open to the numerous refugees who shared
in their unhappy fate. Not forgetting political ob-
jects. Sir Patrick, in 1688, wrote a letter powerful
in style and arguments, to put the Presbyterian
clergy in Scotland on their guard against the insidious
toleration which King James proposed for the pur-
pose of effecting the ascendency of Popery. In this
document, which has been printed among the A/a7rh-
moiit Papers by Sir G. H. Rose, we find him giving
an animated picture of the Prince of Orange, whom
he already contemplated as the future deliverer of
his country, and no doubt wished to point in that
character to the attention of Scotsmen ; " one," says
he, "bred a Calvinist, who, for religious practice,
excels most men so high in quality, and is equal to
the most part of whatever rank of the sincere and
serious in that communion ; for virtue and good
morals beyond many ; those infirmities natural to
poor mankind, and consistent with seriousness in
religion, breaking out as little, either for degree or
frequency, from him, as from most part of good men,
and not one habitual to him: one of a mild and cour-
teoustemper; of a plain, ingenuous, and honest nature;
of a humane, gay, and affable carriage, without any
token of pride or disdain; one educated and brought
up in a republic as free as any in the world, and inured
to the freedom allowed by and possessed in it. His
greatest enemy, if he know him, or my greatest
enemy, if he read this, must find his own conscience
witnessing to his face, that what I have said is truth,
and that I am one of more worth than to sully my
argument with a flaunting hyperbole even in favour
of a prince." The modern reader, who is acquainted
with the picture usually drawn of the same person-
age by the English historians, will probably be
startled at the gayety and affability here attributed
to the prince ; but, besides the unavoidable prepos-
session of Sir Patrick for a person who, it would
appear, had treated him kindly, and stood in the
most endearing relation to all his favourite objects
in religion and politics, it must be allowed that, at
an age wliich might be called youth (thirty-eight),
and previous to his undertaking the heavy and un-
grateful burden of royalty in Britain, William might
have been better entitled to such a description than
he was in the latter part of his life.

Before this time the eldest son of Sir Patrick
Hume, and his future son-in-law, Baillie, had obtained
commissions in the horse-guards of the Prince of
Orange, in whose expedition to England all three

soon after took a part. These gentlemen were
among those who suffered in the storm by which a
part of the prince's fleet was disabled; they had to
return to port with the loss of all their luggage, which
in the existing state of their affairs was a very severe
misfortune. The little party appears to have speedily
refitted and accompanied the prince at his landing
in Devonshire, as we find Sir Patrick writing a diary
of the progress to London, in which he seems to
have been near the prince all the way from Exeter.
In the deliberations held at London respecting the
settlement of the new government. Sir Patrick bore
a conspicuous part; but it was in Scotland that his
zeal and judgment found a proper field of display.
In the convention parliament, which sat down at
Edinburgh, March 14, 1689, he appeared as repre-
sentative of the county of Berwick; and, an objection
being made on the score of his forfaulture, he was
unanimously voted a member by the house. The
decision of this assembly in favour of a settlement of
the crown upon William and his consort Mary soon
followed.

The career of public service was now opened to
the subject of our memoir at a period of life when his
judgment must have been completely matured, and
after he had proved, by many years of suffering under
a tyrannical government, how worthy he was to ob-
tain honours under one of a liberal complexion. In
July, 1690, his attainder was rescinded by act of par-
liament; he was soon after sworn a member of the
privy-council; and in December, 1690, he was
created a peer by the title of Lord Polwarth. The
preamble of the patent is a splendid testimony to the
eminent virtues he had displayed in asserting the
rights and religion of his country. King William at
the same time vouchsafed to him an addition to his
armorial bearings, "an orange proper ensigned, with
an imperial crown, to be placed in a surtout in his
coat of arms in all time coming, as a lasting mark of
his majesty's royal favour to the family of Polwarth,
and in commemoration of his lordship's great affec-
tion to his said majesty."

From this period the life of Lord Polwarth is
chiefly to be found in the history of his country. He
was appointed in 1692 to be principal sheriff of Ber-
wickshire, and in 1693 to be one of the four extra-
ordinary lords of session. Though there is no trace
of his having been bred to the law, his conduct in
these two employments is said to have been without
blemish. His reputation, indeed, for decisions con-
formable to the laws, for sagacity and soundness of
judgment, is perhaps one of the most remarkable
parts of the brilliant fame which he has left behind
him. In 1696 he attained the highest office in Scot-
land, that of lord-chancellor, and in less than a year
after he was promoted in the peerage by the titles
Earl of Marchmont, Viscount of Blassonberry, Lord
Polwarth, Redbraes, and Greenlaw, to him and to
his heirs male whatsoever. He was soon after named
one of the commission of the treasury and admiralty;
and in 1698 was appointed lord high-commissioner
to represent the king's person in the parliament which
met at Edinburgh in July of that year. To follow up
the statement of Sir George Rose, who gives a sketch
of the life of the earl in his preface to the Marchmont
Papers, "his correspondence with King William and
his ministers, whilst he exercised these high func-
tions, exhibits an earnest and constant desire to act,
and to advise, as should best promote at once the
honour of his master and benefactor, and the weal of
the state; and he had the good fortune to serve a
prince who imposed no duties upon him which
brought into conflict his obligations to the sovereign
and to his country."

3'6

PATRK K lUME.

The Earl of Marchmont was actinj^ as commissioner
at the General Assenihly of 1702, when the death of
Ills afTcctionate sovereign interruptcil the proceedings,
and plunged him into the deepest grief. He was
appointed by (^iieen Anne to continue to jireside
over the assembly till the conclusion of its proceed-
ings; but the jirinciples of this great man were too
rigid to allow of his long continuing in office under
the new government. In his letter to Queen Anne,
written on the death of King William, he was too
little of a courtier to disguise the feelings wliich pos-
sessed him as a man, although he must have known
that every word he used in admiration or lamentation
of her predecessor must have been grating to her
ears. In the first session of the parliament after her
accession he presented to it an act for the abjuration
of the Pretender; and, though it was in conformity
to, and in imitation of, the English act passed imme-
diately on her ascending the throne, and was read a
first time, the high-commissioner adjourned the house
in order to stop the measure. In a memorial to the
<)ueen of the 1st of July, 1702 (Marc/uiioitt Papers),
will be found a full vindication of his conduct in this
matter, and a statement of that held by his friends
and the commissioner, the Uuke of Queensberry,
•liffering essentially from Lockhart's. He was on
this dismissed from his office of chancellor, the place
being conferred on the Earl of Seafield.

Having thus sacrificed his office to his principles,
he pursue<l the latter in the ensuing parliaments with
the consistency and fervour which might have been
expected from such a man. The Protestant succes-
sion in the house of Hanover, and the union of the
two divisions of the island under one legislature, were
the two objects on which he now centered his atten-
tion and energies. It is hardly necessary to remind
the reader that the general temper of the Scottish
people was perversely opposed to both of these
measures, and that it was only the minority of such
consistent Whigs as Eord Marchmont, who, reposing
more upon great abstract ]:)rinciples than narrow
views of immediate advantage, saw them in their
proper light, and gave them the weight of their in-
fluence. An attempt of the earl to introduce an act
for the Hanover succession, at a time when his fellow-
statesmen were chiefly bent on asserting by the act
of security the abstract indejiendence of their coun-
try, was so ill received that there was even some talk
of consigning this noble patriot to the state-prison in
Edinburgh Castle. Afterwards, however, when the
government of Oueen Anne was obliged to adopt the
measure of a union, his lordship had the ])leasure of
contributing his aid — and most willingly was it ren-
dered— towards what had been the grand object of
his political life. The selection of the Scottish com-
missioners, u|)on which the whole matter hinged,
was cfTccted in obedience to a sagacious advice ten-
tiered by Lord Marchmont — namely, that they should
be "the most considerable men, provided they were
Whigs, and therefore friends to the Revolution; but
such alone, with disregard to their feelings respecting
an incor[)orating union as hostile to it or not. The
reasonings he employed to enforce this principle of
selection are to be found in the Mair/iinotit J'apcrs:
and we learn from Lockhart to how great an extent
they were acted on. .Sjicaking of the commissioners,
this gentleman says, that "all were of the court or
Whig interest except himself," an ardent Jacobite,
an exception only made in the hope of gaining him
through his uncle, the Whig Lord Wharton. It is
universally allowed that this principle, though the
author of it has not heretofore been very distinctly
known, achieved the union.

We are now to advert to a circumstance of a pain-

ful nature respecting the Earl of Marchmont, but
which we have no doubt has taken its rise either
from error or fnjm calumny. As a leader of the
independent party in the Scots parliament — called
the .S(]uadrone V'olante — it is alleged that his lord-
ship was one of those individuals who were brought
over to the government views by bribery; and Lock-
hart actually places the sum of ;^i 104, I5j-. "jd. against
his name, as his share of the £io,<yx> said to have
been disbursed by the English exchequer, for the
purpose of conciliating the chief opponents of the
measure. Sir George H. Rose has made an accurate
and laborious investigation into the foundation of
these allegations, from which it would not only
appear that Lord Marchmont has been calumniated,
but that a very incorrect notion has hitherto prevailed
respecting the application of the money above re-
ferred to. We must confess that it has always
appeared to us a most improbable story, that, even
in the impoverished state of Scotland at that time,
noblemen, some of whom were known to entertain
liberal and enlightened views, and had previously
maintained a pure character, were seduced by such
trifling sums as those placed against them in the list
given by Lockhart. Sir George Rose has shown,
to our entire satisfaction, that the sum given on this
occasion to the Earl of Marchmont was a payment
of arrears due upon offices and pensions — in other
words, the payment of a just debt; and that he is
not blamable in the matter, unless it can be shown
that receiving the payment of a debt can imder any
circumstances be disgraceful to the creditor. The
best proof of his lordship's innocence is to be found
in his conduct at the union, and for years before it.
It is clear from his letters to the English statesmen,
that the union was an object which he constantly
had at heart, and that, so far from being drawn over
by any means whatever to their views, he had in
reality urged them into it with all his strength and
spirit, and all along acted with them in the negotia-
tions by which it was effected. IVIoney does not
appear to have been so abundant on this occasion,
as to make it probable that any was spent, except
upon opponents.

The Earl of Marchmont ofTered himself as a can-
didate at the election of the Scots representative
peers in 1 707, and again on the dissolution of par-
liament in 1708, but in each case without success.
He could scarcely calculate on the countenance of
Queen Anne's government; for, if he had rendered
it eminent services, he had also taught it how un-
compromising was his adherence to his principles.
Thus his parliamentary life ceased with the union.
But his letters written subsequently to it give evidence
that his mind was engaged deeply in all the events
affecting the weal and honour of his country. Nor
was his patriotism deadened by the insult and injury
he received from the court, when, at the accession
of the Tory ministry in 1 7 10, he was deprived of
his office of sheriff of Berwickshire, which was con-
ferred on the Earl of Home.

In 1703 Lord Marchmont had the misfortune to
lose his amiable and affectionate spouse, of the family
of Ker of Cavers, to whose virtues he has left a very
affecting testimony. In 1 709 he suffered a hardly less
severe calamity in the death of his eldest son Lord
Pohvarth, a colonel of cavalry, who, beginning his
service in King William's body-guard, served through
his wars and the Duke of Marlborough's with repu-
tation, and died childless, though twice married.
He was treasurer-depute in 1696. His aimiable and
honourable character fully justified his father's grief.
The second brother Robert, also a soldier, died many
years before him.

ALEXANDER HUME

The accession of George I. gave to Lord March-
mont what he called the desire of his heart, a Pro-
testant king upon the throne. lie was immediately
re-appointed sheriff of Berwickshire. Li 1 7 15, in
the seventy-fifth year of his age, acting on the feelings
and principles of his youth, he forbade a meeting of
the gentlemen of the county, which had been pro-
posed in the professed view of obtaining a redress of
hardships, but which would have embarrassed the
newly established government; and his lordship took
the necessary precautions to render his prohibition
effectual. When he saw the Protestant succession
secure, he gave up all thoughts of active life, and
removed to Berwick-on-Tweed, to spend the re-
mainder of his days in retirement. He retained
his cheerful disposition to the last. A short time
before his death he was visited by his daughter
Lady Grizel Baillie, and his grand-children, who,
with a number of his friends, had a dance. Being
then very weak in his limbs he was unable to come
down-stairs, but desired to be carried down to see
them; and, as pleasingly recorded by his grand-
daughter Lady Murray, he was so much delighted
with the happy faces he saw around him, that he
remarked, "though he could not dance, he could
yet beat time with his foot."

On the 1st of August, 1724, this illustrious patriot
breathed his last at Berwick, in the eighty-third year
of his age, leaving one of the most irreproachable
characters which have come down to us from that
time, if not from others of greater general virtue.
He had become so reconciled to the prospect of
death, that, though no doubt sensible of the solemn
change which it was to produce, he could make it
the subject of a gentle mirth. Being observed to
smile, he was asked the reason by his grandson, the
ingenious Lord Binning, to whom he answered, "I
am diverted to think what a disappointment the
worms will meet with, when they come to me
expecting a good meal, and find nothing but bones."
Lord Marchmont, be it remarked, though at one
time a handsome man, had always been of a spare
habit of body, and was now^much attenuated. His
character has already been sufficiently displayed in
his actions and the slight commentaries we have
ventured to make upon them. It is impossible,
however, to refrain from adding the testimony of
Fox, who, in his historical work, says of him,
as Sir Patrick Hume, that "he is proved, by the
whole tenor of his life and conduct, to have been
uniformly zealous and sincere in the cause of his
country."

HUME, Alexander, second Earl of Marchmont,
the eldest surviving son and successor of the first
earl, having maintained the historical lustre of the
family, deserves a place in the present work, though
only perhaps in a subordinate way. He was born
in 1675, and in his boyhood shared the exile and
distress of his family. Before his elder brother's
death he was distinguished as Sir Alexander Camp-
bell of Cessnock, having married the daughter and
heiress of that family. He was brought up as a
lawyer, and became a judge of the Court of Session
before he was thirty years of age. He was a privy-
councillor and a baron of the Court of Exchequer,
and served in the Scottish parliament, first for Kirk-
wall, and then for Bersvickshire, when the act of
union passed. Emulating his father's feelings, he
zealously promoted that measure, and took a very
active share in the arduous labours that were devolved
upon the sub-committee, to which the articles of the
union were referred.

But the principal historical transaction in which
this nobleman was concerned, was the introduction

HUGH C. HUME.

317

of the family of Hanover to the British throne. A
report having been circulated that the electoral family
was indifferent to the honours opened up to them by
the act of succession. Lord Polwarlh (for he had
now attained this designation) proceeded in 171 2
to Hanover, and entered into a correspondence with
the august family there resident, which enabled him
fully to contradict the rumour. He took a leading
part in suppressing the rebellion of 1715, l^y which
that succession was sought to be defeated, and in
1 7 16 was rewarded for his services by being ap-
pointed ambassador to the court of Denmark.

After acceding to the family honours in 1722, the
Earl of Marchmont was honoured with several im-
portant places of trust under government, till johiing
the opposition against the excise scheme of Sir Robert
Walpole, he forfeited the favour of the court and his
place as a privy-councillor, which he then held. "It
appears," says Sir George Henry Rose,^ "that the
distinguished members of the Scottish nobility who
joined in this act of hostility to the ministers, were
less induced so to do by any particular objections to
that measure of finance, than by the hope that their
junction with the English who resisted it might lead
to the subversion of Lord Hay's government of Scot-
land, a rule which they felt to be painful and humi-
liating. They knew it moreover to be sustained by
means, many of which they could not respect, and
which they believed to tend to degrade and alienate
the nation. That they judged rightly in apprehend-
ing that the system adopted by Sir Robert Walpole
and his virtual viceroy for the management of the
public affairs in North Britain was ill calculated to
conciliate to the reigning family the affections of the
people, was but too sufficiently proved by subse-
quent events. He sat as one of the sixteen Scots
peers in the parliament of 1727; but at the general
election in 1754 the hand of power was upon him,
and being excluded, he, together with the Dukes
of Hamilton, Queensberry, and Montrose, the Earl
of Stair, and other Scottish noblemen, entered into
a concert with the leading English members of the
opposition, in order to bring the machinations un-
sparingly used to control the election of the peers in
Scotland to light, and their authors to punishment.
Sir Robert Walpole's better fortune, however, pre-
vailed against it, as it did against a similar project in
1739." The Earl of Marchmont died in January,
1740, and was succeeded by his eldest surviving son
Hugh, who was destined to exhibit the extraordinary
spectacle of a family maintaining in the third gene-
ration the same talent, judgment, and worth which
had distinguished the two preceding.

HUME, Hl'ch Campbell, third and last Larl
of Marchmont, was born at Edinburgh on the 15th
February, 1 708, and soon became remarkable for
the precocity of his intellect and the versatility of his
genius. His mind was equally directed to the ac-
quisition of scholastic erudition and political know-
ledge, and on all subjects he was supposed to be
excelled by few or none of his time. In 1734, when
only twenty-six years of age, he was chosen member
for the county of Berwick, and entered the House of
Commons as Lord Polwarth, at the same time that
his younger and twin brother, Mr. Hume Campbell,
came forward as representative for the burghs of the
district. The injustice and neglect which Sir Robert
Walpole had shown to Lord Marchmont was speedily
avenged by the trouble which these young men gave
to his government. The former soon attained the
first place in the opposition ; and how keenly his
attacks were felt by the ministry is shown in a remark

1 Preface to Marchvwni Papers.

3i8

made by the latter person, to the effect that "there
were few things he more ardently desired than to see
that young man at the head of his family," and thus
deprived of a seat in the house. This wish was soon
gratified, for his father dying in 1740, Lord Polwarlh
succeeded as Earl of Marchniont; nor did he again
enter the walls of parliament until the year 1750,
when a vacancy occurring in the representation of
the Scottish peerage, he was almost unanimously
elected. From his talents as a speaker, his extensive
information, and active business habits, he acquired
great influence in the upper house, and was con-
stantly rechosen at every general election during the
long period of thirty-four years. He was appointed
first lord of police in 1747, and keeper of the great
seal of Scotland in January, 1764, the latter of which
he held till his death. The estimation in which his
lordship was held by his contemporaries may be
judged of by the circumstance of his living on terms
of the strictest intimacy with the celebrated Lord
Cobham (who gave his bust a place in the Temple
of Worthies at Stow), Sir William Wyndham, Lord
Bolingbroke, the Duchess of Marll)orough, Mr.
Pope, and other eminent persons of that memorable
era. The duchess appointed him one of her execu-
tors, and bequeathed him a legacy of ;{^25oo for his
trouble, and as a proof of her esteem. Mr. Pope
likewise appointed him one of his executors, leaving
him a large-paper edition of Thuantis, and a portrait
of Lord liolingbroke, painted by Richardson. The
poet likewise immortalized him by introducing his
name into the well-known inscription in the Twick-
enham grotto : —

"Then the bnght flame was shot through Marchmont's soul."

His lordship's library contained one of the most
curious and valuable collections of books and manu-
scripts in Great Britain — all of which he bequeathed
at his death to his sole executor, the Right Honour-
able George Rose.

His lordship was twice married; first, in 1731, to
Miss Western of London, by whom he had four
children, a son (who died young), and three daughters,
the youngest of whom was afterwards married to
Walter Scott, Esq., of Harden. Upon the death of
his wife in 1747 he next year married a Miss Elizabeth
Crompton, whose father was a linendraper in Cheap-
side, l)y whom he had one son, Alexander, Lord
Polwarth, who died without issue, in the thirty-first
year of his age. The circumstances attending this
second marriage were very peculiar, and his lord-
ship's conduct on the occasion seems altogether so
much at variance with his general character, as well
as with one in his rank and circumstances in life, that
we reckon them worthy of being recorded here; —
and in doing so, we think we cannot do better
than ado|)t the account of them given by the cele-
brated David Hume, in a familiar epistle to Mr.
Oswald of Dunnikier, and published in the latter
gentleman's corresjjondence. The letter is dated
London, January 29th, 1748: — "Lord Marchmont
has had the most extraordinary adventure in the
world. About three weeks ago he was at tlie play,
when he espied in one of the boxes a fair virgin,
whose looks, airs, and manners had such a ])owerful
and wonderful effect upon him as was visible by every
by-stander. His raptures were so undisguised, his
looks so expressive of passion, his inquiries so earnest,
that every person took notice of it. He soon was
told that lier name was Crompton, a linendraper's
daughter, that had been bankrui)t last year, and had
not been able to pay above five shillings in the pound.
The fair nymph herself was about sixteen or seven-
teen, and being supported by some relations, ap-

PATRICK HUME.

peared in every public place, and had fatigued every
eye but that of his lordship, which, being entirely
employed in the severer studies, had never till that
fatal moment opened upon her charms. Such and
so powerful was tlieir effect as to be able to justify
all the Pharamonds and Cyrusses in their utmost
extravagancies. He wrote next morning to her
father, desiring to visit his daughter on honourable
terms: and in a few days she will be the Countess of
Marchmont. All this is certainly true. They say
many small fevers prevent a great one. Heaven be
praised that I have always liked the persons and
company of the fair sex ! for by that means I hope
to escape such ridiculous passions. But could you
ever suspect the ambitious, the severe, the bustling,
the impetuous, the violent Marchmont, of becoming
so tender and gentle a swain — an Artamenes— an
Oroondates !"

His lordship died at his .seat, at Hemel Hemp-
stead in Hertfordshire, on the loth of January, 1794,
and leaving no heirs male, all the titles of the family
became extinct; but his estate descended to his three
daughters. According to Sir George H. Rose, who,
from his family connection with the Earl of March-
mont, had the best means of knowing, this nobleman
"was an accomplished and scientific horseman, and
a theoretical and practical husbandman and gardener.
He pursued his rides and visits to his farm and garden
as long as his strength would suffice for the exertion;
and some hours of the forenoon, and frequently of the
evening, were dedicated to his books. His most
favourite studies appear to have been in the civil law
and in the laws of England and Scotland, in the
records and history of the European nations, and in
ancient history; and the traces of them are very un-
equivocal. The fruits of his labours in extracts,
observations, comparisons, and researches — all made
in his own handwriting — are not more to be admired
than wondered at, as the result of the industry of
one who was stimulated neither by poverty nor by
eagerness for literary celebrity. His Dutch educa-
tion had given him method, which was the best
possible auxiliary to an ardent and powerful mind,
such as his was."

In the publication which we have entitled the
Ahirchmont Papers, are many of Earl Hugh, of
which the most important feature is a diary, which
he kept during three different periods of peculiar
interest in the reign of George H. The first extends
from the latter end of July, 1 744, to the end of that
year, and embraces the events which led to the for-
mation of what was called the Broad-bottom Ad-
ministration, when Lord Carteret, who just then
became Earl of Granville, was compelled to retire
by the Pelhams, the king consenting thereto very
reluctantly, and when the Dukes of Devonshire,
Bedford, and Dorset, and the Earls of Harrington
and Chesterfield, came into office. The second
period begins in September, 1745, when news had
just been received in London that the Pretender was
near Edinburgh, and that it would probably be soon
in his occupation. It closes in the February follow-
ing, with the extraordinary events of that month, the
resignation of the Pelham ministry, and its re-estab-
lishment after the Earl of Bath's and the Earl of
Granville's interregnum of three days. The third
period commences in July, 1747, and terminates in
March, 1748, soon after the Earl of Chesterfield's
resignation, and the Duke of Bedford's appointment
to succeed him as secretary of state.

HUME, Patrick, is noticed by various writers
as the name of an individual who adorned the litera-
ture of his country at the close of the seventeenth

HENRY HUNTER.

319

century. Who or what he was is not known: it is
only probable, from the regularity with which certain
first names occur in genealogies in connection with
surnames, that he belonged to the Polwarth branch
of the family of Home, or Hume, as in that branch
there were six or seven successive barons bearing the
name of Patrick. This learned man is only known
to have written the notes connected with the sixth
edition of Milton's Paradise Lost, which was published
in folio by Tonson in 1695, and is one of the most
elegant productions of the British press that have ever
appeared. It has been a matter of just surprise to
several writers of Scottish biography, that absolutely
nothing should have been handed down respecting
this person, seeing that his notes evince a high degree
of taste and most extensive enidition, and are in fact
the model of almost all commentaries subsequent to
his time. "His notes," says an anonymous writer,'
" are always curious; his observations on some of the
finer passages of the poet show a mind deeply smit
with an admiration for the sublime genius of their
author; and there is often a masterly nervousness in
his style, which is very remarkable for this age."
But the ignorance of subsequent ages respecting the
learned commentator is sufficiently accounted for by
the way in which his name appears on the title-page,
being simply in Initials, with the affix (pLXoTroirjTyjs,
and by the indifference of the age to literary history.
It would appear that the commentary, learned and
admirable as it is, speedily fell out of public notice,
as in 1750 the Messrs. Foulis of Glasgow published
the first book of the Paradise Lost, with notes by
Mr. Callender of Craigforth, which are shown to be,
to a great extent, borrowed from the work of Hume,
\\ithout the most distant hint of acknowledgment.

HUNTER, Dr. Henry, a divine highly dis-
tinguished in literature, was born at Culross in the
year 1741. His parents, though in humble life, gave
liim a good education, which was concluded by an
attendance at the university of Edinburgh. Here
his talents and application attracted the notice of the
professors, and at the early age of seventeen he was
appointed tutor to Mr. Alexander Boswell, who
subsequently became a judge of the Court of Session
under the designation of Lord Balmouto. He after-
wards accepted the same office in the family of the
Earl of Dundonald at Culross Abbey, and thus had
the honour of instructing the venerable earl, so
distinguished by his scientific inquiries and inven-
tions. In 1764, having passed the necessary trials
with unusual approbation, he was licensed as a
minister of the gospel, and soon excited attention to
his pulpit talents. So highly were these rated in
public esteem, that in 1766 he was ordained one of
the ministers of South Leith, which has always been
considered as one of the most respectable appoint-
ments in the Scottish church. He had here in-
gratiated himself in an uncommon degree with his
congregation, when a visit to London in 1769 opened
up to his ambition a still wider field of usefulness.
The sermons which he happened to deliver on this
occasion in several of the Scottish meeting-houses
drew much attention, and the result was an invita-
tion, which reached him soon after his return, to
become minister of the chapel in Swallow Street.
This he declined; but in 1771 a call from the London
Wall congregation tempted him away from his Scot-
tish flock, who manifested the sincerest sorrow at his
departure. This translation not only was an ad-

' Black-wood's Magazine, iv. 662, where there is a series of
extracts from Hume's Commentary, in contrast with similar
passages from that published by Mr. Callender of Craigforth.

vancement in his profession, but it paved the way
for a series of literary exertions, upon which his fame
was ultimately to rest. Several single sermons first
introduced him to the world as an author. These
were on the ordination of O. Nicholson, M.A., 1775,
2 Cor. iv. 7, 8 ; On the Study of the Sacred Scrip-
tures, Acts xviii. 1 1, in the work called the Scottish
Preacher, vol. iv. ; at the funeral of the Rev. George
Turnbull, 1783; On the opening of a Meeting-house
at Walthamstow in 1787, Rev. xxi. 3, 4; On the
Revolution, 1788; The Believer's Joy, Acts viii. 39;
also in the fourth volume of the Scottish Preacher.
These sermons, with some miscellaneous pieces,
were collected and published in two volumes after
the author's death. Dr. Hunter first appeared as a
general writer in 1783, when he published the first
volumes of his '•'' Sacred Biography, or the History of
the Patriarchs and of Jesus Christ," which was ulti-
mately extended to seven volumes, and has become
a standard work, the seventh edition having appeared
in 1814. Before this work was completed, the notice
attracted by the system of Lavater throughout civil-
ized Europe tempted him to engage in an English
version of the Physiognomy of that philosopher,
whom he previously visited at his residence in Swit-
zerland, in order to obtain from the conversation of
the learned man himself as perfect an idea as pos-
sible of his particular doctrines. It is said that
Lavater at first displayed an unexpected coolness on
the subject of Dr. Hunter's visit, being afraid that
an English translation might injure the sale of the
French edition, in which he had a pecuniary interest.
This, however, seems to have been got over; for
Lavater eventually treated his English visitor in a
manner highly agreeable. "As their professions
were alike," says an anonymous writer, "so their
sentiments, their feelings, and their opinions are
altogether alike. A complete acquaintance with
the French language enabled Dr. Hunter to enjoy
Lavater's conversation freely; and he ever afterwards
talked with enthusiasm of the simplicity of manners,
the unaffected piety, the unbounded benevolence,
and the penetrating genms of this valued friend.
The bare mention of that barbarous cruelty which
massacred the virtuous Lavater was sufficient to
make him shrink back with horror." The first
number of this work was published in 1 789, and it
was not completed till nine years after, when it ulti-
mately formed five volumes in quarto, bearing the
title of '■'■Essays on Physiognomy, designed to pro-
mote the Knowledge and Love of Mankind, by John
Caspar Lavater." Dr. Hunter's abilities as a trans-
lator were of the first order, and, in this instance,
drew forth the entire approbation of the original
author. The work was, moreover, embellished in
a style which at that time might be considered as
unrivalled. It contained above eight hundred en-
gravings, executed by and under the direction of Mr.
HoUoway, and such was altogether the elaborate
elegance of the publication, that it could not be sold
to the public under thirty pounds per copy. We are
only left to regret that so much talent, so much taste,
and such a large sum of money as this price would
indicate, should have been spent upon an inquiiy
which the acute and precise sense of the immediately
succeeding generation has pronounced to be in a
great measure a delusion.

At the time of the French revolution Dr. Hunter
republished a treatise by Robert Fleming, whose
life, with an account of the work in question, has
already been given in this Biographical Dictionary.
The pamphlet contained some prophetical intima-
tions, which Dr. Hunter supposed to bear a reference
to the events in the neighbouring kingdom. Dr.

320

IIKNKV IllXTKK

WILLIAM AND JdllX HUNTER.

Hunter also published a SW/fiou prt-achcd Fd>nia>y
3> '793« ''" ^^'^ Execution of Louis Xl'I.

In 1795 he attem|)tccl a translation from the Ger-
man, selecting for this purjjose Euler's celebrated
I.ettirs to a German Princess. This \\-ork met \\\\.\\
the entire approbation of the public, and has proved
a very useful adilition to the slock of our native scien-
tific literature. The first edition was in ([uarto, and
a second in octavo appeared in 1S02. The work has
since been reprinted in a smaller size, with notes by
Sir David Brewster. The merit of Dr. Hunter as a
translator was now universally acknowledged, and
work accordingly pressed upon him. While still
engaged in his version of Lavater, he commenced in
1796 the publishing of a translation of St. Pierre's
Studies of Xatnre, which was completed in 1799, in
five volumes octavo, afterwards republished in three.
"His translati<jn," says the anonymous writer above
quoted, "of the beautiful and enthusiastic works of
St. Pierre was universally read and admired : here,
if in any instance, the translator entered into the
spirit of the author, for the glow of benevolence
which gives life to every page of Les Etudes de la
Nature was entirely congenial to the feelings of Dr.
Hunter." Saurin's ^ifrwowj and Sonnini's Travels to
Uppfr and Laioer Egypt comi)lcle the list of Dr.
Hunter's labours as a translator; and it is but small
praise to say that few men have reached the same
degree of excellence in that imjiortant branch of
literature. During the progress of other labours
Dr. Hunter i)ublished more than one volume of
original sermons, and a volume entitled Lectures on
the Evidences of Christianity, being the completion
of a plan begun by the Rev. John Fell. Lie also
commenced the ])ublication, in parts, of a popular
History of London and its Environs, which however
he did not live to complete.

In the year 1790 Dr. Hunter was apjjointed secre-
tary to the corresponding lK)ard of the Society for
I'ro|)agating Christian Knowledge in the Highlands
and Islands of Scotland. He was likewise chaplain
to the Scots corporation in London, and both these
institutions were much benefited by his zealous exer-
tions in their behalf. Il must be obvious, from the
frequent and involved succession of his literary pro-
ductions, that Dr. Hunter spent a most industrious
life, and was upon the whole the most busy as he aj)-
proached that stage of existence when the generality
of men begin to find case not only agreeable but ne-
cessary. It is ])robahle that this unceasing exertion,
which no doubt was more occasioned by necessity
than by choice, tended to break down his constitu-
tion, which was further weakened in his latter years
by the agitation and distress of mind consequent on
the death ui three beloved children. Having retired
to IJrist(d wells for the recovery (jf his health, he
died there, of inflammation m the lungs, October 27,
1802, in the sixty-second year of his age.

"If Dr. Hunter," says his anonymous biographer,'
"was conspicuous as an author, he was still more to
be admired as a man. An unbounded (low of benevo-
lence, which made him enjoy and give enjoyment to
every society, joined to a warmth of feeling which
made him take an interest in every occurrence, ren-
dered him the delight of all his ac<|uaintance. His
social talents were of the highest order. An easy
flow of conversation, never loud, never overbearing,
and comjiletely free from affectation ; an inexhausti-
ble fund of pleasant anecdotes, and occasional flashes
of wit and humour, made every company he joined
pleased with him and with themselves. He was par-
ticularly hap])y in adapting his conversation to those

l.)!jiuiary of (7<'«//cwrt«V M,ig,tziuc, Ixxii. 1072

he conversed with ; and while to a lady his discourse
appeared that of a polished gentleman, the scholar
was surprised by his apt quotations from the classics,
and the ease with which he turned to any suliject
that was brought before him. . . . His private
charities were as numerous as the objects of compas-
sion which occurred to him ; nor should his unbounded
and cheerful hospitality be forgot among his other
virtues." [He is said to have carried this virtue
beyond the bounds which a regard to )irudence and
economy should have prescribed.] "The crowded
attendance and the universal regret of his congrega-
tion are the best proofs of the effect of his pulpit elo-
quence. Llis enlightened and liberal views of religion
made his meeting-house the resort of the leading
Scotsmen in London ; and it was here that the natives
of the southern part of the island had an opportunity
of observing a specimen of that church \\hich pro-
duced a Robertson and a Blair. . . . Dr. Hun-
ter was of a spare habit of body, and remarkably
active ; and his usual cheerfulness and flow of good
humour continued till within a few weeks of his
death." He left a family, consisting of a wife, two
sons, and a daughter.

HUNTER, WiLM.\M and John, two eminent
physicians, fall to be noticed here under one head,
in order that we may, w ithout violating alphabetical
arrangement, give William that priority to which
his seniority and precedence in public life entitle him.

William Hunter was born May 23, 17 18, at
Kilbride, in the county of Lanark. His great-grand-
father, by his father's side, was a younger son of
Hunter of Huntcrston. His father and mother lived
on a small estate in the above county, called Calder-
wood, which had been some time in the possession
of their family. They had ten children, of whom
the subject of our present memoir was the seventh,
while John was the tenth. One of his sisters married
the Rev. James Baillie, professor of divinity in the
university of Glasgow, and became the mother of
Matthew Baillie, the celebrated physician, whose
labours in morbid anatomy have been of such essen-
tial service in promoting the study of pathology.
William Hunter was sent to the college of Glasgow
at the age of fourteen, where he pursued his studies
with diligence, and obtained the esteem of the pro-
fessors and his fellow-students. He was at this time
designed for the church, but hesitated, from con-
scientious motives, to subscribe all the articles of its
faith. Such was the state of his mind when he be-
came acquainted with the eminent Dr. Cullen, who
was then established in practice at Hamilton, under
whom he resolved to devote himself exclusively to
the profession of medicine. Accordingly, having
obtained the consent of his father, in the year 1737
he went to reside with Dr. Cullen, in whose family
he lived nearly three years — a jieriod which ever
afterwards he looked back upon with peculiar plea-
sure. Between these two gifted individuals a part-
nership was now formed, and it was agreed that
William Hunter should take charge of the surgical
and Dr. Cullen of the medical cases that occurred in
their practice. To carry their mutual wishes more
efficiently into oi)eration, it was arranged that
William Hunter should proceed to Edinburgh, and
then to London, for the purpose of pursuing his
medical studies in each of these cities, after which,
that he should return to settle at Hamilton.

In November, 1740, William Hunter went to
Edinburgh, where he remained until the following
spring, attending the lectures of the medical profes-
sors there, among whom he had the advantage of
attending Dr. Alexander Monro, who was one of the

Sir J. Pjryr.d a;

WILLIAM AND JOHN HUNTER.

321

most talented and able professors who perhaps ever
aiiorncil that university. In the summer of 1741 lie
proceeded to Lonilon, and resided with Mr. (after-
wards Dr.) Smellie, then an apothecary in Pall Mall.
He took with him a letter of introduction from Mr.
Foulis, the printer at Glasgow, to Dr. James Dou-
glas. At first Mr. Hunter commenced the study of
anatomy under the tuition of Dr. Frank Nicholls,
who was ihe most eminent teacher of anatomy then
in London, and who had formerly professed the
science at Oxford. It appears that Dr. Douglas had
been under some obligation to Mr. Foulis, who had
procured for him several editions of Horace, and he
naturally, therefore, paid attention to young Hunter,
whom he at once recognized to be an acute and
talented observer. Dr. Douglas was at that time
intent on a great anatomical work on the bones,
which he did not live to complete, and was looking
out for a young man of industry and ability to em-
ploy as his dissector. He soon perceived that his
new acquaintance would be an eligible assistant, and
afier some preliminary conversation, invited him
into his family, for the double purpose of aiding him
with his dissections, and directing the education of
his son. The pecuniary resources of young Hunter
were at this time very slender, and the situation was
to him therefore highly advantageous; but it was
with difficulty that he could obtain the consent of
his father for him to accept it, who being now old
and infirm, awaited with impatience his return to
Scotland. Ultimately, however, he was prevailed
on to acquiesce in the wishes of his son, which he did
with reluctance ; he did not, however, long survive,
as he died on the 30th of the October following,
aged seventy-eight. Mr. Hunter's previous arrange-
ments with Dr. Cullen formed no obstacle to his new
views; for he had no sooner explained his position
than Dr. Cullen, anxious for his advancement,
i-eadily cancelled the articles of agreement. At
liberty now to take advantage of all the means of in-
struction by which he was surrounded, he pursued
his studies with assiduity. By the friendly assistance
of Dr. Douglas he was enabled to enter himself as a
surgeon's pupil at St. George's Hospital, under Mr.
James Wilkie, and as dissecting pupil under Mr.
Frank Nicholls. He also attended a course of ex-
perimental philosophy, which was delivered by
Desauguliers. He soon became very expert as a
dissector, insomuch that Dr. Douglas went to the
expense of having several of his preparations en-
graved. But he did not enjoy his liberal patronage
and aid long, for many months had not elapsed
when his kind benefactor died — an event which hap-
pened April I, 1742, in the sixty-seventh year of his
age. Dr. Douglas left a widow and two children ;
but his death made no alteration in respect to Mr.
Hunter, who continued as before to reside in his
family, and perform the same duties which he had
previously done.

In the year 1743 the first production from the pen
of Mr. Hunter was communicated to the Royal So-
ciety. It was an Essay on tlie Structure and Dis-
e.ises 0/ Articulating^ Ca7-ii!agcs — a subject which had
not been at that time sufficiently investigated, and
on which his observations threw considerable light.
His favourite scheme was now to commence as a
lecturer on anatomy ; but he did not rashly enter on
this undertaking, but passed some years more in mas-
tering the necessary knowledge, and in making the
numerous preparations which are necessary to exhibit
in a complete course of anatomy. There is, perhaps,
no branch of medical science which demands more
patient and assiduous toil than this ; it was more
especially so at that period, when there were few

VOL. II.

aids to anatomical knowledge. He communicated
his project to Dr. Nicholls, who had declined lec-
turing in favour of Dr. Lawrence, who gave him
little encouragement, and he retired, to await a fit
opportunity for commencing his designs. The
wished-for opportunity soon occurred. A society of
navy surgeons at that time existed, which occupied
rooms in Covent Garden, and to this society Mr.
Samuel Sharpe had been engaged as a lecturer on
the operations of surgery. I'liis course Mr. Sharpe
continued to repeat, until finding that it interfered
too much with liis other engagements, he resigned
in favour of William Hunter, who gave his first
anatomical course in the winter of 1746. It is said
that \\hen he first began to speak in public he ex-
perienced much solicitude; but tlie a]:>plause he met
with inspired him with that confidence which is so
essential an element of all good oratory. Indeed,
he gradually became so fond of teaching, that some
few years before his death he acknowledged that he
was never happier than when engaged in lecturing.
The profits of the first two courses were considerable;
but having with much generosity contributed to sup-
ply the pecuniary wants of his friends, he found
himself so reduced on the return of the next season
that he was obliged to postpone his lectures, because
he had not money to defray the necessary expenses
of advertising. An anecdote is mentioned by his
biographer, Symmons, very characteristic of the early
difiiculties which are experienced by many men of
genius. Mr. Watson, one of his earliest pupils, ac-
companied him home after his next introductory
lecture. He had just received seventy guineas for
admission fees, which he carried in a bag under his
cloak, and observed to his friend, "that it was a
larger sum than he had ever been master of before."
His previous experience now taught him more cir-
cumspection— he became more cautious of lending
money, and by strict economy amassed that great
fortune which he afterwards so liberally devoted to
the interests of science. His success as a lecturer
before the society of navy surgeons was so decided,
that its members requested him to extend his course
to anatomy, and gave him the free use of their room
for his lectures. This compliment he could not fail
to have duly appreciated, and it may be regarded as
the precursory- sign of that brilliant career which he
was soon afterwards destined to pursue.

In the year 1747 he was admitted a member of
the Incorporation of Surgeons, and after the close
of his lectures in the spring of the following year,
he set out with his pupil, Mr. James Douglas, on
a tour through Holland and Paris. At Leyden he
visited the illustrious Albinus, whose admirable in-
jections inspired him with the zeal to excel in this
useful department of anatomy. Having made this
tour, he returned to prepare his winter course of
lectures, which he commenced at the usual time.

Mr. Hunter at this time practised surgery as
well as midwifery ; but the former branch of the
profession he always disliked. His patron, Dr.
Douglas, had acquired considerable reputation as an
accoucheur, which probably induced him to direct
his views to this line of practice. An additional in-
ducement also presented itself, in the circumstance of
his being elected one of the surgeon-accoucheurs to
the Middlesex Hospital, and afierwards to the British
Lying-in Hospital. The introduction of male prac-
titioners in this department of the profession, accord-
ing to Astnic, took place on the confinement of
Madame la Valliere in 1663. She was anxious for
concealment, and called in Julian Clement, an emi-
nent surgeon, who was secretly conducted into the
house where she lay, covering her face with a hood,

66

32*

WILLIAM AND JOHN HUNTER.

and where the king is said to have been hidden be-
hind the curtains. He attended her in her subse-
quent accouchment-s and his success soon brought
the class of male practitioners into fashion. Nor
was this a matter of minor import, for hereby the
mortality amung lying-in women has been materially
reduced. Mowbray is said to have been the first
lecturer on obstetrics in London, and he delivered
his course of lectures in the year 1725. To him
succeeded the Chamberlains, after whom Smellie
gave a new air of importance and dignity to the
science. It is said that the manners of Smellie were
by no means prepossessing — indeed they are de-
scribed to have been unpleasing and rough ; there-
fore, although a man of superior talent, he necessarily
found a difficulty in making his way among the
refined and the more polished circles of society.
Herein Hunter had a decided advantage, for while
he was recognized to be a man of superior abilities,
his manners and address were extremely conciliating
and engaging. The most lucrative part of the prac-
tice of midwifery' was at this time divided between
Sir Richard Mannin^ham and Dr. Sandys; — the
former of whom died, and the latter retired into the
countr)- just after Mr. Hunter became known as an
accoucheur.

The field was now in a great measure left open to
him, and in proportion as his reputation increased
he became more extensively consulteti. His prede-
cessor. Dr. Sandj-s, had been formerly professor of
anatomy at Cambridge, where he had formed a
valuable collection of preparations, which on his
death having fallen into the hands of Dr. Bloom-
field, was now purchased by Mr. Hunter for the
sum of ;^20O. There can be no doubt that the
celebrity of Mr. Hunter as an anatomist contributed
to increase his practice as an accoucheur, as it was
reasonably expected that his minute knowledge of
anatomy would give him a corresf>ondingly great
command in difficult and dangerous cases. Acting
now princip>a]ly as an accoucheur, he apf>ears to have
entirely relinquished the surgical department of his
profession; and, desirous of practising as a physician,
hi obtained in 1750 the degree of Doctor of Medicine
from the university of Glasgow. The degree of
Doctor of Medicine at that and other universities of
Scotland was at this period granted on the candi-
date's paying a certam sum of money and present-
ing a certificate from other doctors of medicine of
his being qualified to practise the healing art — but
so much was the facility of obtaining these degrees
abused that this method of granting them has been
very pro{>erly abolished. Shortly after obtaining his
diploma. Dr. Hunter left the family of Mr. Douglas,
and went to reside in Jermyn .Street, Soho Square.

The following summer he revisited his native
countr}-, for which, amidst the professional pro-
sf>erity of a town life, he continued to entertain a
cordial aflfection. He found on his arrival that his
mother was still living at Ix)ng Caldenvood, which
was now become his own property, in consequence
of the death of his brother James, who died in the
twenty-eighth year of his age. It is worthy of notice
that this young man had been a writer to the signet
in Edinburgh ; but disliking the profession of the
law, he went to London, with the intention of study-
ing anatomy under his brother William — so that it
would almost appear that in the family of the Hun-
ters there was an hereditarj- love for medical science.
Ill health, however, preyed upon his constitution ;
so that he could not carrv- out his plans, and he
therefore returned to his birthplace, where he died.
At this period Dr. Cullen was progressing to that
iame which he subsequently attained; and was resid-

ing at Glasgow, where Dr. Hunter again met him,
to take a retrosjject over the eventful changes which
had signalized the progress of their separate lives.
On the return of Dr. Hunter to London he con-
tinued corresponding with Dr. Cullen on a variety
of interesting scientific subjects, and many of the
letters have been published by Dr. Thomson, in his
life of this eminent physician, a work which should
be familiar to all who take any interest in the history
of medical science.

On the resignation of Dr. Layard, who had offi-
ciated as one of the physicians to the British Lying-
in Hospital, we find the governors of that institution
voting their "thanks to Dr. Hunter for the services
he had done the hospital, and for his continuance in
it as one of the physicians."' Accordingly, he was
established in this office without the usual form of
an election. He was admitted in tlie following year
licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians, and
was soon after elected a member of the Medical
Society. His hist or}- of an aneurism of the aorta
appvears in the first volume of their Ohsen-aiiens and
Inquiries, published in 1757. In 1762 we find him,
in the Medical Commentaries, supporting his claim
of priority in making numerous anatomical discover-
ies over that of Dr. Monro secundus, at that time
professor of anatomy in the university of Edinburgh.
It is not eas)- to adjust the claims of contemporar)'
discoverers in numerous branches of science; and
though, on this occasion, a wordy war of consider-
able length was waged concerning the real author
of the great doctrine of the absorbent action of the
l\-mphatic system, yet the disputants seem to have
left the field, each dissatisfied with the conduct of
his antagonist, and each equally confident of being
entitled to the honour of being regarded as the real
discoverer. It is not worth while to rake up the
ashes of any such controversy; but it is no more than
justice to assert, that Dr. Hunter vindicated his
claims in a manly and honourable tone, at the same
time acknowledging that "the subject was an un-
pleasant one, and he was therefore seldom in the
humour to take it up."

In 1762, when the queen became pregnsnt. Dr.
William Hunter was consulted, and two years after-
wards had the honour to be appointed physician
extraordinar)' to her majesty. We may now regard
him as ha\nng attained the highest rank in his pro-
fession ; and from the increase of his practice he
selected Mr. Hewson, an industrious and accom-
plished young man, to be his assistant, and after-
wards took him into partnership with him in his lec-
tures. This connection subsisted until the year 1 770,
when, in consequence of some misunderstanding,
it was dissolved, and Cniickshank succeeded to the
same situation. In the year 1767 Dr. William
Hunter became a fellow of the Royal Societ)', to
which the following year he communicated his ob-
ser\'ations on the bones, comm.only supposed to be
elephants' bones, which were found near the river
Ohio in America. At this period the attention of
men of science had been directed to the large bones,
tusks, and teeth, w hich had been found on the banks
of the above river, and the French Academicians
came to the conclusion that they were, in all prol>a-
bility, the bones of elephants. From the different
character of the jaw-bone, and other anatomical
signs. Dr. William Hunter, however, came to the
conclusion that they did not belong to the elephant,
but to an animal incognitiim, probably the same as
the mammoth of Siberia.^ Nor was this the only
subject of natural history on which Dr. Hunter ex-

' nUlosophical Tratuactions, voL Iviii.

WILI.TAIM AND JOIIX IIUXTF.R.

323

ercised his ingenuity, for in a subsequent volume of
the Transactions we find him offering Ills remarks
on some bones found in the Rock of Gibraltar, which
he proves to have belonged to some quadrui^cd.
P'nrther, we find an account published by him of the
nylghau, an Indian animal not before described.
Tiius, amidst the anxious duties of tliat department
of the profession in which he excelled, we find his
active mind leading him into investigations on sub-
iects of natural history, which are eminently interest-
ing to all who delight in examining into the mys-
teries, and beauties, and past history of the surround-
ing world.

In the year 176S Dr. AVilliam Hunter became
fellow of the Society of Arts, and the same year, at
the institution of an Academy of Arts, he was appointed
by his majesty professor of anatomy. liis talents
were now directed into a new sphere of action, in
which he engaged with unabated ardour and zeal.
He studied the adaptation of the expression of ana-
tomy to sculpture and painting, and his observations
are said to have been characterized by much origin-
ality and just critical acumen.

In January, 1 781, he was imanimously elected
successor to Dr. John Fothergill, as president of the
Royal College of Physicians of London, the interests
of which institution he zealously promoted. In
17S0 the Royal Medical Society of Paris elected him
one of their foreign associates, and in 1782 he re-
ceived a similar mark of distinction from the Royal
Academy of Sciences in that city. Thus, in tracing
the life of this eminent physician, we find honour
upon honour conferred upon him, in acknowledg-
ment of the essential services which he rendered to
the cause of science. But his chef d^ceiivre yet re-
mains to be noticed ; it was consummated in the in-
valuable Anatomy of the Hit man Gravid Uterus, one
of the most splendid medical works of the age in
which he lived. It was commenced in 1751, but
not coiiipleted until 1775, owing to the author's
desire to render it as complete as possible. It con-
tains a series of thirty-four folio plates, from superior
drawings of subjects and preparations, executed by
the first artists, exhibiting all the principal changes
which occur during the nine months of pregnancy.
Here we find the first representation that was given
of the retroverted uterus, and the membrana decidua
reflexa discovered by himself. He did not live,
however, to complete the anatomical description
of the figures, which his nephew Dr. Baillie did
in 1794.^ He dedicated this valuable work to the
king ; and it needs only to be added, in testimony
of its merit, that notwithstanding the march of medi-
cal knowledge, it has not been superseded by any
rival author. It remains now, and will go down
to posterity, as a standard work, complete in its
designs and admirable in its execution. But this
was not the only service which Dr. William Hunter
rendered to the profession ; it remains for us yet to
record the circumstances under which he founded a
museum which has justly called forth the admiration
of every medical man by whom it has been visited.
When he began to reap the fruits of his professional
skill and exertions, he determined on laying aside a
fund from which he would derive support, if over-
taken by the calamities of sickness or the infirmities
of age. This he very shortly accomplished ; and it
is said, that on one occasion he stated that, having
borrowed from this fund a sum to defray some ex-
penses of his museum, he felt very much dissatisfied
and uneasy until it was replaced. His competency

1 Anatomical Description of t/te Ct^vid Uterus and its
Contents, 1794.

having been obtained, and his wealth continuing to
accumulate, he formed a laudable design of founding
a school of medicine, and for this purpose addressed
a memorial to Mr. Grenville, then minister, in which
he requested the grant of a piece of ground in the
Mews for the site of an anatomical theatre. He
undertook to expend £1000 on the building, and to
endow a professorship of anatomy in perpetuity; but
the scheme did not meet the reception it deserved,
and fell to the ground. It is said that the Earl of
Shelburne afterwards, in conversation with the learned
doctor, expressed his approbation of the design, and
desired his name to be put down as a subscriber for
£1000. But Dr. Hunter had now, it would appear,
determined on other arrangements, having purchased
a spot of ground in Great Windmill .Street, which
he determined to appropriate to the proposed use.
He there built accordingly a house and anatomical
theatre, and removed from Jermyn Street to these
premises in 1 770. Medical men engaged in active
practice, who have a taste for the study of morbid
anatomy, have little difficulty in obtaining specimens;
and by his own exertions and those of his pupils,
many of whom engaged zealously in the cause, he
soon succeeded in bringing together a vast number
of morbid preparations, to augment the number of
which he purchased numerous collections that were
at various times exposed to sale in London. The
taste for collecting, which all acquire who commence
founding a museum, "increased by what it fed on,"
and he now, in addition to the anatomical specimens,
sought to accumulate fossils, curious books, coins — in
short, whatevermight interest eilhertheman of letters,
the physician, the naturalist, or the antiquary. We
are informed that in respect to books he became
possessed of "the most magnificent treasure of Greek
and Latin books that has been accumulated since the
days of Mead;" — furthermore, Mr. Combe, a leamed
friend of the doctor's, published a description of part
of the coins in the collection, under the following
title : — Niimmoriim Veterum Popidorum et Urbinm
qni in I\Iuseo Giclielmi Hunter asse7~'antur, Descriptio,
figuris illustrata. In the preface to this volume,
which is dedicated by Dr. William Hunter to her
majesty, some account is given of the progress of
the collection, which had been accumulating since
1770, at an expense of upwards of ;^20,ooo. In
1 781 a valuable addition to it was received, consist-
ing of shells, corals, and other curious subjects of
natural history, which had been collected by the late
Dr. Fothergill, who gave directions by his will that
his collection should be appraised after his death,
and that Dr. William Hunter should have the re-
fusal of it at ^500. This was accordingly done,
and Dr. Hunter purchased it eventually for ;i^i200.
To complete the history of this museum, we may
here add, that on the death of Dr. William Hunter
he bequeathed it, under the direction of trustees, for
the use of his nephew Dr. Matthew Baillie, and in
case of his death to Mr. Cruickshank, for the term of
thirty years, at the expiration of which it was to be
transmitted to the university of Glasgow. The sum
of ;^Sooo was furthermore left as a fund for the
support and augmentation of the collection, and
each of the trustees was left ^^20 per annum for
the term of thirty years— that is, during the period
that they would be executing the purposes of the
will. Before the expiration of the period assigned,
Dr. Baillie removed the museum to Glasgow, where
it at present is visited by all who take an interest in
medical or general science.

We have folhnvcd Dr. William Hunter through
the chief and most remarkable events by which his
life was characterized; and now, pausing to contem-

324

WILLIAM AND JOHN HUNTER.

plate his having arrived at the summit of his ambition
— honoured by the esteem of his sovereign, compli-
mented by foreign academies, and consulted by per-
sons of all ranks — with an independence of wealth
■which left him no desires for further accumulation of
riches— we must acknowledge that the cup of human
enjoyment, while it mantles to the brim, must still
contain some bitter drop — that there is in this world
no happiness without alloy. Ill health now preyed
upon his constitution, and he seriously made up his
mind to retire to his native countr}-, where he might
look back upon the vista of his past life and die in
peace. With this view he requested his friends Dr.
Cullen and Dr. Baillie to look out for a pleasant
estate for him, which they did, and fixed on a spot
in Annandale, which they recommended him to
purchase. The bargain was concluded, but when
the title-deeds were examined they were found to
be defective — and accordingly the whole project fell
to the ground, for although harassed by ill health,
Dr. Hunter found that the expenditure to support
the museum was so enormous, that he preferred still
remaining in his practice. He was at this time
dreadfully afflicted with gout; the attacks became
more frequent; but on the 20th of March, 1783, he
found himself so much recovered, that he determined
to give the introductory lecture to the operations of
surgerj', and it was to no purpose that his friends
urged on him the impropriety of the attempt. Ac-
cordingly he delivered the lecture, but towards the
conclusion his strength became so much exhausted
that he fainted, and was obliged to be carried by his
.servants out of the lecture-room. The night after
the deliver)' of the above lecture, and the following
day, his symptoms became aggravated, and on Satur-
day morning he informed his medical adviser, Mr.
Combe, that he had during the night had a paralytic
stroke. As neither his speech nor his pulse was
affected, and as he was able to raise himself in bed,
Mr. Combe was in hopes that his patient was mis-
taken; but the symptoms that supervened indicated
that the nerves which arise in the lumbar region had
become paralyzed; for the organs to which they are
distributed lost the power of performing their func-
tions. Accordingly he lingered, with the sj-mptoms
•which in all similar cases exist, until Sunday the
30th March, when he expired. During his last
moments he maintained very great fortitude and
calmness, and it is reported that shortly before his
death he said, turning round to Mr. Combe, "If I
had strength enough to hold a pen I would write
how easy and pleasant a thing it is to die." During
the latter part of his illness liis brother John — with
whom he had previously been on unfriendly terms —
requested permission to attend him, and felt severely
the parting scene. His remains were interred on
the 5th April, in the rector's vault of St. James'
Church, Westminster.

The lives of all eminent men may be viewed in a
double relation— they may be contemplated simply
•with a reference to their professional and public
career — or they may be viewed in connection with
the character they have displayed in the retired paths
of domestic life. It would appear that Dr. Hunter
devoted himself exclusively to the pursuits of his
profession; nor did he contract any tie of a gentler
and more endearing nature to bind him to the world.
His habits were temperate and frugal. When he
invited friends to dine with him he seldom regaled
them with more than two dishes, and he was often
heard to say, that "a man who cannot dine on one
dish deser%-es to have no dinner." After the re-
past the serv-ant handed round a single glass of
•wine to each of his guests; which trifles show the

economical disposition he possessed, and which en-
abled him to realize /'/O.ooo for the purpose of
completing a museum for the benefit of posterity.
He was an early riser, and after his professional
visits was to be found always occupied in his museum.
He was in person "regularly shaped, but of slender
make, and rather below the middle stature." There
are several good portraits of him, one of which is
an unfinished painting by Toffany, representing him
in the act of giving a lecture on the muscles at the
Royal Academy, surrounded by a group of Acade-
micians. Another by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and of
which a correct and elegant fac-simile is given in
connection with the present work, is preserved in
the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow.

The professional character of Dr. Hunter is de-
ser\-edly held high in the estimation of all who are
acquainted with the history of medicine. His Atta-
tomy of the Gravid Uterus is alone a monument of
his ability; but, besides this, he made discoveries for
which his name deserves the highest possible respect.
His claims to being the discoverer of the origin
and use of the lymphatic vessels were, it is true,
warmly contested; but many who have taken pains
to examine the merits of the controversy, among
whom we may mention the celebrated Blumenbach,
agree in awarding to him the honour of the discovery.
He had the merit also of first describing the varicose
aneurism, which he did in the Obseiiatiois and In-
quiries published bj' the Medical Society of London.
Hig discovery and delineation of the membrana
decidua reflexa in the retroverted uterus, deserves
also honourable mention; in short, both the sciences
of anatomy and midwifery were materially advanced
by his labours. He was a good orator, and an able
and clear lecturer; indeed the extent of his knowledge,
more especially in physiolog)-, enabled him to throw
a charm of interest over the dry details of descriptive
anatomy. His general knowledge was, as ■we have
seen, very extensive; and his name and talents were
respected in every part of Europe. Among the
M.SS. which he left behind him, were found the
commencement of a work on Biliary and Urinary
Concretions, and two introductory lectures, one of
which contains the historj' of anatomy from the
earliest period down to the time when he -wrote ;
also, considerations on the immediate connection of
that science with the practice of physic and surgery.
Among other of his works, wlfich are highly esteemed
by the profession, we may notice his Essay on the
Origin of the Venereal Disease, which he communi-
cated to the Royal Society; and also his /Reflections
on the Sym/hisis Ptthis.

By his will Dr. Hunter bequeathed an annuity of
^100 to his sister Mrs. Baillie during her life, and
the sum of ;^2000 to each of her daughters. The
residue of his estate and effects went to his nephew.

We may conclude our memoir of this eminent
physician by relating the following anecdote, which
is said to have occurred in his visit to Scotland
before he had acquired the celebrity he so earnestly
desired. As he and Dr. Cullen were riding one day
in a low part of the countr)', the latter pointed out
to him his native place, Long Calderwood, at a
considerable distance, and remarked how conspicuous
it appeared. "Well," said he, with some degree of
energ)', "if I live I shall make it more conspicuous."
We need not add any comment on his having lived
to verify fully this prediction. Such are the achieve-
ments which assiduity and perseverance are ever
enabled to accomplish. The moral deducible from
the lives of all eminent men teaches the same lesson.

John Hunter, younger brother of the preced-
ing, was one of the most profound anatomists and

WILLIAM AND JOHN HUNTER.

325

expert surgeons of the age in which he lived. We
have already seen how much his brother did to pro-
mote the interests of medical science, and we shall
find in the sequel that the subject of our present
memoir accomplished still more, and attained even
to a higher and prouder eminence, insomuch that his
name is, as it were, consecrated in the history of
his profession, and respected and esteemed by all who
are in the slightest degree acquainted with the
science. The exact date of his birth has been a
subject of some dispute: — by Sir Everard Home
it is placed in July 14, 1728; and this day has been
celebrated as its anniversary by the College of Sur-
geons of London; — Dr. Adams, however, has dated
it on the 13th of February, on the authority of the
parish register shown to him by the Rev. James
French, the minister of the parish. This evidence
is sufficiently satisfactory; and we therefore consider
that the latter is the correct date of his birth. He
was, as we have already stated, the youngest of the
family, and born when his father had nearly reached
the age of seventy. Being the youngest, he was a
great favourite with both of his parents; indeed, they
allowed him to enjoy without restraint all the plea-
sures and pastimes which are the delight of early
life, without imposing on him those tasks which are
essential to an early and good education. Ten years
after his birth his mother was left a widow, and he
was then the only son at home, one or both of his
sisters being now married. Herein, therefore, we
may find every apology for the indulgence of his
mother, who doubtless regarded him with an eye
of no ordinary interest and affection. He was ac-
cordingly not sent to school until he had arrived
at the age of seventeen, when he was placed at a
grammar-school — but not having the patience to
apply himself to the cultivation of languages, and
furthermore disliking the restraint to which he was
subjected, he neglected his studies, and devoted the
greater part of his time to country amusements.
About this time John Hunter went to Glasgow
on a visit to his sister, for whom he had the greatest
affection, to comfort her in her distress, and endeavour
to assist in extricating her husband from the difficul-
ties in which he was involved. There is a report
that Mr. Hunter was destined to be a carpenter, and
one of his biographers ventures to affirm that "a
wheel-u right or carpenter he certainly was ;" how-
ever, the only ground for such a statement seems to
have been, that when orders were pressing he occa-
sionally did assist his brother-in-law, by working
with him at his trade. The occupation of a carpenter
is, in towns distant from the metropolis, often com-
bined with that of a cabinet-maker; — and thence
arose the report to which we have just alluded.
Soon become tired of witnessing embarrassments he
could not relieve, and finding that his sister preferred
grieving over her sorrows alone, to allowing him to
be the constant witness of her grief, he returned to
Long Calderwood, after an absence which had so
far had a beneficial effisct on him that it weaned him
from home, reconciled his mother to his absence,
and in all probability suggested to him reflections
and motives for future activity, which never other-
wise might have occurred. He had often heard of
his brother William's success in London, and he
now wrote to him requesting permission to pay
him a visit, at the same time offering to assist him
in his anatomical labours; — and in case these pro-
posals were not accepted, he expressed a wish to go
into the army. His brother returned a very kind
answer, and gave him an invitation to visit him
immediately, which he cheerfully accepted, and in
September, 1748, he arrived in London. About a

fortnight before the winter session of lectures for
that year, his brother, anxious to form some opinion
of his talents for anatomy, gave him an arm to dissect
the muscles, with some necessary instructions for his
guidance, and the performance, we are informed,
greatly exceeded expectation. William now gave
him a dissection of a more difficult nature — an arm
in which all the arteries were injected, and these as
well as the muscles were to be exposed and preserved.
His execution of this task gave his brother verj' great
satisfaction, nor did he now hesitate to declare that
he would soon become a good anatomist, and fur-
thermore he promised that he should not want for
employment. Here we may obser\'e, that the mani-
pulation in dissecting requires a species of tact,
which, like many other acquirements, is best ob-
tained in early life; and now under the instruction
of his brother and his assistant Mr. Symonds, he
had every opportunity for improvement, as all the
dissections carried on in London at this time were
confined to that school.

In the summer of 1749 the celebrated Cheselden,
at the request of Dr. Hunter, permitted John to
attend at the Chelsea Hospital, where he had ample
opportunities for studying by the sick-bed the pro-
gress and modifications of disease. At this time
surgical pathology was in a rude state ; and, among
other absurd doctrines, the progress of ulceration
was held to be a solution of the solid parts into pus
or matter. When the mind, however young, enters
fresh and vigorous into the field of inquir)', untram-
melled by early prejudices, it is apt to observe pheno-
mena in new relations, and to discover glimmerings
of paths which lead to the knowledge of unsuspected
truths. Such at this time we may consider to have
been the state of John Hunter's mind — acute in all
its perceptions; discriminate in all its obser\-ations ;
and free to embrace fearlessly whatever new theories
his reflections might suggest. Here, therefore, in
learning the first rudiments of surgery, he first began
to suspect the validity of the doctrines which were
promulgated, which some few years afterwards it
was his good fortune to combat and overthrow.

In the succeeding season Mr. Hunter was so far
advanced in the knowledge of practical anatomy as
to relieve his brother from the duty of attending in
the dissecting-room. This now became the scene of
the younger brother's employment during the winter
months, whilst William confined himself to deliver-
ing lectures in the theatre. In the summer he re-
sumed his attendance at the Chelsea Hospital, and in
the following year, 1751, he became a pupil at St.
Bartholomew's Hospital, where he was generally
present at the performance of the most remarkable
operations. At this time Mr. Pott was one of the
senior surgeons at the latter institution, and no man
operated more expertly, or lectured with better effect,
than he did; and although his pathological doctrines
were subsequently, and with justice, arraigned by
his present pupil,' his name is nowhere mentioned
by him but with the highest respect.

In the year 1753 Mr. Hunter entered as a gentle-
man commoner in St. Mary's Hall, Oxford ; pro-
bably with the view of subsequently becoming a
fellow of the College of Physicians. But his matri-
culation was not afterwards persevered in, and the
following year he entered as surgeon's pupil at St.
George's Hospital. His object in taking this step,
which might at first sight appear to have been unneces-
sary, is obvious. He desired to obtain the appoint-
ment of surgeon to some public hospital; and he well
knew, that while his chance of success at Chelsea
Hospital was very remote, he was precluded from
competing for the appointment at St. Bartholomew's,

WILLIAM AXD JOHN HUNTER.

.^ J. r:.:" -:::.-.;: :;.-:; : ' -^ ::^ ^L^^ . ,: an ap-
} :^;:;..c>h.. : :- • -■ : ,. : •■-: : -; :^'. 2 qtiali-

oifijt He accorduijjly caloilaied thai ih« chances
were more in hi? fr-.v—jr =! St. Ge-^:tr?'s, '""here he
h:>pedloo; .edkal

oJBcers to : ".al he

was in two '_■--•".

This, we T
perion ho". . _^

pupil, who liics ia ihc ;i»>.is<i, a^^i »s cAjj-ccicw. lo De
cJwavs in readiness to attend to any accident that may
be hrougb: : ^" :y occur in the v: :■ ■

In the V - admiued to a ; .

ship in tht . . -'iher, a certain :

of the course tjemg aiioUeJ to him, and he
re^nirfd to lecT'jr? during the occasional ah--.
" " " ' ' " ; the neglect of h: 5 e."r.y

.ed to compete with his

•^ _; _ .„.-k he always jjerforme.^i

With very great djfticuhy. For making disseclio:.-
and anatomical preparations he w^as unrivalled i:.
sklll; and this was of no mean importance when we
remember that this art was at that lime very little
known, an.^ ""- ■" - ' .xhibitioiis were of gies: • • ■
during ihv .re. **Mr. Hunter ■

for ten year- ^ r Everard Home, "on :

anatomy, during which p>enod he made liiniscii
master of ^rha! wx* alnfariv ki^owru a« well as insde

of the branches oi the btth pair of nerves. In the

jTrrvii -ter--; he Traced the arteries of the uterus to

in the placenta. He was also the

: :i^ the existence of the Ivmrhatic

tuTc Oi uie inienor anini.iis, n^iiirc luvuig, .. -
Geoffiroy St. Hilaire has more recently ..
strated, preserred one type in the
animate beings. He applied to

Tower, and the men who are the j , .. . .

menageries of wild beasts, for the bodies of Ih,
animals that died tmder their care, besides whic..
he purchased such rare animak as came in his way,
and many were presented to him by his friendk,
which he vcn" judiciously intrusted to the showmen
to keep until they died^ the better to secure their
interest in assisting him in his labours.

Ill health is too often the penalty of
at»T>licajion, and Mr. Hunter s heahh :

long cDoogfa to be saiisaei how preferable it is t«
all other countries."

)Ir. Hewson had now sapplied the place of Mr.

Hunter in superintending dissections and assstii^

in the anatomical theatre during the space of two

j-eais, and it was scarcely to be expected that he

would resume his connection with his brother. Here,

then, we find Mr. Hunter at the age of thirty-six,

with verj- limited means, and with few friends,

settling in London. Scarcely can any situation of

greater anxiety be conceived than that of an able

and active-minded man sitting dpwn to practise

- " : ■ ■ :n which he is comparatively a

".s already supplied with numer-

- rs oa whom the public has al-

;\ivounible verdict. Such at this

'. of ^fr. Hunter: as one of his

: . '. eacpresses it,

r a long time

. ^haipe. Potter c

• viractice, whilst .'

.Lm the chief of the

DisheaneniniT. :.:

taiueu. rinc.

private prsc"i:

to teach

WiihtL.

to raise. .

a piece .

Earls C

of experL2i.c:.ii

fiillv in a lanre town.

-jj Bromp".
rre built a 1.
ch he could i

y ine gastnc J'.
1 rasdder. ■whicl;

brother'-

we find .^L'. -
observations.

.ed
-in
ed
:>se
rr.- _:; iUwCess-
Here. in the course of his

— ' ■ • ' i.^overies.

:.d vege-

r. icied

Js

red

-.he

.s, where
rats and
>d»iti£c
r.er over-
.eiv, much to
vhfch title he

symptoms wnicn apj>earea to threaten l
and for which a mJder climate was dv.
able.

In October, 1760, he was appointed by Mr. Adair
surgeon on the staff^ and the fr" - - - -ng he
embarked with the army for Be^ j Mr.

Hewson to assist his brother <?...■ .^ence.

Both in Belleisle and Portugal he sened as senior
surgeon on the staff until the year 1 763, and during
this period amassed the materials for his valuable
work oa gunshot wounds. Xor is this all; taking
ad%-antage of the opportunities presented to him, he
examined the bodies of many of the recently killed,
with the Aiew of tracing the healthy structures of
certain parts, as well as the nature of porticalar
secretions, .\fier the peace in 1763 Mr. Hunter
retnmed to England, "wluch," says one of his bio-
grapheis, " I have o^en heard him say he HaH left j

of the merit whicli ;
it, most, in Mr. H^:
to him peculiarly graui\:ii^. 1
tive to fiuther exertion : and a
bear up agair : ---- - ■. ,

ex{daiiied, at
advaooement.
The love c:"
sources which
the world, and :r.e ;
was in early life, nc
improvement r- •'
Among other
himself in wa: .
of variOGS anir,-.^.^ I'^.r v. '.
ral, which should have be.
in his cv- ^ = SirE\c...-
foUowin.; — "Two 2

WILLIAM AND JOHN HUNTER.

327

left chained in an outhouse, had broken from their
confinement and got into the yard among some dogs,
which they immediately attacked ; the howling this
produced alarmed the whole neighbourhood. Mr.
Hunter ran into the yard to see what was the matter,
and found one of them climbing up the wall to make
his escape, the otiier surrounded by the dogs; he
immediately laid hold of them both and carried them
back to their den. But as soon as they were secured,
and he had time to reflect on the risk of his own
situation, he was so much agitated that he was in
danger of fainting."

This, year, by a strong exertion in dancing, Mr.
Hunter unfortunately broke the tendo Achillis (the
strong and broad tendon felt at the back of the foot),
in consequence of which he introduced an improve-
ment on the mode of treating this accident, which
was superior to that recommended by Dr. Alexander
Munro, who had himself at a more advanced period
of life experienced a similar misfortune.

We have no account from Sir Everard Home of
Mr. Hunter's town residence, until his brother,
having completed his house in Windmill Street,
assigned over to him the lease of his house in Jermyn
Street. It is presumed by one of his biographers,
that on his first arrival in London he lodged in
Covent Garden, for the purpose of being near to his
brother's dissecting-rooms, and another informs us
that on his return from abroad he resided in Golden
Square. Be this as it may, he appears to have lived
in Jermyn Street until the expiration of the lease in
1783, a period of fifteen years. Whatever may have
been the slight difference which existed between him
and his brother, the latter appears still to have in-
terested himself in his welfare, as we find that,
chiefly through his interest, he was in 1768 (on the
authority of Dr. Symmons) elected surgeon to St.
George's Hospital. He had now acquired the de-
sired means for giving his talents and industry full
scop;; for, as fellow of the Royal Society, he gained
the earliest notice of every scientific discovery and
iinprovement which might take place in Europe; and
as surgeon to this hospital he had the means of ex-
tending his observations and confirming his patho-
logical doctrines. His whole time was now devoted
to the examination of facts, and the patient accumu-
lation of such knowledge as he could gradually
attain ; nor did he, as many others have done, cap-
tivated by love of fame, rush prematurely before
the notice of the public. Herein he showed very
considerable wisdom, and well would it have been
for many authors had they, like him, persevered
even in obscurity in maturing their knowledge before
surrendering themselves to a tribunal whose verdict
will always in the end be found to have been dictated
by the severest and most rigid principles of justice.

The surgeons of most of the public hospitals in
this country have the privilege of selecting, on their
own terms, house-pupils, who reside with them a
year or two after the completion of their education.
Among many who became pupils of John Hunter,
and afterwards acquired celebrity in their profession,
we may notice the famous Dr. Jenner, who boarded
in his house in 1770 and 1771, and lived in habits of
intimacy with him until his death. "In every con-
versation," says a friend of Dr. Jenner's, "as well
as in a letter I received from him, he spoke with be-
coming gratitude of his friend and master." Even
the slightest recollection, or testimony of esteem,
from such a man as Dr. Jenner, in favour or illustra-
tion of the character of John Hunter must be re-
ceived with interest. In 1771 Mr. Hunter published
the first part of his Treatise on the Teeth, a very valu-
able work, the merit of which has not been surpassed

by any later production. It may be obser^•ed, en
passant, that this was the only work he sold to the
booksellers, all his others being published on his
own account, or communicated to miscellaneous col-
lections, chiefly periodicals. Between the appear-
ance of the first and second part of his treatise. Dr.
Fothergill published his paper on that painful affec-
tion of the facial ners-e, denominated Tic Doloiireiix.

While thus rising in eminence, Mr. Hunter became
attached to the daughter of Mr. Boyne Home, sur-
geon of Burgoyne's regiment of light horse, who was
also the father of the celebrated Sir Everard Home;
but their marriage was necessarily delayed until he
had obtained a sufficient competency. His exertions
therefore were correspondingly increased; and during
this time, when he could suspend his professional
and scientific toils, nothing gave him greater gratifi-
cation than the pleasure of enjoying her society.
"The expenses of his pursuits," says Sir Everard
Home, "had been so great, that it was not for some
years after his first engagement with this lady that
his affairs could be sufficiently arranged to admit of
his marriage. This happy period at length arrived,
and he was married to Miss Home in 1771."

"Whilst he was paying," continues Sir Everard,
"his addresses to my sister, I was a boy at West-
minster School. During the holidays I came home,
and Mr. Hunter, who was frequently there, always
showed me particular kindness; he made my father an
offer to bring me up to his profession, a proposal which
I readily accepted. I was struck with the novelty and
extent of his researches, had the highest respect and
admiration for his talents, and was ambitious to tread
the paths of science under so able a master."

The year after his marriage, at the request of Sir
John Pringle, he read to the Royal Society a com-
munication showing that after death the gastric juice
has the power of dissolving the coats of the stomach.
This paper he was persuaded to read to the society
before he had entirely completed the investigations
which he further meditated; — but it appears that he
did not afterwards return to the subject, considering
that the fact on which any further inquiries might be
formed had been sufficiently demonstrated.

In the winter of 1773 he formed a plan for giving
a course of lectures on the theory and principles of
surger}', with the view of vindicating his own prin-
ciples, which he frequently heard misquoted or as-
cribed to others, and of teaching them systematically.
The first two winters he read his lectures gratis to
the pupils of St. George's Hospital, and the winter
following charged the usual terms of other teachers
in medicine and surgery. "For this, or for continu-
ing them," says one of his biographers, "there could
be no pecuniary motive. As he was imder the ne-
cessity of hiring a room and lecturing by candle light,
his emoluments must have been trifling. The lectures
not being considered a part of medical education, his
class was usually small ; and of the few that heard
him, the greater part acknowledged their difficulty
in understanding him, which was often proved by
their incapacity of keeping up their attention. The
task itself was so formidable to him, that he was
obliged to take thirty drops of laudanum before he
entered the theatre at the beginning of each course.
Yet he certainly felt great delight in finding himself
understood, always waiting at the close of each lec-
ture to answer any questions; and evincing evident
satisfaction when those questions were pertinent, and
he perceived that his answers were satisfactory and
intelligible." In addition to this. Sir Everard Home,
after stating the fact of his having recourse to lauda-
num— the elixir vitse of the opium-eater — "to take
off the effects of uneasiness," adds, "he tnisted

338

WILLIAM AND JOHN HUNTER.

nothing to memon*, and made me draw up a short
abstract of each lecture, which he rc*ad on the follow-
ing evening, as a recapitulation to connect the sub-
jects in the minds of the students."

Amidst all his avocations, both as a lecturer and
practitioner. Dr. John Hunter still pursued with an
unabated zeal and industry his researches into com-
parative anatomy. No opportunity for extending
his knowledge on this interesting department of
science did he permit to escape him. In the year
1773, at the request of Mr. Walsh, he dissected the
torpedo, and laid before the Royal Society an ac-
count of its electrical organs. A young elephant
which had been presented to the queen by Sir
Robert Barker, and had died, afforded him an oppor-
tunity of examining the structure of that animal; after
which two other elephants in the queen's menagerie
likewise died, which he also carefully dissected.
The year following, 1774, he published in the Pliilo-
sophUal Transactions an account of certain recep-
tacles of air in birds, showing how these communicate
with the lungs and are lodged in the fleshy parts and
in the bones of these animals; likewise a paper on
the gillaroo-trout, commonly called in Ireland the
gizzard-trout. In 1775 several animals of the species
called the Gyinncttis eUctriciis of Surinam were
brought alive into this country, and by the curious
phenomena they exhibited the attention of the scien-
tific world was greatly excited. After making nu-
merous exp>eriment3 on the living animals, Mr.
Walsh purchased those which died, and gave his
friend Mr. Hunter an opportunity of examining them.
This he readily accepted, and drew up an account
of their electrical organs, which he published in the
Philosophical Transactions. In the same volume of
that valuable work will be found his paper contain-
ing experiments respecting the powers of animals and
vegetables in producing heat. Thus, in the paths of
natural history did he find a recreation from the
more serious, and often irksome duties of his profes-
sion; and by his skilful dissections, and acute ob-
servations, enriched our knowledge in this interest-
ing and fascinating department of science.

While thus engaged, Mr. Hunter found a great diffi-
culty in showing to advantage the natural appearances
of many parts of animals which he wished to be pre-
served. In some instances the minute vessels could
not be seen when the preparation was immersed in
spirits, in others the natural colour of the parts pre-
served; and even the character of the surface, faded
and underwent a change after being some time im-
mersed in this liquid — a circumstance which, to this
day, diminishes very much the value of almost all the
morbid preparations which are preserved in private
and public museums. The only method therefore
of accomplishing the object he had in view, was to
have them carefully and correctly drawn at the time
of the dissection. The expense of engaging draughts-
men, the difficulty of procuring them, and above all
their ignorance of the subject to be delineated, were
considerable objections to their employment. Ac-
cordingly he engaged a young and talented artist
named IJell, to live with him for ten years, during
which period it was agreed that he should be em-
ployed both as a draughtsman and in making ana-
tomical preparations. This young man soon im-
bibed the spirit of his master; he worked assiduously
with his knife, his forceps, and his pencil; he en-
gaged himself during part of his time in copying out
Mr. Hunter's lectures, and in less than ten years be-
came a skilful anatomist and surgeon. By his labours
Mr. Hunter's collection became enriched with many
very accurate and spirited drawings, and a variety of
curious and delicate anatomical preparations. This

skilful artist, by the interest of his friend Sir Joseph
Barikes, obtained the appointment of assistant-sur-
geon in the Honourable East India Company for the
settlement of Bencoolen in Sumatra, whither he set
out with the view both of improving his fortune and
collecting specimens of natural history. He was in
both successful beyond his most sanguine expecta-
tions. He sent home some very rare specimens of
animals and corals, and two papers which appeared
in the Philosophical 'Transactions — one giving a de-
scription of the double-homed rhinoceros, and the
other of an uncommonly formed fish. Unfortunately
for the cause of science, he died of fever in 1792,
being one of the many who have been summoned
from this world amidst early promises of future ex-
cellence and success.

In Januar}', 1776, Mr. Hunter was appointed sur-
geon-extraordinary to his majesty — an honour which
contributed still farther to advance his professional
interests. -A-bout this time the attention of the public
was much directed to the efforts of the Humane
Society. Dr. Cogan was the first who introduced
the subject from Holland; and after him Dr. Hawes
did not suffer it to rest until it experienced the royal
patronage. Here again we find Mr. Hunter zeal-
ously engaged in endeavouring to ascertain the best
mode of restoring apparently drowned persons, the
consequence of which was the production of a paper
which he read to the Royal Society, entitled Proposals
for the Recoi-ery of Persons Apparently Drowned.
The able author of this paper draws the distinction
between the mere suspension of the functions by
which life is supported, and absolute death, which
he illustrates by reference to various animals, in
whom, under certain conditions, the actions of life
are temporarily suspended. It further contains a
description of the signs of life and death, which are
of vast importance; indeed, notwithstanding the pro-
gress that has since been made, both in Germany
and Britain, in medical jurisprudence, this paper
contains information which has by no means been
superseded.

In the autumn of this year Mr. Hunter was taken
extremely ill, and the nature of his complaints in-
duced both his friends and himself to apprehend that
his life was in imminent danger. However, the an-
ticipated calamity was averted; he rallied, and was
restored to bis friends and the public, to whom his
subsequent services were of such vast importance.
When on his sick-bed he reflected on his own worldly
affairs, such as he was about to leave them; — he
perceived that all his fortune had been expended in
his pursuits; that his family had no provision except-
ing what might arise from the sale of his collection;
and he naturally, on this account, suffered much
solicitude and anxiety. No sooner did he leave his
sick chamber than he commenced arranging his col-
lection, so that it might, in whatever event, com-
mand its value, and with this view he began to make
a catalogiie of the collection; but the delicacy of his
health obliged him to desist from his labours, and,
persuaded by his friends and relatives, he retired for
a time to Bath. During his absence Mr. Everard
Home was employed to draw out descriptions of the
preparations, leaving blanks for those with which he
was unacquainted. His complaints were consider-
ably ameliorated by his residence at Bath; and though
he returned to town before he was quite convalescent,
he continued to amend, and was soon recovered.

In 177S he published the second part of his Treatise
on the Teeth, and also, in the Philosophical Transac-
tions, a paper on the heat of animals and vegetables.
In 17S0 Mr. Hunter laid before the Royal Society
an account of a woman who had the small-pox dur-

WILLIAM AND JOHN HUNTER.

329

in"' pre-mancy, ami in whom the disease seems to
have been communicated to the fcetus. The follow-
ing; year he was elected fellow of the Royal Society
of Sciences and Belles-lettres at Gottenburg. Dur-
ing this period he read before the Royal Society
many valuable communications; among which we
may notice a paper on the Organ of Htanitg in Fish,
and six Croonian lectures on Muscular Motion. In
these lectures he collected all the observations that
had been made on the muscles, respecting their
powers and effects, and the stimuli by which they
are excited; and to these he added comparative ob-
ser\'ations concerning the moving powers of plants;
but these lectures were not published in the Philoso-
phical Transactions, as they were not considered by
the author to be sufficiently complete dissertations.

Sir Everard Home informs us, that in the year 1783
Mr. Hunter was chosen into the Royal Society of
Medicine and Royal Academy of Surgery in Paris.
In this year, continues tlie same writer, the lease of
his house in Jermyn Street expired, and his collec-
tion bemg now too large to be contained in his
dwelling-house, he purchased the lease of a large
house on the east side of Leicester Square, and the
whole lot of ground extending to Castle Street, in
which there was another house. In the middle
space between the two houses he erected a building
for his collection. Upon this building he expended
above three thousand pounds, and, unfortunately for
his family, the lease did not extend beyond twenty-
four years "During the execution of this

extensive plan I returned to England from Jamaica,
where, at the close of the war, I had been appointed

staff-surgeon I found Mr. Hunter now

advanced to a considerable practice, and a still
greater share of public confidence. His collection
had increased with his income. In this he was
materially assisted by his friendship with Sir Joseph
Bankes, who not only allowed him to take any of his
own specimens, but procured him every curious ani-
mal production in his power, and afterwards divided
between him and the British Museum all the speci-
mens of animals he had collected in his voyage round
the world. Drawing materials from such ample
sources, standing alone in this branch of science, and
high in the public estimation, he had so much atten-
tion paid to him, that no new animal was brought
to this country which was not shown to him; many
were given to him, and of those which were for sale
he had commonly the refusal; under these circum-
stances his collection made a progress which would
otherwise have been impossible. In April, 1785, his
new rooms were completed, and I devoted the whole
of the summer to the object of assisting him in mov-
ing his preparations, and arranging them in their
proper order."'

The surgical practice of Mr. Hunter now daily
increased, and he performed with great skill and
judgment numerous operations, which were at that
time new in the art of surgery; but whatever may
have been the multiplicity of his professional en-
gagements, his mind was still devoted to effecting
improvements in medical education; and with this
view, assisted by his friend the celebrated Dr. For-
dyce, he instituted a medical society called the Ly-
ceum Medicum Londinense, the meetings of which
were held in his own lecture-rooms, and which ac-
quired no inconsiderable reputation, both from the
numbers and character of its members.

In the year 1786, in consequence of the death of
Mr. Middleton, Mr. Hunter was appointed deputy

' Life of John Hunter, by Sir Everard Home, prefixed to
his Treatise on tlie Blood, Inftamination, aitd Cun-slwt
Wouiids,

surgeon-general to the army; shortly after which he
published his work on the venereal disease, and
another entitled Obsen'aiiojis on Certain farts 0/ the
Animal Economy; both which works rank high in
the estimation of the profession. Sir Everard Home
mentions the curious fact that he chose to have his
works printed and published in his own house, but
"finding," he adds, "this measure to bear hard
upon the booksellers in a way which had not been
explained, and which was not intended, the second
editions were sold by Mr. Johnson in St. Paul's
Churchyard, and Mr. NicoU, Pall Mall." In the
spring of this year he had another verj' severe ill-
ness, which confined him to bed and rendered him
incapable of any kind of business. "In this state,"
says his biographer, "I was obliged to take upon
myself the charge of his patients, as well as of his
other affairs; and these were so extensive that my
residence in his house became absolutely necessary.
His recover)^ was very slow, and his health received
so severe a shock, that he was never afterwards en-
tirely free from complaint or capable of his usual
bodily exertion. After his recovery from this ill-
ness he was subjected to affections of the heart upon
every occasion which agitated his mind. In this in-
firm state he was unable to attend patients upon
sudden calls in the night, or to perform operations
without assistance; and for these years I continued
to live with him until within a year of his death, and
then took a house within a few doors, which, in no
respect, detached me from his pursuits, or prevented
me from taking a part in his private practice." The
uncertainty of the continuance of life under this af-
fection; the mental agitation, and frequent depres-
sion with which it is almost invariably attended,
render the victims of such generally anxious and un-
happy; the canker-worm is felt to be preying within
the living frame, and there is no hope of restoration
to permanent health. But notwithstanding all this,
his energies remained unabated, and he still toiled
with his wonted alacrity in the pursuit of knowledge.
In the year 1787 he submitted to the Royal Society
a paper giving an account of the experiment he had
made to determine the effect of extirpating one ova-
rium on the number of the young; also another com-
munication in which he proves the wolf, jackal, and
dog to be of the same species; and another on the
anatomy of the whale tribe. In return for these
labours, having been twelve years a fellow, he re-
ceived the gold Copleyan medal. In the July of
this year he was chosen a member of the American
Philosophical Society; and the same year, on account
of his continued ill health, he applied to the governors
of St. George's Hospital to allow him an assistant-
surgeon, to which request they readily acceded; and
Sir Everard Home was appointed to the office. In
the year 1789 he succeeded Mr. Adair as inspector-
general of hospitals and surgeon-general of the
army, and about the same time was admitted a
member of the Royal College of Surgeons in Ire-
land.

In the year 1792 Mr. Hunter found that the penod
which he allotted to lecturing interfered so much
with his other avocations, that he gave his materials
for the lectures into the hands of Sir Everard Home,
who relieved him of this duty. He now therefore
began to prepare for the press his Treatise on the
Blood, Inflammation, and Gun-shot Wounds, the data
for which he had been collecting for many years.
In his dedication to the king he states that his ap-
pointment as surgeon on the staff in the expedition
against Belleisle afforded him the opportunities of
attending to gun-shot wounds, of seeing the errors
and defects in that branch of military surgery, and

330

WILUAM AND JOHN HUXTER.

o^' stodjii^ to remoTc them. He fiuilier adds, that
it drev his attention to inflammatioo in geneial, and
enabled him to make the obsenratioos vhich fonn
the basis of that doctiine whidi has since his time
excited so mcdi cootioretsf amoi^ physiologists.
Br a series of Terr intefcsui^ experiments, and bjr a
very ii^enioos mode of reasoning he came to the
coodnsion maintained by this doctrine, vhidi hcdds,
that the blood as cxistif^ in its fluid state is aliv^
and that hi death caoses the dtai^es vhiidt are ob-
serred to take place «hen it is abstracted from the
body. In the Old Testament ve read, "Ye shall
cat the blood of ik> manner of flesh; for the life
of all flesh b the Mood" (Le. xnL I4>. The same
doctrine too seems promulgated in the Alcoran —
and appears to haT^e been maintained by the cele-
brated Harrer; — hot notwiihstandii^ these bcSs,
there is no reason to piesnme that the idea was
plagiarized by John Himter: on the contrary, his
opinion vas with him or^^nal, inasmnch as it was
elicited by the experiments vhidi he him^wlf per-
f ;>nned. This woold by no means be an appropri-
ate place to H><aTngc the general merits of this physio-
logical doctrine; bat we do rtot err in stalii^ tkat it
is siq>potted by toj fdansible evidence, and is main-
tained by many <i«i»M»«ir men of scieiice. The nature
and seat of the living ptindple vhidi raises man
above the inanimate objects by whi<^ he is sor-
nMnded, is manifestly beyxmd the reach of hnman
inrestigatioa; bat' it miKt be satisfactory to those
vlio hare not time nor inrlination eren to examine
the erideikce which has been on either side adduced,
to find that socfa men as John Hunter and Abemethy
reoognized the cxtstenoe of somethii^ beyond the
mere mechanism of the human fiame; that tli^ in
their acute reasoniiigs urged the fvislfiiirf of an in-
ternal and sdf-sostainii^ princi|de, whidi modifies
the diSerent coodilioiK of matter, arid most be thoe-
fofe superior to its decay.

In the year 1792 Mr. Hunter was dected an hon-
orary member of the Chirurgioo-Physcal Society of
Edinborgli, and likewise connected himself with the
Veterinary C<dl^^ then just projected in Lcmdon.
"The origin of Uiis institutjon," says Dr. Adams,
"was at Odiham in Hampshire; the Agricultural
Society of which had offered a premium for the best
account of the gLmders. Silr. Sergeant Bdll was the
fortnnate candidate, aiKl the society was so wdU
pleased with his piece, that in a little time after a
veterinary college was projected, over whidi that
gentleman should preside. As soon as the propoesiil
was kiwwn to Mr. Hunter he eageriy joined it,
■rgii^ the advantages whidi m^it be derived fiom
it, not only to quadrupeds, but to man, by extendimg
oar knowledge of physiolagy, and more especially of
pathology. In oiider to forward the plam, several
gentlemen, the Duke of Bedford at their head, de-
posited jCSfi"* <x* the fhanrp of its being nsever re-
turned. Mr. Hmnter was one of the number. It
was proposed that he should examine Mr. Sergeant
Bell, to which he readily assented. It will easily be
ooooejved fay those who are not at all acquainted
with the oootinental pathology of those days, that
the examination proved unsatisfeictory. Mr. Hnnto^
would have gladly introduced another gentleman;
bat this did not at all lessen his zeal in promotiiig the
object of the instituiion.'" Such was the otiigia of
his connection with the London Veterinary College,
of wh:di he now became one of the vice-pvesadents.

In the Traiuactisms «f the Satiity fin- Imfrvehig
Medical Kiwaeiei^ of which 9ilr. Hunter was one of
the original and most zealoos manbers, he pobli^ied
sboat thb period papers on the "Treatment of In-
flamed Veins,"'on "Intro6iisceptioa,'*andoraamode

of conveying food into the ^omach in cases of paralysis
of the oesophagus^ He likewise finished his Ohsa-ca-
ti»Hs am tJu Ex<mowiy of Bea, and presented them to
the Royal Society. These observations he fiii»<lw«l
at Eari's Court, whidi was his place <A letiremeia
fiom the toik of his profession, but by no means a
retreat from those intellectnal labours which dhrera-
fied the whole tenor of his life "It was thexe,"
says Sir Everard Home, "he carried on his expoi-
menls on digestion, on exfoliation, on the tranq>Iant-
ing of teeth into the omibs of cocks, and all his
other investigati<ms <m the animal economy, as wdU
in health as In disease. The omnmon bee was not
alone the subject of his observation, but the vrasp,
hornet, and the less known kinds of bees were also
objects of his attention. It was there he made the
series of pn^aratioos of the fnttrwal and internal
changes of tlK silkworm; also a series erf" the incnba-
tion of the egg, with a very valuable set of drawir^
of the whole series. The growth of v^^taUes was
also a j&vourite subject of inquiry, and one <m which
he was always engaged makusg exp^imentsw In
this retreat he had oidlected many k£ads %A animals
and birdsy and it was to him a ^vourite amusement
in his waDcs to attend to their actions and to thdif
halMt% and to make them fenmiliar with him. The
ixssjst awihmalls vTEte those to whidi be was most
partial, and he had several of the bull kind from all
parts of the worid. Among these was a beautifid
small bull he had received firom the queen, with
which he used to wrestle in ph^, and entertain him-
self with its exertions in its own d^^ce^ Inonetrf'
these contests the bull overpowered him and got him
down, and had not one of the servants accidentally
come by and friglitened the amiiimal away, his frolic
would probably have cost him his life.''*

We have thus already traced the life of John Hon-
Va from youth to middle age; from obscurity to
eminence; frran adversity to prosperity; and it re-
maiits f<H' usnowto notice those accessions of disease
whidi rendered the teraore oS. his life vxsk. of extrone
uncertainty. We have already stated that in the
spring of 1769 he was confined to bed by a seiioiis
illiwag — an acute attar-Ik- cf gout, wMch returned the
three following spding^ brat not in the fourth. In the
spring of 1773 he betame aiected with very severe
spasmodic ^pmptiGmi% owing to disease tA the heart.
His next ilraess took place in 1776, and this appears
to have been occasi<med by jnfflammiatiinn in the
arteries <^ the brain, which gave rise to morlad ap-
pearances that were recognized after death. After
bong Med, and subjected to other reduciiiig treat-
ment, he recovered finom this severe attaii; but his
conslditati<m had zecmed a shock which nothing
could surmount.

An oi^anic disease lurked -within, wMdi every ex-
citement woold a^ravat^ if not lead to direct and
suddenly fetal ctmsequencesw He had no particular
illness, however, from this period nntQ I7S5> bat in
the b^inning of the April of that year be became
attacked with a dreadiiiilly severe spasmodic disease,
whidi, like his "anmillar attack% was induced by men-
tal anxiety. Nevertheless he rallied, and partially
recovered, nor did anything of the kind particularly
recur until the December fA 17S9, when at the hoose
of a fiiend he became affected by a total loss of
memory. He did not know in what part k& the
town he was; nor even the name (tf the street when
told it; ntw where his own house vra% nor had he
any conception of any ^ace existii^ beyond the room
he was in; yet in then^dstof all this he vras perfectly
consdioms iA the loss of memory. He -was sensible

' Life ^Jsim Bmmiar, hf Sn ETOSid HoBie.

WILLIAM AND JOHN IIUXTER.

331

of impressions of all kinds from the senses, and there-
fore looked out of the window, although rather dark,
to see if he could be made sensible of the situa-
tion of the house; at lenijth this loss of memory
gradually went off, and in less than half an hour his
memor)' was perfectly recovered. About a fortnight
afterwards, when visiting a patient, an attack, some-
what of a similar nature, recurred. He thus con-
tinued to drag on a painful and precarious existence,
with the grave every moment threatening to open
beneath his feet. At length the fatal event so long
anticipated by his friends occurred; it was sudden,
and occasioned, as his formej fits had been, by
mental excitement. "On the i6th October," says
Sir Everard Home, "when in his usual state of
health, he went to St. George's Hospital, and meet-
ing with something which irritated his mind, and
not being perfectly master of the circumstances, he
withheld his sentiments; in which state of restraint
he went into the next room, and turning round to
Dr. Robinson, one of the physicians to the hospital,
he gave a deep groan, and dropped do^^-n dead."
His body was conveyed from the hospital in a sedan
chair, and underwent a careful medical examination,
by which it appeared that among other morbid
changes that had occuiTed, the arteries both of the
heart and brain had undergone ossification. His
funeral was attended by a few of his oldest medical
friends, and his remains were interred in the vault
under the parish church of Sl Martin's in the Fields.
He expired, it may be added, in his sixty-fifth year,
the same age at which his brother Dr. William Hunter
died.

The early education of John Hunter had, it is true,
been grievously neglected ; but this very fact left him
at liberty to explore more freely new and untrodden
paths, which men shackled by scholastic dogmas
seldom have the courage to attempt. He was of no
school; he went with an unprejudiced mind to nature,
and examined into all her operations with that free-
dom and independence which can best advance the
true interests of philosophy. He read verj- little.
"I have learned," says one of his biographers, "from
a gentleman who was very intimate with him, that
when he had made a discovery, it was his custom to
relate it to Mr. Cruickshank, who frequently in-
formed him that Hallerhad made the same obsena-
tion before." He was a man of truly original ob-
sen-ation; and distinguished himself as much by the
practical application of his knowledge as by the in-
genious theories which he adopted. As a surgeon
he was a bold but judicious, a quick yet skilful opera-
tor; and suggested many improvements in the mode
of perfonning difficult operations. He discovered
the method of operating for popliteal aneurism by
taking up the femoral arten.- on the anterior part of
the thigh without interfering with the tumour in the
ham, by which the pain, and danger, and future suf-
ferings of the patient are materially mitigated. This
indeed ranks among the most important of the im-
provements which have been introduced into the
practice of surgen,'. It may be added, that Jolm
Hunter always held the showy part of surgery in the
lowest estimation. " To perform an operation," said
he, "is to mutilate a patient whom we are unable
to cure; it should therefore be considered as an ac-
knowledgment of the imperfection of our art."

We have adverted to the difficulties which this
eminent surgeon experienced for some years in strug-
gling against pecuniary adversities. During the first
eleven years of his practice, which, it must be ad-
mitted, was for him a long and tedious mental pro-
bation, his income never amounted to a thousand
pounds a year; however, the four succeeding years

it exceeded that sum: and for several years previous
to his death it increased to five, and was at that
period six thousand pounds a year. Whatever diffi-
culties therefore at first beset his progress were even-
tually surmounted; he attained the highest rank in
his profession ; he was universally esteemed and
lauded as a man of general science; he had as much
practice as he could attend to; his emoluments were
considerable; and if we raise up the curtain of do-
mestic life, we shall find him cheered by the society
of a wife whom he loved; besides all which, he was
the parent of two children, in whom it was natural
that his best hopes and warmest affections should be
centered. But the cup of human enjoyment seldom
mantles to the brim without containing some drops
of alloying bitterness; and there is no doubt but that
professional anxieties and ill health rendered his
temper irritable and impetuous. He was, says Sir
Everard Home, readily provoked, and when irritated
not easily soothed. His disposition was candid and
free from reserve, even to a fault. He hated deceit,
and as he was above every kind of artifice, he de-
tested it in others, and too openly avowed his senti-
ments. His mind was uncommonly active; it was
naturally formed for investigation, and that turn dis-
played itself on the most trivial occasions, and always
with mathematical exactness. What is curious, it
fatigued him to be long in mixed company which did
not admit of connected conversation, more particu-
larly during the last ten years of his life. He re-
quired less relaxation tlian other men; seldom sleep-
ing more than four hours in the night, but almost
always nearly an hour after dinner; this probably
arose from the natural turn of his mind being so
much adapted to his own occupations, that they were
in reality his amusements, and therefore did not
fatigue.

We have already seen how much time, even amidst
his arduous professional toils and miscellaneous pur-
suits, he devoted to comparative anatomy, and in
collecting preparations to illustrate everv' department
of that interesting science. The museum which he
succeeded in founding remains to this day a monu-
ment of his industry, perseverance, and ingenuity.
Here we find an-anged, in a regular order of pro-
gressive classification, ever)' species of animate being,
or link in the chain of organization, from the lowest
vegetable, in which life can be scarcely recognized,
up to man; but no account or description, however
minute, can do adequate justice to such a collection.
By his will he left it, under the discretion of his
executors, to be sold for the benefit of his family, in
one entire lot, to the government of Great Britain;
or in case of refusal, to any other government cr
state which would offer such a price for it as all
parties might consider reasonable. Six years after
his death it was purchased by the British parliament
for _^i5,ooo, and given to the College of Surgeons,
on condition that twenty-four lectures should be
delivered annually to members of the college, and
that under certain regulations it should be open to
the public. We thus find that, vhile his elder
brother completed a museum which does honour to
the university in which it is preserved, the younger,
by his industrv' and perseverance, completed another,
which has been pronounced by the most competent
judges to be an honour to his countr)-.

In personal appearance John Hunter was much
below the ordinary middle stature; but his body
was well formed for muscular exertion, and when
in health he was always extremely active. His
countenance was open, and although impressed with
lines of thought, was by no means habitually severe;
on the contran.-, its expression soon softened intq

33*

JAMES HUTTOX.

tenderness, or became li-jhted up by mirth, according
as the impression swept across his mind. When
Lavater saw his piint, he said, "That man thinks
for himself," an opinion which the whole tenor of
his actions will be seen to have verified. He was
quick in manner, and "in conversation," says Sir
Everard Home, "spoke too freely and harshly of his
contemporaries;" but this, we are given to understand,
arose rather from his conviction that surjjer^- was still
in its infancy, than from any uncharitable motive,
or wish to depreciate his contemporaries. Few men
were more generous than John Hunter, and the only
fault which can impugn his memor}- is, that in
executing his designs for the benefit of science, he
neglected too much the interests of his wite and
chUdren. On the death of her husband Mrs. John
Hunter withdrew from society, and spent her life
almost entirely in retirement. After a lingering
illness, which she bore with much patience and
resignation, she died on 7th January, 1S21, in the
seventy-ninth year of her age, leaving behind her a
son and daughter, the former a major in the army,
and the latter the widow of General Campbell, son
of Sir James Campbell of InvemeiL

B;:rsides her many amiable domestic qualifications,
to which all who knew her bore testimony, she was
exceedingly accomplished; and occasionally, during
her husbands lifetime, mingled in society with Horace
Walpole, Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Vesey, and other char-
acters well known in the literar)- world. She sang
and played with admirable taste, and had a talent
for poetr>-, which she chiefly displayed in the produc-
tion of songs and ptoems, which were characterized
by much refinement of thought, sensibility of feeling,
and delicacy of expression. Among the former, the
Sen 0/ Alknomook and Qiiuii Mary's Lament became
extremely ix)pular; among the latter, her verses On
Xovember 17S4, a beautiful address to fancy under
the title of La Deuce C/iinu-re, with several other
minor poems, display much feeling and imagination.*

ETUTTON', Dr. James, an eminent philosophical
character, was born in Edinburgh on the 3d June,
1726. His father was a respectable merchant, who
for many years held the office of city-treasurer, and
was admired by all who knew him for his sound
judgment and strict integrity. He died while James
was verv- young; the care, therefore, of her son de-
volved upon Mrs. Hutton, whose great maternal
kindness was only exceeded by her desire to give
him a liberal education. She sent him first to the
high-school of Edinburgh, and afterwards to the
university, where he entered as a student of humanity
in 1740. Professor M'Laurin was then the most
celebrated teacher in that seminarv-, but though Dr.
Hutton admired his lectures, he did not seem much
disposed towards the science which he taught. To
Professor Stevenson's prelections on logic may be
attributed the first direction given to young Hutton's
genius, not so much for having made him a logician,
but for having accidentally directed his mind towards
the science of cheniistr}-. The professor having
casually mentioned in one of his lectures, in illus-
tration of some general doctrine, the fact that gold
is dissolved in aqua regia, and that two acids, which
can each of them singly dissolve any baser metals,
must unite their strength before they can attack the
most precious; the phenomenon struck so forcibly
on the mind of Hutton, that he began to search
with a\-idity after books which might explain its
cause, and afford him an opportunity of pursuing

She collected her poems and songs, and published them in
a small volume in the year 1S06.

a study altogether new. He at first found some
embarrassments in his pursuit from the superficial
works that came to his hands, and it was from
Harris' Lexicon Techni that he first derived his
knowledge of chemistr)-. and which by a sort of
electric attraction drew his mind all at once to a
favourite study, that decided his prospects in life.

Though he pursued his academical studies with
closeness and regularity, and cN-inced a taste and
capacity for instruction, his friends did not see much
profit likely to arise from scientific pursuits, and ac-
cordingly persuaded him to adopt some profession,
which, though much against his inclination, he agreed
! to, and was accordingly placed as an apprentice with
; Mr. George Chalmers, writer to the signet, in 1743.
I The dr)- routine of a laborious profession in a less
I ardent mind might have checked, if not for ever
' destroyed, those seeds of genius which were as yet
' scarce called into life; but so strong was Mr. Hutton's
\ propensity for scientific study, that, instead of copy-
I ing papers, and making himself acquainted with l^al
proceedings, he was oftener found amusing himself
with his fellow-apprentices in chemical experiments;
so that Mr. ChaLmers was forced to acknowledge
that the business of a writer was one in which he
had little chance to succeed. \\'ith a fatherly kind-
ness he therefore ad\ised young Hutton to embrace
some other emplo\"inent more suitable to his inclina-
tions, and relieved him at once from the obligations
he came under as his apprentice. How much is
science indebted to that liberal-minded man I Ha\ing
now to fix upon another profession, he selected that
of medicine, as being the most nearly allied to
chemistr)-, and began to study under Dr. George
Young, and at the same time attended the lectures
at the universit)- from 1744 to 1747. The schools
of medicine in Edinburgh at that time had not
arrived at the high perfection for which they are
now so justly celebrated, and it was thought indis-
pensably necessary that a physician should finish his
education on the Continent. Mr. Hutton accord-
ingly proceeded to Paris, where he applied himself
closely to anatomy and chemistr}-. After remaining
for two years in France, he returned home by the
way of the Low Countries, and took the degree of
Doctor of Medicine at Leyden in 1749.

On arri\ing in London, about the end of that
year, he began seriously to reflect upon his pros-
pects in life, and soon saw, that however much he
w ished to establish himself in his native city as a
physician, there were many obstacles which seemed
insurmountable. He was a young man whose merit
was unknow-n, and whose connections, though re-
spectable, had no power to assist him, the business
being then in the hands of a few- eminent practitioners
who had been long known and established. All
this seems to have made a deep impression on his
mind, and he expressed himself with much anxiety
on the subject in corresponding with his friends in
Edinburgh. Amongst these there was one, a yotmg
man nearly of his own age, whose habits and pursuits
were congenial to his own, and with whom he had
tried many novel experiments in chemistr\-; amongst
the best was one on the nature and properties of sal-
ammoniac. This friend, whose name was James
Davie, had, in Mr. Hutton's absence, pushed his
inquiries on the subject to a considerable extent; the
result of which afforded him a well-grounded hope
of being able to establish a profitable manufactory of
that salt from coal-soot. Mr. Da^^e commimicated
the project to his friend in London, who, with a
mind as yet undecided on any fixed pursuit, returned
to Edinburgh in 1750, and abandoning entirely his
\iews on the practice of medicine, resolved to apply

JAMES HUTTON.

333

liimseir to ac^ri culture. Wliat his motives were for
taking this step it is difficult to ascertain. His father
hail left him a small property in lierwickshire, and
being of an independent and unambitious mind, he
most probably looked upon the business of a farmer
as entitled to a preference above any other. But
not being disposed to do anything in a superficial
way, he determined to gain a knowledge of rural
economy in the best sciiool of the day. h"or this
purpose he went into Norfolk and took up his
residence in the house of a farmer, from whom he
expected to receive sufficient instruction. He ap-
pears to have enjoyed his situation very much — the
natural simplicity of his disposition according well
with the plain blunt characters around him.

It has been remarked of Dr. Hutton, that to men
of an ordinary grade of mind he appeared to be an
ordinary man possessing little more spirit perhaps
than is usually to be met with. This circumstance
made his residence in Norfolk quite agreeable, as
even there he could for a time forget his great ac-
quirements, and mingle with the simple characters
around him in so cordial a manner, as to make them
see nothing in the stranger to set them at a distance
from him, or induce them to treat him with reserve.
In years after, when surrounded by his literary friends,
the philosopher loved to describe the happy hours he
spent while under the humble roof of honest John
Dybold, from whom he had learned so many good
practical lessons in husbandry. From his residence
in Norfolk he made many journeys on foot through
other parts of England to obtain information in agri-
culture, and it was in the course of these rambles
that, to amuse himself on the road, he first began to
study mineralogy and geology. In a letter to Sir
John Hall of Douglas, a gentleman possessed of
much taste for science, he says, while on his peram-
bulations, "that he was become very fond of study-
ing the surface of the earth, and was looking with
an.\ious curiosity into every pit, or ditch, or bed of
a river, that fell in his way, and that if he did not
always avoid the fate of Thales, his misfortune was
certainly not owing to the same cause." This letter
was written from Yarmouth in 1753. With the
view of still further increasing his knowledge of
agriculture, he set out for Planders, where good
husbandry was well understood long before it was
introduced into Britain, and travelling through Hol-
land, Brabant, Flanders, and Picardy, he returned
about the middle of summer, 1754. Notwithstand-
ing all he had seen to admire in the garden-culture
that prevailed in Holland, and the husbandry in
Flanders, he says, in a letter to his friend Sir John
Hall, from London, "Had I a doubt of it before I
set out, I should have returned fully convinced that
they are good husbandmen in Norfolk." Many
observations made on that journey, particularly on
mineralogy, are to be found in his Theory of the
Earth. As he was now sufficiently initiated in a
knowledge of agriculture, he wished to apply himself
to the practice in his own country; and for that pur-
pose returned to Scotland at the end of summer.
He at first hesitated on the choice of a situation
where he might best carry his improved plans of
farming into effect, and at last fixed upon his
own patrimony in Berwickshire. From Norfolk he
brougiit with him a plough and ploughman, who set
the first example of good tillage. It was a novel
sight for the surrounding farmers to see the plough
drawn by two horses, without an accompanying
driver. The new system was, however, found to
succeed in all its parts, and was quickly adopted, so
that Dr. Hutton has the credit of introducing the
new husbandry into a country where it has, since

his time, made more rapid improvements than in
any other in Europe. He resided on his farm until
the year 1768, occasionally inaking a tour into the
Highlands, with his friend Sir George Clerk, upon
geological inquiries, as he was now studying that
branch of science with unceasing attention.

While residing on his farm for the last fourteen
years, he was also engaged in the sal-ammoniac work,
which had been actually established on the founda-
tion of the experiments already made by his friend
and himself, but the business remained in Mr. Davie's
name only till 1765, when a copartnership was re-
gularly entered into, and the manufactory carried on
in the name of both.

As his farm, from excellent management, progres-
sively improved, it became a more easy task, and to
a mind like his, less interesting ; so that, finding a
good opportunity of letting it to advantage, he did
so, and became a resident in Edinburgh in the year
1768, from which time he devoted his whole life to
scientific pursuits. This change of residence was
accompanied with many advantages he seldom en-
joyed before; — having the entire command of his own
time, he was enabled to mix in a society of friends
whose minds were congenial with his own ; among
whom were Sir George Clerk, his brother Mr. Clerk
of Eldin, Dr. Black, Mr. Russel (professor of natural
philosophy). Professor Adam Ferguson, Dr. James
Lind, and others. Surrounded by so many eminent
characters, by all of whom he was beloved and re-
spected, from the vast fund of information he pos-
sessed, he employed his time in maturing his views
and searching into the secrets of nature with un-
wearied zeal. In one of these experiments he dis-
covered that mineral alkali is contained in zeolite.
On boiling the gelatinous substance obtained from
coml;ining that fossil with muriatic acid, he found
that after evaporation the salt was foiTned. Dr.
Playfair thinks this to be the first instance of an
alkali being discovered in a stony body. The ex-
periments of M. Klaproth and Dr. Kennedy have
confirmed the conclusion, and led to others of the
same kind. With a view of completing his Theory
of the Earth, he made many journeys into different
parts of England and Wales; and on visiting the salt-
mines of Cheshire, he made the curious obsei'vations
of the concentric circles marked on the roofs of these
mines, to which he has referred in Jiis Theory, as
affording a proof that the salt-rock was not formed
from mere aqueous deposition.

In 1777 Dr. Hutton's first publication was given
to the world in the shape of a pamphlet on the Na-
tare. Quality, and DiMiictioiis of Coal and Culm.
This was occasioned by a question which the Board
of Customs and privy-council wished to have settled,
in order to fix on the proportion of duty the one
should bear with the other when carried coastwise.
Dr. Hutton's pamphlet was considered so ingenious
and satisfactory, that an exemption of the small coal
of Scotland from paying duty on such short voyages
was the consequence. He took a lively interest in
promoting the arts of his native country, and devoted
much of his time and attention to the project of an
internal navigation between the Firths of Forth and
Clyde. He read several papers in tlie Philosophical
Society before its incorporationwith the Royal Society
(none of which were then published, with the ex-
ception of one in the second volume of tlie Trattsac-
tions of the Koyal Society, on "Certain Natural Ap-
pearances of the Ground on the Hill of Arthur's
Seat)," His zeal for the support of science in Edin-
burgh induced him to come forward and communi-
cate to the Royal Society a sketch of a Theory of the
Earth, the perfecting of which had occupied his

334

JAMES IIUTTON.

constant attention for a period of thirty years, tliuing
which time he had never ceased to study the natural
history of the j,dohe, with a vie\v of ascertaining all
the changes that have taken place on its surface, and
discovering the causes by which they have been pro-
duced ; and from his great skill as a mineralogist,
and having examined the great leading facts of
geology with his own eyes, and carefully studied
every learned work on the natural history of the
earth, it must be acknowledged that few men could
enter better prepared on so arduous a task. As this
Theory is so well known, and has been the subject
of so'much controversy, our limits will not permit
us to enter upon it here; we therefore refer our
readers to the book itself.

Dr. Kirwan of Dublin, and others, considered Dr.
Hutton's Theory both eccentric and paradoxical, and
charged him with presumption in speculating on
subjects to which the mere human understanding is
incompetent to reach, while some gave a preference
to the system of Berkeley as more simple and philo-
sophical; but notwithstanding all the attacks upon
the new doctrines of Ilulton, he had the proud satis-
faction of being fortified in his opinitjns by many
great and good men, who were bound to him by the
closest lies of fnen(lship. Dr. Black, Mr. Clerk of
lildin, and Professor I'layfair, as occasion required,
vere willing and ready to vindicate his hypothesis.
But setting aside all these considerations, there existed
in the work itself many faults, which contributed not
a little to prevent Dr. Hutton's system from making
a due impression. In the opinion of his greatest
defender. Professor Playfair, "it was proposed too
briefly, and with too little detail of facts, for a system
which involved so much that was new and opposite
to the opinions generally received. The description
which it contains of the phenomena of geology
suppose in the reader too great a knowledge of the
things described. The reasoning is sometimes em-
b.irrassed by the care taken to render it strictly
logical, and the transitions from the author's pecu-
liar notions of arrangement are often unexpected and
abrupt. These defects run more or less through all
Dr. Ilutton's writings, and produce a degree of ob-
scurity astonishing to all who knew him, and who
heard him every day converse with no less clearness
and precision than animation and force." In the
same volume of the Transactions appeared a paper
by him, "A Theory of Rain," which he afterwards

f)ublished in his Physical Dissertations. Having
ong studied meteorology with great attention, this
ingenious theory attracted almost immediate notice,
and was valued fur affurding a distinct notion of the
manner in which cold acts in causing a ])recipitation
of humidity. It met, however, from M. De Luc
with a vigorous and determined opposition ; Dr.
riutton defended it with some warmth, and the
controversy was carried on with much sharpness on
both sides.

In his observations in meteorology he is said to be
the first who thought of ascertaining the medium
temperature of any climate l)y the temperature of its
springs. With this view he made a great number
of observations in different ]3arts of Great Britain,
and found, by a singular enough coincidence between
two arbitrary measures cjuite independent of each
other, that the temperature of springs along the east
coast of this island varies a degree of Fahrenheit's
thermometer for a degree of latitude. This rate of
change, though it cannot be general over the whole
globe, is probably not far from the truth for all the
northern parts of ilic temperate zone. In explaining
the diminution of temperature, as we ascend in the
atmosphere, Dr. Ilutton was much more fortunate

than any other of the philosophers who have con-
sidered the same subject. It is well known that the
condensation of air converts part of the latent into
sensible heat, and that the rarefaction of air converts
part of the sensible into latent heat ; this is evident
from the experiment of the air-gun, and from many
others. If, therefore, we suppose a given quantity
of air to be suddenly transported from the surface to
any height above, it will expand on account of the
diminution of pressure, and a part of its heat be-
coming latent, it will be rendered colder than before.
Thus also, when a quantity of heat ascends by any
means whatever from one stratum of air to a superior
stratum, a part of it becomes latent, so that an
equilibrium of heat can never be established among
the strata ; but those which are less must always
remain colder than those which are more compressed.
This was Dr. Hutton's explanation, and it contains
no hypothetical principle whatsoever. After those
publications already mentioned had appeared, he
resolved to undertake journeys into different parts of
Scotland, in order to ascertain whether that con-
junction of granite and schistus, which his theory
supposed, actually took place. His views were first
turned towards the Grampians, which the Duke of
Athol learning, invited him to accompany him
during the shooting season into Glen Tilt, a tract of
country situated under these mountains. On arriving
there he discovered in the bed of the river Tilt,
which runs through that glen, many veins of red
granite traversing the black micaceous schistus, and
producing by a contrast of colour an effect that might
be striking even to an unskilful observer. So vivid
were the emotions he displayed at this spectacle,
that his conductors never doubted his having dis-
covered a vein of gold or silver. Dr. Hutton has
described the appearances at that spot in the third
volume of the Edinhirgh Transactions (p. 79), and
some excellent drawings of the glen were made by
Mr. Clerk, whose pencil was not less valuable in the
sciences than in the arts.

He pursued his observations with unabated ardour,
and in the two next years, with his friend Mr. Clerk,
made several excursions into Galloway, the island of
Arran, and the neighbourhood of Jedburgh. In all
of these he discovered the same conjunction, though
not in so complete a manner as among tlie Gram-
pians. In 1788 he made some other valuable ob-
servations of the same kind. The ridge of the Lam-
mermoor Hills in the south of Scotland consists of
the Silurian or graywacke formation (then named
primary by Hutton, but afterwards found to belong
to the transition series), which extends from St.
Ablj's Head south-westward to Portpatrick and into
the north of Ireland. The sea-coast at Eyemouth
and St. Abb's Head exhibits striking sections of these
rocks, which there appear contorted and dislocated
in a remarkable manner. The junction of the gray-
wacke with the secondary strata was an object of
instructive interest to Ilutton. In the same year he
accompanied the Duke of Athol to the Isle of Man,
with the view of making a survey of that island. He
found the main body of the island to consist of what
he termed primitive schistus (graywacke), much in-
clined, and more intersected with quartzose veins
than the corresponding rocks in the south and south-
east of Scotland. The direction of these strata
corresponded with that of the graywacke rocks in
Galloway, running nearly from east to west. This
is all the general information he obtained from that
excursion. It was resei"ved for later geological re-
searches to determine the trae nature and relations
of the Silurian or graywacke series, by means of the
fossils which they have been found to contain. It

JAMES HUTTON.

335

was not till after Hutton'sday that geologists became
palreontological.

Notwithstanding his assiduous attention to geo-
logy, Dr. Hutton found leisure to speculate on sub-
ject's of a different nature. A voluminous work from
his pen made its appearance soon after the Physical
Dissertations: — An Investigation of the Principles of
Kno^i.i<ledge, and the Prop-ess of Reason, from Sense to
Science and Philosophy, in three volumes quarto. In
this treatise he formed a general system of physics
and metaphysics. His opinions on the former sub-
jects were very singular. lie deprives matter of
those qualities which are nsually deemed most essen-
tial— solidity, impenetrability, and the vis inertiae.
He conceived it to be merely an assemblage of
powers acting variously upon each other, and that
external things are no more like the perceptions they
give, than wine is similar to intoxication, or opium
to the delirium it produces. It would be vain in us
to attempt to analyze this singular work, which can-
not fail to recall to the mind the opinions of the
ingenious Dr. Berkeley; the two systems agree in
many material points, but they differ essentially in
others.

In deference to the opinions of so great a man as
Dr. Hutton, we shall inform our readers of the view
taken of the moral tendency of his work by his friend
Professor Playfair, who no doubt scrutinized very
deeply its metaphysical speculations, as he in part,
if not altogether, became a convert of the Huttonian
system. "Indeed," says he, "Mr. Hutton has taken
great pains to deduce from his system, in a singular
manner, the leading doctrines of morality and natural
religion, having dedicated the third volume of his
book almost wholly to that object. It is worthy to
remark, that while he is thus employed, his style
assumes a better tone and a much greater degree of
perspicuity than it usually possesses. Many instances
might be pointed out where the warmth of its be-
nevolent and moral feelings bursts through the
clouds that so often veil from us the clearest ideas
of his understanding. One in particular deserves
notice, in which he treats of the importance of the
female character to society in a state of high civiliza-
tion. A felicity of expression and a flow of natural
eloquence, inspired by so interesting a subject, make
us regret that his pen did not more frequently do
justice to his thoughts." Dr. Hutton was seized
Avith a severe and dangerous illness in the summer
of 1793, and, although before this time he had en-
joyed a long continuance of good health, such was
the painful nature of his complaint that he was re-
duced to great weakness, and confined to his room
for many months, where, on his regaining some degree
of strength, he amused himself in superintending the
publication of the work just mentioned. During his
recovery he was roused from his quiet into further
exertion by a severe attack made on his Theory of
the Earth, by Dr. Kirwan, in the Memoirs of the
Prish Academy, rendered formidable by the celebrity
of the author. Before this period Dr. Hutton had
often been urged to publish the entire work on the
Theory of the Earth, which he had constantly put
off — so much so, that there seemed some danger of
its not appearing in his lifetime. The very day, how-
ever, after Kirwan's paper was put in his hands, he
began the revisal of his manuscript, and resolved
immediately to send it to press. The work was ac-
cordingly published in two volumes octavo, in 1795.
He next turned his attention to a work on hus-
bandry, on which he had written a great deal, the
fruit both of his vast reading and practical ex-
perience. He proposed to reduce the whole into a
systematic form, under the title oi Elements of Agri-

culture. The time, however, was fast approaching
which was to terminate the exertions of a mind of
such singular activity and ardour in the pursuit of
knowledge. In the course of the winter, 1796, he
became gradually weaker, and extremely emaciated
from the pain he suffered from a recurrence of his
former complaint, though he still retained the full
activity and acuteness of his mind. Saussure's Voy-
ages anx Alps, which had just reached him that
winter, was the last study of one eminent geologist,
as they were the last work of another. On Saturday
the 26th March, 1797, although in great pain, he
employed himself in writing and noting down his
remarks on some attempts which were then making
towards a new mineralogical nomenclature. In the
evening he was seized with shivering fits, and as
these continued to increase, he sent for his friend
Dr. Russel. Before he could arrive all assistance
was in vain. Dr. Hutton had just strength left to
stretch out his hand to the physician, and imme-
diately expired.

Dr. Hutton was possessed of an uncommon ac-
tivity and ardour of mind, upheld in science by what-
ever was new, beautiful, or sublime; and that those
feelings operated with more intense power in early
life may account for the want of stability he dis-
played, and the difficulty he felt in settling down to
any one fixed pursuit. Geology and mineralogy were
to him two of the most sublinie branches of physical
science. The novelty and grandeur offered by the
study to the imagination, the simple and uniform
order given to the whole natural historj' of the earth,
and above all, the views opened of the wisdom that
governs the universe, are things to which hardly any
mind could be insensible, but to him they were
matters, not of transient delight, but of solid and
permanent happiness.

He studied with an indefatigable perseverance, and
allowed no professional, and rarely any domestic,
arrangement to interrupt his uniform course. He
dined early, almost always at home, ate sparingly,
and drank no wine. The evening he spent in the
society of friends, who were always delighted and
instructed by his animated conversation, which,
whether serious or gay, was replete with ingenious
and original observation. When he sought relaxa-
tion from the studies of the day, and joined the
evening party, a bright glow of cheerfulness spread
itself over every countenance ; and the philosopher
who had just descended from the sublimest specula-
tions in metaphysics, or risen from the deepest re-
search in geology, seated himself at the tea-table, as
much disengaged from thought, and as cheerful and
joyous, as the youngest of the company.

Professor Stewart, in his life of Mr. Smith, has
alluded to a little society that then flourished in
Edinburgh, called the Oyster Club. Of this. Dr.
Black, Dr. Hutton, and Mr. Smith were the founders.
When time and opportunity admitted, these distin-
guished men could unbend one to the other, and on
such occasions Dr. Hutton delighted in blending the
witty and ludicrous in his conversation. Round
them soon formed a circle of choice spirits, who knew
how to value their familiar and social converse; and
it would be in vain to look for a company more
sincerely united, where eveiything favourable to good
society was more perfectly cultivated, and everything
opposite more strictly excluded.

Dr. Hutton was never married, but lived with
his sisters, three amiable women, who managed his
domestic affairs. Though he cared little for money,
he had accumulated considerable wealth, owing to
his moderation and unassuming manner of life, as
well as from the great ability with which his long-

336

HENRY DAVID IXGLIS.

tried friend, Mr. Davie, conducted their joint con-
cern. Miss I.snl)clla Ilutton remained to lament her
brother's loss, and by her his collection of fossils was
given to Dr. Black, who presented them to the Royal

Society of Edinburgh, under the condition that they
should be completely arranged, and kept for ever
apart, for the purpose of illustrating the Iluttonian
theory of the earth.

TNGLIS, IIf.nry David. This is one of a class
of aulliurs, unfortunately too numerous, who have
failed in winning that literary reputation which their
labours justly merited. How often it happens that,
amidst a mass of neglected books ready to be sold
by the pound as waste paper, some stray volume is
picked up, which, on being opened, is found to con-
tain an amount of learning, genius, and talent such
as would entitle its writer to a respectable place in
the authorship of the present day ! But who was
he? No one can tell ; for either his name has been
slightly recorded, or allowed to pass away without
notice. Among these victims of the world's unjust
neglect we fear that David Henry Inglis has already
been enrolled.

He was born in Edinburgh in 1795. He was the
only son of a barrister, who belonged to an ancient
Scottish family : his maternal grandmother was
daughter of Colonel Gardiner, who fell so nobly at
Prestonpans. This lady was also the authoress of a
heroic poem, which, even though written by a hero's
daughter, has ceased to be remembered. Through
this ancestress Henry David Inglis was allied to the
Earl of Buchan and the Erskines. Being intended
for the mercantile profession, he passed from the
college to the counting-house ; but after devoting
himself for a short time to business, he found that
his affections lay elsewhere; the distinctions of litera-
ture, rather than the profits of mercantile speculation,
were the objects of his aspirations. He was also
anxious to visit foreign countries, and contemplate
the scenes of great past events and stirring living
incidents, instead of being chained to the desk, and
confined to the chapter of profit and loss. He
therefore early became a traveller and a writer of
travels. His first work of this nature was entitled
Tales of the Ardennes, which he published under the
assumed name of Derwent Conway; and this work
was so favourably received by the public on its first
appearance, that he was encouraged to continue in
the same strain. His next production was Solitary
Walks through many Lands — a work of still higher
talent than the preceding, and possessing passages and
descriptions of great beauty, originality, and power.
This was folhjwed by 'J'ravels in A'oiioay and STueden,
and his 'J'oiir through Switzerland, France, and
the Pyrennees, both of which works ajipeared in
Constable's Afisccllany. While these volumes were
publishing, Inglis was employed as editor of a news-
jiaper at Chesterfield ; but the same impatience and
yearning for travel that made him aljandon the stool
of the counting-house soon drove him from the
editorial chair to resume his beloved life of wandering.
1 le again started for the Continent, and visited the
Tyrol and Spain ; and on returning home he pub-
lished two works containing an account of his travels
and observations in these countries. Of thescvolumcs,
liis Spain in 1830 was the most successful, and with
justice, in consequence of the great amount of inter-
esting information with which it was stored about
that land of changes and disasters. After his return
from Spain Mr. Inglis again became editor of a

newspaper, and, of all places in the world, the little
island of Jersey was the locality in which he was
fixed. A permanent stay in such a place was the
last thing to be anticipated of such a man ; and he
had not therefore been long in Jersey when he
girded up his loins for fresh rambles and adventure.
But whither was he now to wing his course, after he
had pretty well exhausted the wide field of Europe?
Luckily, a country quite at hand, even Ireland, had
not as yet been the subject of his explorations, and
thither accordingly his flight was directed. And
that his tour was a useful one was well attested by
his Ireland in 1834. While the extensive informa-
tion and impartial spirit of this work obtained for it
a favourable reception from all parties, the correct-
ness of his views on the condition of the country
made it be frequently quoted in the House of Cpm-
mons during the important parliamentary debates
about Ireland in 1835. It is seldom that the sound-
ness and accuracy of an Irish tourist are stamped
with such a high attestation.

Hitherto, as we have shown, the literary labours
of Inglis had been well appreciated by the public ;
but still this was not enough. As all the world is
travelling everywhere, the individuality of each as-
piring pilgrim, let him go where he will, is lost in a
crowd ; and let him write what marvels he may "of
the Alps and Apennines, the Pyrenean and the river
Po," and "of the cannibals that each other eat, the
Anthropophagi," there are others who behold them
as well as himself, and are taking notes of them, to
put them in a book. And thus his narrative, how-
ever ably written or full of interest, lasts only for
to-day ; for to-morrow a fresh tourist issues from the
press, while the latest intelligence will be always ac-
counted the best. It was thus that Inglis seems to
have felt when he found himself ousted successively
from every countiy in which he had roamed so dili-
gently, and about which he had written so well.
Eiterary distinction was not to be won by traveljing.
Already he had written of what many have seen ; but
now let him tell what no man ever saw — let him
create a world for himself, and fill it with the crea-
tures and deeds of his own imagining. It was toward
this department of fiction also that, amidst all his
wanderings and authorship, his intellectual longings
had been the most directed. His resolution was
formed ; his choice of a subject was fixed ; and after
the success of his work entitled Spain in 1830, he pro-
duced his novel of The New Gil Bias, in which he
endeavoured to embody Spanish life as it exists in
the present day. It was the best of all his writings,
for it combined ti-ulhful delineation with the highest
efforts of fancy and creative power ; and while he
brought to it all the resources of his genius, and all
the affections of his heart, he seems to have regarded
it as the great effort by which, like Sir Walter Scott,
he would open foi himself a new world of distinction
and success after the old had been exhausted. But,
alas for the unlucky title ! Many thought that the
first Gil Bias was enough, and would not read the
second; many opened it, and then threw it aside,

SIR JAMES IXGT.IS THOMAS IXXES.

337

mistaking it for a mere paltry imitation ; while the
few who dared to read on were troubled with
thoughts of Le Sage at every turning of the leaf
And thus the unfortunate production was doomed at
the very moment of its birth, and consigned to tlie
fate of a Spartan ill-shapen infant, but without the
formality of a Spartan inquest. It was a sore
calamity to Inglis, who loved it with a mother's love,
and his lamentation over it could only find comfort
in a lingering of hope. "Alas!" he would ex-
claim, "I fear I have written my Gil Bias for pos-
terity!" We suspect that posterity will have too
many novels of their own to busy themselves withal
instead of attending to those which their fathers
neglected.

After his return from Ireland, Mr. Inglis began to
prepare for publication his Travels in the Footsteps
of Don Quixote — a work the nature of which is indi-
cated by the title. Undeterred also by the failure
of his chief attempt in fiction, he had already
planned, and even commenced, other works of a
similar character, when his overtasked physical en-
durance gave way under such constant intellectual
pressure ; and a disease of the brain ensued, of
which he died in London, before he had completed
his fortieth year. His decease occurred on the 20th
of March, 1835.

ESTGLIS, or ENGLISH, Sir James, an ingenious
writer of the early part of the sixteenth century, is
chiefly known as the supposed author of the Covt-
playnt of Scotland, a very curious political and fanci-
ful work, published originally at St. Andrews in
1548 or 1549, and the earliest Scottish prose work
in existence.

Of this learned person Mackenzie has given an
account in his Lives of Scottish Writers; but it is so
obviously made up of a series of mere conjectures
stated as facts that we must reject it entirely. Ac-
cording to more respectable authority, Inglis was a
dignified priest (which accounts for the Sir attached
to his name), and appears from authentic documents
to have been in 1 5 15 secretary to Queen Margaret,
widow of James IV. Care must be taken to distin-
guish him from his contemporary John Inglis, who
served James IV. as a manager of'^ plays and enter-
tainments, and who is stated to have been present
with Sir David Lindsay in the church of Linlithgow
when that sovereign was warned by a supposed ap-
parition against his expedition into England. Sir
James Inglis was nevertheless a writer of plays,
being the subject of the following allusion in Sir
David Lindsay's Testament of the Papingo: —
"And in the court bin present in thir dayis.
That ballattis brevis lustely, and layis,
Quhilkis to our prince daily thay do present,
Quho can say more than Schir James English says,
'In ballattis, farcis, and in pleasaunt plaies;
Redd in cunn>-ng, in practyck rycht prudent,
But Culross hath made his pen impotent."

It will be observed that Inglis is here indirectly
spoken of as one of the poets who haunted the court
of James V. Even in the preceding reign, however,
he appears to have been on an intimate footing at
court, as a man of learning. James IV. , whose de-
votion to alchymy is well known, writes a letter (ex-
tant in the Epistolie A'eginn Scotorum) to Mr. James
Inglis, to the following effect: "We have thankfully
received your letter, by which you inform us that
you are in possession of the abstruse books of the
Sound Philosophy; which, as certain most deserving
persons have begged them of you, you with difficulty
preserve for our use, having heard that we are
addicted to the study of that art." Of the ballads
and plays composed by Inglis not a vestige now re-

VOL. II.

mains, unless a poem attributed to him in the Mait-
land MS., and as such printed by Hailes and Sibbald,
entitled A General Satire, be held as a specimen of
one of those kinds of composition, and be really a
production of his pen.

In a charter of 19th Februar)-, 1527, Inglis is styled
chancellor of the royal chapel of .Stirling; and he
appears to have been soon after raised to the dignity
of abbot of Culross, a promotion which, if we may
believe his friend Lindsay, spoiled him as a poet. It
was eventually attended with still more fatal effects.
Having provoked the wrath of a neighbouring baron,
William Blackater of Tulliallan, the abbot of Cul-
ross was by that individual cruelly slain, March I,
1530. The causes of this bloody deed do not ap-
pear; but the sensation created by it throughout the
community was very great. Sir William Lothian,
a priest of the same abbey, who was an accomplice
of the principal assassin, Mas publicly degraded on
a scaffold at Edinburgh, in presence of the king and
queen, and next day he and the laird of Tulliallan
were beheaded.

It would hardly be worth while to advert so min-
utely to a person who, whatever was his genius, is
not certainly known as the author of any existing
composition, if the name were not conspicuous in
works of Scottish literary history, and must therefore
continue to be inquired for in such compilations as
the present. Inglis, if the same individual as this
abbot of Culross, could have no pretensions to the
honour put upon him by some writers, of having
written the Coinplaynt of Scotland; for that curious
specimen of our early literature was undeniably writ-
ten in 1548, eighteen years after the death of the
abbot. In the obscurity, however, which prevails
regarding the subject of the present notice, we can-
not deny that he may have been a different person,
and 7nay have survived even to the date assigned for
his death by Mackenzie — 1554; in which case he
could have been the author of the Complaynt. That
a Sir James Inglis existed after 1530, and had some
connection with Culross, appears pretty certain from
the passage in the Testament of the Papingo, which
is understood to have been written in 1538. But,
on the other hand, there is no authority for assigning
the authorship of the Complaynt to any Sir James
Inglis, except that of Dr. ^lackenzie, which rests on
no known foundation, and, from the general char-
acter of that biographical writer, is not entitled to
much respect. Some further inquiries into this sub-
ject will be found under the head J.\mes Wedder-

BURN.

INNES, TllOM.\s, an historian and critical anti-
quary, known to the students of early Scottish history
by the title of "Father Innes," was a priest of the
.Scottish college at Paris, during the earlier part of the
eighteenth century. It is not creditable to the litera-
ture of our countrj' during the period just mentioned
that the meritorious labours of this highly acute in-
vestigator have been so little noticed, and that no
one has thought it worth while to leave memorials
sufficient to enable posterity to know anything of his
life and character. His labours to discover the true
sources of Scottish history proved an ungrateful task;
they were unacceptable to the prejudices of the time,
and have hardly been appreciated until the memory
of the individual who undertook them had quietly
sunk into oblivion. In these circumstances any
scrap of information which we can procure on the
subject is peculiarly valuable. We perceive from a
few words in the preface to his Critical Essay, that
he received the rudiments of education in Scotland;
and that he must have left his native countrj' early

67

338

THOMAS INNES.

in life for a permanent residence abroad, probably,
if we may judge from slight circumstances, along with
the exiled monarch James II. His words are: —
"Though an honourable gentleman of my own coun-
tr)% and another learned English gentleman, were
so kind as to revise the language, and to alter such
exotic words or expressions as it was natural should
drop from me, I doubt not but the English reader
will still meet in this essay with too many marks of
my nain-e hnptage and foreign education.'''' But the
most interesting, and indeed the principal, notice
which we have been able to obtain of this individual,
is from the diary of the industrious Wodrow for the
year 1724, where we find the laborious antiquar}-
worming his way through libraries in search of mate-
rials. It may be remarked that the work on the
Early HisL-'ry of the Church of Scotland, which is
mentioned by Wodrow as the subject on which he
was engaged, was intended as a second part to the
Critical Essay, but has, imfortunately for our infor-
mation on a very interesting subject, not been given
to the world. TTie passage we refer to is as follows: —

"There is one Father Innes, a priest, brother to
Father Innes of the Scottish college at Paris, who
has been at Edinburgh all this winter, and mostly in
the Advocates' Library, in the hours when open,
looking books and MSS. He is not engaged in
politics as fir as can be guessed; and is a monkish,
bookish p>erson, who meddles with nothing but lite-
rature. I saw him at Edinburgh. He is upon a
deagn to write an account of the first settlement of
Christianity in Scotland, as Mr. Ruddiman informs
me, and pretends to show that Scotland was Chris-
tianized at first from Rome; and thinks to answer
our ordinarj' arguments against this from the differ-
ence between the keeping of Easter from the custom
of Rome; and pretends to prove that there were many
\-ariations as to the day of Easter even at Rome, and
that the usages in Scotland, pretended to be from
the Greek church, are very agreeable to the Romish
customs, that he thinks were used by the pop>es
about the time that (he) gives account of our differ-
ences as to Easter.

"This Father Innes in a conversation with my in-
former . . } made an obsen^ation which I fear is
too true. In conversation with the company, who
were all Protestants, he said he did not know what
to make of those who had departed from the Catholic
church; that as far as he could obser\-e generally,
they were leaving the foundations of Christianity,
and scarce deser\ed the name of Christians. He
heard that there were departures and great looseness
in Holland. That as he came through England he
found most of the bishops there gone off from their
articles, and gone into Dr. Clerk's scheme. That
the dissenters were many of them falling much in
with the same method, and coming near them. That
he was glad to find his countrymen in Scotland not
tainted in the great doctrine of the Trinity, and
sound."*

From the period when we find him rumaging in
the Advocates' Library, we know nothing of Innes,
until the publication of his essay in 1729, when he
appears to have been in London, and makes an
apolog)' for verbal inaccuracies, on the ground that
he writes "to keep pace with the press." He seems
pre^•iously to this event to have i>erformed an exten-
sive "bibliographical tour," as the manuscripts he
quotes are dispersed through various f>arts of England,
Scotland, Ireland, and the Continent

A running sketch of the state of the knowledge of

' The name is in a secret hand.

• Wodiows Analecta, MS. Ad. Lib. v. ^%l.

early Scottish history pre\'iously to the appearance
of this work, may not be unacceptable to those who
have not paid particular attention to that subject, as
explanatory of the obstacles which the author had to
overcome. It is well known that Scotland had a
full share of the fabulous early history which it is a
proud and pleasing task for savages to frame, and
which generally protrudes itself into the knowledge
possessed by ci%Tlized ages, from the unwillingness
of mankind to diminish their own claims to conside-
ration by l^sening the glory of their ancestors. The
form and consistence of that genealogy which traced
the first of Scottish kings to a period some centuries
before the Christian era, seems to have been con-
cocted by the Highland senachies, who sang the de-
scent of our monarchs at their coronation. Andrew
WjTitoun and John Fordun soberly incoqxirated the
long line thus framed into their chronicle of the Scot-
tish nation fi-om the commencement of the world.
Major followed their example with some variations,
and Geoffry of Monmouth and Geoffrj- Keating re-
spectively incorporated the whole with English and
Irish history, the latter, much about the same period
when Innes wTote, busying himself with tracing the
matter to a period anterior to the deluge. The rich
and grotesque garb of fable which the whole assumed
under Hector Boece is known to many, if not in the
original crabbed Latin, at least in the simple transla-
tion of Bellenden. It is discreditable to the memory
of Buchanan, that, instead of directing his acute mind
to the discovery of truth, he adopted, in many re-
spects, the genealogy just sanctioned, and prepared
lives for the monarchs created by fiction, suited as
practical comments on his own p>olitical views. The
fables had now received the sanction of a classical
authority — Scotland was called Kar e^oxv, "the
ancient kingdom ; " and grave Englishmen wondered
at the hoary antiquitj- of our line of monarchs. At
length, when the antiquity of the race of England
had been curtailed, some thought it unfit that that of
Scotland should remain tmlouched — and several Eng-
lish antiquaries, such as Humphry Lhuyd, Bishop
f sher, Bishop Lloyd, and Bishop Nicholson, be-
stowed some calm hints on its improbability, which
were speedily dro-\vned by the fierce replies of the
Scottish antiquaries, beaded by Sir George M 'Kenzie.
Such was the slate of historical knowledge in Scot-
land when Innes wTote; and a Scotsman dared to
look the line of ancestry claimed by his monarch
calmly in the face, and, after due consideration, to
strike from it forty crowned heads. The essay is
divided into four parts, in which the author succes-
sively treats, — of the progress of the Romans in Scot-
land— of the history of the Maeats, the Stralhclyde
Britons or Welsh, who existed in the southern part
of Scotland — of that of the Caledonians or Picts, who
inhabited the whole of the northern portion pre\iously
to the arrival of the Scots from Ireland — and of the
Scots, the ancestors of the present Highlanders.
Examining the foundation on which Boece supports
his forty supernumerary kings, he shows by very good
n^ative endence, that two chroniclers, on which
that author lays the burden of much of his extraordi-
nary matter, named \'eremund and Campbell, never
existed, and shows that the genealogists had, by an
ingenious de%'ice, made Fergus I., king of the
Scots, Fergus the second, and had placed another
Fergus sufficiently far behind him in chronolc^' to
admit a complement of kings to be placed betwixt
the two. Besides the detection of the fabulous part
of our history, this work supplies us with an excel-
lent critical dissertation on the various early inhabi-
tants of the countrji- ; and the author has, with much
pains and care, added an appendix of original docu-

THOMAS INXES

CHRISTOPHER IRVINE.

339

ments, which have been highly useful to inquirers
into Scottish histon'. The language in which the
whole is clothed is simple, pleasing, and far more
correct than that of most Scotsmen who wrote during
the same period; while there is a calm dignity, and a
philosophical correctness in the arguments, previously
unknown to the subject, and which it had been well
if those who have followed the same track had imi-
tated. Pinkerton, who would allow no man to be
prejudiced on the subject of Scotland with impunity
except himself, never can mention the work of Innes
without some token of respect. "This work," he
says, "forms a grand epoch in our antiquities, and
was the firet that led the way to rational criticism on
them: his industr)*, coolness, judgment, and general
accuracy recommend him as the best antiquar)' that
Scotland has yet produced."^ While concurring,
however, in any praise which we obser\-e to have
been elicited by this too much n^lected work, we
must remark that it is blemished by a portion of it
being evidently prepared with the political view of
supporting the doctrine of the di\-ine right of kings,
which Innes as a Jacobite probably respected, and
as an adherent of the exiled house felt himself called
on to support.^ He is probably right in presuming
that Buchanan knew well the falsehood of many of
the facts he stated, but it was as unnecessarj* that he
should answer the arguments which Buchanan, in
the separate treatise De Jure Regni apud Scotos, may
have been presunud to have derived from such facts,
as it was for Buchanan to erect so great a mass of
fable; while the dissertation he has given us on the
fruitful subject of the conduct of Queen Mar}', is
somewhat of an excrescence in a dissertation on the
early inhabitants of Scotland.

The political bias of this portion of the work is
avowed in the preface, where the author obser\-es
that the statements of Buchanan, "far from doing
any real honour to our country, or contributing, as
all historical accounts ought to do, to the benefit of
posterity, and to the mutual happiness of king and
f>eople, do rather bring a reproach upon the countr\',
and furnish a handle to turbulent spirits to disturb
the quiet and peace, and by consequence the happi-
ness of the inhabitants;"* j-et even this subject is
handled with so much calmness that it may rather
be termed a defect than a fault.

Besides the great work which he \\T0le, Innes is
supposed to have been the compiler of a book of
considerable interest and importance. It is pretty
well known that a manuscript of the life of King
James II., written by himself, existed for some time
in the Scots College of Paris, where it was carefully
concealed from observation. This valuable work is
believed, on too certain grounds, to have been re-
duced to ashes during the French Revolution; but
an abstract of it, which was discovered in Italy, was
published by Mr. Stanyers Clarke in 1 806, and is
supposed by well-informed persons to have been the
work of Father Innes.* We have been enabled to

' Pinkerton's Jrujui?y, Introduction, 55-57.

- We cannot avoid coupling with this feature the circum-
stance of our having heard it whispered in the antiquarian
world, that a correspondence between Innes and the court of
St. Germains, lately discovered, shows this to have been the
avowed purpose of the author. This we have heard, however,
in so vague a manner, that we dare not draw any conclusions
against the fair intentions of Innes, farther than as they may
be gathered from his O'wn writings.

* Preface, 16.

* In the Edinburgh RevUw we discover the following note:
— " It is the opinion of the present preser\-er of the narrative,
that it was compiled from original documents by Thomas
Innes, one of the superiors of the college, and author of a
work entitled A Critical Essay on the Ancient Inhabitants
of Scotland.— Art. on Fox's Life 0/ James II. Ed. Ke-.:
xiL 280.

trace this supposition to no better source than a pre-
sumption from the circumstances in which Innes was
placed, and to the absence of any other name which
can reasonably be assigned. There is indeed a docu-
ment extant which might afford ground for a con-
trary supposition. In 1740 Carte, the historian, re-
ceived an order from James Edgar, secretarj- to the
Pretender, addressed to the Messrs. Innes, permitting
him to inspect the life writ by Mr. Dicconson, in
consequence of royal orders, all taken out of and
supported by the late king's manuscripts; but it has
been urged on the other hand, that there were at
least two copies of the compilation, one of which
may have been transcribed by Mr. Dicconson, while
in that published there are one or two Scotticisms,
which point at such a person as Innes. Little can
be made of a comparison betwixt the style of this
work and that of the essay, without an extremely
minute e.xaminalion, as Innes indulged in few pecu-
liarities; but there is to be found in it a general re-
semblance, certainly more close than what could be
caused by mere identity of period.

We are enabled to give but one other notice bear-
ing on the life of this individual. In the portion of
the life of James II. transcribed into the Chevalier
Ramsay's History of Tureurie, there is a certificate
by the superiors of the Scots College at Paris, dated
24th December, 1734, signed by "Louis Inesse,
late principal, Alexander Whiteford, principal, and
Thomas Inesse, sub-principal." The Louis Innes
who had acted as principal must be the brother to
the historian mentioned by Wodrow.

IRVINE, Christopher, an antiquari.-, philolo-
gist, and physician, lived in the seventeenth century,
and was a younger son of the family of Irvine of
Bonshaw in Lanarkshire. Like his relation who
rendered himself infamous in the cause of royalty by
seizing Donald Cargill, Christopher Irsine was a
devoted adherent of the Stuarts and of Episcopacy.
He was turned out of the college of Edinburgh in
1638 or 1639, in consequence of his resisting the
national covenant ; and by some connection, the
nature of which is not known, with the Irish troubles
which happened not long after, he lost a plentiful
patrimony. Of these circumstances he himself in-
forms us, in the address appended to one of his
works, as well as of the facts, that "after his travels,
the cruel saints were pleased to mortify him seventeen
nights with bread and water;" and even after having
recalled an act of banishment which they had for-
merly passed against him, subjected him to the fate
of absolute stan-ation, with only the dubious alter-
native of "teaching grammar." Ha^•ing adopted
the latter course, we have ascertained from another
source' that he was schoolmaster first at Leith, and
afterwards at Preston. In the course of his exertions
in this capacity he was led to initiate his pupils in
Scottish histor\- ; and it was out of the information
collected for that purpose, along with some notes
he received from Mr. Alexander Home and Mr.
Thomas Cra^vford, formerly professors of humanity
in Edinburgh university, that he compiled his
Kotneiiclaiiire of Scottish History, the work by which
he is best known. Some time during the Common-
wealth he appears to have resumed the profession
to which he was bred, and practised first as a sur-
geon, and finally as a physician in Edinbui^h, at the
same time that he held a medical appointment in
the army of General Monk, by which Scotland was
then garrisoned.

We have not been able to discover any earlier

* Sibbald's Bihliotheca Scoiica, MS. .A.dv. Lib.

340

CIIRISTOrilKR IRVINE.

puhlication of Christopher Irv'inc than a small ami
very rare volume, entitled Helium Grajinnaticale,
which appeared at Ivlinburgh in 1650, but of the
nature of which, not having seen it, we cannot speak.
His second performance was a small volume, now
also very rare, having the following elaborate title:
^WleJtcnui Miigitetua; or the rare and wonderful art
of curing by sympathy, laid open in aphorisms,
proved in conclusions, and digested into an easy
method drawn from both; wherein the connection of
the causes and effects of these strange operations
are more fully discovered than heretofore. All
cleared and confirmed by pithy reasons, true experi-
ments and pleasant relations, preserved antl published
as a masterpiece in this skill by C. de Iryngio,
chirurgo-medicine in the army. I'rinted in the year
1656." The dedication, which is dated from Edin-
burgh, June 3, 1656, and is signed " C. Irvine," is
addressed to General Monk as "chief captain of
those forces among whom for diverse years / have
seri'eJ atid prospered ;" and speaking of the kindness
of the commander toward his inferiors, he continues
— "This is observed by all ; this hath been my ex-
perience so oft as I had need of favour and protec-
tion." We may from these passages argue, that at
the period when he composed this book, Irvine him-
self was a man of respectable standing as to years,
anil had not found it inconsistent with his loyalist
principles to take office under Cromwell. The work
itself is a true literary curiosity. The monstrous and
fanciful doctrines which crowd the pages of Para-
celsus and Cardan, and which had begun at that
period to sink before the demand for logical proof
and practical experience, which more accurate minds
had made, are here revived and even exaggerated;
while the imagination of the writer seems to have
laboured in all quarters of nature, to discover gro-
tesque absurdities. The book, it will be remarked,
is a treatise on animal magnetism. We would give his
receijit for the method of manufacturing "an animal
magnet" did we dare, but propriety compels us to
retain our comments for the less original portion of
the work. The principles of the author dc onmibns
rebus et quihusdam aliis, are laid down in "an hun-
dred aphorisms," which are of such a nature as the
following: — "Neither souls nor pure spirits, nor in-
telligencies can work upon bodies, but by means of
\.\\c spirit ; for two extremes cannot be joined together
without a mean, therefore," it is justly and con-
clusively argued, "demons appear not but after
sacrifices used." "He that can join a sjiirit im-
pregnat with the virtue of one bodie with another,
that is now disposed to change, may produce many
miracles and monsters." "lie that can by light
draw light out of things, or multiply light with light,
he knoweth how to adde the universal spirit of life
to the particular spirit of life, and by this addition
do wonders," &c. Nor is his method of su])poiting
his aphorisms by proof less original and conclusive.
The readers of Ihidihras will recollect the story
taken from llelemont, of the man who, having lost
his nose, procured a new one to be cut from the limb
of a porter, on whose death the unfortunate nose
grew cold and fell off. The reasoning of Mr.
Christopher Irvine on this matter is peculiarly
metaphysical. " Is not," he says, "all our doctrine
here confirmed clearer than the light ? was not the
insititious nose as animated at the first, so still in-
formed with the soul of the porter? Neither had it
any from the man whose nose now it was made, but
only nourishment; the power of the assimilation
which it hath from its proper form, it took it not
from him but from the porter, of whom it was yet
truly a part; and who dying, the nose became a dead

nose, and did immediately tend to corruption. But
who doth not here see, most openly and evidently, a
concatenation? otherwise, how could the nose of one
that was at Bolonia, enform the nose of one that
was at Brussels, but by means of a concatenation?"
The curiosity of the matter, presenting a specimen
of the speculations in which several Scottish philo-
sophers at that period indulged, may e-xcuse these
extracts.

The work to which Irvine's name is most fre-
quently attached, is the Historic Scotica ^Yomencla-
tura Latiiw-l'ernacula; an exjjlanatory dictionai^ of
the Latin proper names made use of in Scottish
history, published at Edinburgh in 1682, and repub-
lished in 1819. The editor of the reprint observes
that he "intended, along with the present edition,
to have given the public a short sketch of the life of
the author; but this intention he has been obliged to
relinquish from want of materials. To numerous
inquiries in many directions no satisfactory answer
was procured, and the editor mentions with regret,
that he knows nothing more of this eminent literary
character and profound philologist than can be col-
lecteil from his address to the reader." The dedica-
tion is to the Duke of York; and if we had not been
furnished with vast specimens of the capacity of
royal stomachs at that period for flattery, we might
have suspected Mr. Christopher of a little quizzing,
when he enlarges on the moderation, the generosity,
the kindness to friends, the forgiveness to enemies,
displayed by the prince, and especially on his having
"so firmly on solid grounds established the Protes-
tant religion." Among the other eulogiums is one
which may be interpreted as somewhat apologetical
on the part of the author, in as far as respects his
own conduct. "The neglected sufferer for loyalty
is now taken into care and favour, and they that
have recovered better principles are not reproached nor
passed by ; their transgressions are fori;ot, and time
allou<ed to take off their n<il habit." The A'oinencla-
ture is a brief general biographical and topographical
dictionary of Scotland. With a firm adherence to the
fabulous early history the author shows vast general
reading; but, like most authors of the age, he seems
to have considered Scotland the centre of greatness,
and all other transactions in the world as naturally
merging into a connection with it. Thus in juxta-
position with Argyle, we find "Argivi, Argos, and
Arii." And the Uee is discussed beside the Danube.

From the address attached to this volume we
learn that its publication was occasioned by his recent
dismissal from the king's service. "And now," he
says, "being, as it seemeth by a cruel misrepre-
sentation, turned out of my public employment
and livelihood, which the Defender of the sincere
will return, I have at the desire of the printer, in this
interval, revised," &c. Taking the dedication in
connection with this circumstance, there can be little
doubt as to the particular object of that composition;
and from another document it would appear that he
was not unsuccessful in liis design. An act of par-
liament, dated three years later than the publication
oi \\\ii A'omenclatitre, and ratifying an act of privy-
council, which had reserved to Irvine the privilege
of acting as a jihysician, independent of the College
of Physicians of Edinburgh, just established, proceeds
upon a statement by the learned man himself, that
"he has been bred liberally in these arts and places
that fit men for the practice of physick and chirur-
gcry, and has received all the degrees of the schools
that give ornament and authority in these professions,
and has practised the same the space of thertie years
in the eminentest places and among very considerable
persons in this island, and has, by vertue of commis-

DAVID IRVING.

341

sions from his royal master, exerced the dutie of
cherurgeon of his guards of horse twenty-eight years
together, and has had tlie charge of chief physician
and chirurgeon of his armie."* He then states that
lie wishes to practise Iiis profession in peace in the
city of Edinburgh, of which he is a burgess, and
hopes the council "would be pleased not to suffer
him, by any new gift or patent to be stated under
the partial humors or affronts of (a) new incorpora-
tion or college of physicians, composed of men that
are altogether his juniors (save Doctor Hay) in the
studies of phylosophie and practise of physick."

mVESTG, David, LL.D. This talented and
painstaking writer, who has done so much in pre-
serving our old Scottish literature, and the memory
of its choicest ornaments, was born in the little town
of Langholm, in the county of Dumfries, on the 5th
of December, 1778. His father, Janetus Irving,
descended from a line of farmers in Eskdale, was
in comfortable circumstances as a tradesman, and
resided in Langholm. David, the youngest of four
sons who arrived at maturity, received like the rest
as liberal an education as his native town could af-
ford, and for this purpose he attended the grammar-
school of Langholm, conducted by Mr. John Telfer.
These early school-days of David Irving were not
signalized by any extraordinary proficiency in scholar-
ship ; indeed, his career was so slow, or its ultimate
object as yet so undecided, that he had reached the
age of fourteen or fifteen before he turned his atten-
tion to the dead languages — a case somewhat rare
in Scotland even among the rustic pupils of a coun-
try school. Still, no time appears to have been lost,
for he inherited from his mother, who died in 1797,
those intellectual abilities, that fondness for reading,
and retentive memory for which he was remarkable,
and a silent progress was going on in his mind of
which society was afterwards to reap the benefits.
Of a still more conspicuous character for the time
being were the warlike achievements, the battles
and combats, by which his boyhood was distinguished.
So late as the beginning of the present century the
more violent national characteristics of our country
had not died out, and every school had its feud with
some rival school or party, between which, hostile
meetings, and battles with stones, sticks, or fists
were of daily occurrence. Nor was the matter
greatly amended when there was no opposing party
to contend with: in this case, the pugnacious urchins,
like the schoolboys of a larger growth in a senate
or royal council, could find or invent a very pretty
quarrel, and fight out the fight after the alleged cause
had been forgot. Nay, rather than be idle, a class
or school would divide itself into Greeks and Tro-
jans, or English and Scots, and belabour each other
in fun until the work had warmed into earnest. In
this way the juvenile pugnacity of our grave sires
and grandsires was vented, and the peace of the town
and village broken as well as heads and windows ;
while the only justification that could be offered
was —

" Nothing in hate, in honour all was done."

In such conflicts David Irving was not only an actor,
but a conspicuous ringleader. This, however, was
not enough for his ambition, and he ended his cam-
paigning by forming a regiment of forty or fifty boys
armed with sticks, whom he regidarly drilled and
governed by military law. Soon after, he showed
his readiness for war in earnest, in consequence of
the French revolution and its threats of an invasion

1 Acts of the Scottish Parliament, viii. 530-531.

of Britain. On this occasion the patriolic drum
M-as sounded loudly over Scotland, and in the church
of Langholm the inhabitants were collected, and
asked who would sign an engagement to arm in
defence of their king and country? At the question
Irving, although then scarcely sixteen years of age,
was among the first, if not the very first, to ascend
the church gallery and subscribe his name. It was
not however in war, but in literature, that this loyal
and martial spirit was to find its proper vent.

We have already alluded to the delay which oc-
curred before he advanced to the study of Latin and
(jreek. This he now commenced at the age of
fourteen or fifteen, probably with the ultimate inten-
tion of c|ualifying himself for the church. The school
which he attended for this purpose was at New
Langholm, and had for its teacher Mr. Andrew
Little, who had lost his sight by lightning on the
coast of Africa, when surgeon of a Liverpool vessel.
For the lame or the deformed to become school-
masters was at that time no novelty ; but for a blind
man to adopt an office which I'equires quick notice
and sharp inspection, was an instance of extraordin-
ary courage. Little, however, notwithstanding such
a serious defect, appears to have been an excellent
teacher of the learned languages, as was attested by
the progress of his pupils, and especially of Irving,
who here laid the foundation of that classical know-
ledge for which he was distinguished among his
contemporaries. Having completed his school edu-
cation David Irving entered the university of Edin-
burgh, in October, 1 796, and during that and the two
following sessions prosecuted the study of Latin and
Greek, logic, ethics, and natural philosophy under
the distinguished professors Finlayson, Dugald
Stewart, and Playfair. To maintain himself at
college, and perhaps also to forward his views
towards the ministry at a time when no church
could be obtained without a patron, he became tutor
to a son of the receiver-general, at that time a stu-
dent in the university of Edinburgh. But soon after
his arrival in Edinburgh, he secured that kind of
patronage which was to be more available for his
future course than that of a holder of church presen-
tations. He formed the acquaintanceship of Dr.
Robert Anderson, the talented editor of the Works
of the British Poets, who at that time resided in Edin-
burgh, honoured as the literary Aristarchus of our
capital, and the kind patron of young men of genius,
whom he assembled at his hospitable table and aided
with his counsel and encouragement. Among these
young aspirants of fame, whose first flights he in-
spired, and who afterwards took a high place in the
world of letters, it is enough to mention Thomas
Campbell, who at the instance of Dr. Anderson
published the Pleasures of Hope, which otherwise
might never have appeared.

Under the fostering care of such a friend and
counsellor, the bias of Irving towards a life of litera-
ture was directed; and the bent of it was also indi-
cated by his first publication, the "Z//9 of Robert
Fergiissoft, with a Critique on his Works," which he
inscribed in 1799 to Dr. Anderson. Ir\'ing thus
commenced his career of authorship in his twenty-
first year, and in a department which was to occupy
him until the close of his long lite — that of a bio-
grapher of Scottish poets, and annotator of their
poetiy. After this he wrote the lives of William
Falconer, author of the Ship^vreck, and of Dr.
William Russell, author of the Jlistojy of Afodertt
Europe, and published the three lives collectively
in a separate volume at the close of iSoo. In the
next month (January 30, iSoi) he graduated as
Master of Arts, and during the same year he pub-

342

DAVID IRVING.

lished his Elements of English Composition. This
work, the most useful and successful of all Dr.
IrN'ing's proiiuctions, he modestly called a compila-
tion, but the skill with which he selected and ar-
ranged the materials, and the instructions it conveyed
in the art of composition, gave it all the worth of
originality. The esteem in which this volume was
held, and the demand made for it as a text -book in
English schools and academies, was indicated by the
fact, that seven editions of it were published in less
than as many years. An eighth edition, revised by
his own hand, appearetl in 1S2S.

When he had finished his curriculum of literature
and science at the university, it might have been ex-
pected that Dr. Ir\ing would have enrolled himself
as a student in the divinity hall. But his original
intention of devoting himself to the work of the min-
istr)', if ever seriously entertained, had by this time
died out, and the fact of his being an author and a
successful one may have had a powerful influence in
effecting the change. Accordingly in 1S02, instead
of commencing the study of theology, he entered the
class of civil law, but not abating in the meantime
his zeal in authorship, which he now seems to have
adopted as his chief occupation. In 1804 his dili-
gence in his favourite course of study appeared, by
his publication of " Lifes 0/ the Scottish Pocts, with
Preliminary Dissertations on the Literary Histor)'
of Scotland, and the Early Scottish Drama." Al-
though it was favourably received by the judicious
few who could appreciate the merits of the work
and the importance of tlie subject, their number was
as yet too small to influence the general opinion,
and his Lhes of' the Scottish Poets failed to secure the
popularity which it justly merited. Instead of being
discouraged by this cold reception, it only animated
him to fresh effort, and he now contemplated a Life
of George Buchanan, the most difficult of all his liter-
ary attempts. This will appear not only from the
scholarship which such a task required, but the con-
tradictory characters which have been drawn of
George Buchanan himself, and the confusion of the
times in which he lived. But the stem old Scottish
republican in theory, and equally stem preceptor of
a king in practice; the cynical wit, the eloquent his-
torian, distinguished poet, philosopher, and scholar,
had now found an eamest but impartial biographer,
and Irving commenced his labour by an explora-
tion into the records of the literature of the six-
teenth ccntur)' contained in the libraries of the British
Museum, Sion College, and Red Cross Street, as
well as those of his own country. The result of
this labour and research was the Memoirs of the Life
and Writings of George Buchanan, which appeared
in 1805 ; a work that was considered not only to
vindicate the fair fame of our renowned countrj-man,
but to establish the character of his biographer as
an able writer and accomplished scholar. Irving
was now a man of note, his acquaintanceship was
sought by the most distinguished of our northern
scholars, and in iSoS the degree of Doctor of Laws
was conferred upon him by Marischal College, Aber-
deen. In the same year there was a classical chair
to be filled in the newly established college of Belfast,
for which Dr. Irving became a candidate, and was
furnished for the purpose with testimonials from three
of our most learned professors, recommending him
in the highest terms as possessing every quality for
the office. But "on finding that this new institu-
tion was to be placed on a less liberal footing than
had originally been expected," Dr. Ir\ing withdrew
his application. Mention has already been made
of the intimacy he had formed while a student with
Dr. Anderson ; this had continued unimpaired, and

on June I, 1810, was ripened into a marriage with
Anne Margaret Anderson, the eldest daughter of
that worthy litterateur whose advice and example
had so influentially directed his career. But this
happy union was a brief one, as Mrs. Irving died
only two years subsequent to her marriage, after
giving birth to a son. When he had recovered from
the blow, her husband drew up a biography of the
deceased, under the title of A Memcn-ial of Anne
Margaret Aniierson, the W'ifeof Daz'iJ Ining, LL.D.,
in the form of a letter to Principal Brown of Aber-
deen, i6th August, 1S12. This short memoir was
printed in the following year, but only for private
circulation, and was accompanied with verses which
had been addressed to her while Miss Anderson by
Dr. Leyden, Dr. A. Murray, J. S., and David
Carey.

Although Dr. Irving, as has been already stated,
became a student of law, it appears to have been
rather for the purpose of enlarging his general know-
ledge than following it as a profession. He was
not the less disposed to turn it to practical account,
and as he received young gentlemen into his house
as boarders while they were attending the university,
he gave private instructions in civil law to such of
them as proposed to pass their examinations for the
purpose of becoming advocates. With the same
view he printed a tract for private circulation in
1S15, entitled Obsenations on the Study of the Cifil
La-L\ which was reprinted in 1S20, and afterwards
in 1S23. He also intended to publish the History
of Roman Jurisprudence, but finding no encourage-
ment, the purpose was abandoned. Soon after he
turned to what was perhaps a more congenial occu-
pation: this was a new edition of his Life of Buchanan,
which he so carefully revised and so greatly ampli-
fied as to make it almost a new work, and published
it in 1 81 7.

Although the study of law had as yet done so
little for him, it was now to bring its reward. In
March, 1S18, the office of principal librarian to the
Faculty of Advocates became vacant, and few offices
in Scotland could be more tempting to a person of
studious habits. The rich collection of books and
manuscripts, especially such as are connected with
the early history and literature of Scotland, which
their librar}- contains, and the respectable position,
competence, and leisure enjoyed by the librarian,
were enough to rouse the learned and talented of
our country to become competitors for such an office.
The librar)' also had drifted into such a state of con-
fusion, that it required a perfect master of books to
bring its contents into order ; and aware of this, the
Faculty of Advocates had increased the inducements,
so that there was no lack of distinguished men as
candidates. Among the foremost of these was Dr.
Ir^■ing, and although the election was delayed until
June, 1S20, he was chosen by a large majority. Still,
however, there was considerable discontent and de-
mur : it was alleged that, however learned. Dr.
Irving could not bring himself to the practical details
of his office ; that although so well acquainted with
books, he was deficient in the arts of classifying and
handling them ; and that without these personal
qualifications, which are so independent of scholar-
ship, he was not likely to prove a useful and prac-
tical librarian. In short, an experienced functionary
was wanted for the arrangement of the Library of
Advocates. Fortunately, however, it happened that
Dr. Renecke had offered to aid the new librarian,
by showing him the management of the Gottingen
librar)', and had proposed that for this purpose Dr.
Irving should pass the ensuing vacation at Gottingen.
The latter assented, and on repairing to this distin-

DAVID IRVING.

343

guished seat of German scholarship, he not only
learned the best methods of classifying a libran-, but
became acquainted with several of the most distin-
guished professors of the university of Gottingen.

In 1837 they sent him their diploma of Doctor of
Laws, in addition to that which had been conferred
on him by Marischal College, Aberdeen. On the
return of Dr. Irving from Germany, he entered a
second time into marriage, his partner on this occa-
sion being his second cousin Janet Laing, daughter
of Mr. Charles Laing, Canobie, whom he married
on the 28th of October, 1S20.

Having now a comfortable home and an amiable
helpmate, a situation that yielded an adequate pro-
vision for his lifetime, and duties that were both easy
and congenial, Dr. Ir^■ing had attained that fair ideal
in point of position which so many literary men sigh
for and seek in vain. But there was no remission in
his literan," labours except such as arose from his pro-
fessional duties, and both as author and editor, his
contributions in his own favourite department were
numerous and acceptable. For the IJannatjTie and
Maitland Clubs he edited, among other works, a
republication of Dempster's Historia Eccksiastica sh-e
de Scriptoribus Scotis, the similar work by Da\"id
Buchanan, prefaces to the metrical romance of Clarin-
dtis, the tragedy of Philotiis, and Henrysoii's Fables;
also biographical notices to an edition of the poems
of Alexander Montgomer}-, author of The Cherrie
and the Slae. But it was to the seventh edition of
the EitcyclopiTdia Britannka that his contributions
were the most abundant, extending from 1830 to
1842. They consisted of nearly all its biographical
articles connected with Scotland, besides the articles
on "Jurisprudence," "Canon Law," "Civil Law,"
and "Feudal Law ;" and from the biographies thus
supplied he prepared two volumes, which he pub-
lished in 1S39, entitled Lhes of Scottish Writers.
Two years earlier he published his Introduction to
the Study of Civil Law. The last publication which
he lived to complete and issue, was a new edition
of Selden^s Table-talk, with notes, which appeared
in 1854.

Although Dr. Irving abandoned his original inten-
tion of devoting himself to the work of the ministr}',
his secession appears to have been o\\-ing to personal
scruples rather than any doubt in the truths of Chris-
tianity. This was shown by the fact, that in his
earlier years he belonged to the congregation of the
Old Church, St. Giles, and that he afterwards passed
first to the New Gra\-friar's, and afterwards to St.
Stephen's parish during the incumbency of the Rev.
Dr. Muir, under whom he officiated for several years
as one of his elders. On the Disruption of 1S43
h*; left the Established for the Free Church, and
became an elder in Free St. John's Church, which
has for its ministers Dr. Guthrie and Dr. Hanna.
It was a happy circumstance, that although this
rending asunder of the national ecclesiastical estab-
lishment produced an alienation of feeling among the
members of the two rival churches, the alienation
was only temporarv', and after a short time the
parties were again at one in the friendly intercourse
of social life. Thus it was with Dr. Ir\-ing, whose
society with his literary associates, and the esteem in
which they held him, this violent religious transition
scarcely interrupted. A disruption that was more
immediately personal, and which separated him from
his beloved office, occurred in 1848. The curators
of the Advocates' Library having found it necessary
to make such changes in the establishment as would
require both active and laborious service. Dr. Irving,
in conformity with arrangements into which he
entered with them, resigned his office as keeper of

the librar)-, after he had held it for twenty-nine
years. It was a painful wrench from a locality in
which he had grown old, and the duties of which he
had discharged so ably and affectionately ; and his
life was thenceforth spent in his home. No. 6 Meadow
Place, a beautiful rural retirement in the outskirts
of Edinburgh, and within five minutes' walk of the
place of his late daily occupation. But he did not
subside into idleness by the change; on the contrar)',
both his physical and intellectual powers were as
active as ever, and his wonted labours in the study
were alternated with healthful walks in the surround-
ing Meadows. His memory also in dates, facts, and
subjects, for the readiness and accuracy of which he
had always been remarkable, was as vivid and exact
as before, while he was always willing to impart its
stores to ever)' literary inquirer. But it was his own
dwelling that was endeared to him with deeper in-
tensity after his separation from the Advocates' Lib-
rary ; and the cause of this is touchingly described
in his obituary in the Witness newspaper, written
by his minister Dr. Hanna. "That attachment,"
writes the eloquent biographer of Dr. Chalmers,
"which had here suffered such a violence, now
transferred itself with all its force to his own private
library, which he now nursed with double care. It
grew beneath that care. He has left about 7000
volumes, all in the most perfect order, many of them
rare and valuable — altogether one of the best private
collections that our city contains. It was among
these books he lived, and it was actually among them
that he died. Every upper room in his house was
clothed with book-shelves, his own among the rest.
He lay upon his death-bed surrounded with them.
Within a few hours of his decease his eye chanced
to rest upon a new edition of Whiston's yoscphus that
he had lately added to his stores. He asked his
daughter, who acted as his librarian, to hand him
one of the volumes. He took it tenderly into his
hands, turned it over and over again, regarding it
with a placid and benignant look. He tried to open
and to read it, but the feeble hands and eyes refused
the office. It fell out of his hands upon the bed.
His daughter took it up to replace it on the shelf.
His quick eye followed her, and noticed that, in her
haste, she had pushed it in too far. With something
like impatience he directed her to draw it out and
place it level with the rest. It was done as he di-
rected, and he was pleased. It was his last earthly
act."

Thus Dr. Ir\ing passed away, and like the old
northern heroes it might be said of him, that he died
in harness, and strong in his ruling passion to the
last. His death occurred on the loth of May, i860,
in the eighty-second year of his age. By his second
marriage he had two sons and two daughters. His
eldest son, James, is a surgeon in the East India
Company's service, and his second, David, who was
an ensign in the 17th regiment of Native Infantry-,
died in Sinde at the age of twenty-one. A work
of Ir^-ing, which was not published until after his own
death, was his History of Scottish Poetry, which he
had been preparing for the press so early as 1828,
but which he appears to have afterwards laid aside.
It was thought, however, too valuable by his literary
executors to remain in MS., and accordingly it was
published in 1861, edited by John Aitken Carlyle,
M.D., and with a memoir of the author prefixed by
David I^ing, LL. D., of the Signet's Library, from
which the facts of this biographical notice are de-
rived.

In personal appearance Dr. Irving was tall, stately,
and strongly built, and these advantages of person
were set off by a careful attention to dress, so that

344

EDWARD IRVING.

he always appeared in a full costume of black, which
he wore to the end of his days. This peculiarity,
with his upright fij;ure and dij^nified but somewhat
formal step, were in complete accordance with the
style of his writings, which was always vigorous,
often eloquent, but pervadetl throughout with a
preciseness which occasionally was mistaken for
peilantry and affectation. To strangers, his manner
was colli and his language stern and abrapt ; but
those who knew him intimately \vere aware how
completely he could unbend in conversation, espe-
cially when the favourite subjects of his study were
the topic. But it is with his literary character that
we have chiefly to do, and this is discriminately
sketched by Dr. Laing in the following words: "As
an author, Dr. Irving in all his works exliibits no
common degree of learning and research, combined
with great clearness and precision of language, along
with critical sagacity and minute accuracy in his
statements. His research did not lead him to any
laborious examination of unpublished sources of in-
formation ; his faculty lay rather in availing himself
of all that had previously been discovered, for which
he was so well qualified by his familiar acquaintance
with the standard literature both of ancient and
modern times. His critical knowledge of ancient
authors and of literary history has seldom been
equalled in this country. But these qualities, and
the care bestowed in the choice of words and the
construction of his sentences, have imparted a certain
degree of formality to his style. As a learned, ac-
curate, and successful labourer in the field of literary
biography, it is not, however, too much to assert,
that Dr. Irving's name will always be remembered
in Scotland."

IRVING, Rev, Edward, A.M. This remark-
able pulpit orator, and founder of a sect, was born
in Annan, Dumfriesshire, in the year 1792. His
family was originally from France, but had long been
settled in the west of Scotland. His father, (iavin
Irving, followed the business of a tanner, in which
he was so successful that he became a substantial
burgess in Annan, and possessed considerable landed
property in the neighbourhood of the town. The
mother of Edward Irving was Mary Lowther, daugh-
ter of one of the heritors of Dornock. She had
three sons, of whom Edward was the second, and
five daughters ; but the male part of her family
died before her; the eldest in the East Indies, the
youngest in London, and the seconil in Glasgow.
Edward Irving's earliest teacher was an aged matron
named .Margaret I'aine, an aunt of the too celebrated
Thomas I'aine, whom, it was said, she had also
taught to reatl; and thus, at different extremes of her
life, if the statement may be received, she was the
instructress of two men entirely unlike in character,
but both remarkable for their religious aberrations.
From her charge Edward Irving passed to that of
Mr. Adam Hope, an excellent teacher of English
and the classics; but his progress as a school-boy
gave little promise of the talents which he afterwards
manifested. From Annan he went as a student to
tlie university of Edinburgh, and there Ills jiroficiency
in mathematics was so distinguished, that before he
had reached the age of seventeen he was recom-
mended by Professor Leslie as the fittest person to
teach that department of science in an academy at
Haddington. After having occupied this situation
for a year, he was translated to a similar office in the
larger establishment at Kirkcaldy, where he also
kept boarders and employed his leisure hours in
private tuition. In this way he was occupied nearly
seven years at Kirkcaldy, attending the divinity hall

of Edinburgh as what is termed an "irregular stu-
dent;" that is to say, giving attendance a certain num-
ber of weeks annually for six years, instead of four
comidete winters; this accommodation being made in
favour of those students for the church who occupy
settled situations at a distance from the college.
During all this period his application to study must
have been intense, and his progress considerable,
though silent and unobtrusive. (Jf this he after-
wards gave full proof, by his acquaintance with seve-
ral of the living languages, as well as the wide range
which his reading had comprised. At an early
period, also, the subject of religion had occupied much
of his solicitude; and when only seventeen years old
he was appointed one of the directors of a missionary
society. This fact he afterwards stated more than
once, when his violent invectives against the secu-
larity of missions made his attachment to missionary
enterprise itself be called in question.

After completing the appointed course of study,
Mr. Irving was licensed as a preacher in his native
town of Annan. But the prospect of a church was
dim and distant, for he had secured no patron; in-
deed, even long before, he had regarded patronage
as the great abomination of the Kirk of Scotland,
while in those days popular suffrage went but a little
way in the election of a minister. The inaction of
an unpatronized probationer was however too much
for one of his chivalrous love of enterprise, and he
resolved to become a missionar)', and follow the foot-
steps of Henry Martyn. Persia was to be the field
of his labour; and he began to qualify himself by
studying the languages of the East. It was perhaps
as well that the experiment of what effect a career
in the "land of the sun" would have produced upon
such an inflammable brain and sturdy indejjendent
spirit was not to be tried. At all events, it is certain
that his course would have been out of the ordinary
track, whether for evil or for good. \Vhile thus em-
ployed, he was invited by Dr. Andrew Thomson to
preach for him in St. George's Church, Edinburgh,
with the information that he would have Dr. Chal-
mers, then in search of an assistant, for his auditor.
Mr. Irving complied; but after weeks had elapsed,
in which he heard nothing further of Dr. Chalmers,
he threw himself at haphazard into a steam-vessel at
Greenock, resolving to go wherever it carried him,
previous to his departure for the East, on which he
had now fully determined. He landed at Belfast,
and rambled for two or three weeks over the north
of Ireland, where he associated with the peasantry,
slept in their cabins, and studied with intense interest
the striking peculiarities of the Irish character. Dur-
ing this eccentric tour, a letter reached him at Coler-
aine that quickly brought his ramble to a close: it
was a letter from Dr. Chalmers inviting him to
Cdasgow, for the purpose of becoming his assistant.
To the great metropolis of northern commerce he
accordingly hurried; and true to his anti-patronage
principles, which were now brought to the test, he
stipulated that he should be proved and accepted by
the people as well as their minister, before he entered
the assistantship. The trial was made and was suc-
cessful. Dr. Chalmers himself had made the choice,
and this was enough to satisfy the most scrupulous.

It would have been difficult to have selected a pair
so unlike each other, and yet so congenial, as Dr.
Chalmers and his assistant. The latter, now twenty-
eight years old, had at last found a sphere in which
he could display, not only his striking advantages of
person, but his cherished peculiarities of disposition.
There was therefore, even already, a measured state-
liness in his bearing, and authoritative accent in his
conversation, that were in full keeping with his tall

EDWARD IRVING.

345

figure, rich deep-toned voice, and remarkable Sal-
vaior Rosa countenance; and although the onlooker
felt as if there was something too artificial and melo-
dramatic in all this, yet he was obliged to confer
withal that it sat gracefiiUy upon him, although it
would have suited no other man. But what a con-
trast to Dr. Chalmers, the very personification of
unstudied, unaffected simplicity ! This contrast, so
startling, but yet so amusing, was especially per-
ceptible in a crowded company. The Doctor gene-
rally sat with all the timidity of a maiden, and was
silent imless addressed, or even dragged into con-
versation; but as for his assistant —

" Stately stepp'd he east die ha'.
And staxely stepp'd he west.''

He was too impatient to be at rest, and too fiill of
stirring thoughts to be silent; while the eloquence of
his continuous stream of conversation, or rather dis-
course, made him alwaj-s sure of a willing audience
with Chalmers himself at their head. This very
circumstance of contrast, however, is often the strong-
est ground of affection; and it was delightfiil to wit-
n^ the cordiality with which the pair moved to-
gether through their conmion duties in St. John's
parish. As a preacher, indeed, ^Ir. Irving enjoyed
no great share of popularity; and for this two reasons
may be assigned. In the pulpit of Dr. Chalmers
the established standard of excellence was so high
that no preacher but himself could reach iL Mr.
Irving's peculiarities also, both of manner and style,
which were afterwards such a rich treat to the people
of London, were too highly seasoned for the simple
tastes of the Glasgow citizens. It was chiefly among
the students, who were able to appreciate the sterling
worth of his sermons, that he was popular; and by
many of these competent critics he was reckoned
scarcely inferior to Chalmers himself. But it was in
pastoral visitation that Mr. Irving was best appreci-
ated, both by Dr. Chalmers and the community at
large. And, indeed, for such a duty he was admir-
ably fitted, for the dark places of St. John's parish
were crowded with that sort of people who are sel-
dom insensible to such personal advantages as he
poss^sed; and while his kindness soothed the af-
flicted and encouraged the timid, his n^al bearing
or reproving frown could dismay the profligate and
sQence the profane. His warm-hearted o|>en-handed
benevolence kept pace with his zeal, so that among
the poor of that populous but indigent district he was
enthusiastically beloved. On one occasion, indeed,
he manifested in a striking maimer that utter disre-
gard of money which he entertained to the close of
his life. He had received, by the bequest of a de-
parted relative, a legacy amounting to some hundreds
of pounds. He threw the mammon into an open
desk; and without keeping count of it, was wont, in
his daily rounds, to famish himself with a sheaf of
these notes, which he doled among the poor of his
people trntU the whole sum was spent, which very
soon was the case.

-\fter living three years in Glasgow as assistant to
Dr. Chalmers — the happiest portion, we doubt not,
of his life, and perhaps also the most usefiil — a change
occurred, by which Mr. Irving was to burst into fiill
notoriety. Already he had l^en offered a call to a
church in Kingston, Jamaica, which he would have
accepted had he not been dissuaded by his relatives.
He also, it was said, had got the offer of a living in
one of the coU^iate charge of Scotland, but refused
it on account of his conscientious feelings regarding
patronage. Now, however, instead of obscure exile.
he was to be called into the vast and stirring world
of London, and become a minister there independent
of the presentation of a patron. A Presbyterian

chapel in Cross Street, Hatton Garden, attached to
the Caledonian As)-ium, was at this time not only
without a minister, but without a congregation ; and
a popular preacher was needed to fill both pulpit
and pews. One of the directors of the asylum had
heard of Mr. Irving, and judged him the finest per-
son for the emergency: he represented the case to
his brethren in office, and in consequence Mr. Irving
was inviied to London to preach before them. This
was the kind of election that suited him, and he
preached four Sundays in Hatton Garden with such
acceptance to the handful of auditors that he received
a lu^monious rail to enter upon the charge. The
only difficulty in his way was an old statute, by which
the Scotch minister of Hatton Garden was obliged
to preach in Gaelic as well as English; but this diffi-
culty was soon got rid of through the influence of the
Duke of York, the patron of the institution ; and in
August, 1S22, Mr. Irving commenced his clerical
duties as minister.

Few sights could have been more interesting than
the growth of his popularitj- from such a small grain
of mustard-seed. On the first day he seemed daunted
as he stepped from the vestry to ascend the pulpit,
at the array of empty seats bdTore him, and the very
scanty number of his congregation; he had never
seen the like in Scotland, and for a moment he
turned pale: this, then, was his sphere of action,
upon which he had prepared to enter with such tre-
mulous hope and fears I Besides this, his church,
by its locality alone, was most unlikely to force itself
upon public notice, being situated in an unknown
and imtrodden street, upon the very edge of the
Alsatia of Saffion Hill and Fleet Ditch; and, as if
this was not enough, the building itself was at the
extremity of an obscure court off the street, where
no one, however curious, would have been likely to
search for a place of worship. And yet his four
Sabbaths of probation had not passed when there
was a perceptible change. Strangers who happened
to stroll into Cross Street in the course of their
Sunday wanderings pased an open gate, and were
arrested by the far-off tones of a deep, rich, solemn
voice, that came like distant music to the ear; and
on crossing the court with cautious steps, and peep-
ing into the church, they saw a colossal man, of
about six feet three, who, in this heart-subduing tone,
and with commanding impressive gestures correspon-
dent to the voice, was addressing them in a style of
appeal such as they had never heard before. Could
they retreat and walk idly away? — it was imjxjssible;
and therefore they sat down, and listened entranced,
while the next Sabbath and the next was sure to find
them returning, until they became a part of the flock.
And it was not enough that they were themselves
delighted; they must have others also either to share
in their delight or justify their preference; so that
every new comer brought his kinsfolks and acquaint-
ances to hear this wondrous st\-le of pulpit oratory.
Thus the congregation grew with a rapidity that in
a few weeks filled the bmlding. But here the popu-
lar admiration did not pause. The strange advent
in Hatton Garden attracted the notice of journalists;
reporters firom every metropolitan paper hurried to
the spot; and in consequence of their published
manifestoes, the fashion, the literature, and the sight-
seeing spirit of London were roused to their inmost
depths, and borne onward to the hitherto unknown
region of Hatton Garden. On the Sabbath morn-
ing Cross Street was filled — nay, wedged — with
crested and coronet ed carriages; and a torrent of
lords, senators, and merchant-princes, of duchesses
and ladies of fashion, might be seen mingled pell-
mell with shopkeepers and mechanics, all sweeping

346

across the open court, so that the churcli was filled
in a Iwinkliiij;; while disaiipointed hundreds pressed
towarils the porch, and clustered like bees round the
open windows, to catch the swellint; tones of the
speaker, even if his words should be inaudible. It
was a sudden growth — was it to pass away as sud-
denly? When mere curiosity is thus agog, the only
Sueslion is, with how many trials will it rest satis-
eil.
We must now turn to the object of this dangerous
experiment — to Mr. Irving himself, liven at his
earliest entrance into Glasgow he had shown that he
was no ordinary man. But he had done more, for
he had shown his determination not to be confounded
with ordinary mortals. Even his conversation, there-
fore, as well as his style of preaching, was evidently
with the aim to astonish; and he was not satisfied
with a striking idea unless It was also arrayed in
striking language. And this aim, so faulty in a
common orator, but absolutely sinful in a preacher,
insteatl of being repressed, was nourished into full
growth in London, amidst the hot atmosphere of his
new popularity; so that his pulpit style assumed a
luxuriance and rankness such as no oratory of the
day could parallel. It was the language of the si.x-
teenth century engrafted upon the nineteenth; the
usages, the objects, and the wants of the present day
embodied in the phraseology of a long-departed style
of life. The same aiming at singularity was percept-
ible in his attitudes, which disdained the simple rules
of elocution; in his dress, which imitated the prim-
ness of the ancient Puritans; and even his dark shaggy
locks, which he kept unpruned until they rivalled
the lion's mane, and from which he was wont to
shake warnings of most ominous significance. Pie
had gone to London with the determination of being
noticed, admired, and wondered at; and all this was
but the fulfilment of his purpose. Gladly, however,
we reverse the picture. In the first place, this outre
manner, which would have sat so ludicrously upon
any ordinary man, was in him so set off by his ap-
pearance, that, while the many delighted in it as
something rich and new, the fastidious and the critical
suspected that after all it was nothing more than the
true natural expression of such a singular personage.
In this way even the sesquipedalian words and roll-
ing sentences of his oratory were in full keeping with
the deep thunder of his voice and majestic swing of
his arm; while the most startling of his assertions
were enforced by the singular squint of one of his
eyes, that rivetted the attention with a sort of mes-
meric jjower. IJut better far than ail this, there was
a fertility and richness of mind in Mr. Irving that
would have made him remarkable under any circum-
stances; so that, while he imitated the ancient masters
of England in his cpiaint phraseology, and stern ab-
rupt sim|)licity, he resembled them in the more
valuable (pialities of profound thought, vivid ima-
gination, and fearless uncompromising honesty as a
preacher of the Word. It was evident, in short, that
while he wished to be an Elijah the Tishbite or
John the liaptist, he was also animated by their
righteous intrepidity, that would utter the most un-
palatable truths, let them be received as they might.
But was a crowded gay metropolis, instead of the
wilderness, a fit place for such a John or I^ijah?
We shall soon see.

Hitherto Mr. Irving had not been known as an
author; his only proiluction from the press which he
acknowledged being a farewell discourse to the con-
gregation of St. John's at his departure to London.
He was now, however, to give the public an oppor-
tunity of testing his powers, and ascertaining whether
the popularity that crowned him had been justly be-

EDW.\RD IRVIXG.

stowed. He had scarcely been a year in London
when he published a collection of sermons in a
closely ]:)rinted octavo volume of 600 pages. These
discourses, which had already been iireached in
Ilatton Garden, he afterwards prepared for the press;
and as no ordinary title-page was sufficient for him,
the work was thus inscribed, For the Oracles of God,
Four Orations: for yudgmcnt to Come, an Argument
in A'iiie Parts. They were not sennons, he wished
them to be considered something better; and the
quaint title with which they startled the first glance
of the reader had cost him no little deliberation.
And yet they were sermons after all. It must be
acknowledged, however, that as such they were no
ordinary productions; for with all their literary faults
and oddities, they contained an amount of rich ori-
ginal thought and stirring eloquence such as few
pulpit productions of the present day can exhibit.
This was indeed apparent at the first opening of the
volume, where the following magnificent exordium
caught the eye and rivetted the attention. It would
be difficult, however, to conceive its full power when
it was first delivered in the pulpit, and when it pealed
upon the ears of the congregation like the stately
solemn sound of a church-organ uttering the notes
of the Te Dcum: —

"There was a time when each revelation of the
Word of God had an introduction into this earth
which neither permitted men to doubt whence it
came nor wherefore it was sent. If, at the giving
of each several truth, a star was not lighted up in
heaven, as at the birth of the Prince of truth, there
was done upon the earth a wonder to make her chil-
dren listen to the message of their Maker. The
Almighty made bare his arm, and through mighty
acts shown by his holy servants gave demonstration
of his truth, and found for it a sure place among the
other matters of human knowledge and belief.

"But now the miracles of God have ceased, and
nature, secure and unmolested, is no longer called
on for testimonies to her Creator's voice. No burn-
ing bush draws the footsteps to his presence cham-
ber; no invisible voice holds the ear awake; no hand
cometh forth from the obscure to write his purposes
in letters of flame. The vision is shut up, and the
testimony is sealed, and the word of the Lord is
ended; and this solitary volume, with its chapters
and verses, is the sum total of all for which the
chariot of heaven made so many visits to the earth,
and the Son of God himself tabernacled and dw^elt
among us."

The announcement of a work from the press by
the Rev. Edward Irving acted upon the critics as a
view-halloo does upon a band of huntsmen beating
about for game, but at a loss as to its whereabouts.
As yet they had got nothing but the tidings of the
diurnals, and the scraps of the penny-a-liners, which
they had regarded as the mere yelping of the curs of
the pack; but now the start was made in earnest, and
off went the hunters in full cry. Never, indeed, had
a volume of sermons, even from Chalmers himself,
excited such a stir, and every review was immediately
at work, from the Jupiter Tonans of the quarterly,
to the small shrill \\liisllc of the weekly periodical.
And never, perhaps, on any one occasion was criti-
cism so perplexed and contradictory, so that Mr.
Irving was represented as the truest of talented men
and tile most deceptive of quacks — a profound thinker
and a shallow smatterer — a Demosthenes of the real
sublime, and a Bombastes P'urioso of mere sound
and nonsense. It often happened, too, that the very
same paragraphs which were quoted by one set of
critics as masterpieces of eloquence, were adduced
by another class to prove that his oratory was nothing

EDWARD IRVING.

347

bill sheer noise and emptiness. And whereabouts
lay the truth? With both parties. Scarcely was
there an excellence attributecl to him which he had
not manifested, or a defect of which he had not been
guilty; and the work itself, after the personal interest
excited by its author had passed away, was dispas-
sionately tried, and ii^ spite of its manifold excel-
lencies consigned to oblivion. As it was, however,
such was its immediate reception, that six months
after its appearance a third edition was in demand,
which he prepared accordingly, with the following
defiance to his reviewers in the preface: —

"I do now return thanks to God that he hath
saved these speculations (whatever they be) from llie
premature grave into which the aristocracy of criti-
cism would have hastened them; and that two large
editions are now before the world, which can judge
for itself whether the work be for its edification or
not. I have been abused in every possible way, be-
yond the lot of ordinary men, which, when I con-
sider the quarters whence it hath come, I regard as
an extraordinaiy honour. I know too well in whom
I have believed to be shaken by the opposition of
wits, critics, and gentlemen of taste, and I am too
familiar with the endurance of Christians, from Christ
downwards, to be tamed by paper warfare, or inti-
midated by the terrors of a goose-quill. Even as a
man I could have shaken a thousand such unseen
shapeless creatures away from me, and taken the
privilege of an author of the old English school, to
think what I pleased, and write what I thought; and
most patiently could I have borne exile from the
ranks of taste and literature, if only the honest men
would have taken me in. But as a Christian, God
knoweth, I pray for their unregenerate souls, and
for this nation which harboureth such fountains of
poison, and is content to drink at them. Their
criticisms show that they are still in the gall of
wickedness and the bonds of iniquity, and I recom-
mend them once more to look unto themselves, and
have mercy upon their own souls.''

But the head and front of Mr. Irving's literary
offences, and the chief subject of merriment or con-
demnation with his judges, had been his antiquated
style of English — his obvious imitation of the great
masters of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
Upon this point, therefore, he was most earnest to
defend himself; and for this purpose he states that
Hooker, Taylor, and Baxter in theology — Bacon,
Newton, and Locke in philosophy — and Shakspeare,
Spencer, and Milton in poetry, had been the chief
objects of his study. " They were the fountains,"
he adds, "of my English idiom; they taught me
forms for expressing my feelings; they showed me
the construction of sentences, and the majestic flow
of continuous discourse. I perceived a sweetness in
every thought, and a harmony in joining thought to
thought; and through the whole there ran a strain
of melodious feeling which ravished the soul, as vocal
melody ravisheth the ear. Their books were to me
like a concert of every sweet instrument of the soul,
and heart, and strength, and mind. They seemed
to think, and feel, and imagine, and reason all at
once; and the result is to take the whole man captive
in the chains of sweetest persuasion." Having thus,
as he opines, completely exonerated himself by such
sacred examples, Mr. Irving again turns with tenfold
ardour upon those thoughtless critics who, in pro-
nouncing his condemnation, had condemned not only
him, but the honoured company in whicli they found
him. The following is but a portion of his terrible
objurgation: —

" ' They are not akvays in taste!' But who is this
taste, and where are his works, that we may try what

right he hatli to lift his voice against such gifted men?
This taste, which plays such a part in these times,
is a bugbear, an ideal terror, whose dominion is
defended by newspaper scribblers, reviewers, pam-
phleteers, and every nameless creature. His troops
are like king David's: 'Every one that is in distress,
every one that is in debt, eveiy one that is discon-
tented.' And what are his manifestoes? — paragraphs
in the daily papers, articles in magazines, and cri-
tiques in reviews. And how long do they last? — a
day, a week, a month, or some fraction of a year —
aye and until the next words of the oracle are uttered.
And what becomes of the oracles of the dreaded
power? — they die faster than they are born; they die,
and no man regardeth them."

Such was but one specimen among many of the
magnificent disdain with which Mr. Irving could
trample down whatever withstood him in his career.
Strong in the uprightness of his own purpose, and
with his eye exclusively fixed upon the goal, he re-
garded everything that crossed his path as an unhal-
lowed obstacle, and treated it accordingly. It need
not be added, that his critics whom he chastised so
roughly, were by no means disposed either to accord
with his views, or submit in silence to the scorn with
which he elbowed them aside; and, accordingly,
they treasured up the injury for future count and
reckoning. In the meantime two events important
in the life of a clergyman had taken place with Mr.
Irving. The first was his marriage. It will be re-
collected that, when a mere stripling, he had been
settled at Kirkcaldy, where he not only taught in the
academy, but gave lessons as a private tutor in the
town. One of his pupils was Miss Isabella Martin,
daughter of the Rev. John Martin, one of the min-
isters of Kirkcaldy; and between this young couple,
so employed, a mutual attachment sprang up, which
led to an engagement of marriage as soon as the un-
patronized teacher should be provided with a living.
Mr. Irving never lost sight, amidst the uncertainties
that followed, and the blaze of beauty and fashion
by which he was afterwards idolized in London, of
the sacred compact of his youthful days; and accord-
ingly, as soon as he was permanently settled in the
metropolis, he hied down to Kirkcaldy, and returned
with his long-expecting bride. Stories, of course,
were rife at the time of more than one lady of rank
and fortune who would willingly have taken her
place, to be the partner of such a goodly man, and
eloquent widely-famed divine. The other event was
the building of a new church for the crowds that
had settled under his ministiy. The chapel in
Hatton Garden, which, at his arrival, did not muster
more than fifty hearers, had, at the end of three
months, about fifteen hundred applicants for church-
sittings, although the building could scarcely have
accommodated half the number. And this, too, ir-
respective of the unnumbered crowds that thronged
round the walls, unable to find standing-room, or
even a footing upon the threshold. The necessity of
a larger building was urgent, and preparations were
promptly adopted, which were so successful that the
Scotch National Church in Regent Square was com-
menced, which was finally completed in 1829 — a
stately building, capable of accommodating at least
2000 persons.

In the meantime, how fared the popularity of
Edward Irving? A "nine- days' wonder" has gene-
rally a still shorter date in London, and he who can
sustain it beyond that point must have something
within him worth more than merely to be wondered
at. Mr. Irving's, however, continued, with little
visible abatement, for nearly two years; and although
much of this was owing to the fact that only a limited

EDWARD IRVING.

348

number could hear him at one time, while myriads
waited for tlicir turn, much was also owing to his
solid sterling qualities, about which there could
neither be controversy nor mistake. His peculiarities
were innumerable, from the stilted style of his ora-
tory down to the squint of his eye; while each was
the subject of discussions innumerable, botli in con-
versation and print. And yet, with all this, one
fact was incontestable, which was, that he was the
most eloquent and original jjreacher in London, and
li\is even his maligners were compelled to confess.
But, unfortunately, a fault was growing upon him
for which no human eloquence can atone. lie was
now becoming proli.K — prolix to a degree which no
mortal jiatience, in modern life at least, can well en-
dure. It was not unusual with him to give an open-
ing prayer of an hour long, and follow it by a ser-
mon that took at least two hours in the delivery.
This, too, was not only in the earlier part of the day,
but in the evening also. It was a trial which mere
hunters in quest of pulpit popularity could not sus-
tain, and therefore the crowd melted away, and left
him in undisturbed possession of his own regular
auditory. And even they, too, much as they ad-
mired and loved him, were growing restive at ser-
vices by which their attention was worn out and
their domestic arrangements subverted. But this
Mr. Irving could not understand; with him it was
enough that what he felt it his duty to preach, it was
the duty of his people to hear. The tide had reached
its height, and the ebb was commencing. Such was
the state of matters when he was invited to preach
the anniversary sermon of the London Missionary
Society, in May, 1824. He complied, and on the
14th he preached in Tottenham Court Chapel, on
Mat. X. 5-42. He was still, with every drawback,
by far the most popular preacher in London; so that,
notwithstanding a heavy continued rain, the spacious
building was filled at an early hour. But on this
occasion he outdid even his wonted prolixity. Twice
he was obliged to rest in the delivery of his almost
interminable sermon, during which the congregation
sang a few verses of a hymn ; and when it was pub-
lished it occupied 130 large and closely printed pages,
while the dedication and preface bulked the volume
into thirty pages more.

But faults more serious than that of lengthiness
pervaded this unfortunate discourse, and made Mr.
Irving's best friends wish that it had been unpub-
lished, and even unpreached. It was his practice,
like other men of ardent minds, to see too exclusively,
and condemn too unsparingly, whatever error he
detected ; and the exaggerated language which he
used on such occasions was more fitted to irritate
than persuade. Such was his fault in the present
instance. He thought there was too much secularity
and self-seeking in tiie management of missions, and
was impatient to announce the fact and point out a
better mode of action; but wound up exclusively in
this one idea, his discourse looked too much like a
violent condemnation of all modern missionary enter-
prise whatever. After having sorely handled the
missionary directors, and the missionaries themselves,
as if they had been mere hucksters of religious truth,
and sordid speculators, who thought of nothing per-
taining to the sanctuary but its shekels, he proceeded
to propound the remedy. And this was tenfold more
extravagant than his exposure of the offence. All
money provision for missions was to be foregone,
and all prudential considerations in their manage-
ment given to the winds. Missionaries were to be
considered as the veritable successors of the seventy,
and, like them, therefore, were to be sent forth with-
out money and without scrip. It was enough for

them that they were to be wafted to their destina-
tion, and thrown upon its shores, after which they
were to go fonvard nothing doubting. The world
had been thus converted already, and thus it would
be converted again. He forgot that the seventy
were sent on this occasion, <iot into heathen and
savage countries, but to the towns and villages of
their own Judea; while their commission was simply
to announce their Master's coming, and prepare the
people for his arrival. This, however, was not
enough for Mr. Irving. His missionary must go
forth in faith, without a farthing for his journey, or
even a purse to hold it. It was only by thus making
himself nothing that the sacred cause could be-
come all in all; and in proportion to his trials and
necessities would be the greatness and number of the
miracles by which he would be assuredly relieved.
Who does not see in all this the germ of that strange
system of religious error of which Mr. Irving was
afterwards the hierophant? Becoming every day
more impatient of the world of reality, he was hun-
gering and thirsting for miracles; and these any man
whatever in such a mood is sure either to make or
find. But another fact almost equally significant in
this published sermon, or, as he called it, "oration,"
was its dedication to S. T. Coleridge, a man cer-
tainly of rich original mind and splendid endow-
ments, and yet not the fittest guide for so enthusi-
astic a theologian as Mr. Irving. But the latter
thought otherwise; and, discarding all his former
preceptors, he now sat at the feet of this eloquent
mystic, in the new character of a silent, humble lis-
tener.

The signals of a downward course had thus been
given, and the thoughtful friends of Mr. Irving looked
on with sad anxiety. His popularity also was wear-
ing out, and he might be tempted into some strange
measure to revive it. A change was evidently at
hand, but what was to be its commencement? As
yet he was unprepared for a departure from his old
standards, or the promulgation of a new doctrine.
But the field of prophecy lay temptingly in his way
— that field which has been common to expositors
for eighteen centuries, and in which every one has
been held free to entertain his own opinion. Here,
then, lay the allurement, and for this also he had for
some time been unconsciously under a course of
training. In 1824 he had met, in company, Mr.
Ilatley Frere — a gentleman whose mind was much
employed in the exposition of the book of Daniel and
the Apocalypse, and by whom he was asked to take
a walk into the fields on the breaking up of the party.
As they strolled along, Mr. P'rere took the oppor-
tunity of expounding his views on the fulfilment of
prophecy, and found in Irving a willing auditor.
After a year they again met, when the subject was
resumed, and Irving listened with the same docility
which he was wont to bestow upon Coleridge. He
had now found a new guide to direct as well as a
new theme to interest him. Thus stood matters
when he was invited to preach the anniversary ser-
mon of the Continental Society in 1825. And will
it be believed that, on this occasion, he plunged right
downwards into a new interpretation of prophecy?
A few conversations with Frere, who, as he thought,
had furnished him with the right key, and his own
miscellaneous readings upon the subject, were enough
to qualify him as a guide upon a path where so many
thousands had erreil! The "oration," as may well
be supposed, was perplexing in the extreme ; and
while some of his audience thought that he was ad-
vocating Catholic emancipation, others thought that
he was battling against it. Some of the leading
members of the committee had not even patience to

EDWARD IKVIXG.

349

wait the issue of the question, but left the church
before the sermon was finished. To set himself
right with the public, as well as announce his new
interpretation, Mr. Irving published the substance
of this sermon, which swelled, as he wrote, into a
work of voluminous bulk, under the title of Babylon
and Infidelity I'oredoonicd of God. He was the first
expositor who ventured to connect particular predic-
tions with the events of the French Revolution. Ac-
cording to him, the Papacy commenced in A.i). 533,
which, with the 1260 prophetic days or years of its
continuance, brings Popery down to the year 1793,
the year when the French Revolution commenced, at
which date Mr. Irving considers the reign of Popery
to have been superseded by that of Infidelity, and
the judgments upon Babylon to have commenced.
From that period to the date of his preaching, com-
prising a period of thirty years, si.\ vials, as he
imagined, had been poured out upon the seat of the
Beast. The seventh and last vial, which was re-
served for the destruction of infidelity, he calculated
would occupy forty-five years more, thus bringing
the consummation of judgment to the year 1868,
when the millennial kingdom was to commence on
earth, with Christ himself, and in person, as its sove-
reign.

Such is but a brief sketch of that system expository
of the fulfilment of prophecy into which Ii"ving now
threw himself with headlong ardour, and of which
he talked as if it were the sum and substance of re-
velation. His pulpit rang with it, and with it alone ;
his whole conversation was imbued with it ; and
while his fervent imagination revelled with almost
superhuman excitement among pictures of Arma-
geddon and the millennium, the Inferno and Para-
diso of his preaching, his finger incessantly pointed
to the year 1868 as the date emblazoned upon the
heavens themselves, at which all old things were to
pass away, and all things become new. And with
what desire he longed to live to this year, that he
might behold its glories with his own bodily eyes I
Besides his work, also, of Bahylo)i and Infidelity
Foredoomed of God, his active pen was soon resumed
upon the same subject. In the course of his studies
on the completion of prophecy, he had met with a
production that in some measure accorded with his
own views. This was a large work written by a
Spanish ecclesiastic, who shrouded his liberal and
Protestant sentiments under the character and name
of a Jewish convert, to escape a controversy with the
Inquisition; and, deeming it well worth the notice
of the British public, Mr. Irving immediately studied
the Spanish language, translated the volume into
English, and published it in 1827 under the title of
" The Coming of the Messiah in Glory and Majesty,
by Juan Josafat Ben Ezra, a Converted Jew." It
was not long before his zeal and eloquence procured
many converts to his opinions, who held their stated
meetings at Albury, near Guildford, in Surrey, in
the mansion of Mr. Drummond, the banker, a warm
friend and coadjutor of Mr. Irving. The result of
these meetings was given to the world by Mr. Drum-
mond, in three volumes, entitled Dialogues on Pro-
phecy. A quarterly periodical, also, called the
Morning Watch, was soon commenced by the "Al-
bury School of Prophets" and their supporters, in
which their peculiar views about prophecy and the
millennium were advocated and illustrated with great
talent and plausibility.

Well would it have been for Mr. Irving if he had
now stopped short. As yet his views, if eccentric,
had been comparatively harmless ; and even if his
calculations had been erroneous, he had only failed
in a subject where such men as Bacon, Napier, Sir

Isaac Newton, and Winston had been in fault. But
here he could not stop. He had commenced as an
independent expounder of prophecy, and he must
needs be the same in doctrine also. It w^as about
the year 1827 that he was observed to preach
strange sentiments respecting the human nature of
our blessed Redeemer, as if the Holy One, while on
earth, had been peccable like any son of Adam, al-
though completely sinless in thought, word, and
deed. It may be that his ideas of the second ad-
vent of Christ in 1868, and the nature of the mil-
lennial reign which was then to commence, had thus
secularized and degraded his conceptions respecting
the second person of the Godhead. His first public
annunciation of these most culpable opinions was
before the London Society for the Distribution of
"Gospel Tracts," in whose behalf he preached a
collection-sermon. Many of his hearers were aston-
ished, and not a few shuddered. He still continued
to preach upon the same subject, at every step enter-
ing into additional error, until a heresy was fully or-
ganized, which he fearlessly published to the world
in 1828, in a work of three volumes, closely printed
in octavo, entitled Sermons, Lectures, a7id Occasional
Discourses. These discourses, and his new creed,
one might think, should have been immediately fol-
lowed by trial and deposition. But heresy is a diffi-
cult subject even for the grasp of a church-court, as
it does not always %vear a sufficiently tangible and
specific form. Besides, it was not always easy, from
Mr. Irving's language, to ascertain the full amount
and nature of his meaning. On every subject he
spoke as if there was no degree of comparison but
the superlative. He soon, however, received a
silent but significant warning. Having gone down
to Scotland in 1829, he was desirous of the honour of
a seat in the General Assembly, and was nominated
a ruling elder for that purpose by his native burgh
of Annan. But the Assembly refused the appoint-
ment. His heretical sentiments were already too
well known, and would of themselves have been
sufficient for his rejection. But the refusal of the
venerable court was founded upon a more merciful
principle; as a non-resident in the kingdom of Scot-
land, and as an ordained minister beyond its bounds,
he could not at that time take his seat as a ruling
elder among them. During this tour Mr. Irving
was not otherwise unoccupied ; and in Dumfries and
its neighbourhood he preached in the open air, and
in a style that astonished his sober-minded countiy-
men. His sermons on these occasions comprised all
his errors in doctrine, and all his singularities of ex-
position, from the downfal of Popery and the pecca-
bility of our Saviour's human nature, to the millennial
reign and the restoration of all things, whether ani-
mal, vegetable, or mineral — from man, the lord of
creation, to the crawling wonn or the senseless stone.
But even farther yet Mr. Irving was to go. A
strange religious frenzy had commenced at Row and
Port-Glasgow, on the Firth of Clyde, engendered by
extravagant notions about the assurance of faith and
universal redemption, under which several weak
minds became so heated, that they began to prophesy
and attempt to work miracles. But the most re-
markable part of the delusion consisted in wild py-
thoness contortions into which the favoured of the
sect were thrown, under which they harangued,
raved, and chanted in strange unintelligible utter-
ances that were asserted to be divine inspiration,
speaking miraculously in languages which neither
speaker nor hearer understood. It was a craziness
as contemptible as that of the Buchanites in the pre-
ceding century, and, like the system of Elspeth
Buchan, it was unsuited for a permanent hold upon

350

EDWARD IRVING.

the Scottish intellect ; so that, while its action was
chiefly confined to hysterical old women and dream-
ing girls, it fell into universal contempt, and passed
away as rapidly as it had risen. Hut just when this
moon-governed tide was at the height, one of its
female apostles went to London, and connected her-
self with Mr. Irving's congregation, many of whom
were fully rifKined for such extravagances. They
were wont to assemble for prayer-meetings and re-
ligious exercises at the early hour of six in the
morning, and there the infection spread with electric
rapidity, while prophesying, denouncing, and speak-
ing in unknown tongues took the place of prayer and
exhortation. As in the cases of Row and Port-
Glasgow, also, these visitations at first were chiefly
confined to the female sex, and a few unlucky men,
the victims of feminine susceptibility. But the Lon-
don form of the disease soon took a higher flight than
that of Scotland. Private rooms and session-houses
were found insufficient for such important manifesta-
tions, and they were daringly transferred to the
church, and incorporated with the solemn public
services? And how could the spirit of Mr. Irving
brook such arrogant interruptions? But, alas! the
lion within him was tamed, cowed, and chained ;
and he who daringly sought to be more, was now less
than man. He believed that the second pentecostal
day had come, of which the first was but a type ;
that these were the divine supernatural manifestations
by which the second coming and reign of Christ
upon earth were to be heralded; and that himself the
while was the honoured John the Baptist, by whom
the coming had been heralded and the way prepared.
These were proceedings which the church could
no longer tolerate, and the case was taken up by the
London presbyterj' in the early part of 1S30. As
yet the charge brought against him was only that of
heresy — one, as we have already mentioned, so diffi-
cult to substantiate, and therefore the discussion was
prolonged for eighteen months without any final
result. But during the interval the excesses at the
Caledonian Church, Regent Square, had become so
wild, and withal so notorious, that the question of
his offence was no longer one of nice metaphysical
subtlety. These were matters of fact, not of mere
opinion, and soon received from the depositions of
examined witnesses their full amount of proof. It is
to be observed that, for some time, Mr. Irving had
been in the practice of exalting the authority of the
church as paramount and supreme, while by the
church he meant the ministers and office-bearers ex-
clusively, in their courts assembled for the purposes
of ecclesiastical legislation. Their dictates were in-
fallible, and therefore to be received without disputa-
tion or scruple. It was the system of his favourite
Hooker pushed into the extremes of Puseyism, and
even of downright Popen-. According, therefore,
to his own teaching, he should have accepted the
presbytery's award with implicit submission. But it
happened with him, in his own case, as it has done
with many others, that this particular instance was
an exception to the general rule. His light and
knowledge, his vocation and labours, were superior
to those of his brethren ; they were working and
blundering in darkness, upon subjects which they
were not worthy to comprehend; and how, then,
could they be qualified to judge in such a case as
this? This, his conclusion, was apparent in his con-
duct during the course of trial. He lost patience
during the cross-examination of the witnesses, and
charged the presbytery with being a "court of Anti-
christ." His defence, which occupied four hours in
the deliver)-, was more the language of denunciation
and rebuke than confession or exculpation ; it was

even a fierce defiance and full rejection of presby-
teries, synods, and general assemblies to boot, when
they came in contravention with himself and his kirk-
session. The result of this trial was, that he was
found guilty of the charges libelled against him, and
sentenced to deposition from his local cure as minis-
ter of the Scotch National Church in Regent Square.
Regarding, or pretending to regard, this sentence as a
mere nullity, he attempted to hold his early morning
meetings in that building as before ; but when he
presented himself with his followers for that purpose,
he found the gates locked, and all access refused.
True to his new character, he uttered an awful pro-
phetic denunciation at this rejection, and turned away
in quest of another place of meeting.

This was but the first step of Mr. Ir\-ing's ecclesias-
tical punishment; for, though deprived of his church,
his standing as a minister of the Church of Scotland
was still untouched. The question whether he
should thus continue was, therefore, to be next tried
before the bar of that presbyter}' by which he had
been ordained — the presbj-tery of his native Annan.
This ecclesiastical assize was held on the 13th of
March, 1833, and Mr. Irving appeared at the sum-
mons. His conduct on this occasion was, if possible,
still more wild, as well as more peremptorj', than it
had been before the presbytery of London. The
most serious part of his offence was now to be taken
into account; and therefore the charge against him
was, of "printing, publishing, and disseminating
heresies and heretical doctrines, particularly the
doctrine of the fallen state and sinfulness of our
Lord's human nature." His answer was rather an
authoritative harangue to the by-standers, justifying
his doctrine, and commanding them to receive it,
than the reply of an office-bearer to his court cf
judicature; and at the conclusion he wound up his
rebellion in the following words: "I stand here, not
by constraint, but willingly. Do what you like. I
ask not judgment of you; my judgment is with my
God; and as to the General Assembly, the spirit of
judgment is departed from it. Oh ! ye know not
how near ye are to the brink of destruction. Ye
need not expedite your fall. All are dead around.
The church is struggling with many enemies, but
her worst is within herself — I mean that wicked As-
sembly !" After full trial he was found guilty, and
the sentence of deposition was just about to be pre-
faced with prayer, when a loud voice was heard from
a pew behind Mr. Ir\'ing, exclaiming, "Arise, de-
part I — arise, depart ! — flee ye out, flee ye out of her !
Ye cannot pray. How can ye pray? How can ye
pray to Christ, whom ye deny? Ye cannot pray.
Depart — depart — flee — flee!" The church, at this
late hour, was almost enveloped in darkness ; and
the crowd of 2000 people within the walls started to
their feet, as if the cry of "Fire!" had been suddenly
sounded. But a minister, on lifting up the solitary
candle to which they were reduced, and searching
cautiously about, discovered that the words were
uttered by Mr. Dow, late minister of Irongray, who
had been deposed for holding sentiments similar to
those of Mr. Ir\'ing. The latter, who seemed to con-
sider the call as a command from Heaven, rose up to
depart ; and turning his colossal form toward the
passage, which was almost blocked up, he thundered
in a tone of impatience, "Stand forth ! Stand forth !
What ! Will ye not obey the voice of the Holy Ghost?
As many as will obey the voice of the Holy Ghost,
let them depart." He strode onward to the door,
and, pausing for a moment, he exclaimed — "Prayer
indeed! Oh!" Such Mas his parting salutation to
the church of which he had been so distinguished a
minister. In a few minutes more the sentence of

TAMES IVORY.

351

the presbyten* was pronounced, and his connection
^\ith the church dissolved.

The subsequent history of an individual so good
and talented, but whose course withal was so erratic,
may be briefly told. Immediately after his deposi-
tion, he commenced a tour of open-air preaching in
Annan, Dumfries, and other places, and then re-
turned to London. On his ejection from the Cale-
donian Church in Regent Square, he had settled,
with a great portion of his congregation, who followed
him, in a building in Newman Street, formerly the
picture-gallery of Benjamin West, which was fitted
up for a place of worship; and here, completely
removed beyond the control of church -courts, Mr.
Irving gave himself up to his prophets and prophet-
esses, whose exhibitions became wilder and revela-
tions more abundant than ever. A new creed, a
new church, and new office-bearers and rites were
soon established ; itinerant preachers were sent forth
to proclaim the advent of a better world at hand,
while miracles, effected upon the weak-minded and
hypochondriacal, were announced as incontestable
proofs of the divine authority of the new system.
At length 50,000 worshippers, and numerous chapels
erected throughout England, proclaimed that a dis-
tinct sect had been fully established, let its per-
manency be what it might. And now Mr. Irving had
attained that nionsij-ari digito which, with all his
heroic and disinterested labours, he never appears
to have lost sight of since his arrival in London.
But as the honoured and worshipped mystagogue,
with a church of his own creation, was he happy,
or even at peace with himself? His immeasurably
long sermons, his frequent preachings and writings,
his incredible toils both of mind and body, were
possibly aggravated and embittered by the apostasy
of some of the most gifted of his flock, and the
moral inconsistencies of others ; while the difficulties
of managing a cause, and ruling a people subject to
so many inspirations, and exhorted in so many un-
known tongues, would have baffled Sir Harry Vane,
or even Cromwell himself. His raven locks were
already frosted, and his iron frame attenuated, by
premature old age; and in the autumn of 1834 he
was compelled to return to his native countrj' for
the recovery of his health; but it was too late. His
disease was consumption, against which he struggled
to the last, with the hope of returning to his flock ;
but on arriving at Glasgow, his power of journeying
was ended by the rapid increase of his malady; and
he was received under the hospitable roof of Mr.
Taylor, a stranger, where, in much pain and suffer-
ing, he lay down to die. In his last hours he was
>nsited by his aged mother, and his sister, Mrs.
Dickson, to the first of whom he said, ">rother,
I hope you are happy." Much of the time during
which he was sensible was employed by him in
fervent prayer. A short time before he expired, the
Rev. Mr. Martin, his father-in-law, who stood at his
bed-side, overheard him faintly uttering what appeared
a portion of the twenty-third psalm in the original ;
and on repeating to him the first verse in Hebrew,
Mr. Irving immediately followed with the two suc-
ceeding verses in the same tongue. Soon after he
expired. This event occurred on the 6th of Decem-
ber, 1834, when he was only forty-two years old.
His death occasioned a deep and universal sensation
in Glasgow, where his ministry as a preacher had com-
menced, and where he was still beloved by many.
He left a widow and three young children, one of
them an infant only six months old at his decease.

IVORY, James, LL.D.— This excellent mathe-
matician was bom at Dundee in 1765. After he

had attended the public schools of his native town,
until the usual course of an English education was
finished, his father, who was a watchmaker in
Dundee, being anxious that his son should be a
minister, sent him to the university of St. Andrews,
to prosecute those studies which the church has
appointed. He entered the college at the age of
fourteen, and continued there six years; but of the
various departments of study comprised within this
course, mathematics attracted his chief attention;
and in this he made such proficiency as to attract
the notice of his fellow-students, as well as of the
Rev. John West, one of the professors, who en-
couraged and aided him in his scientific pursuits.
After these college terms had been finished. Ivory
spent two years at St. Andrews in the study of
theolog)', and a third in Edinburgh, where he had
Sir John Leslie for his class-fellow. But on com-
pleting his theological course, and leaving the
university, in 1786, instead of becoming a licentiate
of the church, as his father had proposed, he became
assistant teacher in a newly established academy in
Dundee, where he continued three years, and after-
wards engaged with some other persons in a factory
for spinning flax, which was erected at Douglastown,
Forfarshire. How this last occupation, of which he
was chief superintendent, coincided either with his
previous studies as a theologian, or his predilections
as a mathematician, does not distinctly appear ; but
the result was a failure; for, after fifteen years of
trial, the company was dissolved in 1804, and the
factory closed. During all this period Ivorv' had
probably employed his leisure in the study both of
English and foreign works upon his favourite science
—pursuits not of a favourable nature certainly for
the mechanical operations of flax-spinning. He had
done enough, however, at all events, to show that
his leanings were not to^^■ards the office of the
ministrv'.

The next change that Mr. Ivory underwent was
of a more congenial character, for it was to a pro-
fessorship of mathematics in the Royal Military
College, instituted a few years pre\'ious at Marlow,
in Buckinghamshire. Here he laboured with great
assiduity in his new charge, and afterwards at Sand-
hurst, Berkshire, when the college was removed to
that quarter. The manner in which he discharged
the duties of his important professorship not only
met with the high approval of the governor of the
institution, but also the cordial esteem of the students,
whom he was never weary of instructing in a science
so essential to the militaiy profession. He en-
deavoured, in his lessons, to simplify those demon-
strations that had hitherto been of too complex a
character; and for the more eflTectual accomplishment
of this purpose he also published, but without his
name, an edition of Euclid's Elements, in which the
difficult problems were brought more within the
reach of ordinary' understandings. So earnestly and
indefatigably, indeed, were these duties discharged,
that in 1819 his health unfitted him for further pub-
lic exertion, and he resigned his chair in Sandhurst
College before the time had elapsed that entitled him
to a retiring pension. But the value of his services
was so justly estimated, that the full pension was
allowed him, with which he retired into private life,
in or near London, where he prosecuted his favourite
studies till the period of his death, which occurred
on the 2ist September, 1842, in the seventy-seventh
year of his age.

Such were the few events of a public nature that
characterized the life of Professor Ivory; but his
actions are chiefly to be found in his scientific
writings, which were highly estimated by the mathe-

GILBERT JACK.

malicians of his day. C)f these we t^'ivc the fullow-
iag brief enumeration : —

In 1796, 1799, anil 1802 he sent three communi-
cations to tlie Royal .Society of Edinburgh. The
first of these was entitle<i A S'rw Scries /or the AW/i-
fuatiou of the Kllipse; tlie second, A i\\ii.< Method of
Kesolviiig Cubic liquations ; and the third, A A'c'u
and Unn'ersal Solution of Kepler s I'roldem.

To these succeeded, between tiie years 1809 and
1S39, fifteen jtajiei-s, transmitted to the Royal Society
of London, and jniblishecL in their Transactions.
The first of these, On the Attractions of Homo-
geneous Ellipsoids, possesses remarkable merit, in
which he solved, in a new and simple manner, the
attractions of these ellipsoids upon points situated
on their exterior. Three of these Avere on the
Attractions of Spheroids, in which he substituted
a process of analysis so much superior to that of the
celebrated Laplace, that the latter frankly acknow-
ledged the su[>eriority. Another communication,
published in the Transactions for 1814, is entitled
A l\'eiij Method of Deducing a First Approximation
to the Orbit of a Comet from 'Three Geocentric Ob-
servations. Two of the articles contain his investi-
gations on the subject of astronomical refractions;
and four on the equilibrium of fluid bodies. These
titles will suffice to show the subjects that chiefly

occupied his attention. Only one of these papers
was purely mathematical, and was entitled On the
Theory of Elliptic Transcoidents.

The honours that were conferred upon a silent
recluse student, such as Mr. Ivory was, showed how
greatly his scientific acquirements and his writings
were valued. In 1814 the Copley medal was
awarded to him for his mathematical communica-
tions to the Royal .Society; in 1826 he received one
of the royal medals for his paper on Astronomical
Refractions, published in 1823; and in 1S39 another
royal medal was bestowed on him for his Theory of
Astronomical Refractions, which was published in
the previous year. In 1815 he was elected a fellow
of the Royal Society of London ; he was also an
honorary fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh,
of the Royal Irish Academy, and of the Cambridge
Philosophical Society ; a corresponding member of
the Institute of P" ranee, of the Royal Academy of
Sciences of Berlin, and of the Royal Society of
Gottingen. In consequence of a recommendation
of Lord Brougham to William IV., Mr. Ivory, in
the year 1S31, was honoured with the Hanoverian
(iuelphic order of knighthood, and a pension of
,1^300 per annum ; and in 1 839 he received the
diploma of Doctor in Laws from the university of
.St. Andrews.

J.

JACK, or JACILEUS, Giij?ert, an eminent
metaphysician and medical writer, and professor of
philosophy at Leyden, was born at Aberdeen, as has
been asserted (although there seems but slight ground
for fixing the date so precisely), in the year 1578-
Early in life, and apparently before he had com-
menced a regular series of literary study, he lost his
father, and was committed by his mother to the
private tuition of a person named Thomas Cargill.
ffe afterwards studied under Robert Howie: and as
that individual was made principal of Marischal
College on its erection into a university, in 1593,
it is probable that Jack obtained a portion of his
university education at Aberdeen, although he is
mentioned by Ereher as having studied philosophy
at .St. Andrews, where he was under the tuition of
Robert Hay, an eminent theologist.' By the advice
of his tutor, who probably detected in his mind the
flawnings uf high talent, Jack continued his studies
in the universities on the Continent. He remained
for some time at the colleges of Herborn and Hclm-
stadt, when, incited by the high fame of the uni-
versity of Leyilcn, he removed thither and sought
employment as a jirivate teacher in ex]iectation of
eventually obtaining a jirofessorship. His ambition
was at length gratified liy his appointment, in 1604,
to what had been in general terms called the philo-
sophical chair of that celebrated institution. Scot-
land, which seems to have acquired a permanent
celebrity from the numerous persevering and ambi-
tious men it had dispersed through the world, was
at no time so fruitful in its supply of eminent men
as during the lifetime of the subject of our memoir.
Adoli>hus Vorslius, a person known to fame chiefly

' Freluri Tlieatrum Virorum Eruditione Clarorutn, ii. 1353.
Jactis utriusque lingiue fundametttis, ad academiam An-
dreanam aolrgatus, p/iiloso/'hia operant ftavavit, preceptore
uius Kolierta Havico Vlieologo exifrio.

from his tributes to the memory of some eminent
friends, and colleague of Jack in the university of
Leyden, in a funeral oration to his memory, from
which the materials for a memoir of Jack are chiefly
derived, mentions that at the period we allude to
there was scarcely a college in Europe of any cele-
brity, which did not number a Scotsman among its
professors : and whether from the meagre tuition in
our own universities, or other causes, most of the
Scotsmen celebrated for learning at that period — •
and they were not a few — began their career of fame
abroad. In the works or correspondence of the
continental scholars of the seventeenth century, we
frequently meet with names of Scotsmen now for-
gotten in their native country, and that of Jack fre-
quently occurs, accompanied with many indications
of resj)ect. He is said to have been the first who
taught metaphysics at Leyden, a statement from which
we may at least presume that he opened new branches
of inquiry, and was celebrated for the originality of
the system he inculcated. During his professorship
at Leyden he studied medicine, and took his degree
in that science in 161 1.

In 1612 appeared his first work, lustitutiones
Pli ysicic, yuTcntiitis Lugdiinensis Studiis potissimuin
dicatu-, republished with notes in 1616. This trea-
tise is dedicated to Matthew Overbegiiius (Overbeke),
and is in the usual manner prefaced by laudatory
addresses, which are from the pens of men of cele-
brity— Daniel Heinsius, Greek professor of Leyden
(who appropriately uses his professional language),
(Jaspard Barkeus, the professor of logic at Leyden,
and Theodore Schrevelius (probably father to the
lexicographer Cornelius). This work, notwith-
standing its title, will be readily understood to be
generally metaphysical, and the portion tending to
that species of discussion is that from which a modern
student will derive most satisfaction. It consists of
nine books. The first is introductory, containing

THOMAS JACK JAMES T.

353

definitions, Sec, the second is "De Natura," the
third "De Motu," the fourth "De Tempore," the
fifth "De Cailo," the sixth "De Corpore Misto,"
the seventh "De Meteoris," the eighth "De Anima,"
and the ninth "De Anima Rationali." Apart from
the doctrines now called vulgar errors, for an adher-
ence to which tlie limited bounds of our own know-
ledge must teach us to excuse our forefathers, this
work may be perused with interest and even profit.
To have departed from the text of Aristotle might
have been considered equal in heresy to a denial of
any of the evident laws of nature; but if Jack was,
like others, a mere commentator on the great law-
giver of philosophers, he frequently clothes original
views in correct, clear, and logical language; his
discussions on time and motion might not be un-
grateful to a student of Ilutcheson or Reid; and
though almost unknown to his country, and for-
gotten in his native city, he is no contemptible
member of the class of common-sense philosophers
of whom Scotland has boasted. In 1624 Jack pub-
lished another work, entitled Institiitwiics J\/cdk<€,
republished in 1631. About this period his celebrity
had reached the British Isles; and, like his illus-
trious friend and comrade Vossius, the author of the
History of Pt'Iagiaiiisnt, he was invited to fill the
chair of civil history at Oxford, a proffer he declined.
This eminent man died on the 17th day of April,
1628, leaving behind him a widow and ten children.
He seems to have been on terms of intimate and
friendly familiarity with the greatest men of the age.
He is said to have been a hard student, to have pos-
sessed vast powers of memory, and to have been
more attentive to the elegancies of life, and to his
personal appearance, than scholars then generally

JACK, or JACHEUS, Thomas, a classical
scholar of eminence, and author of the Onomastkoii
Fot'ticHin. The period of the birth of this author is
unknown: Dr. M'Crie has with his usual industry
made investigations into his history, but, excepting
the circumstances to be discovered from the dedica-
tion to his work, none but a few barren facts have
been found, which must have ill repaid the labours
of the search. He was master of the grammar-
school at Glasgow ; but at what period he entered
that seminary is unknown. He relinquished the
situation in 1574, and became minister of the neigh-
bouring parish of Eastwood, from which, in the
manner of the time, he dates his book "ex sylva
vulgo dicta orientali ;" his work is entitled " Oiiomas-
ticoii Poeticnm, sive propriorum quibus in suis monu-
mentis usi sunt veteres Poetas, brevis Descriptio Poe-
tica;" it is neatly printed in quarto, by Waldegrave,
1592, and is now very rare. It may be described as a
versified topographical dictionary of the localities of
classical poetry, expressing, in a brief sentence seldom
exceeding a couple of lines, some characteristic,
which may remind the student of the subject of his
readings. He mentions that he has found the system
advantageous by experiment; and most of our readers
will be reminded of the repeated attempts to teach
the rules of grammar, and other matters necessary
to be committed to memorv, in a similar manner.
The subject did not admit of much elegance, and the
chief merit of the author will be acknowledged in
the perseverance which has amassed so many refer-
ences to subjects of classical research. A quotation
of the first few lines may not be unacceptable: —
" Caucaseus vates Abaris ventura profatur,

Argivum bis sextus Albas rex, martis in armis

Acer, Hypermnestra Lynceoque parentibus ortus;

Hinc et Abantiadura series dat jura Pelasgis.

Ex nube Ixion Centaunam gignit Abantem,
VOL. II.

/Eneas comitcm quo nomine clarus habebat
.rEgypti ad fines Abates jacet Insula dives:
Quam arcum armavit lino natura tenaci,
Armifera: Thracis quondam urbs Abdera Celebris."

This passage contains the accounts of Abaris,
Abantiada;, Abas, Abatos, and Abdera.

In the dedication, which is addressed to James,
eldest son of Claud Hamilton, commendator of
Paisley, a pupil of the author. Jack com])lacently
mentions that he had been induced to publish by
the recommendation of Andrew Melville and Bu-
chanan, and that the latter eminent person had
revised the work, and submitted to a counter re-
vision of works of his own. Prefixed to the Onom-
asticoii are encomiastic verses by Robert Pollock,
Hercules Pollock, Patrick Sharpe, Andrew Melville,
and Sir Thomas Craig. Dr. M'Crie has discovered
that Thomas Jack, as minister of Rutherglen, was
one of those who in 1582 opposed the election of
Robert Montgomery as Archbishop of Cilasgow.
He appears to have been a member of the General
Assembly in 1590 ; he is mentioned in 1593 as a
minister within the bounds of the presbytery of
Paisley, and must have died in 1596, as appears
from the Testament Testamentar of " Euphame
Wylie, relict of umquhill Mr. Thomas Jak, minr.
at Eastwod."

JAMES I., King of Scots, and illustrious both
in political and literary history, was born at Dun-
fermline in the year 1394. He was the third son of
Robert HI., King of Scots (whose father, Robert II.,
was the first sovereign of the Stuart family), by his
consort Annabella or Annaple Drummond, daughter
of Sir John Drummond of Stobhall, ancestor of the
noble family of Perth. It appears that John Stuart,
for such was the real name of Robert III., had
married Annaple Drummond at a period antecedent
to the year 1358; as in 1357 he and his wife received
a charter of the earldom of Athol from David II.
The unusual period of thirty-seven years at least
must thus have elapsed between the marriage of the
parents and the birth of their distinguished son.
Their eldest child, David, born in 1373, and created
Duke of Rothesay, was starved to death by his uncle
the Duke of Albany in 1402; a second son, John,
died in infancy. The inheritance of the crown was
thus opened upon Prince James at the age of eight
years, but under circumstances which rendered the
prospect less agreeable than dangerous. The im-
becility of Robert III. had permitted the reins of
government to be assumed by his brother the Duke
of Albany, who meditated a transference of the sove-
reignty to his own family, and scnipled at no mea-
sures which might promise to aid him in his object.
There was the greatest reason to apprehend that
Prince James, as well as his elder brother the Duke
of Rothesay, would be removed by some foul means
through the machinations of Albany ; after which
the existence of the king's female children would
present but a trifling obstacle to his assuming the
rights of heir presumptive.

The education of Prince James was early confided
to Wardlaw, Bishop of St. Andrews, the learned
and excellent prelate who, in founding the university
in his metropolitan city, became the originator of
that valuable class of institutions in Scotland.
Sinclair, Earl of Orkney, and Sir David Fleming
of Cumbernauld, were among the barons who super-
intended the instruction of the prince in martial and
athletic exercises. P"or the express purpose of saving
him from the fangs of his uncle, it was resolved by
tlie king in 1405 to send him to the court of Charles
VL of France, where he might at once be safer in

58

354

JAMES I.

person, and receive a superior euucalion to what
could be obtained in his own country. ^Vilh this
view the young prince was privately conducted to
East Lothian, and embarked on board a vessel at
the isle of the Bass, along with the Karl of Orkney
and a small party of friends. It would appear that
he thus escapetl his uncle by a very narrow chance,
as Sir David Fleming, in returning from the place of
embarkation, was set upon at Long Hcrmandstone
by the retainers of that wicked personage, and cruelly
slain.

James pursued his voyage towards France, till,
cruising along the coast of Norfolk, his vessel was
seized by a squadron of armed merchantmen com-
manded by John Jolyff, and belonging to the port of
Clay. Though this event took place in the time of
a triice between the two countries (April 12, 1405),
Henry IV. of England reconciled his conscience to
the detention of the prince, for which, indeed, it is
highly probable he had made some arrangements
previously with tlie Duke of An>any, his faithful
ally, and the imitator of his conduct. ^Vhen the
Earl of Orkney presented a remonstrance against
such an unjustifiable act, asserting that the education
of the prince was the sole object of his voyage to
F' ranee, he turned it off with a jest, to the effect that
he was as well acquainted with the French language,
and could teach it as well as the King of France,' so
that the prince would lose nothing by remaining
where he was. He soon showed, however, the value
which he attached to the possession of the prince's
person by shutting him up in the castle of Pevensey
in Sussex. The aged King of Scotland sank
under this new calamity; and, dying April 4, 1406,
left the nominal sovereignty to his captive son, but
the real power of the state to his flagitious brother,
the Duke of Albany, who assumed the title of
jjovemor.

Having no design against the mind of his captive,
Henry furnished him in a liberal manner with the
means ofcontinuing his education. Sir John Pelham,
the constable of Pevensey Castle, and one of the most
distinguished knights of the age, was appointed his
governor; and masters were provided for instructing
him in various accomplishments and branches of
knowledge. To quote the words of Mr. Tytler,"
"In all athletic and manly exercises, in the use of
his weapons, in his skill in horsemanship, his speed
in running, his strength and dexterity as a wrestler,
his firm and fair aim as a joister and tourneyer, the
young king is allowed by all contemporary writers
to have arrived at a pitch of excellence which left
most of his own age far behind him ; and as he ad-
vanced to maturity, his figure, although not so tall
as to be majestic or imposing, was, from its make,
peculiarly adapted for excellence in such accomplish-
ments. His chest was broad and full, his arms some-
what long and muscular, his flanks thin and spare,
and his limbs beautifully formed ; so as to combine
elegance and lightness with strength. In throwing
the hammer, and juopelling, or, to use the Scottish
])hrase, 'putting' the stone, and in skill in archery,
we have the testimony of an ancient chronicle, that
none in his own dominions could surpass him. . . .
To skill in warlike exercises, ever)- youthful candidate
for honour and for knighthood was expected to unite
a variety of more pacific and elegant accomplish-
ments, which were intended to render him a delight-
ful companion in the hall, as the others were calcu-
lated to make him a formidable enemy in the field.

' It will be recollected that French was the common language
of the court of England, and of all legal and public business,
till the age following that of Henr>- IV.

* Lhts 0/ Scottish H^'ori/iies, ii. 263.

The science of music, both instrumental and vocal ;
the composition and recitation of ballads, roundelays,
and other minor pieces of poetry ; an acquaintance
with the romances and the writings of the popular
poets of the times — were all essential branches in the
system of education which was then adopted in the
castle of any feudal chief; and from Pelham, who
had himself been brought up as the squire of the Duke
of Lancaster, we may be confident that the Scottish
king received every advantage which could be con-
ferred by skilful instructors, and by the most ample
opportunities of cultivation and improvement.. Such
lessons and exhibitions, however, might have been
thrown away upon many, but James had been bom
with those natural capacities which fitted him to
excel in them. He possessed a fine and correct
musical ear; a voice which was rich, flexible, and
sufficiently powerful for chamber music; and an
enthusiastic delight in the art, which, unless con-
trolled by strong good sense, and a feeling of the
higher destinies to which he was called, might have
led to a dangerous devotion to it. . . . Cut off
for a long and tedious period from his crown and his
people, James could afford to spend many hours
each day in the cultivation of accomplishments to
which, under other circumstances, it would have
been criminal to have given up so much of his time.
And this will easily account for that high musical
excellence to which he undoubtedly attained, and
will explain the great variety of instraments upon
which he performed. ... He was acquainted
with the Latin language, as far at least as was
permitted by the rude and barbarous condition in
which it existed previous to the revival of letters.
In theology, orator}-, and grammar — in the civil and
canon laws, he was instructed by the best masters ;
and an acquaintance with Norman-French was ne-
cessarily acquired at a court where it was still cur-
rently spoken and highly cultivated. Devoted, how-'
ever, as he was to these pursuits, James appears to
have given his mind with a still stronger bias to the
study of English poetr}-, choosing Chaucer and
Gower for his masters in the art, and entering with
the utmost ardour into the great object of the first
of these illustrious men — the improvement of the
English language, the production of easy and natural
rhymes, and the refinement of poetical numbers from
the rude compositions which had preceded him. '

Thus passed years of restraint, unmarked by any
other incident than removal from one place of cap-
tivity to another, till the death of Henr}IV., in 1414.
On the very day after this event the "gallant"
Henry V. ordered his royal prisoner to be removed
to close confinement in the Tower. In general,
however, the restraint imposed upon the young king
was not inconsistent with his enjoyment of the plea-
sures of life, among which one of the most agreeable
must have been the intercourse which he was allowed
to hold with his Scottish friends. It is the opinion
of Mr. Tytler, that the policy of the English kings
in this matter was much regulated by the terror in
which they held a mysterious person residing at the
Scottisli court, under the designation of King Richard,
and who was the object of perpetual conspiracies
among the enemies of the house of Lancaster. It
is at least highly probable that Albany maintained
that personage as a kind of bugbear, to induce the
English monarch to keep a close guard over his
nephew.

The Duke of Albany died in 1419, and was suc-
ceeded as governor by his eldest son Murdoch, who
was as weak as his father had been energetic and
ambitious. About the same time a large party of
Scottish knights and their retainers proceeded, under

JAMES I.

355

the command of the Earl of Buchan, second son of
Albany, to assist the French king in repelling the
efforts'which Henr>- V. of England was making to
gain the sovereignty of France. In the hope per-
haps of gaining his deliverance, James was per-
suaded by King Henr)-to accompany him to France,
and to join with him in taking the opposite side to
that which was assumed by this party of his subjects.
But of this part of his life no clear account is pre-
ser\-ed ; only the consideration which he attained
with the English king is amply proved by his acting
(1422) as chief mourner at his funeral. This, how-
ever, was an event which he had little reason to
regret, as it opened a prospect of his obtaining his
liberty, a circumstance which would scarcely have
taken place during the life of Henrv'; or, at least,
while that prince lived, James could not look for%vard
to any definite period for the termination of his cap-
tivity'

The Duke of Bedford, who was appointed pro-
tector of England on the death of Henry, adopting
a wiser policy with regard to Scotland than that
monarch had pursued, offered to deliver up the Scot-
tish king on payment of a ransom of ;^40,ooo, to be
paid within six years by half-yearly payments, and
that hostages should be given for the faithful liquida-
tion of the debt. The English, disavowing the term
ransom as derogaton,', in this instance, to the national
character and dignity, alleged that the pecuniar}- con-
sideration was demanded as pajTnent of the king's
maintenance while in England ; but as Henrv^ V.
allowed only ;^700 a year for this purpose, and the
term of James' captivity was about nineteen years,
giving thus an amount of something more than
;^I3,C)00 altogether, it is pretty evident that they
did not intend to be losers by the transaction —
though, as the money was never paid, they certainly
were not gainers. After a good deal of delay, and
much discussion on both sides, the arrangement for
the liberation of the king was finally adjusted by the
Scottish commissioners who proceeded to London
for that purpose, on the 9th of March, 1423 ; and
amongst other securities for the stipulated sum, ten-
dered that of the burghs of Edinburgh, Perth, Dun-
dee, and Aberdeen. Pre\iously to his leaving Eng-
land, James married Joanna, daughter of the Duchess
of Clarence, niece of Richard II. To this lady the
Scottish monarch had been long attached. Her
beauty had inspired his muse, and was the frequent
theme of his song. Amongst the poems attributed
to the royal poet, there is one entitled A Sang on
Absence, beginning "Sen that the ejTie that workis
my weilfair," in which he bewails, in strains breath-
ing the warmest and most ardent attachment, the
absence of his mistress; and in the still more elabor-
ate production of the Kin^s Qitair, he thus speaks
of her:—

" Of hir array, the form gif I still ^vrite
Toward her goldin haire and rich atyre.
In fret wise couchit with per'is white;
And grete balas lemyng as the fire,
\\ ith manj- ane emerant and saphire;
And on hir hide a chaplet fresh of hewe
Of plumys partit rede, and white, and blue."

In this beautiful poem the enamoured king describes
himself as having first fallen in love with his future
queen as she was walking in the gardens under the
tower at Windsor, in which he was confined.

It is probable that he lost no time in making his
fair enslaver aw.are of the conquest she had made,
and it is also likely that her walks under the tower
were not rendered less frequent by the discovery.
The splendour of Joanna's dress, as described in this
poem, is very remarkable. She seems to have been
covered with jewels, and to have been altogether

arrayed in the utmost magnificence ; not improbably
in the consciousness of the eyes that were upon her.
The result, at all events, shows that the captive
prince must have found means sooner or later of
communicating with the fair idol of his affections.

The marriage ceremony was performed at the
church of St. Marv's Over)' in Southwark ; the king
receiving with his bride as her marriage portion a
discharge for _;^io,ooo of his ransom money I

James was in the thirtieth year of his age when
he was restored to his liberty and his kingdom.
Proceeding first to Edinburgh, where he celebrated
the festival of Easter, he afterwards went on to Scone,
accompanied by his queen, where they were both
solemnly crowned ; Murdoch, Duke of Albany, as
Earl of Fife, performing the ceremony of installing
the sovereign on the throne.

Immediately after the coronation James convoked
a parliament in Perth, and by the proceedings of
that assembly gave intimation to the kingdom of
the commencement of a vigorous reign. Amongst
many other wise and judicious ordinations, this na-
tional council enacted, that the king's peace should
be firmly held, and no private wars allowed, and
that no man should travel with a greater number of
retainers than he could maintain ; that a sufficient
administration of law be appointed throughout the
realm ; and that no extortion from churchmen or
fanners in particular be admitted. James had early
been impressed with the necessity of arresting with
a vigorous and unsparing hand the progress of that
system of fraud and rapine to which the countn- had
been a prey during the regencies that preceded his
accession to the throne; a policy which, perhaps,
though both necesssr}- and just, there is some reason
to believe he carried too far, or at least prosecuted
with a mind not tempered by judicious and humane
considerations. When first informed, on his arrival
in the kingdom, of the lawlessness which prevailed
in it, he is said to have exclaimed, "By the help of
God, though I should myself lead the life of a dog,
I shall make the key keep the castle, and the bush
secure the cow." Than such a resolution as this
nothing could have been wiser or more praiseworthy,
and he certainly did all he could, and probably more
than he ought, to accomplish the desirable end which
the sentiment proposed ; but he seems to have been
somewhat indiscriminating in his vengeance. This
indiscrimination may be only apparent, and may
derive its character from the imperfectness of the
histon,- of that period ; but as we judge of the good
by what is upon record, we are bound to judge of
the bad by the same rule; and it would be rather a
singular mischance if error and misrepresentation
were always and exclusively on the side of the latter.
It is at any rate certain, that a remarkable humanity,
or any remarkable inclination to the side of mercy,
were by no means amongst the number of James'
good qualities, numerous though these assuredly
were. With the best intentions towards the im-
provement of his kingdom, and the bettering of the
condition of his subjects, James had yet the misfor-
tune to excite, at the commencement of his reign,
a very general feeling of dissatisfaction with his
government.

This, amongst the aristocracj-, proceeded from the
severity with which he threatened to visit their
offences ; and amongst the common people, from his
having imposed a tax to pay the ransom money
stipulated for his release from captivitv'. This tax
was proposed to be levied at the rate of twelve
pennies in the pound on all sorts of produce, on
farms and annual rents, cattle and grain, and to con-
tinue for two years. The tax ^^■as with great difS-

356

JAMES I.

culty collected the first year, but in the second the
popular impatience and dissatisfaction became so
general and so marked, that tiie king thought it
advisable to abandon it ; and the coiisc(|ucnce was,
as alreatly remarked, that the debt was never dis-
charge<l. The reluctance of the nation to pay the
price of their prince's freedom may appear ungenerous,
and as implying an indifference towards lum per-
sonally; but this is not a necessary, nor is it the only,
conclusion which may be inferred from the circum-
stance. It is probable that they may have considered
the demand of Kngland unreasonable and unjust,
and it certainly was l)oth, seeing that James was no
prisoner of war, but had been made captive at a time
when the two kingdoms were at peace with each
other. To make him prisoner, therefore, and make
him pay for it too, seems indeed to have been rather
a hard case, and such it was probably esteemed by
his subjects. The policy which James proposed to
adopt was not limited to the suppression of existing
evils, or to the prevention of their recurrence in time
to come, but extended to the punishing of offences
long since committed, and of which, in many in-
stances, though we are told the results, we are left
uninformed of the crime. At the outset of his reign
he had ordered the arrest of Walter, eldest son of
Murdoch, Duke of Albany, the late regent, together
with that of Malcolm Fleming of Cumbernauld, and
Thomas Boyd of Kilmarnock ; and soon afterwards,
taking advantage of the circumstance of a meeting
of parliament at Perth, which he had convoked pro-
bably for the purpose of bringing them witliin his
reach, he ordered the arrest of Murdoch himself,
his second son Alexander Stewart, the Earls of
Douglas, Angus, and March, and twenty other gen-
tlemen of note.

The vengeance, however, which gave rise to this
proceeding, was followed out only in the ca.se of
Albany ; at least his punishment only is recorded in
the accounts given by our historians of this transac-
tion, while all the others are allowed to drop out of
sight without any further notice of them in connec-
tion with that event. Indeed the whole of this period
of Scottish history is exceedingly obscure ; much of
it is confused, inconsistent, and inexplicable, and is
therefore indebted almost wholly to conjecture for
any interest it possesses, and perhaps no portion of
it is more obscure than that which includes the oc-
currence which has just been alluded to. The king's
vengeance is said to have been exclusively aimed at
Albany. Then, wherefore the arrest of the others?
Because, it is said, they were the friends of the late
regent, and might have defeated the ends of justice
liad they l)een left at liberty, or at least might have
been troublesome in the event of his condemnation.
But how is this to be reconciled with the fact, that
several of those arrested with Albany were (jf the
jury that found him guilty on his trial, which took
place a few weeks afterwards? All that we certainly
know of this matter is, that Murdoch was committed
a close prisoner to Carlaveroc Castle, while his
duchess, Isabella, shared a similar fate in Tantallon,
and that the king immediately after seiz.cd upon
and took possession of his castles of Falkland in
Fife and Downe in Mentcith ; tliat soon afterwards,
Albany, with his two sons, Walter and Alexander,
together with the aged Earl of Lennox, were brought
to trial, condemned to death, and beheaded, 'j'he
principal offence, so far as is known — for on this
point also there is much obscurity — charged against
tiiose unfortunate persons was their having dilapi-
dated the royal revenues while the king was captive
in England. The fate of the two sons "of the regent,
who were remarkably stout and handsome young

men, excited a good deal of commiseration. Tlic
moment their sentence was pronounced, they were
led out to execution. Their father and Lennox were
beheaded on the following day. The scene of this
tragedy was a rising ground immediately adjoining
Stirling Castle.

It is not improbable that circumstances unknown
to us may have warranted this instance of sanguinary
severity on the part of the king; but it is unfortunate
for his memory that these circumstances, if they did
exist, should be unknown; for as it now stands, he
cannot be acquitted of cruelty in this case, as well as
some others, otherwise than by alleging that he was
incapable of inflicting an urnnerited punishment — a
defence more generous than satisfactory. The par-
liaments, however, which James convoked, continued
remarkable for the wisdom of their decrees, for the
number of salutary laws which they enacted, and for
the anxiety generally which they discovered for the
prosperity of the kingdom. Amongst the most
curious of their laws is one which forbids any man
who has accused another from being of the juiy on
his trial ! It is not easy to conceive what were the
notions of jurisprudence which permitted the exist-
ence of the practice which this statute is meant to
put an end to. The allowing the accuser to be one
of the jury on the trial of the person he has accused,
seems an absurdity and impropriety too palpable and
gross to be apologized for, even by the rudeness and
barbarity of the times. Another curious statute of this -
period enacts, that no traveller shall lodge with his
friends, but at the common inn. The object of this
was to encourage these institutions, only about this
time first established in Scotland. They seem, ho-vv-
ever, very soon to have become popular, as it was
shortly afterwards enjoined by act of parliament, that
no one should remain in taverns after nine o'clock at
night. This of course was meant only to apply to
these who resided near the spot, and not to travellers
at a distance from their homes.

The subjugation of the Highlands and Isles next
occupied the attention of the stern and active mon-
arch. These districts were in the most lawless state,
and neither acknowledged the authority of the par-
liament nor the king. With the view of introducing
a better order of things into these savage provinces,
and of bringing to condign punishment some of the
most turbulent chieftains, James assembled a par-
liament at Inverness, and specially summoned the
heads of the clans to attend it. The summons was
obeyed, and about fifty chieftains of various degrees
of note and power arrived at Inverness at the ap-
pointed time, and were all made prisoners; amongst
the rest Alexander, Lord of the Isles. Several of
them were instantly beheaded after a summaiy trial,
the others were distributed throughout the different
prisons of the kingdom, or kept in ward at the castles
of the nobility. The greater part of them were
afterwards put to death, and the remainder finally
restored to liberty. With a degree of cruelty which
the case does not seem to warrant, the Countess of
Ross, the mother of the Lord of the Isles, was made
a prisoner along with her son, and was long detained
in captivity in the island of Inchcolm in the Firth
of Forth. Alexander, after a year's confinement, was
allowed to return to his own country, on condition that
he would in future refrain from all acts of violence;
his mother in the meantime being held a hostage for
his good conduct. F2quaily regardless, however, of
his promises and the predicament of his parent, he,
soon after regaining his liberty, with a large body
of followers attacked and burned the town of Inver-
ness. James, to revenge this outrage, instantly col-
lected an army and marched against the perpetrator.

JAMES I.

557

■whom he overtook in the neighbourhood of Loch-
aber. A battle ensued, in which the Lord of the
Isles, who is said to have had an army of 10,000
men under him, was totally defeated. Humbled by
this misfortune, Alexander soon after made an
attempt to procure a reconciliation with the king,
but failing in this, he finally resolved to throw him-
self upon the mercy of the sovereign. With this
view he came privately to Edinburgh, and attired
only in his shirt and drawee, he placed himself be-
fore the high altar of Holyrood Church, and on his
knees, in presence of the queen and a number of
nobles, presented his naked sword to the king. For
this act of humiliation and humble submission his
life was spared; but he was ordered into close con-
finement in the castle of Tantallon.

Some curious and interesting considerations natu-
rally present themselves when contemplating the
transactions just spoken of Amongst these a feeling
of wonder is excited to find the summons of the
king to the fierce lawless chieftains of the Highlands
so readily obeyed. To see them walk so tamely
into the trap which was laid for them, when they
must have known, from the previous character of
the king, that if they once placed themselves within
his reach, they might be assured of punishment !
Supposing, again, that they were deceived as to his
intentions, and had no idea that he meant them any
personal ^-iolence, but were inveigled within his power
by faithless assurances; it then becomes matter of
astonishment, that in the very midst of their clans,
in the heart of their own country, and in the imme-
diate neighbourhood of their inaccessible retreats,
the king should have been able, without meeting
with any resistance, to take into custody and carr}-
away as prisoners no fewer than fifty powerful chief-
tains, and even to put some of them to death upon
the spot. This wonder is not lessened by finding
that the Lord of the Isles himself could bring into the
field 10,000 men, while the greater part of the others
could muster from 500 to 5000 each; and it might
be thought that, however great was their enmity to
each other, they would have made common cause in
such a case as this, and have all vmited in rescuing
their chiefs from the hands of him who must have ap-
peared their common enemy. But no such effort was
made, and the whole Highlands, as it were, looked
quietly on and permitted their chief men to be carried
away into captivity. In the midst of these some-
what inexplicable considerations, however, there is
one very evident and remarkable circumstance; this
is the great power of the king, which could thus
enable him to enforce so sweeping an act of justice
in so remote and barbarous a part of his kingdom;
and perhaps a more striking instance of the existence
of that extraordinary' power, and of terror inspired
by the royal name, is not to be found in the pages of
Scottish fiiston-.

The parliament of James, directed evidently by
the spirit of the monarch, continued from time to
time to enact the most salutarj- laws. In 1427 it was
decreed that a fine of ten pounds should be imposed
upon burgesses who, being summoned, should refuse
to attend parliament, without showing satisfactory-
cause for their absence; and in the same year several
acts were passed for the punishment of murder and
felony. The first of these acts, however, was re-
pealed in the folio-wing year, by introducing a new
feature into the legislature of the kingdom. The
attendance of small barons or freeholders in parlia-
ment was dispensed with, on condition that each
shire sent two commissioners, whose expenses were
to be paid by the freeholders. Another singular
decree was also passed this year, enjoining the suc-

cessors and heirs of prelates and barons to take an
oath of fidelity to the queen. This was an unusual
proceeding, but not an unwise one, as it was evi-
dently a provision for the event of the king's death,
should it happen during the minority of his heir and
successor. It did so happen; and though history- is
silent on the subject, there is reason to believe that
the queen enjoyed the advantage which the act in-
tended to secure to her.

In the year 1428 James wisely strengthened the
Scottish alliance with France, by betrothing his
eldest daughter, Margaret, but yet in her infancy, to
the dauphin, afterwards Louis XL, also at this time
a mere child. This contract, however, was not
carried into effect until the year 1436, when the
dauphin had attained his thirteenth year, and his
bride her twelfth. The marriage eventually proved
an exceedingly unhappy one. The husband of the
Scottish princess was a man of the worst dispositions,
and unfortunately there were others about him no
less remarkable for their bad qualities. One of these,
Jamet De ^ illy, impressed him, by tales which were
aftenvards proven to be false, with a suspicion of the
dauphiness's fidelity. Though innocent, the un-
happy princess was so deeply affected by the infam-
ous accusations which were brought against her, that
she took to bed and soon after died of a broken heart,
exclaiming before she expired, "Ah I Jamet, Jamet,
you have gained your purpose;" such mild but affect-
ing expressions being all that her hard fate and the
malice of her enemies could elicit from the d\-ing
princess. Jamet was afterwards proven, in a legal
investigation which took place into the cause of the
death of Margaret, to be a "scoundrel" and "com-
mon liar." The death of this princess took place
nine years after the marriage, and seven after the
death of her father; who, had he been alive, would
not, it is probable, have permitted the treatment of
his daughter to have passed without some token of
his resentment.

The short remaining portion of James' life, either
from the defectiveness of the records of that period,
or because they really did not occur, presents us
with few events of any great importance. Amongst
those worthy of any notice are, a commercial league
of one hundred years entered into between Scotland
and Flanders; the passing of a sumptuarj- law, for-
bidding any one but lords and knights, their eldest
sons and heirs, from wearing silks and furs; a decree
declaring all Scotsmen traitors who travel into Eng-
land without the king's leave. Another enjoined
all barons and lords ha\ing lands on the western or
northern seas, particularly those opposite to the
islands, to furnish a certain number of galleys, ac-
cording to their tenures; an injunction which was
but little attended to. In 143 1 James renewed the
treaty of peace with England, then just expiring, for
five years. In this year also, a desperate encounter
took place at Inverlochy between Donald Balloch
and the Earls of Mar and Caithness, in which the
former was victorious. The Earl of Caithness, with
sixteen squires of his family, fell in this sanguinary
engagement. Another conflict, still more deadly,
took place about the same time in Strathnavem, be-
tween Angus Duff", chief of the Mackays of that dis-
trict, and Angus Moray. There were 1200 men on
either side, and it is said that on the termination of
the fight there were scarcely nine left alive.

James, in the meantime, proceeded with his system
of hostility to the nobles, availing himself of ever\'
opportunity which presented itself of humbling them
and of lessening their power. He threw into prison
his own nephews, the Earl of Douglas and Sir John
Kennedy, and procured the forfeiture of the estates

33S

JAMES I.

of the Earl of March. The reasons for the first act
of severity are now unknown. That for the second
was, that the Earl of March's father had been en-
gaged in rebellion against the kingdom during the
regency of Albany. The policy of James in arraying
himself against his nobles, and maintaining an atti-
tude of hostility towards them during his reign,
seems of very questionable propriety, to say nothing
of the apparent character of unmerited severity which
it assumes in many instances. He no doubt found
on his arrival in the kingdom many crimes to punish
amongst that class, and much feudal tyranny to sup-
press; but it is not very evident that his success
would have been less, or the object which he aimed
at less surely accomplished, had he done this with a
more lenient hand. By making the nobles his friends
in place of his enemies, he would assuredly have
established and maintained the peace of the kingdom
still more effectually than he did. They were men,
rude as they were, who would have yielded a sub-
mission to a personal affection for their prince, which
they would, and did, refuse to his authority as a ruler.
James erred in aiming at governing by fear, when
he should have governed by love. A splendid proof
of his error in this particular is presented in the con-
duct of his great grandson James IV., who pursued
a directly opposite course with regard to his nobles,
and with results infinitely more favourable to the
l)est interests of the kingdom. Only one event now
of any moment occurs until the premature death of
James; this is the siege of Roxburgh. To revenge
an attempt which had been made by the English to
intercept his daughter on her way to France, he
raised an army of, it has been computed, 200,000
men, and marching into England, besieged the castle
of Roxburgh; but after spending fifteen days before
that stronghold, and expending nearly all the missive
arms in the kingdom, he was compelled to abandon
the siege, and to return with his army without hav-
ing effected anything at all commensurate with the
extent of his preparations, or the prodigious force
which accompanied him. The melancholy catas-
trophe in which his existence terminated was now-
fast approaching — the result of his own harsh con-
duct and unforgiving disposition.

The nobles, wearied out with his oppressions, seem
latterly to have been restrained only by a want of
unanimity amongst themselves from revenging the
injuries they had sustained at his hands, or by a want
of individual resolution to strike the fatal blow. At
length one appeared who possessed the courage
necessar)' for the performance of this desperate deed.
TJjis person was Sir Robert Graham, uncle to the
Earl of Strathem. He also had been imprisoned by
James, and was therefore his enemy on personal as
well as general grounds.

At this crisis of the dissatisfaction of the nobles
Graham offered, in a meeting of the latter, to state
their grievances to the king, and to demand the
redress of these grievances, provided those who then
heard him would second him in so doing. The
lords accepted his offer, and pledged themselves to
support him. Accordingly, in the verj- next parlia-
ment, Graham rose up, and having advanced to where
the king was seated, laid his hand upon his shoulder
and said, "I arrest you in the name of all the three
estates of your realm here assembled in parliament,
for as your people have sworn to obey you, so are you
constrained by an equal oath to govern by law, and
not to wrong your subjects, but in justice to maintain
and defend them." Then turning round to the as-
sembled lords, "Is it not thus as I say?" he ex-
claimed—but the appeal remained unanswered.
Either awed by the royal presence, or thinking that

Graham had gone too far, the lords meanly declined
to afford him the support which they had promised
him. That Graham had done a rash thing, and had
said more than his colleagues meant he should have
said, is scarcely an apology for their deserting him
as they did in the hour of trial. They ought at least
to have afforded him some countenance, and to have
acknowledged so much of his reproof as they were
willing should have been administered; and there is
little doubt that a very large portion of its spirit was
theirs also, although they seem to have lacked the
courage to avow it. Graham was instantly ordered
into confinement, and was soon after deprived of all his
possessions and estates, and banished the kingdom.
Brooding over his misfortunes, and breathing ven-
geance against him who was the cause of them, the
daring exile retired to the remotest parts of the High-
lands, and there arranged and perfected his plans of
revenge. He first wrote letters to the king re-
nouncing his allegiance and defying his wrath, up-
braiding him with being the ruin of himself, his wife,
and his children, and concluded with declaring that
he would put him to death with his o^^"n hand if
opportunity should offer. The answer to these threats
and defiances was a proclamation which the king
immediately issued, promising 3000 demies of gold,
of the value of half an English noble each, to any
one who should bring in Graham dead or alive.

The king's proclamation, however, was attended
with no effect. The object of it not only remained
in safety in his retreat, but proceeded to mature the
schemes of vengeance which he meditated against
his sovereign. He opened a correspondence with
several of the nobility, in which he unfolded the
treason which he designed, and offered to assassinate
the king with his own hand.

The general dislike which was entertained for
James, and which was by no means confined to the
aristocracy, for his exactions had rendered his govern-
ment obnoxious also to the common people, soon
procured for Graham a powerful co-operalion; and
the result was, that a regular and deep-laid con-
spiracy, and which included even some of the king's
most familiar domestics, was speedily formed. In
the meantime the king, unconscious of the fate which
was about to overtake him, had removed with his
court to Perth to celebrate the festival of Christmas.
While on his way thither, according to popular tra-
dition, he was accosted by a soothsayer, who fore-
warned him of the disaster which was to hapf>en him.
"My lord king," she said, for it was a prophetess
who spoke, "if ye pass this water" (the Forth), "ye
shall never return again alive." The king is said to
have been much struck by the oracular intimation,
and not the less so that he had read in some pro-
phecy a short while before, that in that year a king
of Scotland should be slain. The monarch, how-
ever, did not himself deign on this occasion to in-
terrogate the soothsayer as to what she meant, but
deputed the task to one of the knights, whom he
desired to turn aside and hold some conversation
with her. This gentleman soon after rejoined the
king, and representing the prophetess as a foolish
inebriated woman, recommended to his majesty to
pay no attention to what she had said. Accord-
ingly no further notice seems to have been taken
of the circumstance. The royal party crossed the
water and arrived in safety at Perth; the king, with
his family and domestics, taking up his residence
at the Dominicans' or Blackfriars' monastery. The
conspirators, in the meantime, fully informed of his
motions, had so far completed their arrangements as
to have fixed the night on which he should be
assassinated. This was, according to some authori-

JAMES I.

359

ties, the night of the second Wednesday of Lent, or
the 27th day of February; by others, the first Wed-
nesday of Lent, or between the 20th or 2ist of that
month, in the year 1437; and the latter is deemed
the more accurate date. James spent the earlier
]iart of the evening in playing chess with one of his
knights, whom, for his remarkable devotion to the
fair sex, he humorously nicknamed the King of Love.
The king was in high spirits during the progress of
the game, and indulged in a number of jokes at the
expense of his brother king; but the dark hints which
he had had of his fate seemed, as it were, in sjiite of
himself, to have made an impression upon him, and
■were always present to him even in his merriest
moods, and it was evidently under this feeling that
he said — more in earnest than in joke, though he
endeavoured to give it the latter character — to his
antagonist in the game, "Sir King of Love, it is not
long since I read a prophecy which foretold that in
tliis year a king should be slain in this land, and ye
know well, sir, that there are no kings in this realm
but you and L I therefore advise you to look care-
fully to your own safety, for I give you warning that
I shall see that mine is sufficiently provided for."
Shortly after this a number of lords and knights
thronged into the king's chamber, and the mirth,
]5astime, and joke went on with inci'eased vigour.
In the midst of the revelry, however, the king re-
ceived another warning of his approaching fate.
"iNIy lord," said one of his favourite squires, tempted
probably by the light tone of the conversation which
was going forward, "I have dreamed that Sir Robert
G raham should have slain you. " The Earl of Orkney,
who was present, rebuked the squire for the impro-
priety of jiis speech, but the king, differently affected,
said that he himself had dreamed a terrible dream
on the very night of which his attendant spoke.

In the meantime the night wore on, and all still
remained quiet in and around the monastery; but at
this very moment Graham, with 300 fierce High-
landers, was lurking in the neighbourhood, waiting
the midnight hour to break in upon the ill-fated
monarch. The mirth and pastime in the king's
chamber continued until supper was served, probably
about nine o'clock at night. As the hour of this
repast approached, however, all retired excepting the
Earl of Athol and Robert Stuart, the king's nephew,
and one of his greatest favourites — considerations
which could not bind him to the unfortunate monarch,
for he too was one of the conspirators, and did more
than any one of them to facilitate the murderous in-
tentions of his colleagues, by destroying the fasten-
ings of the king's chamber-door. After supper the
amusements of tlie previous part of the evening were
resumed, and chess, music, singing, and the reading
of romances, wiled away the next two or three hours.
On this fatal evening another circumstance occurred
which might have aroused the suspicions of the
king, if he had not been most unaccountably insen-
sible to the frequent hints and indirect intimations
which he had received of some imminent peril hang-
ing over him. The same woman who had accosted
him before crossing the firth again appeared, and
knocking at his chamber door at a late hour of the
night, sought to be admitted to the presence of the
king. "Tell him," she said to the usher who came
fjrth from the apartment when she knocked, "that
I am the same woman who not long ago desired to
speak with him when he was about to cross the sea,
and that I have something to say to him." The
usher immediately conveyed the message to the king,
but he being wholly engrossed by the game in which
he was at the instant engaged, merely ordered her
to return on the morrow. "Well," replied the dis-

appointed soothsayer, as she at the first interview
affected to be, "ye shall all of you repent that I was
not permitted just now to speak to the king." The
usher laughing at what he conceived to be the ex-
pressions of a fool, ordered the woman to be gone, and
she obeyed. The night was now wearing late, and
the king, having put an end to the evening's amuse-
ments, called for tlie parting cup. This drunk, the
party broke up, and James retired to his bed-cham-
ber, where he found the queen and her ladies amus-
ing themselves with cheerful conversation. The
king, now in his night-gown and slippers, placed
himself before the fire, and joined in the badinage
which was going forward. At this moment the king
was suddenly startled by a great noise at the outside
of his chamber-door, or rather in the passage which
led to it. The sounds were those of a crowd of
armed men pressing hurriedly forward. There was
a loud clattering and jingling of arms and armour,
accompanied by the gleaming of torches. The king
seems to have instantly apprehended danger, a feel-
ing which either he had communicated to the ladies
in the apartment, or they had of themselves con-
ceived, for they immediately nashed to the door with
the view of securing it, but they found all the fasten-
ings destroyed, and a bar which should have been
there removed.

This being intimated to the king, he called out to
the ladies to hold fast the door as well as they could,
until he could find something wherewith to defend
himself; and he flew to the window of the apartment
and endeavoured to wrench away one of the iron
stanchions for this purpose, but the bar resisted all
his efforts. In this moment of horror and despair,
the unhappy monarch next seized the tongs, which
lay by the fireside, and by their means, and with
some desperate efforts of personal strength, he tore
up a portion of the floor, and instantly descending
through the aperture into a mean receptacle which
was underneath the chamber, drew the boards down
after him to their original position. In the meantime
the ladies had contrived to keep out the conspirators,
and in this effort, it is said, Catharine Douglas had
one of her arms broken, by having thrust it into the
wall in place of the bar which had been removed.
The assassins, however, at length forced their way
into the apartment; and here a piteous scene now
ensued. The queen stood in the middle of the floor,
bereft of speech and motion by her terror, while her
ladies filled the apartment with the most lamentable
cries and shrieks.

One of the ruffians on entering inflicted a severe
wound on the queen, and would have killed her out-
right but for the interference of one of the sons of
Sir Robert Graham, who, perceiving the dastard
about to repeat the blow, exclaimed, "What would
ye do to the queen? for shame of yourself, she is but
a woman; let us go and seek the king." The con-
spirators, who were all armed with swords, daggers,
axes, and other weapons, now proceeded to searcli
for the king. They examined all the beds, presses,
and other probable places of concealment, overtumed
forms and chairs, but to no jnirpose; the king could
not be found, nor could they conceive how he had
escaped them. The conspirators, baulked in their
pursuit, dispersed themselves throughout the different
apartments to extend their search. This creating a
silence in the apartment immediately above the king,
the unfortunate monarch conceived the conspirators
had entirely withdrawn, and in his impatience to get
out of his disagreeable situation, called out to the
ladies to bring him sheets for that purpose. In the
attempt which immediately followed to raise him up
by these means, Elizabeth Douglas, another of the

36o

JAMES I. JAMES IV.

queen's waiting-maids, fell into the hole in which
the king was concealed. At this moment Thomas
Chambers, one of the assassins, and who was also one
of the king's domestics, enteretl the apartment, and
perceiving the op>ening in the floor he immediately
proceeded towards it, and looking down into the
cellar, with the assistance of his torch discovered the
king. On descrj-ing the object of his search Chambers
exultingly called out to his companions, "Sirs, the
bride is found for whom we sought, and for whom
we have caroled here all night." The joyful tidings
instantly brought a crowd of the conspirators to the
spot, and amongst the rest Sir John Hall, who, with
a large knife in his hand, hastily descended to the
king's hiding-place. The latter, however, who was
a man of great personal strength, instantly seized the
assassin and threw him down at his feet; and his
brother, who followed, shared the same treatment —
the king holding them both by their throats, and
with such a powerful grasp, that they bore marks of
the ^^olence for a month afterwards. The unfortu-
nate monarch now endeavoured to wrest their knives
from the assassins, and in the attempt had his hands
severely cut and mangled.

Sir Robert Graham, who had hitherto been merely
looking on, 'now seeing that the Halls could not ac-
complish the murder of the king, also descended, and
with a drawn sword in his hand. Unable to cope
with them all, and exliausted with the fearful struggle
which he had maintained with the two assassins,
■weapKjnIess and disabled in his hands, the king im-
plored Graham for mercy. "Cruel tyrant," replied
the regicide, "thou hadst never mercy on thy kindred
nor on others who fell within thy power, and there-
fore thou shalt have no mercy from me." "Then I
beseech thee, for the salvation of my soul, that thou
wilt permit me to have a confessor," said the miser-
able prince. "Thou shalt have no confessor but this
sword," replied Graham, thrusting his victim through
the body with his weapon. The king fell, but the
stroke was not instantly fatal. He continued in the
most piteous tones to supplicate mercy from his
murderer, offering him half his kingdom if he would
but spare his life. The heart-rending appeals of the
hapless monarch shook even Graham's resolution,
and he was about to desist from doing him further
injur)-, when, his intentions being perceived by the
conspirators from above, they called out to him that
if he did not complete the deed, he should himself
suffer death at their hands. Urged on by this threat,
the three assassins again attacked the king, and
finally despatched him, having inflicted sixteen deadly
wounds on his chest, besides others on different parts
of his body. As if every circumstance which could
facilitate his death had conspired to secure that
event, it happened that the king, some days before
he was murdered, had directed that an aperture in
the place where he had concealed himself, and by
which he might have escaped, should be built up, as
the balls with which he played at tennis in the court-
yard were apt to be lost in it. After completing the
murder of the king, the assassins sought for the
queen, whom, dreading her vengeance, they proposed
to put also to death; but she had escaped. A rumour
of the tragical scene that was enacting at the monas-
tery having spread through the town, great numbers
of the citizens, and of the king's senants, with arms
and torches hastened to the spot, but too late, to the
assistance of the murdered monarch. The conspi-
rators, however, all escaped for the time, excepting
one, who was killed by Sir David Dunbar, who had
himself three fingers cut off in the contest. This
brave knight had alone attacked the fleeing conspira-
tors, but was overpowered and left disabled.

In less than a month, snch was the acti\nty of the
queen's vengeance, all the principal actors in this ap-
palling tragedy were in custody, and were afterwards
put to the most horrible deaths. .Stuart and Cham-
bers, who were the first taken, were drawn, hanged,
and quartered, having been previously lacerated all
over with sharp instruments. Graham was carried
through the streets of Edinburgh in a cart, in a state
of perfect nudity, with his right hand nailed to an
upright pKjst, and surrounded with men, who, with
sharp hooks and knives and red-hot irons, kept con-
stantly tearing at and scorching his miserable body,
until he was completely covered with wounds.
Having undergone this, he was again thrown into
prison, and on the following day brought out to exe-
cution. The wretched man had, when released
from his tortures, wrapped himself in a coarse woollen
Scottish plaid, which adhering to his wounds, caused
him much pain in the removal. \\"hen this 0f>era-
tion was performed, and it was done with no gentle
hand, the miserable sufferer fainted and fell to the
ground with the agony. On recovering, which he
did not do for nearly a quarter of an hour, he said
to those around him, that the rude manner in which
the mantle had been removed had given him greater
pain than any he had yet suffered. To increase the
horrors of his situation, his son was disembowelled
alive before his face.

James I. perished in the forty -fourth year of his
age, after an actual reign of thirteen years. His pro-
geny were, a son (his successor), and five daughters.
These were, Margaret, married to the dauphin ;
Isabella, to Francis, Duke of Bretagne; Eleanor, to
Sigismund, Archduke of Austria; Mar}-, to the Count
de Boucquan; and Jean, to the Earl of Angus, after-
wards Earl of Morton.

JAMES IV., King of Scots, was the eldest son of
James III., by Margaret, daughter of Christiem,
King of Denmark; and was bom in the month of
March, 1472. Of the manner of his education no
record has been preser^-ed; but it was probably good,
as his father, whatever might be his faults, appears
to have been a monarch of considerable taste and re-
finement. In the year 14S8 a large party of nobles
rebelled against James III. on account of various
arbitrary proceedings with which they were dis-
pleased; and the king, on going to the north to raise
an army for their suppression, left his son, the sub-
ject of the present memoir, in the keeping of Shaw
of Sauchie, governor of Stirling Castle. While the
king was absent, the confederate nobles prevailed on
Shaw to surrender his charge; and the prince was
then set up as their nominal, but, it would appear,
involuntar)- leader. The parties met, July il, at
Sauchie, near Stirling; and the king fell a victim to
the resentment of his subjects. The subject of the
present memoir then mounted the throne, in the
sixteenth year of his age.

Neither the precise objects of this rebellion, nor
the real nature of the prince's concern in its progress
and event, are distinctly known. It is certain, how-
ever, that James IV. always considered himself as
liable to the vengeance of Heaven for his share,
voluntar)- or involuntar)-, in his father's death; and
accordingly wore a penitential chain round his body,
to which he added new weight every year; and even
contemplated a still more conspicuous expiation of
his supposed offence, by undertaking a new crusade.
Whatever might be the guUt of the prince, the nation
had certainly no cause to regret the death of James
III., except the manner in which it was accomplished,-
while they had ever\thing to hope from the generous
young monarch who was his successor.

JAMES IV.

^.Gi

James possessed in an eminent degree every quality
necessar)' to render a sovereign beloved by his sub-
jects; and perhaps no prince ever enjoyed so large a
portion of personal regard, of intense affection, as did
James IV. of Scotland. His manner was gentle and
affable to all who came in contact with him, whatever
might be their rank or degree. He M-as just and im-
partial in his decrees, yet never inflicted punishment
without strong and visible reluctance. He listened
•willingly and readily to admonition, and never dis-
covered either impatience or resentment while his
errors were placed before him. He took everything
in good part, and endeavoured to amend the errors in
his conduct pointed out by his advisers. He was
generous even to a fault; magnificent and princely in
all his habits, pursuits, and amusements. His mind
was acute, and dignified and noble. He excelled in
all warlike exercises and manly accomplishments; in
music, horsemanship, and the use of sword and spear.
Nor was his personal appearance at variance with
this elevated character. His form, which was of the
middle size, was exceedingly handsome, yet stout
and muscular, and his countenance had an expression
of mildness and dignity that instantly predisposed
all who looked upon it to a strong attachment to its
possessor.

His bravery, like his generosity, was also in the
extreme: it was romantic. Altogether he was un-
questionably the most chivalrous prince of his day in
Europe. A contemporary poet bears testimony to
tliis part of his character: —

"And ye Christian princes, whosoever j-e be,
If ye be destitute of a noble captayne,
Take James of Scotland for his audacitie
And proved manhood, if ye will laude attaj-ne;
Let him have the forwarde, have ye no disdayne.
Nor indignation; for never king was borne
That of ought of warr can showe the unicome.

" For if that he take once his speare in hand,
Against these Turkes strongly with it to ride.
None shall be able his stroke for to withstande
Nor before his face so hardy to abide;
Vet this his manhood increaseth not his pride,
But ever sheweth he mekenes and humilitie,
In word or dede, to hye and lowe degree. '

A neglected education left him almost totally ignorant
of letters, but not without a high relish for their
beauties. He delighted in poetry, and possessed a
mind attuned to all its finer sympathies.

The design of the rebel lords in taking arms against
their sovereign, James HI., being merely to free
themselves from his weak and tyrannical government,
without prejudice to his heirs, his son James IV.
was immediately after the death of his father pro-
claimed king, and was formally invested with that
dignity at Scone. However violent and unlawful
were the proceedings which thus prematurely elevated
James to the throne, the nation soon felt a benefit
from the change which could scarcely have been
looked for from an administration originating in
rebellion and regicide. The several parliaments
which met after the accession of the young king
passed a number of wise and salutary laws, encourag-
ing trade, putting down turbulence and faction, and
enjoining the strict execution of justice throughout
the kingdom.

The prince and his nobles placed the most implicit
confidence in each other, and the people in both.
This good understanding with the former the king
encouraged and promoted, by inviting them to fre-
quent tournaments and other amusements and war-
like exercises, in accordance with his own chivalrous
spirit, and adapted to their rude tastes and habits.
These tournaments were exceedingly splendid, and
Were invested with all the romance of the brightest
days of chivalry. Ladies, lords, and knights, in the

most gorgeous attire, crowded round the lists, or from
draperied balconies witnessed the combats that took
place within them. James himself always presided
on these occasions, and often exhibited his own prow-
ess in the lists; and there were few who could suc-
cessfully compete with him with spear, sword, or
battle-axe. Stranger knights from distant countries,
attracted by the chivalric fame of the Scottish court,
frequently attended and took part in these tourna-
ments, but, it is said, did not in many instances prove
themselves better men at their weapons than the
Scottish knights. One of the ndes of these encoun-
ters was, tliat the victor should be put in possession
of his opponent's weapon; but when this was a spear,
a purse of gold, a gift from the king, was attached
to the point of it. These trophies were delivered to
the conqueror by the monarch himself. The people
were delighted with these magnificent and warlike
exhibitions, and with their generous and chivalrous
author. Nor were the actors themselves, the nobles,
less gratified with them, or less affected by the high
and princely spirit whence tliey emanated. They
brought them into frequent and familiar contact with
their sovereign, and nothing more was necessary^ in
the case of James to attach them warmly and de-
votedly to his person. His kind and affable manner
accomplished the rest.

By such means he was not only without a single
enemy amongst the aristocracy, but all of them
would have shed the last drop of their blood in his
defence, and a day came when nearly all of them
did so. In short, the wisest policy could not have
done more in uniting the affections of prince and
peers, than was accomplished by those warlike pas-
times, aided as they were by the amiable manners of
the monarch.

Not satisfied with discharging his duty to his sub-
jects from his liigh place on the throne, James fre-
quently descended, and disguising his person — a
practice to which his successor was also much ad-
dicted— roamed through tlie country unarmed and
unattended, inquiring into his own reputation
amongst the common people, and endeavouring to
learn what faults himself or his government were
charged with. On these occasions he lodged in the
meanest hovels, and encouraged the inmates to speak
their minds freely regarding their king; and there is
little doubt, that, as his conduct certainly merited it,
so he must have been frequently gratified by their
replies. The young monarch, however, was charged
with stepping aside occasionally in his rambles from
this laudable though somewhat romantic pursuit, and
paying visits to any of his fair acquaintances whose
residence happened to be in his way; and it is alleged
that he contrived they should very often be so
situated.

Unfortunately for his courtiers, James conceived
that he possessed, and not improbably actually did
possess, considerable skill in surgery and medicine;
but there is reason to believe that the royal surgeon's
interference in cases of ailment was oftener dreaded
than desired, although Lindsay says that "thair was
none of that profession (the medical) if they had any
dangerous cure in hand, but would have craved his
adwyse." Compliments, however, to a king's ex-
cellence in any art or science are always suspicious,
and this of Lindsay's is not associated with any cir-
cumstances which should give it a claim to exemption
from such a feeling.

One of the greatest faults of the young monarch
was a rashness and impetuosity of temper. This
frequently led him into ill-timed and ill-judged hos-
tilities with the neighbouring kingdom, and, con-
joined with a better quality, his generosity, induced

2f>^-

JAMES IV.

him to !;ccon(l the pretensions of the impo-tor Pcrkin
NVarbcck to the crown of Knylaiui. 'lliat atlvcn-
turer arrived at James' court (1496) atteiuled by a
numerous train of followers — all attired in magnifi-
cent habits, and sought the assistance of the Scottish
king to enable him to recover what he represented
as his birthright. Prepossessed by the elegant man-
ner and noble bearing of the imjiostor, and readily
b;:lieving the story of his misfortunes, which was
supported by plausible evidence, the generous mon-
arch at once received him to his arms, and not only
entertained him for some time at his court, but,
much against the will of his nobles, mustered an
armv, antl, with Warbeck in his company, marched
at the head of it into England, to reinstate his pro-
tege in what he believed to be his right at the point
of the sword — a project much more indicative of a
warm and generous heart than of a prudent head.
The enterprise, as might have been expected, was
unsuccessfid. James had counted on a rising in
England in behalf of the pretender; but, being dis-
appointed in this, he was compelled to abandon the
attempt and to return to Holy rood. The King of
England did not retaliate on James this invasion of
his kingdom; but he demanded from him the person
of the impostor. With this request, however, the
Scottish king was much too magnanimous to comply;
and he not only refused to accede to it, but furnished
AVarbeck with vessels and necessaries to carry him
to Ireland, whither he now proceeded. James is
fully relieved from the charge of credulity which
might appear to lie against him for so readily con-
fiding in Warbeck's representations by the extreme
plausibility which was attached to them, and by the
strongly corroborative circumstances by which they
were attended. He is also as entirely relieved from
the imputation of conniving in the imposture — an
accusation which has b.'cn insinuated against him —
by the circumstance of his having given a near rela-
tion of his own, Catharine Gordon, a daughter of
Eord Huntly's, in marriage to the impostor, which
it cannot for a moment be lielieved he would have
done had he known the real character of Warbeck.

The species of roving life which the young mon-
arch led was now about to be circumscribed, if not
wholly terminated, by his entering into the married
.state. This he avoided as long as he possibly could,
and contrived to escape from it till he had attained
the thirtieth year of his age. Henry of England,
however, who had always been more desirous of
James' friendship than his hostility, and had long
entertained views of securing the former by a matri-
monial connection with his family, at length suc-
ceeded in procuring James' consent to marry his
daughter Margaret, an event which took place in
1503-

Whatever reluctance the monarch might have had
to resign his liberty, he was not wanting in gallantry
to his fair partner when she came to claim it. He
first waited upon her at Newbattle, where he enter-
tained her with his own performance on the clari-
chords and lute, listened to specimens of her own
skill in the same art on bended knee, and altogether
conducted himself like a true and faithful knight.
He also exhibited a care and elegance in his dress
on this occasion sufficiently indicative of his desire
to please. He was arrayed in a black velvet jacket,
bonlered with crimson velvet, and furred with white;
and when he afterwards conducted his bride from
Dalkeith to Edinburgh, which he did, strange to tell,
seated on horseback behind him, he appeared in a
jacket of cloth of gold, bordered with purple velvet
furred with black, a doublet of violet satin, scarlet
hose, the collar of his shurt studded with precious

stones and pearls, with long gilt spurs projecting
from the heels of his boots.

l>y the terms of the marriage contract the young
queen, who was only in her fourteenth year when
she was wedded to James, was to be conducted t<j
Scotland at the expense of her father, and to be de-
livered to her husband or to persons appointed by
him at Lamberton Kirk. The latter was to receive
with her a dowry of thirty thousand pieces of gold;
ten thousand to be paid at Edinburgh eight days
after the marriage, other ten thousand at Coldingham
a year afterwards, and the last ten thousand at the
expiry of the year following. The marriage was
celebrated with the utmost splendour and pomp.
Eeastings, tourneyings, and exhibitions of shows and
plays, succeeded each other in one continued and
uninterrupted round for many days, James himself
appearing in the lists at the tournaments in the char-
acter of the ".Savage Knight.'" But there is no part
of the details of the various entertainments got up
on this occasion that intimates so forcibly the bar-
barity of the times, as the information that real en-
counters between a party of Highlanders and Bor-
derers, in which the combatants killed and mangled
each other with their weapons, were exhibited for
the amusement of the spectators.

A more grateful and more lasting memorial of the
happy event of James' marriage than any of these is
to be found in Dunbar's beautiful allegorical poem,
the Thistle and the Rose, composed on that occasion,
and thus aptly and emblematically entitled from the
union being one between a Scottish king and English
princess. In this poem Dunbar, who then resided
at the court, hhits at the monarch's character of being
a somewhat too general admirer of the fair sex, by
recommending him to reserve all his affections for
his queen.

" Nor hauld no other flower in sic denty
As the fresche rose, of cullor reid and white;
For gif thou dois, hurt is thine honesty,
Considdering that no flower is so perfyt."

It is said to have been at the rude but magnificent
court of this monarch that the character of a Scottish
courtier first appeared ; this class so numerous at all
the other courts of Europe having been hitherto
unknown in Scotland. These raw courtiers, however,
made rapid progress in all the acquirements necessary
to their profession, and began to cultivate all their
winning ways, and to pay all that attention to their
exterior appearance, on which so much of the hopes
of the courtier rests. A finely and largely-niffled
shirt, the especial boast and delight of the ancient
Scottish courtier, a flat little bonnet, russet hose,
perfumed gloves, embroidered slippers that glittered
in the sun or with candle-light, a handkerchief also
perfumed and adorned with a golden tassel at each
corner, and garters knotted into a huge rose at the
knee — were among the most remarkable parts of
the dress of the hangers-on at the court of James IV.
In one important particular, how^ever, these gentle-
men seemed to have wonderfully resembled the cour-
tier of the present day. Na Kindness at Court
-without Siller is the title of a poem by Sir Richard
Maitland of Ecthington, who had everj' opportunity
of knowing personally what was the character of
that of his native sovereign.

One of the stipulations of the marriage treaty be-
tween the king and the daughter of Henry VII.
having secured an inviolable peace between the two
monarchs and their subjects, the nation enjojed for
several years after that event the most profound
tranquillity. This leisure James employed in im-
proving the civil polity of his kingdom ; in making
efforts to introduce civilization, and an obedience to

JAMES IV.

363

the laws, into the Highlands and Isles, by establish-
ing courts of justice at Inverness, Dingwall, and
various other places throughout these remote dis-
tricts; in enlarging and improving his navy, and, in
short, in doing everything that a wise prince could
do to promote the prosperity of his kingdom. In
all these judicious proceedings James was cordially
supported by his parliament, a department of the
legislature in which he was perhaps more fortunate
than any of his predecessors had ever been, and cer-
tainly more than were any of his immediate suc-
cessors. The acts of the parliament of James IV. are
distinguished by the most consummate wisdom, and
by a constant aiming at the improvement and pro-
sperity of the kingdom, whether by suppressing
violence, establishing rules for the dispensation of
justice, or in encouraging commerce; and they are
no less remarkable for a spirit of cordiality towards
the sovereign, amounting to a direct and personal
afTection, which breathes throughout the whole. How
much of this good feeling, antl of this happy co-
operation in good works, depended upon the king,
and how much upon the parliaments themselves, it
would not be easy to determine; but it is certain that
much of the merit which attaches to it must be
awarded to the sovereign.

This peaceful and prosperous state of the kingdom,
however, after enduring for upwards of nine years,
at length drew to a close, and finally terminated in
one of the most disastrous events recorded, in the
pages of her history. Henry VII. died, and was
succeeded by Henry VIII. Besides the change
which this occurrence effected in the relationship
between the sovereigns of England and Scotland,
the feelings and policy of the new monarch towards
the latter kingdom were totally dissimilar to those
of his predecessor. He seems, indeed, to have
brought with him to the throne a feeling of hostility
towards Scotland ; and this feeling, the sensitive,
warm-tempered, and impetuous monarch against
whom it was entertained was not long in discover-
ing. The consequence was, that, after some slight
mutual offences, which, under any other circum-
stances, might have been easily atoned for, war was
proclaimed between the two kingdoms, and both
made the most formidable preparations for deciding
their differences on the field of battle. James sum-
moned the whole array of his kingdom, including
all the Western Isles and the most remote parts of the
Highlands, to assemble on the Borough Muir within
twenty days, each, as was usual on such occasions, to
come provided with forty days' provisions. Though
the impendingwar was deprecated by James' council,
and was by all considered imprudent, yet such was
his popularity, such the general affection for the
high-spirited and generous monarch, that no less
than 100,000 men appeared in arms at the place of
muster; disapproving, indeed, of the object for which
they were brought together, but determined to shed
the last drop of their blood in their sovereign's
quarrel — because it was his, and because he had de-
termined on bringing it to the issue of the sword.
Deeply imbued with the superstition of the period,
James spent much of his time immediately before
setting out with his army in the performance of re-
ligious rites and observances. On one of these occa-
sions, and within a few days of his marching on his
e.\pcdition, a circumstance occurred which the credu-
lity of the times has represented as supernatural, but
in which it is not difficult to detect a design to work
on the superstitious fears of the king to deter him
from proceeding on his intended enterprise. While
at his devotions in the church of Linlithgow, a figure,
clothed in a blue gown secured by a linen girdle, and

wearing sandals, suddenly appeared in the church,
and calling loudly for the king, passed through the
crowd of nobles by whom he was surrounded, and
finally approached the desk at which his majesty was
seated at his devotions. Without making any sign
of reverence or respect for the royal presence, the
mysterious visitor now stood full before the king,
and delivered a commission as if fronx the other
world. He told him that his expedition would
terminate disastrously, advised him not to proceed
with it, and cautioned him against the indulgence of
illicit amours. The king was about to reply, but the
spectre had disappeared, and no one could tell how.
The figure is represented as having been that of an
elderly grave-looking man, with a bald uncovered
head, and straggling gray locks resting on his
shoulders. There is little doubt that it was a
stratagem of the queen's, and that the lords who
surrounded the king's person were in the plot. Some
other attempts of a similar kind were made to alarm
the monarch, and to deter him from his purpose,
but in vain. Neither superstition nor the lies of
natural affection could dissuade him from taking the
field. Resisting all persuasion, and even the tears
and entreaties of his queen, who, amongst the other
arguments which her grief for the probable fate of
her husband suggested, urged that of the helpless
state of their infant son; the gallant but infatuated
monarch took his place at the head of his army, put
the vast array in marching order, and proceeded on
that expedition from which he was never to return.
The Scottish army having passed the Tweed began
hostilities by taking some petty forts and castles, and
amongst the latter that of Ford ; here the monarch
found a jNIrs. Heron, a lady of remarkable beauty,
and whose husband was at that time a prisoner in
Scotland. Captivated by this lady's attractions —
while his natural son, the Archbishop of St. An-
drews, who accompanied him, acknowledged those
of her daughter — ^James spent in her society that time
which he should have employed in active service with
his anny. The consequence of this inconceivable
folly was, that his soldiers, left unemployed, and
disheartened by a tedious delay, gradually withdrew
from his camp and returned to their homes, until
his army was at length reduced to little more than
30,000 men. A sense of honour, however, still de-
tained in his ranks all the noblemen and gentlemen
who had first joined them, and thus a dispropor-
tionate number of the aristocracy remained to fall in
the fatal field which was soon afterwards /ought.
In the meantime the Earl of Surrey, lieutenant-
general of the northern counties of England, ad-
vanced towards the position occupied by James'
forces, with an army of 31,000 men.

On the 7th of September, 1 5 13, the latter en-
camped at Woolerhaugh, within five miles of Flodden
Hill, the gi-ound on which the vScottish army was
encamped. On the day following they advanced to
Banmore Wood, distant about two miles from the
Scottish position, and on the 9th presented them-
selves in battle array at the fool of Flodden Hill.
The Scottish nobles endeavoured to prevail upon the
king not to expose his person in the impending en-
counter, but he rejected the proposal with disilain,
saying, that to outlive so many of his brave country-
men would be more terrible to him than death itself.
Finding they could not dissuade him from his pur-
pose of sharing in the dangers of the approaching
fight, they had recourse to an expedient to lessen the
chances of a fatal result. Selecting several persons
who bore a resemblance to him in figure and stature,
they clothed them in a dress exactly similar to that
worn by the monarch, and dispersed them through-

3^4

JAMES IV. JAMES V.

out the mnks of the anny. The English army, when
it presented itself to the Scots, was drawn up in
three large divisions; Surrey commanilinjj that in
the centre, Sir Edward Stanley and Sir Edmund
Howard those on the right and left, while a large
body of cavalry, commanded by Dacre, was posted
in the rear. The array of the Scots was made to
correspond to this disposition, the king himself lead-
ing on in person the division opposed to that com-
manded by Surrey, while the Earls of Lennox,
Argyle, Crawford, Montrose, Huntly, and Home
jointly commanded those on his right and left. A
body of cavalr)', corresponding to that of Dacre's,
under Dothwell, was posted immediately behind the
king's division. Having completed their dispositions,
the Scots, with their long spears levelled for the
cjming strife, descended from the hill, and were soon
closed with the enemy. The divisions commanded
by Huntly and Home, on the side of the Scots,
and by Howard on the side of the English, first met,
but in a few minutes more all the opposing divisions
came in contact with each other, and the battle be-
came general.

The gallant but imprudent monarch himself, sur-
rounded by a band of his no less gallant nobles, was
seen fighting desperately in the front of his men, and
in the very midst of a host of English billmen.
After various turns of fortune, the day finally termin-
ated in favour of the English, though not so decisively
as to assure them of their success, for it was not till
the following day that Surrey, by finding the field
abandoned by the Scots, ascertained that he had
gained the battle. In this sanguinar)- conflict, which
lasted for three hours, having commenced at four
o'clock in the afternoon and continued till seven,
there perished twelve earls, thirteen lords, five eldest
sons of peers, about fifty gentlemen of rank and
family, several dignitaries of the church, and about
10,000 common men. Amongst the churchmen who
fell were the king's natural son, the Archbishop of
St. Andrews, Hepburn, Bishop of the Isles, and the
Abbots of Kilwinning and Inchaffray. James him-
self fell amidst a heap of his slaughtered nobles,
mortally wounded in the head by an English bill,
and pierced in the body with an arrow. It was long
believed by the common people that the unfortunate
monarch had escaped from the field, and that he had
gone on a pilgrimage to Palestine, where tradition
represented him to have ended his days in prayer
and penitence for his sins, and especially for that of
liis having borne arms against his father. This belief
was strengthened by a rumour that he had been seen
between Kelso and Dunse after the battle was fought.
That he actually fell at Flodden, however, has been
long since put beyond all doubt, and the fate of his
body is singular. It appears to have been carried
to London, and to have been embalmed there, but
by whom or by whose orders is unknown. In the
reign of Elizabeth, some sixty or seventy years after-
wards, the shell in wliich the body was deposited,
and still containing it, was found in a garret amongst
a quantity of lumber by a slater while repairing the
roof of a house. The body was still perfectly entire,
and emitted a pleasant fragrance from the strong
aromas which had been employed in its preservation.
Looking on it as a great curiosity, though unaware
whose remains it was, the slater chopped off the
hea<l, carried it home with him, and kept it for
several years. Such was the fate of the mortal part
of the noble-minded, the high-souled monarch, James
ly. of Scotland. He was in the forty-first vear of
his age, and tl.e twenty-sixth of his reign, when he
fell on Flodden field.

At this distance of time everything relating: to that

celebrated but calamitous contest — the most calami-
tous recorded in the pages of Scottish historj- — pos-
sesses a deep and peculiar interest ; but of all the
memorials which have reached us of that fatal event,
there is not one perhaps so striking and impressive
as the proclamation of the authorities of Edinburgh;
The provost and magistrates were in the ranks of
the king's army, and had left the management of the
town's affairs in the hands of deputies. On the day
after the battle was fought, a rumour had reached
the city that the Scottish army had met with a dis-
aster, and the following proclamation — the one al-
luded to — was in consequence issued. The hopes,
fears, and doubts which it expresses, now that all
such feelings regarding the event to which it refers
have long since passed away, cannot be contemplated
without a feeling of deep and melancholy interest.
"The loth day of September the year above written
(15 1 3), we do zow to witt. Forasmeikle as thair is
ane grait rumour now laitlie r}sin within this toun,
touching oure soverane lord and his army, of the
quhilk we understand thair is cum in na veritie as
yet. Quhairfore we charge straitely, and commandis
in oure said soverane lord the kingis name, and the
presidentis for the provost and baillies within this
burgh, that all manner of personis, nychtbours within
the samyn, have riddye thair fensabill geir and wap-
penis for weir, and compeir thairwith to the said
presidents at jowing of the commoun bell, for the
keiping and defense of the toun aganis thame that
wald invaid the samin. And als chairgis that all
wemen, and especial] ie vagaboundis, that thai pass
to thair labouris and be nocht sene upoun the gait
clamorand and crjand, under the pane of banising
of thair personis, but favouris, and that the uther
women of gude repute pass to the kirk and pray
quhane tyme requiris for our soverane lord, and his
army and nychtbours being thairat, and hald thame
at thair previe labouris of the gait within thair housis
as efferis."

James left behind him only one legitimate child,
James V. His natural issue were, Alexander, bom
eight months after his father's death, and who died
in the second year of his age; Alexander, Archbishop
of St. Andrews; Catharine, wedded to the Earl of
Morton ; James, Earl of Murray ; Margaret, wedded
to the heir of Huntly; and Jean, manied to Malcolm
Lord Fleming.

JAMES V. of Scotland, son of James IV., and
of Margaret, eldest daughter of Henry VIL, King
of England, was born at Linlithgow in the month
of April, 15 12. This prince, on the death of his
father, was not more than a year and a half old.
The nation had, therefore, to look for%vard to a long
minority, and to dread all the evils which in these
turbulent times were certain to attend a protracted
regency.

Scarcely any event could have been more disastrous
to Scotland than the j^remalure death of James IV.
The loss of the battle of Flodden, the immense
number of Scottish noblemen and gentlemen who
fell in that fatal field, were calamities of no ordinary
magnitude; but the death of James himself was more
fatal to the peace and prosperity of the kingdom than
all. By the latter event Scotland was thrown open
to foreign influence and intrigue, and left to the fero-
cious feuds of its own turbulent and warlike chief-
tains, who did not fail to avail themselves of the
opportunity which the death of the monarch afforded
them of bringing their various private quarrels to
the decision of the sword. It might have been ex-
pected that the overwhelming disaster of Flodden
field, which brought grief and mourning into almost

JAMES V.

365

every house of note in the land by tlie loss of some
member of its family, would have extinguished, for
a time at least, all personal animosities between
them, and that a common sympathy would have
prevented the few that were left from drawing their
swords upon each other ; but it had no such effect.
Sanguinary contests and atrocious murders daily
occurred throughout the whole country. They in-
vaded each other's territories with fire and sword,
burned with indiscriminating vengeance the cottage
as well as the castle; despoiled the lands of corn and
cattle ; and retired only when driven back by a
superior force, or when there was nothing more left
to destroy or carry away.

Such was the condition of Scotland during nearly
the whole period of the minority of James ; and by
merely substituting one noble name lor anollier, and
shifting from time to time the scene of their endless
squabbles and skirmishes, adding an interminable
and scarcely intelligible story of intrigues, duplicity,
and deception, we have the history of the kingdom
for the fifteen years immediately succeeding the
battle of Flodden field. During this period we oc-
casionally find the queen and her second husband,
the Earl of Angus, and sometimes the Duke of
Albany, cousin of the late king, in possession of the
nominal regency. At length the young monarch
comes upon the stage ; and it is not until that event
occurs that the interest of the story is resumed. It
then becomes a connected and intelligiljle tale, and
is at once relieved of the cumbrous and fatiguing
narration of occurrences, digressive, episodical, and
parenthetical, with which it was previously disfigured
and obscured.

In the meantime the young monarch, unconscious
of the storm that was raging without, was pursuing
his studies in the castle of Edinburgh, where he had
been placed for safety, under the tuition of Gavin
Dunbar. The apartments appropriated to the youth-
ful sovereign in this ancient fortress seem to have
been in but a very indifferent condition ; his master,
Dunbar, though afterwards refunded, having been
obliged to repair at his own cost, in the first instance,
the chamber in which the king received his lessons,
one particular room having been set apart for that
purpose. Indeed, during the whole of Albany's
regency, the wants of the young monarch seem to
have been very little attended to : even his per-
sonal comfort was so much neglected, that it was
with great difficulty he could procure a new doublet
or a new pair of hose; and he at one time must have
gone without even them but for the kindness of his
natural sister, the Countess of Morton, who, from
time to time, supplied him with articles of wearing
apparel. The treasurer, too, frequently refused to
pay the tailor for the making of his clothes, when
the material instead of the dress happened to be sent
him. Though placed in the castle for security, this
consideration does not seem to have precluded the
indulgence of going abroad occasionally. A mule
was kept for him, on which he rode out during the
intervals of his study, and when the town and sur-
rounding country were reckoned sufficiently quiet
and peaceful to admit of his doing so with safety.
The appearance, character, and temper of the young
monarch during his nonage are spoken of in warm
terms by his contemporaries. In personal appear-
ance he is said to have borne a strong resemblance
to his uncle Henry VIII. of England ; who, tyrant
though he was, had certainly a very noble and kingly
presence. James' countenance was oval, of a mild
and sweet expression ; his eyes blue, and beaming
at once with gentleness and intelligence without
effeminacy; a head of yellow hair completes the pic-

ture. He was of an exceedingly affectionate disposi-
tion, and of a generous though somewhat hasty
temper. "There is not in the world," says the
queen his mother, in a letter to Surrey, "a wiser
child, or a better-hearted, or a more able." This
is the language of a parent indeed; but, when corro-
borated as it is by other evidence, there is no occa-
sion, to suspect it of partiality. James was about
this time in the eleventh or twelfth year of his ago.
With his other good qualities he discovered a shre\\d- •
ness and sagacity superior to his years. Surrey,
speaking of him to Wolsey, says, "He speaks sure,
for so young a thing." The young monarch was
much addicted to all manly sports and exercises, and
in all excelled. He rode gracefully, was passionately
fond of the chase, and took much delight in hawks,
hounds, and all the other appurtenances belonging
to that amusement. He also sang and danced well,
and even in his boyish years felt much of that "stern
joy" which noble minds feel in possessing and hand-
ling implements of war. He was delighted with arms
and armour ; and could draw a sword a yard long
before the hilt, when buckled to his side, as well as
a full-grown man. His own weapon was of this
length when he was only twelve years of age. James
was altogether at this period of his life a noble and
princely boy. His amusements were all of a manly
character. His mind was generous and elevated,
his mien and carriage gallant and dignified. In short,
imagination cannot conceive a more striking image
of a youthful monarch in a rude and warlike age,
than is presented to us in the person and character
of James V. of Scotland. There is some reason,
however, to believe, that the royal colt was a little
wild, and that he was fully as fond of tilting with the
spear, or making the forest of Ettrick ring with his
bugle-notes, as of studying his humanities, for his
Latinity was found to be sadly defective.

He seems to have kept Stirling Castle, the place
where he last resided before assuming the reins of
government, in something like an uproar, while he
lived in it, with his sports and amusements. He
was generally joined in these by his domestics ; and
as they were pretty numerous, we may readily con-
ceive what a noise and turmoil they would create,
led on in their wild and obstreperous frolics by their
bold and lively young leader. Pelting each other
with eggs is known to have been a favourite pastime,
and it is one certainly which must have given rise
to many of the most ludicrous scenes. Although
the estates of the kingdom had fixed the eighteenth
year of his age as that which should terminate the
minority of James, and put him in full and uncon-
trolled possession of the sovereignty of the kingdom,
he was called upon to take his seat on the throne at
a much earlier period of life. The lords themselves,
whose feuds and quarrels had filled the country with
slaughter and rapine, saw no other way of termin-
ating the frightful scene but by calling on the king,
young as he \\as, to assume the royal dignity. The
ambition of his mother, who hoped to possess her-
self of the real power and authority, also contributed
to facilitate the event ; and, accordingly, the boy
king, for he was only twelve years of age, was
brought, escorted by a numerous train of nobles,
from Stirling Castle to Ilolyrood House. On first
learning the resolution to which the lords had come
of investing him with the royal character, he expressed
much delight, and seemed filled with the most joy-
ful anticipations. "He was weill content," says
Lindsay, "to Icive correctioun at the scooles, and
pas to his lordis at libertie."

Amongst the first things which the young monarch
did on arriving at Ilolyrood, was to change all the

366

JAMES V

olBcers of the royal household, from the treasurer
down to the carvers. Tlirce noblemen, the Earl of
Lennox, the Lords Hamilton and Angus, and Arch-
bishop Hcatoun, were appointed as his guardians
and advisers. For a year after his arrival in Edin-
burgh and assumption of the royal dignity, the king
and his guardians lived happily, and Lindsay says
merrily together; but -at the end of that period, a
"benefice vaiket," a temptation came in .the way,
and destroyed the harmony of the association ; each
claimed it from the king, and each thought he had
a better right to it than his fellow. Angus said that
he was always scarce of liay and horse corn wlien lie
came to Ediiiburgh, and that therefore it should be
given to him. The vacant benefice was attached to
Holyrood House. \Vhether it was the force of this
api)eal, or the superior influence of Angus over tlie
royal mind, tliat dcciiletl tlie ])oint, is left unexplained;
but that nobleman carried off the prize, to the great
disappointment and displeasure of tlie other three,
who shortly after retired in disgust from the court.
Lennox, who had got nothing at all, returned, in
despair of gaining anything by the royal favour, to
his own countr)-; and Ilaihilton, though he had pro-
cured the abbacy of Paisley for his son, thinking
that he had not got enough, followed his example.
Beatoun, who lived then in a house of his own in the
Friar's Wynd, refrained afterwards from going near
the court, but when expressly sent for.

Although James was now placed upon the throne,
and surrounded witli all the insignia of royalty, he
neither of himself assumed nor was permitted to as-
sume the functions of the royal state. He was much
too young to be capable of holding the reins of
government, and there were those around him who
were not desirous that he should. Nor does it ap-
pear that the young monarch cared mucli about the
matter, so long as he was permitted to enjoy himself;
and tjiere is no reason to believe that the defection
of his grave guardians sank very deep into his mind.
As the king advanced in years, however, this indif-
ference to the power and authority of his elevated
station gradually gave way to the natural ambition
of enjoying them ; and he at length determined to
rid himself of the thraldom under which he was kept
by the Jvarl of Angus, who had for several years ex-
ercised the royal authority in his name. The house
of Douglas, however, was too powerful, and their
influence too extensive, to admit of his effecting his
emancipation by any open effort; he therefore deter-
mined to have recourse to secret measures in the first
instance.

The young king was now in the seventeenth year
of his age, and when lie carried his design into exe-
cution was residing at Falkland, a favourite hunting-
place of the kings of Scotland. Here he was attended
as usual by the Earl of Angus and several of his
kindred, all of whom were united in the design of
keeping the king, as it were, to themselves. A Doug-
las was captain of his guard; a Douglas was treasurer;
and a Douglas was guardian and adviser. CJreat
numbers of that name, besides, fdled subordinate
situations in the royal household, and the king's guard,
consisting of a hundred gentlemen, were all in the
interest of tlie Earl of Angus and his family. Thus
enconijiassed, the young monarch had no oilier re-
source than to endeavour to elude their vigilance.
I le was under no personal restraint, nor was he de-
barred from any enjoyment or amusement with which
he chose to occupy himself. On the contrary, they
all led an exceedingly merry and joyous life together;
were almost daily out hunting and hawking and
feasting with tlie neighijouring nolilemen and gentle-
men, and amongst the rest with the Archbishop of

St. Andrews, who entertained the king and his at-
tendants with great "mirrines" for several days to-
gether; but it was necessary that a Douglas should
always be present on these occasions. Hunting,
hawking, or feasting, still a Douglas must be there.
An opportunity sucli as the young monarch had long
and anxiously looked for of escaping from this annoy-
ing surveillance at length presented itself, and he
availed himself of it. The Earl of Angus left Falk-
land for a few days, to transact some private busi-
ness of his own in the Lothians, leaving the king
in charge of his uncle Archibald Douglas, and his
brother Cleorge. These two, however, availing
themselves probably of the earl's absence, also left
the palace on different errands ; the former, it is
hinted, to visit a mistress in Dundee, and the latter
to arrange some business with the Archbisjiop of
St. Andrews. There was still, however, a fourth
left, whom it was necessary tlie king should dispose
of before he could effect his escape; this was James
Douglas of Parkliead, the. captain of the guard, to
whom the absentees in the last resort had confided
the safe-keeping of the young monarch. In order
to get rid of him, the king gave out that he intended
to go a hunting early on the following morning, and
having sent for James Douglas to his bedroom, he
called for liquor, and drinking to his guest, remarked
that he should see good hunting on the morrow.
Douglas, little dreaming of the equivoque, saw the
king safely to bed, and retired to his own, Ijy the
advice of his master, much earlier than usual, that
he might be up betimes in the moming, the king
having ordered dejeune to be served at four o'clock.
It is not improbable that his majesty, moreover, had
made him take an extra cup before they parted. As
soon as all was quiet in the palace, the king got up,
chsginsed himself by putting on the dress of one of
his own grooms, and descended to the stables, where
"Jockie Hart," a yeomen of the stable, with another
trusty servant, also in the secret, were ready prepared
with saddled horses for the intended flight.

They all three instantly mounted, and escaping all
notice from the wardens, took the road for Stirling
at full gallop. On reaching the castle, which he did
by break of day, the king ordered the gates to be
shut, and that no one should be permitted to enter
without his special order. This done, he retired to
bed, much fatigued with his long and rapid ride.
His escape from Falkland was not discovered until
the following morning. George Douglas had returned
to the palace at eleven o'clock at night, about an
hour after the king's departure, but having learned
from the porters that his majesty was asleep in his
own apartment, he, without further inquiry, retired
to bed; and it was not until he was roused at an
early hour of the moming, by Patrick Carniichael,
bailie of Abernethy, who had recognized the king
in his fiiglit, and who came with all manner of de-
spatch to inform him of it, that he knew anything
at all about the matter. lie would not at first be-
lieve it, but rushed in great alarm to the king's
chamber, which he found locked, and it \\as only
when he had burst up the door, and found the apart-
ment unoccupied, that he felt assured of the dreadful
truth. Tlie king must have already acquired some
little reputation for that gallantry amongst the ladies
whicli afterwards so much distinguished him, for on
this occasion he was at first suspected to have gone
off on a nocturnal visit to a lady at Bambrigh, some
miles distant from Falkland.

Immediately after his arrival in Stirling, the king
summoned a great number of his lords to join him
there, to assist him with tlicir advice and counsel.
The summons was readily obeyed, both from personal

JAMES V.

3C7

attachment to the kin!:^, and a jealousy ami dislike
of his late guardian the I'-arl of Angus. In a few-
days James was suirounded with nearly a score of
the noblest names in the land, all ready to perish in
his defence, and to assert and maintain his rights at
tiie point of the sword.

He seems to have resented highly the restraint in
which he had been kept by Angus and his kindred,
for it was now he said, addressing the assemljled
lords, "I avow that Scotland shall not hold us both
till I be revenged on him and his." The Earl of
Angus and all his immediate friends were now put to
the horn, and the former deprived of all his public
othces. It is therefore at this period that the actual
reign of James commences, and not before. He was
now freed from the inllucnce of the Douglases, sur-
rounded by his nobles, who paid him a ready and
willing homage, and was in every respect an inde-
pendent and absolute sovereign, capable and at liberty
to judge and to act for himself.

James' appearance and character were as interest-
ing as his situation at this period of his life. He
was now, as stated before, in the seventeenth year of
his age, of a robust constitution, which enabled him
to encounter any bodily fatigue. His speech and
demeanour were mild and conciliating. His stature
was of middling height, but handsomely formed, and
"the fient a pride, nae pride had he." He spoke
at all times affably to the meanest of his subjects,
and would partake of the humblest repast of the
humblest peasant in his dominions, with a glee and
satisfaction which evinced the most amiable kindness
of disposition. These qualities rendered him ex-
ceedingly beloved by the common people, of whom
he was always besides so steady and effective a friend,
as procured for him the enviable title of King of the
Poor.

Amongst the first cares of James after his becom-
ing possessed of the actual sovereignty of the king-
dom, was to subdue the border thieves and marauders,
who were carrying matters with a high hand, and
had so extended their business during the lawless
period of his minority, and so systematized their pro-
ceedings, that Armstrong of Kilnockie — the cele-
brated Johnnie Armstrong of the well-known old
liallad — one of the most noted leaders of these pre-
datory bands, never travelled abroad, even on peace-
ful purposes, without a train of six and twenty
gentlemen well mounted, well armed, and always
handsomely dressed in the gayest and most chivalrous
garb of the times. As James, however, knew that
he would have little chance of laying hold of these
desperadoes if he sought them with openly hostile
intentions, their predatory habits and intimate know-
ledge of the localities of the country rendering it easy
for them to evade any such attempt, he had recourse
to stratagem. He gave out that he intended to have
a great hunting match on the borders, and really did
combine both sport and business in the expedition
which followed. As was usual with the Scottish
kings on hunting occasions, he summoned all the
noblemen and gentlemen in the country, who could
find it convenient, to attend him with their dogs on
a certain day at Edinburgh, and, what was not so
customarj', to bring each a month's victuals along with
him. Such a provision was always required when
an army of common men were called together, but
not in the case of convocations of men above that
rank. The expedition in this case, however, was to
be both warlike and sportive; and the former might
prevent the latter from affording them a sufficiency
of game for their subsistence. The summons of the
king for the border hunting was so willingly obeyed,
that a host amounting to 12,000 assembled in Edin-

burgh against the appointed time; and amongst these,
some chieftains from very distant parts of llie coun-
try, such as Huntly, Argyle, and Alhol, all of whom
brought their large fierce Highland deer-dogs along
with them to assist in the chase. It was in the
month of June, 1529, that this prodigious host of
sportsmen, headed by the king in person, set out to-
wards the borders. The greater part of them were
well armed, and were thus prepared for anything
that might occur. On all such occasions pavilions,
tents, bedding, &c , for the accommodation of the
sportsmen, were despatched some days previous to
the ground selected for the first day's amusement, and
were afterwards moved from place to jilace as the
scene of action was shifted. The king's pavilion was
very splendid, and might readily be distinguished
from all others by its superior richness and elegance.
His dogs, too, were elevated above all the dogs of
meaner men, as well by their extrinsic omaments as
by their intrinsic merits. Their collars were gilt,
or were of purple velvet adorned with golden studs,
while the royal hawks were provided with collars
and bells of the same metal. The cavalcade having
reached Meggotland, on the southern border of
Peeblesshire, a favourite hunting -place of James',
and which was always reserved exclusively for the
king's hunting — the sport began, and in a few days
no less than 360 deer were slain. Soon after this,
Armstrong of Kilnockie, little dreaming of the fate
that awaited him, made his appearance among the
sportsmen, at a place called Caerlanrig, it is said by
invitation, but whether it was so or not he seems to
have calculated on at least a civil if not a cordial
reception from the king, being in total ignorance of
the real object of the king's visit to the borders.
Armstrong was not altogether unreasonable in such
an expectation, for his robberies had always been
confined to England, and he was rather looked upon
as a protector than otherwise by his own countrymen,
none of whose property he was ever known to have
meddled with. He always "quartered upon the
enemy," and thought that by doing so he did good
service to the state; but not being consulted in the
various treaties of peace which occasionally took
place between the sovereigns of the two kingdoms,
he did not always feel himself called upon to recog-
nize them, and accordingly continued to levy his
black-mail from the borders all the way, it is said,
unto Newcastle. Though the king had made peace
with England, Johnnie Armstrong had not; and he
therefore continued to carry on the war in defiance
of all those treaties and truces to which he was not a
party. On this occasion the daring borderer, expect-
ing a gracious reception from the king, and desirous
of appearing before his sovereign in a manner be-
coming what he conceived to be his own rank, pre-
sented himself and his retainers, all magnificently ap-
parelled, before his majesty. The king, who did not
know him personally, at first mistook him for some
powerful nobleman, and returned his salute; but on
learning his name, he instantly ordered him and all
his followers to be taken into custody and hanged
upon the spot. "What wants that knave that a king
should have," exclaimed James, indignantly struck
with the splendour of Armstrong's and his followers'
equipments, and, at the same time, turning round
from them on his heel as he spoke. The freebooter
at first pleaded hard for his life, and endeavoured to
bribe tlie king to spare him. He offered his own
services and that of forty men at any time, when the
king should require it, free of all expense to his
majesty. He further offered to bring to him any
subject of England — duke, earl, lord, or baron, against
any given day, either dead or alive, whom his majesty

36S

JAMES V

mi^ht desire cither to destroy or to have as a captive.
Finding that all he could say and all he could offer
had no effect in moving the king from his determina-
tion, the bold borderer, seeing the die was cast and
his fate sealed, instantly resumed the natural intre-
pidity of his character, — "I am but a fool," he said,
raising himself proudly up, "to look for grace in a
graceless face. But had I known, sir, that you
would have taken my life this day, I should have
lived upon the borders in despite of both King Henr)'
and you; and I know that the King of England would
down-weigh my best horse with gold to be assured
that I was to die this day." No further colloquy took
place; .Vrmstrong and all his followers were led off
to instant execution. A popular tradition of the
borders, where his death was much regretted, says,
that the tree on which Armstrong was executed,
though it continued to vegetate, never again put
forth leaves. After subjecting several other notorious
offenders to a similar fate, the king returned to Edin-
burgh on the 24th of July. In the following summer
he set out upon a similar expedition to the north,
with that which he had conducted to the south, and
fjr similar purposes — at once to enjoy the pleasures
of the chase, and to bring to justice the numerous
and daring thieves and robbers with which the coun-
try was infested.

This practice of converting the amusement of
hunting into a means of dispensing justice through- ,
out the kingdom, was one to which James had often :
recourse, for on these occasions he took care always
to be attended with an armed force, sufficiently strong
to enforce the laws against the most powerful infringer; '
and he did not spare them when within his reach. [
For thieves and robbers he had no compassion; com- '
mon doom awaited them all, whatever might be their
rank or pretensions. In this particular he was stem 1
and inflexible to the last degree; and the times re- [
quired it. There was no part of his policy more
beneficial to the kingdom than the resolute, inces-
sant, and relentless war which he waged against all
marauders and plunderers. I

On the expedition which he now undertook to the
north, he was accompanied by the queen mother and
the papal ambassador then at the Scottish court. The ,
Earl of Athol, to whose country the royal party pro-
posed first proceeding, having received intelligence of
the visit which he might expect, made the most splen- I
did preparation for their reception. On the arrival of
the illustrious visitors, they found a magnificent palace,
constructed of boughs of trees, and filled with glass
windows, standing in the midst of a smooth level
park or meadow. At each of the four comers of this
curious structure there was a regularly formed tower
or block-house; and the whole was joisted and floored
to the height of three stories. A large gale between
two lowers, with a formidable portcullis, all of green
wood, defended the entrance; while the whole was
surrounded with a ditch sixteen feet deep and thirty
feet wide, filled with water, and stocked with various
kinds of fish, and crossed in front of the palace
by a commodious drawbridge. The walls of all the
apartments were hung with the most splendid tapes-
try, and the floors so thickly strewn with flowers, that
no man would have known, says Lindsay, but he had
been in "ane greine gardeine." The feasting which
followed was in keeping with this elaborate and
costly preparation. Every delicacy which the season
and the country could supply was furnished in pro-
digious quantities to the royal retinue. The choicest
wines, fruits, and confections were also placed be-
fore them with unsparing liberality; and the vessels,
linen, beds, Sec, with which this fair}' mansion was
supplied for the occasion, were all of'the finest and

most costly description. The royal party remained
here for three days, at an expense to their noble host
of as many thousand pounds. Of all the party there
was not one so surprised, and so niuch gratified with
this unexpected display of magnificence and abimd-
ance of good living, as his reverence, the pope's am-
bassador. The holy man was absolutely overwhelmed
with astonishment and delight to find so many good
things in the heart of a wild, uncivilized, and barbar-
ous countrj-. But his astonishment was greatly in-
creased when, on the eve of their departure, he saw
a party of Highlanders busily employed in setting
fire to that structure, within which he had fared so
well and been so comfortably lodged, and w hich had
cost so much time, labour, and expense in its erec-
tion. "I marvel, sir," he said, addressing the king,
"that ye should suffer yon fair palace to be burned,
that your grace has been so well entertained in." "It
is the custom of our Highlandmen," replied James,
smiling, "that be they never so well lodged at night
they will burn the house in the morning.'' The^^kiiig
and his retinue now proceeded to Dunkeld, where
they remained all night. From thence they went
next day to Perth, afterwards to Dundee and St.
Andrews, in all of which places they were sumptuously
entertained — and finally relumed to Edinburgh.

James, who had now passed his twentieth year,
was in the verj' midst of that singular career of frolic
and adventure in which he delighted to indulge, and
which forms so conspicuous a feature in his character.
Attended only by a single friend or two, and his
person disguised by the garb of a gentleman of ordi-
nary rank, and sometimes, if traditionar)- tales tell
tmlh, by that of a person of a much lower grade, he
rode through the counlrj' in search of adventures, or
on visits to distant mistresses; often on these occasions
passing whole days and nights on horseback, and
putting up contentedly with the coarsest and scantiest
fare which chance might throw in the way. Sleep-
ing in bams on "clean pease strae," and partaking
of the "gude wife's" sheep-head, her oaten cakes,
and ale, or whatever else she might have to offer,
was no uncommon occurrence in the life of James.
Such visits, however, were not always prompted by
the most innocent motives. A fair maiden would
at any time induce the monarch to ride a score of
miles out of his way, and to pass half the night ex-
posed to all its inclemency for an hour's interview.

James was no niggard in his gallantries : where
money was required, he gave it freely and liberally;
where it was not, his munificence took the shape of
presents — such as rings, chains, &c., of gold and other
descriptions of jewellery. In one month he gave
away in this way to the value of upwards of ;^400.
The roving monarch, however, made even his vag-
rancies subservient to his great object of extirpating
thieves and robbers. During his wanderings he fre-
quently fell in with numerous bands of them, or sought
them out; and on such occasions never hesitated to
attack them, however foraiidable they might be, and
however few his own followers.

As the roving propensities of the king thus fre-
quently put his life in jeopard)', and as his dying
without lawful issue would have left the country in
all probability a prey to civil war, the nation became
extremely anxious for his marriage, an event which,
after many delays, arising from political objections
to the various connections from time to time proposed,
at length took place. The Scottish ambassadors in
France concluded, by James' authority, a marriage-
treaty with Marie de Bourbon, daughter of the Duke
of Yendome. On the final settlement of this treaty
the young monarch proceeded to Vendome, to claim
in person his affianced bride; but here his usual gal-

JAMES V.

369

lantry failed him, for on seeing the lady he rejected
her, and annulled the treaty.

Whether it was the result of chance, or that James
had determined not to return home without a wife,
this occurrence did not doom him, for any length of
time, to a single life. From Vendome he proceeded
to Paris, was graciously received by Francis I., and
finally, after a month or two's residence at that
monarch's court, married his daughter Magdalene.
The ceremony, which took place in the church of
Notre Dame, was celebrated \\ith great pomp and
splendour. The whole city rang with rejoicings,
and the court with sounds of revelry and merriment.
The marriage was succeeded by four months of con-
tinued feasting, sporting, and merry-making. At
the end of that period James and his young bride,
who was of an exceedingly sweet and amiable dis-
position, returned to Scotland; the former loaded
with costly presents from his father-in-law, and the
latter with a dowry of loo,ooo crowns, besides an
annual pension of 30,000 livres during her life.

The royal pair arrived at Leith on Whitsun-eve,
at ten o'clock at night. On first touching Scottish
ground, the pious and kind-hearted young queen
dropped on her knees, kissed the land of her adoption,
and after thanking God for the safe arrival of her hus-
band and herself, prayed for happiness to the country
and the people. The rejoicings which the royal pair
had left in France were now resumed in Scotland.
Magdalene was everywhere received by the people
with the strongest proofs of welcome and regard, and
this as much from her own gentle and affable de-
meanour as from her being the consort of their sove-
reign. Never queen made such rapid progress in the
affection > of a nation, and fewever acquired during any
period so large a proportion of personal attachment
as did this amiable lady. The object, however, of
all this love, was not destined long to enjoy it. She
was in a bad state of health at the time of her mar-
riage, and all the happiness which that event brouglit
along with it could not retard the progress of the
disease which vias consuming her. She daily be-
came worse after her arrival in Scotland, and finally
expired within forty days of her landing. James was
for a long time inconsolable for her loss, and for a
season buried himself in retirement, to indulge in the
sorrow which he could not restrain.

Policy required, however, that the place of the de-
parted queen should, as soon as propriety would ad-
mit, be supplied by another; and James fixed upon
Mary of Guise, daughter of the duke of that name,
and widow of the Duke of Longueville, to be the
successor of Magdalene. An embassy having been
despatched to France to settle preliminaries, and to
bring the queen-consort to Scotland, she arrived in
the latter kingdom in June, 1538. Mary landed at
Balcomie in Fife, where she was received by the king,
surrounded by a great number of his nobles. From
thence the royal party proceeded to Dundee, St.
Andrews, then to Stirling; from that to Tinlithgow;
and lastly to Edinburgh. In all of these places the
royal pair were received with every demonstration of
popular joy, and were sumptuously entertained by
the magistrates and other authorities of the different
towns. James, by a long and steady perseverance in
the administration of justice without regard to the
wealth (ir rank of the culprits, and by the wholesome
restraint under which he held the turbulent nobles,
had now secured a degree of peace and prospeiityto
the country which it had not enjoyed for many years
before. His power was acknowledged and felt in
the most remote parts of the Lowlands of Scotland,
and even a great part of the Highlands. But the
Western Isles and the most northern extremity of the

VOL. II.

kingdom, places then difficult of access and com-
paratively but little known, were still made the
scenes of the most lawless and atrocious deeds by the
fierce and restless chieftains and their clans, by
whom they were inhabited. James, however, re-
solved to carry and establish his authority even there.
He resolved to "beard the lion in his den;" to bring
these desperadoes to justice in the midst of their
barbarous hordes; and this bold design he determined
to execute in person. He ordered twelve ships, well
provided with artillery, to be ready against the 14th
of May. The personal preparations of the king,
and those made for his accommodation in the ship in
which he was himself to embark on this expedition,
were extensive and multifarious. His cabin was
hung with green cloth, and his bed with black damask.
Large quantities of silver plate and culinary utensils,
with stores for cooking, were put on board; and also
a vast number of tents and pavilions, for the accom-
modation of his suite when they should land in the
isles. The monarch himself was equipped in a suit
of red velvet, ornamented wdth gold embroidery,
and the ship in which he sailed was adorned with
splendid flags and numerous streamers of red and
yellow serge.

The expedition, which had been delaved for four-
teen days beyond the time appointed by the advanced
state of the queen's pregnancy, finally set sail for its
various destinations in the beginning of June.

The royal squadron, on reaching the western
shores, proceeded deliberately from island to island,
and from point to point of the mainland, the king
landing on each, and summoning the various chief-
tains to his presence. Some of these he executed on
the spot, others he carried away with him as hostages
for the future peaceful conduct of their kinsmen and
followers; and thus, after making the terror of his
name and the sternness of his justice felt in every
glen in the Highlands, he bent his way again home-
wards. James himself landed at Dumbarton, but
the greater part of his ships, including those on board
of which were the captured chieftains, were sent
round to Leith.

Having now i-educed the whole country to such a
state of tranquillity, and so effectually accomplished
the security of private property everywhere, that it
is boasted that at this period of his reign flocks of
sheep were as safe in Ettrick Forest as in tlie province
of Fife, he betook himself to the improvement of his
kingdom by peaceful pursuits. He imported su-
perior breeds of horses to improve the native race of
that animal. He promoted the fisheries, and invited
artisans and mechanics of all descriptions to settle
in the country, encouraging them by the offer of
liberal wages, and in many cases by bestowing
small annual pensions. With every promise of a
long and happy reign, and in the midst of exertions
which entitled him to expect the latter, the cup was
suddenly dashed from his lips. Misfortune on mis-
fortune crowded on the ill-starred monarch, and
hurried him to a premature grave. Two princes
who were born to him by Mary of Guise, died in
their infancy within a few days of each other, a
calamity which sank deep in the heart of their royal
parent. His uncle, the King of England, with whom
he had hitherto been on a friendly footing, for
reasons now not very well known, invaded his do-
minions with an army of 20,000 men, under the
command of the Duke of Norfolk. James gave
orders to assemble an army of 30,000 men on the
Borough Muir, and with this force he marched to
oppose them. The hostile armies met at Solway
AIoss, but with little disposition on the part of the
leaders of the Scottish army to maintain the credit

69

370

JAMES VI.

of their sovereign by their arms. James had never
heen friendly to the aristocracy, and they now re-
taliated upon him by a lukewarmness in his cause
in the hour of need. The unfortunate monarch
himself increased this spirit of defection at such a
critical juncture by appointing Oliver Sinclair, a
mean favourite, and a man of no ability, to the com-
mand of his army. The intcllijjence of this appoint-
ment excited the utmost indignation in the Scottish
army. All declared that they would rather submit
to be taken prisoners by the English than be com-
manded by such a general ; and they were thrown
into such a state of commotion by this infatuated
proceeding of their sovereign, that the English
general perceived the disorder, and taking advantage
of it, attacked the Scottish army with a few hundred
light horse. The former making no resistance were
instantly put to flight. James was at Cacrlaverock,
about twelve miles distant, when this disaster took
place. When informed of the disgraceful flight of
liis army, he sank into a state of dejection and
melancholy from which nothing could rouse him.
His proutl spirit could not brook the disgrace which
had befallen his arms, and the conduct of his nobles
excited a degree of irritation which soon threw him
into a violent fever. In this state of despondency
lie retired to Falkland. Here he took to bed and
refused all sustenance. While in this condition in-
telligence was brought him that the queen, then at
Linlithgow, was delivered of a girl. " It came with
a lass and it will go with a lass," said the dying
monarch, reckoning it another misfortune that it was
not a male heir that had been given to him.

A little before his death, which was now fast ap-
proaching, he was heard muttering the words "Sol-
way Moss," the scene of that disaster which was now
hurrying him to the grave. On the day of his death,
which happened previous to the 13th of December,
1542, but within two or three days of it, although
the precise day is not known, he turned round to tlie
lords who surrounded his bed, and with a faint but
benignant smile, held out his hand to them to kiss,
and in a few minutes thereafter expired. James died
in the thirty-first year of his age, leaving the unfor-
tunate Mary, then an infant, to succeed to his digni-
ties and to more than his misfortunes. Besides
Mary, his only surviving legitimate child, James left
six natural children. These were — ^James, abbot of
Kelso and Melrose; the Regent Sloray; Rol)ert,'
])rior of Holyrood I louse; John, prior of Coklingham ;
Janet, wife of the Earl of Angus; and Adam, prior
of the Chartrcux at Perth.

JAMES VI. of Scotland, and I. of England, was
born in the castle of Edinburgh, June 19, 1566.
He was the son of the reigning sovereign Mary, by
her husband Henry Lord Darnley, who was nomin-
ally associated with her in the government, and was
the eldest son of the existing l'".arl of Lennox. Both
by his father and mother James was the great-grand-
.son of Henry VII. of England, and, failing Queen
Elizabeth and his own mother, stood nearest to the
throne of that kingdom at the same time that he was
heir-apparent to the Scottish crown. The character
of his parents and their previous history are so well
known that it is unnecessary to touch upon them
here. It may only be mentioned, tliat while the
royal infant brought with him into the world preten-
sions the most brilliant that could have befallen a
mortal creature, he also carried in his constitution a
weakness of the most lamentable nature, affecting
both his body and his mind. About three months
before his birth his father headed a band of conspira-
tors who broke violently into the privacy of his

mother's chamber, and almost in her presence slew
her favourite counsellor David Riccio. The agitation
of the mother on that occasion took effect upon the
child, who, though intended apparently to be alike
strong in mental and bodily constitution, showed
through life many deficiencies in both respects,
though perhaps to a less extent than has been re-
presented by popular history.

It is well known that a confederation of the
Scottish nobles dethroned Mary about a year after
the birth of her son. While this ill-fated princess
was condemned to imprisonment in Lochleven Castle,
her son was taken to .Stirling, and there crowned at
the age of thirteen months and ten days. The real
government was successively administered by the
regents Moray, Lennox, Mar, and Morton, under
the secret direction of the English queen, by whom,
in time, her rival Mary was put to death. James,
after a weakly infancy, was placed under the care of
the celebrated Buchanan, whose religious principles
and distinguislied scholarship seemed to qualify him
peculiarly for the task of educating a Protestant
prince. It would a])pear that the young king re-
ceived at the hands of his master a great deal more
learning, classical and theological, than he was able
to digest, and thus became liable to as much of the
fault of pedantry as consists in a hoarding of litera-
ture for its own sake, or for purposes of ostentation,
accompanied by an inability to turn it to its only true
use in the ordinary purposes of life. A pliability of
temper, subject alike to evil and to good influences ;
a sly acuteness in penetrating the motives of men,
without the power to make it of any practical advan- ■
tage ; and a proneness to listen to the flattering coun-
sellors who told him he was a king, and rught to
have the power of one, were other characteristics of
this juvenile monarch ; whose situation, it must at
the same time be acknowledged, was one of such
difficulty as to render a fair development of the best
faculties of the mind, and the best tendencies of the
heart, hardly to be expected.

Though made and upheld as a king, in conse-
quence of a successful rebellion against the monarchi-
cal principle, James was early inspired with a high
sense of his royal powers and privileges, probably by
some of those individuals w-fio are never wanting
around the persons of young princes, let their educa-
tion be ever so carefully conducted. Even before
attaining the age of twelve he had become the centre
of a little knot of courtiers, who clustered about him
at his residence in Stirling Castle, and plotted
schemes for transferring the reins of government
into his own hands. Morton permitted himself to
be surprised in 1578 by this party, who for some
time conducted the affairs of state in the name of the
king as if he had been in full possession of his birth-
right. Morton, however, soon after regained nearly
all his wonted ascendency, and it was not till two or
three years later that the king became completely
emancipated from this powerful agent of the English
queen. A young scion of nobility, named Captain
Stuart, from his commanding the king's guards, and
Esme, Earl of Lennox, the king's cousin, were his
chief instruments in obtaining the sovereign power,
and in raising tliat prosecution against Morton
which ended in his execution, June 2, 1581. The
former is represented as a profligate adventurer, ■who
studied only how, by flattering the king and enforc-
ing his despotic views, to promote his own interest.
Lennox was a gentler and worthier person, but was
obnoxious to popular odium on account of his profes-
sing the Catholic faith. The Protestant and Eng-
lish interest soon rallied, and in August, 1582, took
place the celebrated Raid of Ruthven, by which a

JAMES VI.

371

fiw Presbyterian nobles, headed by the luirl of Cow-
rie, were enabled to take possession of the royal per-
son, and use his authority for some time in behalf of
liberal government and their own relij^ious principles,
while Stuart and Lennox were forbidden his pre-
sence.

It was not till June, 1583, that James emancipated
himself from a control which, however well lie ap-
peared to bear it, was far from agreeable to him.
Lennox had now been banished to France, where he
died of a broken heart ; Stuart was created Earl of
Arran on the ruins of the Hamilton family, and
became almost sole counsellor to the young monarch.
The nobles who had seized the king at Ruthven
were pardoned ; but Gowrie, having soon after made
a second and unsuccessful attempt, was beheaded at
Stirling. During the interval between June, 1583,
and November, 1585, the government was of a de-
cidedly anti-popular and anti-Presbyterian character,
Arran being permitted to act entirely as he pleased.
The Presbyterian nobles, however, who had fled
into England, were, at the latter period, enabled by
Elizabeth to invade their own country with such a
force as overturned the power of the unworthy fa-
vourite, and re-established a system agreeable to the
clergy and people, and more closely respondent to
the wishes of Elizabeth. In this way James grew
up to man's estate.

In 1584, when eighteen years of age, he made his
fu'st appearance as an author by publishing a small
thin quarto, entitled Essaycs ofaPrcJiticein the Divine
Art of Poesie, ivith the Rciulis and Can teles to be pur-
sued and avoided. This work consists of a mixture
of poetry and prose ; the poems being chiefly a series
of sonnets, which bear very much the appearance of
school exercises, while the prose consists of a code
of laws for the construction of verse according to the
ideas of that period. There is little in the king's
style or his ideas to please the present age ; yet, com-
pared with the efforts of contemporary authors, these
poems may be said to bear a respectable appearance.

The main effect of the late revolution was to re-
establish the English influence, which had been de-
ranged by the ascendency of Captain Stuart. In
June, 1586, James entered into an arrangement
with Elizabeth, by which, in consideration of a pen-
sion of _^5ooo, rendered necessary by his penurious
circumstances, he engaged to support England against
the machinations of the Catholic powers of Europe.
It was also part of this treaty that a correspondence
which he had entered into with his mother should
be broken off; and he even submitted so far to the
desires of his new superior as to write a disrespectful
letter to that unhappy princess, who replied in an
eloquent epistle, threatening to denounce him as a
usurper, and load him with a parent's curse. James,
in reality, during the whole of his occupancy of the
Scottish throne, was a mere tool in the hands of one
party or another, and had no personal influence or
independence whatever till the advanced age of
Elizabeth gave him near hopes of the English crown.

In 1588, while the shores of England were threat-
ened with the Spanish Armada, James fulfilled, as
far as he could, the treaty into which he had entered
with Elizabeth, by using his best exertions to sup-
press the movements of a powerful Catholic party
among his own subjects in support of the invasion.
In return for this Elizabeth permitted him to take a
wife ; and his choice ultimately fell upon the Princess
Anne of Denmark, second daughter of the deceased
Frederick II. He was married by proxy in August,
1589; but the princess, having been delayed in
Norway by a storm, which threatened to detain her
for the winter, he gallantly crossed the seas to

Upsala, in order to consummate the match. After
si)ending some months at the Danish court, he re-
turned to Scotland in May, 1590; when the recep-
tion vouchsafed to the royal pair was fully such as to
justify an expression usecl by James in one of his let-
ters, that "a king with a new married wyfe did not
come hame every day."

The king had an illegitimate cousin, Francis,
Earl of Bothwell, who now for some years embittered
his life by a series of plots and assaults for which there
is no parallel even in Scottish history. Bothwell had
been spared by the king's goodness in 1589 from the
result of a sentence for treason passed on account of
his concern in a Catholic conspiracy. Soon after
James returned from Denmark it was discovered that
he had tampered with professing witches to take
away the king's life by necromancy. He at first pro-
posed to stand a trial for this alleged offence, but
subsequently found it necessary to make his escape.
His former sentence was then permitted to take
effect, and he became, in the language of the times,
a broken man. Repeatedly, however, did this bold
adventurer approach the walls of Edinburgh, and
even assail the king in his palace ; nor could the
limited powers of the sovereign either accomplish his
seizure, or frighten him out of the kingdom. He even
contrived at one time to regain his place in the king's
council, and remained for several months in the en-
joyment of all his former honours, till once more ex-
pelled by- a party of his enemies. The king appears
to have purposely been kept in a state of powerless-
ness by his subjects; even the strength necessary to
execute the law upon the paltriest occasions was de-
nied to him ; and his clergy took every opportunity
of decrj'ing his government, and diminishing the re-
spect of his people, lest, in becoming stronger or
more generally reverenced, he should have used his
increased force against the liberal interest and the
Presbyterian religion. If he could have been de-
pended upon as a thorough adherent of these abstrac-
tions, there can be no doubt that his Scottish reign
would have been less disgraced by the non-execution
of the laws. But then, was his first position under
the regents and the Protestant nobles of a kind calcu-
lated to attach him sincerely to that party? or can it
be decidedly affirmed that the zeal of the clergy of
those rough and difficult times was sufficiently tem-
pered with human kindness to make a young prince
prefer their peculiar system to one which addressed
him in a more courteous manner, and was more
favourable to that regal power, the feebleness of
which had hitherto seemed the cause of all his dis-
tresses and all his humiliation?

In 1585, while under the control of Arran, he had
written a paraphrase and commentary on the Revela-
tion of St. John, which, however, was not com-
pleted or published for some years after. In 1591
he produced a second volume of verse, entitled
Poetical Exeirises, in the preface to which he informs
the reader, as an apology for inaccuracies, that
"scarcelie but at stolen moments had he leisure to
blenk upon any paper, and yet nocht that with free
unvexed spirit." He also appears to have at this time
proceeded some length with his translation of the
psalms into Scottish verse. It is curious that, while
the king manifested in his literary studies both the
pure sensibilities of the poet and the devout aspira-
tions of the saint, his personal manners were coarse,
his amusements of no refined character, and his
speech rendered odious by common swearing.

It is hardly our duty to enter into a minute detail
of the oscillations of the Scottish church during this
reign between Presbytery and Episcopacy. In pro-
portion as the king was weak the former system pre-

372

JAMES vr.

vailed; and in proportion as he gained strength from
the prospect of the English succession and other
causes, the episcopal polity was re-imposed. We
are also disposed to overlook the troubles of the
Catholic nobles — Iluntly, Errol, and Angus, who,
for some obscure plot in concert with Spain, were
punished to as great an extent as the personal
favour of the king, and his fear of displeasing the
English Papists, would permit. The lenity shown
by the king to these grandees procured him the
wrath of the church, and led to the celebrated tumult
of the 17th December, 1 506, in which the clergy
permitted themselves to make so unguarded an ap-
pearance, as to furnish their sovereign with the
means of checking their power w'ithout offending the
people.

In Februar}', 1594, a son, Prince Henry, was born
to the king at Stirling Castle; this was followed some
years after by the birth of adaughter, Elizabeth, whose
fate as the Queen of Bohemia, and ancestress of the
present royal family of Britain, gives rise to so many
varied reflections. James wrote a treatise of counsel
for his son, under the title of Basilicoii Doron, which,
though containing some passages offensive to the
clergy, is a work of much good sense, and conveys,
upon the whole, a respectable impression at once of
the author's abilities and of his moral temperament.
It was published in 1599, and is said to have gained
him a great accession of esteem among the English,
for whose favour of course he was anxiously solici-
tous.

Few incidents of note occurred in the latter part
of the king's Scottish reign. The principal was the
famous conspiracy of the Earl of Gowrie and his
brother, sons of the earl beheaded in 1584, which
was developed — if we may speak of it in such a man-
ner— on the 5th of August, 1600. This affair has of
late been considerably elucidated by Robert Pitcairn,
Esq., in his laborious work, the Criminal Trials of
Scotland, though it is still left in some measure as
a question open to dispute. The events, so far as
ascertained, were as follows: —

Early on the morning of the 5th of August, 1600,
Alexander, master of Ruthven, with only two fol-
lowers, Andrew Henderson and Andrew Ruthven,
rode from Perth to Falkland, where King James was
at that time residing. lie arrived there about seven
o'clock, and stopping at a house in the vicinity of the
palace, sent Henderson forward to learn the motions
of the king. His messenger returned quickly with
the intelligence that his majesty was just departing
for the chase. Ruthven proceeded immediately to
the palace, where he met James in front of the
Stables. They spoke together for about a quarter of
an hour. None of the attendants overheard the dis-
course, but it was evident from the king's laying his
hand on tlie master's shoulder, and clapping his back,
that tlie matter of it pleased him. The hunt rotle
on, and Ruthven joined the train ; first, however,
despatching Henderson to inform his brother that
his majesty was coming to Perth with a few attend-
ants, and to desire him to cause dinner to be ])re-
pared. A buck was slain about ten o'clock, when
the king desired tlie Duke of Lennox and the Earl
of Mar to accompany him to Perth, to speak witli
the Earl of Gowrie. The master of Ruthv.-n now
despatched his other attendant to give the earl notice
of the king's approach; and immediately afterwards
James and he set off at a rate that threw behind the
royal attendants, who lost some time in changing
horses. When the Duke of Lennox overtook them,
the king, with great glee, told him that he was rid-
ing to Perth to get 7^ pose (treasure). He then asked
the duke's opinion of Alexander Ruthven, which

proving favourable, he proceeded to repeat the story
which that young man had told him, of his having
the previous evening surprised a man with a large
sum of money on his person. The duke expressed
his opinion of the improbability of the tale, and some
suspicion of Ruthven's purpose ; upon which the
king desired him to follow when he and Ruthven
should leave the hall — an order which he repeated
after his arrival in the Earl of Cowrie's house.

Meantime Henderson, on his arrival at Perth,
found the elder Ruthven in his chamber, speaking
upon business with two gentlemen. Gowrie drew
him aside the moment he entered, and asked whether
he brought any letter or message from his brother.
On learning that the king was coming, he took the
messenger into his cabinet, and inquired anxiously
in what manner the master had been received, and
what persons were in attendance upon his majesty.
Returning to the chamber, he made an apology to
the two gentlemen and dismissed them. Henderson
then went to his own house. When he returned, in
about an hour, the earl desired him to arm himself,
as he had to apprehend a Highlander in the Shoe-
gate. The master of the household being unwell,
the duty of carrying up the earl's dinner devolved
upon Henderson. He performed this service about
half-past twelve; and afterwards waited upon the
earl and some friends who were dining with him.
They had just sat down when Andrew Ruthven
entered, and whispered something in the earl's ear,
who, however, seemed to give no heed. As the second
course was about to be set upon the table the master
of Ruthven, who had left the king about a mile from
Perth, and rode on before, entered and announced
his majesty's approach. This was the first intelli-
gence given the inhabitants of Gowrie House of the
king's visit, for Gowrie had kept not only his com-
ing, but also the master's visit to Falkland, a pro-
found secret. The earl and his visitors, with their
attendants, and some of the citizens among whom
the news had spread, went out to meet the king.

The street in which Gowrie House formerly stood
runs north and south, and parallel to the Tay. The
house was on the side next the river, built so as to
form three sides of a square, the fourth side, that
which abutted on the street, being formed by a wall,
through which the entry into the interior court, or
close, was by a gate. The scene of the subsequent
events was the south side of the square. The in-
terior of this part of the edifice contained, in the first
story, a dining-room, looking out upon the river, a
hall in the centre, and a room at the further end
looking out upon the street, each of them occupying
the whole breadth of the building, and opening into
each other. The second story consisted of a gallery
occupying the space of the dining-room and hall
below, and at the street end of this gallery a cham-
ber, in the north-west corner of which was a circu-
lar closet, formed by a turret which overhung the
outer wall, in which -were two long narrow win-
dows, the one looking towards the Spy-tower (a
strong tower built over one of the city gates), the
other looking out upon the court, but visible from
the street before the gate. The access to the hall
and gallery was by a large turnpike stair in the south-
east corner of the court. The hall likewise com-
municated with the garden, which lay between the
house and the river, by a door opposite to that which
opened from the turnpike, and an outward stair.
The access to the chamber in which was the round
closet, was either througli the gallery, or by means
of a smaller turnpike (called the Black Turnpike),
which stood half-way betwixt the principal one and
the street.

JAMES vr.

373

The unexpected arrival of the king caused a con-
siderable commotion in Cowrie's establishment.
Craigingelt, the master of the househokl, was
obliged to leave his sick-bed and bestir himself.
Messengers were despatched through Perth to seek,
not for meat, for of that there seems to have been
plenty, but for some delicacy fit to be set upon the
royal table. The bailies and other dignitaries of
Perth, as also some noblemen who were resident in
the town, came pouring in, — some to pay their re-
spects to his majesty, others to stare at the courtiers.
Amid all this confusion somewhat more than an
hour elapsed before the repast was ready. To judge
by the king's narrative, and the eloquent orations of
Mr. Patrick Galloway, this neglect on the part of
the earl seems to have been regarded as not the least
criminal part of his conduct: and with justice; for
his royal highness had been riding hard since seven
o'clock, and it was past two before he could get a
morsel, which, when it did come, bore evident marks
of being hastily prepared.

As soon as the king was set down to dinner, the
earl sent for Andrew Henderson, whom he conducted
up to the gallery, where the master was waiting for
them. After some short conversation, during which
Gowrie told Henderson to do anything his brother
bade him, the younger Ruthven locked this attend-
ant into the little round closet within the gallery
chamber, and left him there. Henderson began
now, according to his own account, to suspect that
something wrong was in agitation, and set himself
to pray in great perturbation of mind. Meanwhile
the Earl of Gowrie returned to take his place behind
the chair of his royal guest. When the king had
dined, and Lennox, Mar, and the other noblemen
in waiting had retired from the dining-room to the
hall to dine in their turn, Alexander Ruthven came
and whispered to the king to find some means of
getting rid of his brother the earl, from whom he had
all along pretended great anxiety to keep the story
of the found treasure a secret. The king filled a
bumper, and drinking it off, desired Gowrie to carry
his pledge to the noblemen in the hall. While they
were busy returning the health, the king and the
master passed quietly through the hall, and ascended
the great stair which led to the gallery. They did
not, however, pass altogether unobserved, and some
of the royal train made an attempt to follow them,
but were repelled by Ruthven, who alleged the king's
wish to be alone. From the gallery they passed into
the chamber at the end of it, and the door of this
room Ruthven appears to have locked behind him.

When the noblemen had dined they inquired after
their master, but were informed by Gowrie that he
had retired and wished to be private. The earl imme-
diately called for the keys of the garden, whither he
was followed by Lennox and part of the royal train;
Avhilst Mar with the rest remained in the house.
John Ramsay, a favourite page of the king, says in
his deposition, that, on rising from table, he had
agreed to take charge of a hawk for one of the
ser\'ants, in order to allow the man to go to dinner.
He seems while thus engaged to have missed Gowrie's
explanation of the king's absence, for he sought his
majesty in the dining-room, in the garden, and after-
wards in the gallery. He had never before seen
this gallery, which is said — we know not upon what
authority — to have been richly adorned with paint-
ings by the earl's father, and he stayed some time
admiring it. On coming down stairs he found the
whole of the king's attendants hurrying towards the
outer gate, and was told by Thomas Cranstone, one
of the earl's servants, that the king had rode on be-
( fore. Ramsay, on hearing this, ran to the stable

where his horse was. Lennox and ^far, who had
also heard the report of the king's departure, asked
the porter, as they were passing the gate, whether
the king were indeed forth. The man replied in the
negative. Gowrie checked him with considerable
harshness, and affirmed that the king had passed out
by the back gate. "That is impossible, my lord,"
answered the porter, "for it is locked, and the key
is in my pocket." Gowrie, somewhat confused, said
he would return and learn the truth of the matter.
He came back almost instantly, affirming positively
that the king had ridden out by the back gate. The
greater part of the company were now assembled on
the High Street, in front of the house, waiting for
their horses, and discussing how they were to seek
the king. At this moment the king's voice was
heard crying — "I am murdered ! Treason! my lord
of Mar, help! help!" Lennox and Mar, with their
attendants, rushed through the gateway into the
court, and up the principal stair. Sir Thomas
Erskine and his brother James seized the Earl of
Gowrie, exclaiming, "Traitor! this is thy deed!"
Some of the earl's servants rescued their master, who
was, however, thrown down in the scuffle, and re-
fused admittance to the inner court. On recovering
his feet he retired a short way; then drawing his
sword and dagger, he cried, "I will be in my own
house, or die by the way."

During these proceedings the king had found
himself rather critically circumstanced. Alexander
Ruthven, having locked the door of the galler}' cham-
ber, led the way to the round closet. James was
not a little astonished when, instead of the captive he
expected, he saw a man armed at all points except
his head. He was more astonished when the master,
putting on his hat, drew the man's dagger, and pre-
sented it to his breast, saying, "Sir, you must be
my prisoner ! remember my father's death !" James
attempted to remonstrate, but was internipted with
" Hold your tongue, sir, or by Christ you shall die !"
But here Henderson wrenched the dagger from
Ruthven's hand, and the king, then resuming his re-
monstrances, was answered that his life was not what
was sought. The master even took off his hat when
the king, who, amid all his perturbation, forgot not
his princely demeanour, reminded him of the im-
propriety of wearing it in his presence. He then
requested James to give him his word not to open
the window, nor call for assistance, whilst he went
to bring his brother, the earl, v.-ho was to determine
what farther should be done. Ruthven then left the
closet, locking the door behind him; but, according
to Henderson's belief, went no farther than the next
room. This is more than probable; for, by the
nearest calculation, Ramsay must have been at that
time still in the gallery. The master re-entered,
therefore, almost instantly, and telling the king there
was now but one course left, produced a garter, with
which he attempted to bind his majesty's hands.
James freed his left with a violent exertion, exclaim-
ing, "I am a free prince, man ! I will not be bound !"
Ruthven, without answering, seized him by the
throat with one hand, while he thrust the other into
his mouth to prevent his cr}-ing. In the struggle
which ensued the king was driven against the win-
dow wliich overlooked the court, and at that mo-
ment Henderson thrust his arm over the master's
shoulder and pushed up the window, which afforded
the king an opportunity of calling for assistance.
The master thereupon said to Henderson, "Is there
no help in thee? Thou wilt cause us all to die:"
and tremblingly, between excitement and exertion,
he attempted to draw his sword. The king perceiv-
ing his intent laid hold of his hand; and thus clasped

374

JAMES VI.

in a death-wrestle, they reeled out of the closet into
the chamber. The king had got Rulhven's head
under his arm; whilst Kulhven, finding himself held
down almost upon his knees, was pressing upwards
with his hand against the king's face, when, at this
critical moment, John Kamsay, the page, who had
heard from the street the king's cry for help, and
who had got before Mar and Lenno.x by running up
the Black Turnpike formerly mentioned, while they
took the principal staircase, rushed against the door
of the chamber ami burst it open. The king panted
out when he saw his page, "Fyl strike him low, he
has secret armour on." At which Ramsay, casting
from him the hawk which still sat upon his hand,
drew his dagger, and stabbed the master. The
next moment the king, exerting all his strength,
threw him from him down-stairs. Ramsay ran to
a window, and called upon Sir Thomas Erskine, and
one or two who were with him, to come up the
turnpike. Erskine was first, and as Ruthven stag-
gered past him on the stair, wounded and bleed-
ing, he desired those who followed to strike the
traitor. This was done, and the young man fell,
crying, "Alas! I had not the vryie [blame] of it."

The king was safe for the meantime, but there
■was still cause for alann. Only four of his attendants
had reached him; and he was uncertain whether the
incessant attempts of Mar and Lennox's party to
break open the door by which the chamber com-
municated with the gallery, were made by friend or
foe. At this moment the alarm-bell rang out, and
the din of the gathering citizens, who were as likely,
for anything the king knew, to side with their pro-
vost, Gowrie, as with himself, was heard from the
town. There was, besides, a still more immediate
danger.

Gowrie, whom we left attempting to force his way
into the house, was met at the gate by the news that
his brother had fallen. Violet Ruthven, and other
■women belonging to the family, were already wailing
his death, screaming their curses up to the king's
party in the chamber, and mixing their shrill e.\ecra-
tions with the fierce din which shook the city. The
earl, seconded by Cranstone, one of his attendants,
forced his way to the foot of the Black Turnpike, at
■which spot lay the master's body. "Whom have
■we here?" said the retainer, for the face was turned
downwards. "Up the stair!" was Gowrie's brief
and stern reply. Cranstone, going up before his
master, found, on rushing into the chamber, the
swords of Sir Thomas Erskine, and Herries, the
king's physician, drawn against him. They were
holding a parley in this threatening attitude when
Gowrie entered, and was instantly attacked by Ram-
say. The earl fell after a smart contest. Ramsay
immediately turned upon Cranstone, who had proved
fully a match for the other two, and having wounded
him severely, forced him finally to retreat.

All this time they who were with the Duke of
Lennox had kept battering at the gallery-door of the
chamber with hammers, but in vain. The partition
•was constructed of boards, and as the whole wall
gave way equally before the blows, the door could
not be forced. The party with the king, on the
other hand, were afraid to open, lest they should
thus give admission to enemies. A servant was at
last despatched round by the turnpike, who assured
his majesty that it was the Duke of Lennox and the
Earl of Mar who were so clamorous for admission.
The hammers were then handed through below the
door, and the bolts speedily displaced. When these
noblemen were admitted, they found the king un-
harmed amid his brave deliverers. The door, how-
ever, which entered from the turnpike had been

closed upon a body of Gowrie's retainers, who were
calling for their master, and striking through below
the door with their pikes and halberts. The clamour
from the town continued, and the voices from the
court were divided — part calling for the king, part
for their provost, the Earl of Gowrie. Affairs, how-
ever, soon took a more decided turn. They who
assaulted the door grew tired of their ineffectual
efforts and withdrew; and almost at the same mo-
ment the voices of bailies Ray and Voung were heard
from the street, calling to know if the '■ing were
safe, and announcing that they were there, with the
loyal burgesses of Perth, for his defence. The king
gratified them by showing himself at the window,
requesting them to still the tumult. At the command
of the magistrates the crowd became silent, and gra-
dually dispersed. In the course of a few hours peace
was so completely re-established that the king and
his company were able to take horse for Falkland.

This bird's-eye view of the occurrences of the 5 th
of August will be found correct in the main. Al-
though some details have been necessarily omitted,
they are sufficient to establish a preconcerted scheme
between the brothers against the king, but of what .
nature, and to what purpose, it would be difficult,
without further evidence, to say. Of all the people
that day assembled in Gowrie's house, not one seems
to have been in the secret. Henderson, to whom an
important share in the execution of the attempt had
been assigned, was kept in ignorance to the last
moment, and then he counteracted instead of further-
ing their views. Even with regard to Cranstone,
the most busy propagator of the rumour of the king's
departure, it is uncertain whether he may not have
spread the report in consequence of the asseverations
of his master; and we have his solemn declaration,
at a time when he thought himself upon his death-
bed, that he had no previous knowledge of the plot.
The two Ruthvens of Freeland, Evict, and Hugh
MoncriefT, who took the most active share in endeav-
ouring to stir the citizens up to mutiny to revenge the
earl and his brother, may have been actuated, for
any evidence we have to the contrar\-, solely by the
feelings of reckless and devoted retainers, upon see-
ing their master's fall in an affray whose origin and
cause they knew not. To this evidence, partly nega-
tive and partly positive, may be added the deposi-
tion of William Rynd, who said, when examined at
Falkland, that he had heard the earl declare — "He
was not a wise man who, having intended the execu-
tion of a high and dangerous purpose, should com-
municate the same to any but himself; because, keep-
ing it to himself, it could not be discovered nor
disappointed." Moreover, it does not sufficiently
appear, from the deportment of the master, that they
aimed at the king's life. He spoke only of making
him prisoner, and grasped his sword only when the
king had made his attendants aware of his situation.
At the same time, it was nowhere discovered that
any measures had been taken for removing the royal
prisoner to a place of security; and to keep him in
a place so open to observation as Gowrie House was
out of the question. Without some other evidence,
therefore, than that to which we have as yet been
turning our attention, we can scarcely look upon
these transactions other\vise than as a fantastic dream,
which is incoherent in all its parts, and the absurdity
of which is only apparent when we reflect how irre-
concilable it is with the waking world around us.

The letters of Logan of Restalrig, which were not
discovered till eight years afterwards, throw some
further light upon the subject, though not so much
as could be wished. Of their authenticity little
doubt can be entertained, when we consider the

JAMES vr.

375

number and respectability of the witnesses who swore
positively to their beiiiij in Logan's handwriting. It
a]ipears from these letters that Gowrie and l.ogan
had agreed in some plot against tlie king. It ap-
pears also that Logan was in correspondence with
some third person who had assented to the enter-
prise. It would almost seem, from Logan's third
letter, that this person resided at Falkland: "If I
kan nocht win to Falkland the first nycht, I sail be
tynielie in St. Johnesloun on the morne." And it
is almost certain from the fifth letter that he was so
situated as to have oral communication with Gowrie,
the master of Ruthven : " Pray let his lo. be qwik,
and bid M. A. remember on the sport he tald me."
It does not appear, however, that any definite plan
had been resolved upon. The sea excursion, which
Mr. Lawson in his History of the Co^fric Conspiracy
supposes to have been contemplated with the design
of conveying James to Fast Castle, was only meant
to afford facilities for a meeting of the conspirators
with a view to deliberation. Logan's fifth letter is
dated as late as the last of July, and yet it does not
appear that the writer knew at that time of the Perth
project. Taking these facts in conjunction with the
liair-brained character of Gowrie's attempt, it seems
highly probable, that although some scheme might
be in agitation with Logan, and perhaps some other
conspirators, the outrage of the 5th of August was
the rasli and premature undertaking of two hot-
blooded fantastical young men, who probably wished
to distinguish themselves above the rest of their asso-
ciates in the plot.

The very scanty information that we possess re-
specting the character and previous habits of these
two brothers is quite in accordance with this view of
the matter, and goes a good way to corroborate it.
They are allowed on all hands to have been men of
graceful exterior, of winning manners, well advanced
in the studies of the times, brave, and masters of
their weapons. It is not necessary surely to prove
at this time of day how compatible all these quali-
fications are with a rash and headlong temper, com-
pletely subject to the control of the imagination^a
turn of mind bordering upon frenzy. A man of
quick perception, warmfeeling, and ungoverned fancy,
is of all others the most fascinating, when the world
goes smoothly; but he is of all others the most liable,
having no guiding reason, to err most extravagantly in
the serious business of life: being "unstable as water,"
he is easily irritated and lashed into madness by ad-
verse circumstances. How much Gowrie was the
dupe of his imagination, is evident from the fondness
with which he clung to the delusions of the cabala,
natural magic, and astrology. Armed (according to
his own belief) with powers beyond the common
race of man, doomed by his stars to achieve great-
ness, he laughed at danger, and was ready to neglect
the calculations of worldly prudence alike in his aims
and the means by which he sought their attainment.
The true state of his brother's mind is portrayed
incidentally by Logan in his first letter: — ■" Bot incase
ye and M. A. R. forgader, becawse he is somqhat
consety, for Godis saik be very var with his rakelese
toyis of Padoa; ffor he tald me ane of the strangest
taillis of ane nobill man of Padoa that ever I hard in
my lyf, resembling the lyk purpose." This suggests
at once the very picture of a young and hot-blooded
man, whose brain had been distracted, during his
residence in Italy, with that country's numerous
legends of wild vengeance. Two such characters,
brooding conjointly over real or fancied wrongs, were
capable of projecting schemes against which the
most daring would remonstrate; and, irritated by the
coldness of their friends, were no doubt induced to

undertake the execution alone, and almost un-
assisted.

It only remains to inquire what was the object
which Gowrie jiroposed to himself in his mad and
treasonable attempt, and upon w-hose seconding he
was to depend, suppose his design had succeeded?
These two inquiries are inseparably connected, and
have been rendered more interesting by a late attempt
to implicate the Presbyterian party in the earl's guilt.
We are not a little astonished that such an attempt
should have been made at this late period, when we
recollect that, notwithstanding all the ill odour in
which the Presbyterian clergymen stood at court, not
one of the thousand idle rumours to which Gowrie's
enterprise gave birth tried to direct suspicion to-
wards them. The sole grounds upon which such
an accusation can rest for support, are the facts —
that Gowrie's father was a leader among the Pres-
byterians, and his son strictly educated in that faith;
that shortly after his arrival in Italy he wrote one
letter to a Presbyterian minister ; and that some of
the Edinburgh clerg)men manifested considerable
obstinacy in throwing discredit upon the reality of
the conspiracy. The two former are of themselves
so weak that we pass them over the more willingly,
that we shall immediately point out the motives from
which Gowrie acted, and the sort of assistance upon
which he really relied. The conduct of the clergy-
men admits of an easy explanation. James, whose
perception was nearly as acute as his character was
weak, was fully sensible of the ridicule to which he
had exposed himself by allowing his desire of money
to lead him into so shallow a device as Ruthven's.
In addition to this he wished, upon all occasions, to
appear as much of the hero as possible. The con-
sequence was, that his edition of the stor}' was so
dressed up as to render it inconsistent, first, with his
well-known character; secondly, with the most dis-
tant possibility of his having been deceived with the
master's pretences; and, thirdly, with the depositions
of the witnesses. Inconsistencies so startling were
sufficient to justify some preliminary scepticism; and
if ever there was an occasion \\here it was allowable
openly to call a king's word in question, it was when
James demanded, not merely that his party should
liypocritically profess a belief which they did not
entertain, but that they should, daringly and blas-
phemously, mix up this falsehood in the solemn
services of devotion. A short time, however, was
sufficient to convince the most incredulous of the
truth of the conspiracy, stripped of the adventitious
circumstances which the king linked with it; and the
obstinate recusancy of Bnice the clerg)-man is suffi-
ciently accounted for by James' insisting upon pre-
scribing the manner in which he was to treat the
subject, and by that individual's overstrained notions
of the guilt incurred by a minister who allowed any
one to dictate to him concerning the mode in which
he was to conduct public worship.

But Gowrie relied upon the support of no faction,
religious or political. His sole motive seems to have
been a fantastic idea of the duty incumbent upon
him to revenge his father's death. He is reported,
on one occasion, when some one directed his atten-
tion to a person who had been employed as an agent
against his father, to have said, '■' Aqiiila 11071 capiat
viiiscas.'" Ruthven also expressly declared to the
king when he held him prisoner in the closet, that
his only object was to obtain revenge for the death
of his father. The letters of Logan (except in one
solitary instance, where a scheme of aggrandizement
is darkly hinted at, and that as something quite
irrelevant to the purpose they had on hand) harp on
this string alone, proving that Gowrie and his friends

576

JAMES VI.

seek only "for the revange of that cawse." The
only members of the conspiracy who are known to
us, are men likely enough to engage in such a cause,
but most unlikely to be either leaders or followers in
a union where the parties were bound together by
an attachment to certain political principles. The
three conspirators are — the earl and his brother, such
as we have already described them, and Logan of
Restalrig, a broken man — a retainer and partisan of
Bothwell — a maintainer of thieves and somers — a
man who expressly objects to communicating their
project to one who he fears "vill disswade us fra owr
purpose with ressounes of religion, qnhilk I can never
abyJ." And if any more evidence were required to
show how little Gowrie relied upon the Presbyterians,
we might allude to his anxiety that Logan should
sound his brother. Lord Home — a Catholic.

In short, everything leads us to tlie opinion we
have already announced, that the Ruthvens were
instigated to their enterprise by feelings of private
revenge alone, and that they did not seek to make
any political party subser\ient to their purposes. It
is to this isolated nature of their undertaking — its
utter want of connection with the political move-
ments of the period — that we attribute the circum-
stance of its history having so long remained un-
known, and are satisfied that much of that history
must ever remain a riddle. It is with it as with the
mystery of the Man in the Iron Mask, and that whole
class of events which seem political merely because
they befall persons who rank high in the state. They
generally appear more mysterious than they really
are, because, if no chance unveils them at the time,
they stand too far apart from all other transactions
to receive any reflected light from them.*

On the 9th of November, 1600, was bom Charles,
James' second son, afterwards Charles I. of England.
\Vith tliat country the king now carried on a close
correspondence; first, with the Earl of Essex, whom,
on hearing of his imprisonment, he besought Eliza-
beth to spare, and afterwards with the Earl of Nor-
thumberland, Sir Robert Cecil, and other influential
men, on the subject of his title to the English succes-
sion, which was generally acknowledged by the dis-
tinguished men connected with the English court.

On the 2Sth of March, 1603, Elizabeth expired,
liaving named James as her successor, who was ac-
cordingly proclaimed King of England. His claim
to the succession arose from his relationship to
Margaret, daughter of Henry VIL, who married
Tames IV'. of Scotland, great-grandfather of James
Vl. ImmediatelyafterElizabeth's deceaseSir Robert
Carey, who had formerly been kindly entertained by
James, set off on a private expedition to Scotland,
to convey to the new sovereign the message. Leaving
London on Thursday morning, and stopping at his
estate of Witherington on the way, from which he
issued orders for proclaiming James at several places
in the north of England, he reached Edinburgh on
Saturday night, when the king had gone to bed, but,
gaining admission, saluted him as King of England.
Next morning Carey was created gentleman of the
bedchamber, and was at last elevated by Charles I.
to the title of Earl of Monmouth. The regular
messengers to James, announcing his succession,
soon arrived. One of the attendants, called Davis,
the king recognized as the author of a poem on the
immortality of the soul, which seems to have given
him high satisfaction, and promised him his patron-
age, which he afterwards faithfully bestowed.

> In this account of the conspiracy and summarj- of the
evidence, we use a masterly condensation of the matter of
Mr. Pitcaim's documents which appeared in the Editiburgk
Literc:y Jounuxl.

On the Sunday after his accession the king
attended at the High Church. After sermon he
addressed the audience on his affection for his Scot-
tish subjects ; and after committing his children to
the care of trusty nobles, and making arrangements
for the management of Scottish business, he set off
with a small number of attendants frcn his ancient
kingdom, over which he had reigned for thirty-five
years. The reception he met with on the way was
very magnificent, especially at Sir Robert Cecil's,
Sir Anthony Mildmay's, and Mr. Oliver Cromwell's.*
In his progress many petitions were presented and
granted — volumes of poems were laid before him by
the university of Cambridge, and the honour of
knighthood was conferred on no fewer than 237
individuals. Even in these circumstances, however,
he displayed his notions of royal prerogative by
ordering the recorder of Newark to execute a cut-
purse apprehended on the way. On reaching Lon-
don, he added to the privy-council six Scottish
favourites, and also Lord Montjoy, and Lords
Thomas and Henry Howard, the son and brother
of the late Duke of Norfolk ; and, on the 20th of
May, created several peers. Numerous congratula-
tions flowed in upon the king. The Marquis de
Rosni, afterwards Duke of Sully, arrived on the 15th
of June. The following sketch of James, as he ap-
peared on this occasion to the marquis, is strong and
striking: — "He was upright and conscientious; he
had eloquence and even erudition — but less of these
than of penetration and of the show of learning.
He loved to hear discourses on matter of state, and
to have great enterprises proposed to him, which he
discussed in a spirit of system and method, but with-
out any idea of carrj-ing them into efi^ect — for he
naturally hated war, and still more to be personally
engaged in it — was indolent in all his actions except
hunting, and remiss in affairs — all indications of a soft
and timid nature, formed to be governed." The
king entertained the marquis and his attendants at
dinner; when he spoke with contempt of Elizabeth —
a circumstance which probably arose from the control
which he was conscious she had exercised over him,
and especially the idea, which he expresses in one of
the documents in the negotiations on an alliance with
Spain, that she was concerned in the attempts of his
Scottish enemies agamst him — and also of a double
marriage he desired between the French and English
royal families.

The queen followed James a few weeks after his
arrival, having on the eve of her departure quarrelled
with the Earl of Mar, to whom James had com-
mitted the care of Prince Henr}-, and whose letter
to her, advising her not to treat him with disrespect,
excited the passion of that high-spirited woman.
She was crowned, along with her husband, on the
25th of July, by Archbishop Whitgift, with all the
ancient solemnity of that imposing ceremony. He
soon after, by proclamation, called upon his subjects
to solemnize the 5th of August in honour of his escape
from the Gowrie conspiracy.

At the commencement of the following year was
held the famous Hampton Court Conference. On
the first day a few select individuals only were ad-
mitted to the king; on the following four puritan
ministers, chosen by the king himself, appeared —
and his majesty presided as moderator. He con-
versed in Latin, and engaged in dispute with Dr.
Reynolds. In answer to an objection against the
Ap'ocr)-pha started by that learned di\-ine, the king
interpreted one of the chapters of Ecclesiasticus,
according to his own ideas. He also pronounced

- Uncle of the Protector.

JAMES vr.

377

an unmeasured attack on Preshytery, which he said
"agreed as well with monarchy as God and the
devil." — "Stay, " he addetl, "I pray, fur one seven
years, before you demand; and then, if you find me
grown pursy and fat, I may perchance hearken unto
you. For that government will keep me in breath,
and give me work enough." On this occasion
Bancroft, Bishop of London, flattered him as "such
a king, as, since Christ's time, the like had not been"
— and Whitgift professed to believe that his majesty
spoke under the special influence of the Holy Spirit.
With such flattery, is it to be greatly wondered at
that the king esteemed himself an accomplished
theological disputant? Indeed, the whole conference
seems to have been managed in a most unreasonable
manner. It was followed by a proclamation en-
forcing conformity, and a number of puritans, both
clergy and laity, severely suffered.

In March, 1604, the king, the queen, and the
prince rode in splendid procession from the Tower
to Whitehall ; and at the meeting of parliament, a
few days after, James delivered his first speech to
that assembly. One part of it excited general dis-
approbation— that in which he expressed himself
willing to favour the Roman Catholics — a feeling on
his part which probably arose from the prospects
afforded him of friendship with countries so powerful
as France and Spain, and also perhaps from some
degree of attachment to the Romish faith, as that of
his royal ancestors. At this meeting of parliament
the king also brought forward his favourite proposal
of a union betwixt England and Scotland, the result
of which was the appointment of a committee for
drawing up articles of union; one oCthe most zealous
members of which was Sir Francis Bacon. To this
great man James showed strong attachment ; and
even if Sir Francis had not proved himself to be
devoted with peculiar ardour to the king, it may be
supposed that he would have been regarded by the
latter with peculiar pride from that splendid series
of writings which he had already begun to publish,
and of which The Advancement of Learning, with a
very flattering dedication to the king, came forth in
1605.

A great part of the summer following the meeting
of parliament the king devoted to his favourite sport
of hunting — his attachment to which continued
through life, even when corpulence, arising from
excess in drinking, which was a noted fault of James,
had unfitted him for every active exercise. About
this time we find him engaged in arranging a mar-
riage between Sir Philip Herbert and Lady Susan
Vere; writing from Royston to the council that hunt-
ing was the only means to maintain his health, de-
siring them to take the charge and burden of affairs,
and foresee that he should not be interrupted nor
troubled with too much business; and inquiring into
the case of Haddock, called the sleeping preacher,
from his being said to deliver excellent sermons, and
speak excellent Greek and Hebrew in the midst of
sleep, although very stupid when awake, who was
brought by the king to confess that the whole was
an imposture. But James was soon placed in a more
serious situation by the celebrated Gunpowder Plot,
which was discovered on the 5th of November, for
which day parliament had been summoned. A letter
was found, supposed to have been written by the
sister of Lord Monteagle, who, though approving
of the conspiracy, and the wife of one of the con-
spirators, wished to preserve her brother from the
meditated ruin. On examination barrels of gun-
powder were found deposited below the place where
])arliament was just about to meet, and the very train
and match for the discharge of their contents were in

readiness. The conspirators were with considerable
difficulty discovered, and were found to comprehend
some Jesuits; and to have been united by their com-
mon attachment to the Roman Catholic religion,
which in England had been lately treated with in-
creased severity. Indeed, there is much reason to
believe that the plot in some degree depended on
Spanish influence. At the meeting of parliament, a
few days afterwards, James expatiated at great length
on this terrible conspiracy ; but still expressed him-
self indulgent to the English Catholics. Shortly after
ajDpeared a Discourse on the Giinpo^uder Plot, which
is supposed to have been the composition of the king.
The conspirators were condemned, and acts against
the Catholics were passed in parliament ; but James
continued to discover his unwillingness to treat them
with severity.

In July, 1606, he received a visit from the King
of Denmark, who was welcomed with imposing
splendour. Prince Vaudemont, a French relative
of James, also paid a visit about this time to his
royal kinsman. In November the king again sup-
ported before the parliament his favourite scheme of
a union between his Scottish and English kingdoms.
The following passages give a curious example of his
mode of conversation. The circumstances are given
by Harrington as having occurred about this time:
— "He engaged much of learning, and showed me
his own in such a sort as made me remember my
examiner at Cambridge aforetime. He sought much
to know my advances in philosophy, and introduced
profound sentences of Aristotle, and such-like
writers, which I had never read, and which some
are bold enough to say others do not understand."
— "The prince did now press my reading to him
part of a canto in Ariosto, praised my utterance, and
said he had been informed of many as to my learning
in the time of the queen. He asked me what I
thought pure wit was made of, and when it did best
become; whether a king should not be the best clerk
in his own country; and if this land did not entertain
good opinion of his learning and good wisdom. His
majesty did next press for my opinion touching the
power of Satan in matters of witchcraft, and asked
me with much gravity, if I did truly understand why
the devil did work more with ancient women than
others. His majesty asked much concerning my
opinion of the new weed tobacco, and said it would
by its use infuse ill qualities on the brain, and that
no learned man ought to taste it, and wished it for-
bidden." After discoursing on religion, at length he
said, "I pray you, do me justice in your report, and
in good season I will not fail to add to your under-
standing in such points as I may find you lack amend-
ment." Before this time the king had published not
only his Demonology, but also A Counterblast to
Tobacco.

In 1607 he published an answer to a work by
Tyrone, and soon after his Triplici Nodo Triplex
Cuneus — a defence of an oath which was imposed on
foreigners by an act of parliament after the Gun-
powder Plot. In 1609 he republished it, with a
dedication to all Christian kings and princes, answers
having been previously made to it by Bellarmine and
other writers. This has been considered as among
the best of the king's productions, and is character-
ized by a late historian of his court as "a learned
defence of Protestant principles, an acute exposure
of the false statements and false reasonings of Bellar-
mine, and a vigorous but not intemperate manifesto
against papal usurpation and tyranny; yet a vain and
useless ostentation of parts and knowledge : and a
truer judgment, by admonishing the royal author of
the incompatibility of the polemical character with

378

JAMES VI.

the policy and dignity of a sovereisni would have
spared him the numerous morlifications and incon-
veniences which ensued."'

One great cause of the king's unpopularity was his
excessive favour for a Scotsman of the name of Carr.
In February, l6io, at the meeting of parliament, he
did not ajjpear in ]U'rson, but he had the mortifica-
tion soon after, of having his plan of a union dis-
approved by parliament, and a sujjply to himself
refused. They were accordingly summoned to meet
the king at Whitehall, where he explained to them
his singular views of royal prerogative. The same-
year I lenry was appointed Prince of Wales, on which
occasion the ceremonies were continued for three
days.

In l6ll James, when on a hunting expedition,
received a book on the Nature and Attributes of
God, by Conrad Vorstius. The king selected several
doctrines which he considered heresies, and wrote to
the Dutch government, signifying his disapprobation
— Vorstius having lately received a professorship of
divinity at Leyden as successor of Arminius. He
also ordered the book to be burned in London.
Soon after, Bartholomew Legate was brought into
his presence, accused of professing Arianism in the
capital, after which he continued for some time in
Newgate, and was then burned at Smithfield. About
the same time a similar example of barbarous in-
tolerance occurred. But it was in the same year
that our English translation of the Bible was pub-
lished— an undertaking which the king had set on
foot, at the suggestion of Dr. Reynolds, in 1604,
which had been executed by forty-seven divines,
whom James furnished with instructions for the
work; and the fulfilment of wliich has been justly
remarked as an event of very high importance in the
history of the language as well as of tlie religion of
Great Britain. About the end of this year the king
founded a college at Chelsea for controversial theo-
logy, with a view to answer the Papists and Puritans.
His own wants, however, now led him to create the
title. of baronet, which was sold for ^1000 ; and a
man might purchase the rank of baron for £yx>o,
of viscount for ^^10,000, and of an earl for ;^20,ooo.
He also suffered about this time Ijy the death of the
Earl of Salisbury, whom he visited in his illness.
But a domestic loss awaited him — which however,
it is said, occasioned him slighter suffering than
might have been expected, althougli the nation felt
it as a painful stroke. During preparations for the
marriage of the ])rincess, the king's daughter, to the
elector palatine, who arrived in England for the pur-
pose on the i6th of October, 1612, Prince Henry
was cut off by death on the 6tli of November, having
been taken ill the very day before the elector's ar-
rival. This young prince was eminently distin-
guished by i)iety and honour, amiable manners and
literary habits. His death-bed was cheered by the
practice and consolations of the religion to which,
amidst the seductions of a court, he had adhered in
life, and he died, lamented by his family and coun-
try, in the nineteenth year of his age.

In February, 1613, the Princess Elizabeth was
married to the elector palatine — not, it is said, with-
out the dissatisfaction of her father. The prepara-
tions, however, were of the most splendid kind; so
that means were again adopted to supply the royal
wants, as also in the following year.

In 1615 James paid a visit to the university of
Cambridge, where he resided in Trinity College, and
was received with many literary exhibitions, in the
form of disputations, sermons, plays, and orations.

' Aiken's<ro«r^ 0/ James.

In this year he wrote his Remonstrance for the Right
of Kings and the Independence of their Crowns, in
answer to a speech delivered at Paris in January by
Cardinal Perron, who sent it to James. This year
also occurred the celebrated trials for the murder
of Overbury, in the examinations previous to which
James personally engaged. He had now lost his
enthusiastic attachment to Carr, the person chiefly
accused of this foul deed, whom he had created Earl
of Somerset, and who had lately been replaced in his
affections by Villiers, the royal cup-bearer, whom he
knighted, and appointed a gentleman of the bed-
cliamber, and whom he gradually advanced, until
he was created Duke of Buckingham.

In 1617, after some changes in the court, James
paid a visit to Scotland, leaving Bacon as principal
administrator in his absence. On this occasion liter-
ary exhibitions were presented to him by the univer-
sities of Edinburgh and St. Andrews, and he also
amused himself with his favourite sport of hunting.
But he soon proceeded to enforce the customs of the
English hierarchy on the Scottish people — a measure
which, notwithstanding considerable encouragement
from a General Assembly, convoked with a view to
the proposed alterations, the nation in general deemed
an infringement of a promise he had made many years
before, and which they succeeded, to a considerable
degree, in resisting.

The following year \vas marked by another act of
cruelty. Sir Walter Raleigh, who had been con-
fined in the Towner for twelve years on the charge of
having been engaged in a Spanish conspiracy, but
had at last obtained release from his imprisonment,
was condemned and executed, in consequence of liis
marked misconduct in an expedition to explore a
mine in Guiana which he had represented to the king
as well fitted to enrich his exchequer. His execu-
tion, it will scarcely be doubted, was owing to the
influence of Gondomar, the Spanish ambassador, an
enemy of Raleigh at the English court, in prospect
of a marriage between Prince Charles and the Span-
ish infanta. Soon after the queen died — a woman
who seems to have been by no means destitute of
estimable qualities, but still more remarkable for the
splendour of her entertainments, to which Ben Jon-
son and other writers contributed largely of their
wit. Indeed, that eminent dramatist seems to have
been a person of considerable consequence at the
English court. At this time James' own literary
character was exhibited to the world in a folio edition
of his works, edited, with a preface well seasoned
with flattery, by the Bishop of Winchester. Soon
after, on an application from Prince Maurice for the
appointment of some English divines as members of
a council for the settlement of the controversy between
the Arminians and Gomarists, which was held at
Dort in November, 1 618, five learned men were
nominated on that commission, directed by James to
recommend to the contending parties the avoidance
in public instruction of the controverted topics.
His favour to the Church of England was manifested
about the same time by his treatuicnt of the cele-
brated Selden, who had written a work on " the his-
tory of tithes," in which he held the injustice of con-
sidering the alienation of what had once been church
lands to any other than ecclesiastical purposes to be
in every case an act of sacrilege. For this work the
king required an explanation, and it was shortly
afterwards prohibited by the high-commission court.
The nation in general was displeased with the rigour
of the king's administration ; with the plan, which
he had not yet abandoned, of a marriage between his
son and the Infanta of Spain; and with the favour-
itism which he manifested, especially towards Villiers,

JAMES VI.

379

whose connections called on him for bountiful pro-
visions, which the king, at his request, with gross
facility conceded.

Ill 1620 the circumstances of his son-in-law, the
elector palatine, began to occupy the particular atten-
tion of the king. That prince, after having been
chosen king by the Uohemians, who had thrown off
the Austrian sway and received support from various
states of Germany, was at last in a very perilous con-
dition, and on the Sth November, 1620, defeated at
the battle of Prague. After much delay, in which he
carried on a diplomatic interference, James at last
agreed to send a supply of chosen men. But he soon
resigned this active interference in his behalf; he
called in vain for a benevolence froni his wealthy
subjects to enable him, as he said, to give him a
vigorous support in the event of future urgency ; and,
finally, summoned a parliament, which had not met
for many years, to deliberate on the subject. It met
in January, 1 62 1 — a parliament memorable for the
investigation it made into the conduct of Lord Bacon,
and the sentence it pronounced on that distinguished
man, who had published only a short time before the
second part of his immortal A'ovmn Organiim. The
king, however, had previously promised him either
freedom from such a sentence, or pardon after it,
and Bacon accordingly was soon released from im-
prisonment, and, in three years after, fully pardoned
by the king. This parliament also granted supplies
to James, but in the same year refused farther sup-
plies to the cause of the palatine. James adjourned
it in spite of the remonstrance of the House of Com-
mons ; and on the same day occurred a well-known
conversation of the king and the Bishops Neale and
Andrews: "My lords," said the king, "cannot I
take my subjects' money when I want it, without all
this formality in parliament?" "God forbid, sir,"
said Neale ; "but you should — you are the breath of
our nostrils." "Well, my lord," rejoined his majesty
to Andrews, "and what say you?" He excused him-
self on the ground of ignorance in parliamentary
matters. "No put-off, my lord," said James, "an-
swer me presently." "Then, sir," said the excel-
lent prelate, "I think it lawful for you to take my
brother Neale's money, for he offers it." The king,
however, had himself recommended to this parlia-
ment the investigation of abuses, and especially in-
veighed against corruption and bribery in courts of
law. In this year he conferred the seals, which
Baconhad resigned, upon Williams, afterwards Bishop
of Lincoln, who induced him to deliver the Earl of
Northumberland from imprisonment ; and soon after
he very creditably interfered for the continuance of
Archbishop Abbot in his office, after he had involun-
tarily committed an act of homicide.

I'arliament meeting again in P'ebruary, 1622, the
commons prepared a remonstrance to the king on
the dissatisfaction which was generally felt with the
position of affairs both at home and abroad, and
calling on him to resist the measures of the King of
Spain — to enforce the laws against Popery — many
his son to a Protestant— support Protestantism
abroad, and give his sanction to the bills which they
should pass with a view to the interest of the nation.
On hearing of this proceeding the king addressed
an intemperate letter to the speaker, asserting, as
usual, the interest of his "prerogative-royal." It
was answered by the commons in a manly and loyal
address, to which the king replied in a letter still
more intemperate than the former. The commons,
notwithstanding, drew up and recorded a protest,
claiming the right of delivering their sentiments, and
of deciding fieely, without exposure to impeachment
from their speeches in parliamentary debate, and

proposing that, should there be objection made to
anything said by a member in the house, it should be
officially reported to the king before he should re-
ceive as true any private statement on the subject.
This protest the king tore out of the journal of the
house, ordered the deed to be registered, and im-
prisoned several of the individuals concerned, who,
however, were soon afterwards liberated. But James
still maintained his own authority; he strictly pro-
hibited the general discussion of political subjects,
and enjoined on the clergy a variety of rules, guard-
ing them against preaching on several subjects, some
of which must be regarded as important parts of the
system which it is the duty of the clergy to proclaim.

On the 17th of February, 1623, Prince Charles
and the Marquis of Buckingham set off on a visit to
Spain, with a view to the marriage of the former
with the infanta, although the king had resisted the
proposal of this journey, which had been urgently
made by the prince and Buckingham. On the cir-
cumstance being known in England, the favourite
was loudly blamed, and the prince suspected of an
attachment to Popery. The travellers proceeded in
disguise, visited Paris for a single day, and reached
Madrid on the 6th of March. The Earl of Bristol,
the English ambassador, met them with surprise.
James corresponded with them in a very character-
istic manner, and sent a large supply of jewels and
other ornaments, as a present for the infanta. The
Spaniards were generally anxious for the consumma-
tion of the marriage. But the pope, unwilling to grant
a dispensation, addressed to Charles a letter entreat-
ing him to embrace the Roman Catholic religion, to
which the prince replied in terms expressive of re-
spect for the Romish church.

Accordingly, all was prepared for the marriage,
which was appointed to take place on the 29th of
August. But before the day arrived Pope Gregory
had died — a circumstance which destroyed the force
of the matrimonial articles ; and the prince left Spain
in the midst of general demonstrations of attachment
to his person, and inclination towards the intended
marriage. On his way to England, however, he dis-
covered a coldness towards the measure, and shortly
after his arrival, in October, the king acceding to the
proposal of the favourite, who was displeased at his
reception in Spain, a letter was sent to the Earl of
Bristol ordering him not to grant the proxy which
was required according to the treaty, after the Papal
dispensation was obtained, before security should be
given by Spain for the restoration of the ])alatine.
But even after the King of Spain had agreed to this
proposal, James, persuaded by the favourite, ex-
pressed a wish that the matter should be broken off.
But the low state of pecuniary resources into which
these negotiations had reduced the English king
induced him to call a parliament, in February,
1624, to submit to them the matters about which
he was now particularly interested. It offered sup-
plies to the king for a war with Spain. War was
declared, and tlie favourite of the king became the
favourite of a large proportion of the nation. About
the same time an accusation of Buckingham for his
conduct in regard to Spain and Bohemia was pre-
sented secretly to the king by the Marquis Inojoso.
It threw his majesty into excessive agitation ; and on
setting out for Windsor he repulsed the duke as he
offered to enter the royal carriage. The duke in-
quired, with tears, in what respect he had transgressed,
but received only tears and reproaches in retum.
On receiving an answer by Williams to the charges
against the duke, he again received him into favour,
and soon after broke off all friendly negotiations with
Spain. He resisted, however, though not success-

38o

GEORGE JAMESOXE.

fully, the proposal of Buckingham and Charles, that
he should imiicach the lurd-trcasurcr on the ground
of corruption in office. He also lesisted, with much
better reason, the petition of Buckingham that the
Earl of Bristol should be forced to submit, exclaim-
ing, " I were to be accounted a tyrant to engage an
inn )cent man to confess faults of which he was not
guilty." The earl, however, was prevented from
appearing in the presence of the king, who also cau-
tioned the parliament against seeking out grievances
to remedy, although they might apply a cure to ob-
viously existing ones.

June, 1624, was occupied by the king and Buck-
ingham in carrying on measures for a marriage be-
tween I'rince Charles and Ilennclla Maria, sister of
Louis XIII., and daughter of Henry IV. ; and on
the lOth of November a dispensation having been
with some difficulty obtained from the pope, the
nuptial articles were signed at Paris. But in the
spring of 1625, the king, whose constitution had
previously suffered severely, was seized with ague, of
which he died at Theobald's on the 27th of March,
in the fifty-ninth year of his age. He was buried in
Westminster Abl)ey, and the funeral sermon was
preached by Williams.

On the character of James, so palpable and gene-
rally known, it is not necessary to offer many ol)ser-
vations. Much of his conduct is to be attributed in
a great measure to his political advisers, who were
often neither wise nor faithful. His own character
embraced many combinations of what may be almost
denominated inconsistencies. He was peculiarly sub-
ject to the influence of favourites, and yet exceedingly
disposed to interfere with the course of political
affairs. Indeed, to his warm and exclusive attach-
ments, combined with his extravagant ideas of his
own office and authority, may be traced the principal
errors of his reign. He was accordingly resolute,
and yet often too ready to comply ; sensible to feel-
ing, and yet addicted to severity ; undignified in
manner, and yet tyrannical in government. Erring
as was his judgment, his learning cannot be denied,
though the use he often made of it, and especially
the modes in which he showed it in the course of
conversation, have been with reason the subjects of
amusement or scorn. His superstition was great,
but perhaps not excessive for the age in which he
lived ; and it is said that in his latter days he put no
faith in witchcraft. His religion was probably in
some flegree sincere, though neither settled nor com-
manding. Neither his writings nor his political
courses, it is to be feared, have done much directly
to advance the interests of liberal and prudent policy;
but in both there are pleasing specimens of wisdom,
and both may teach us a useful lesson by furnishing
a melancholy view of the nature and tendency of
tyranny, even when in some degree controlled by the
checks ofjjarliamentary influence and popular opinion.

JAMESONE, George, the fust eminent painter
produced by Britain, was born at Aberdeen towards
the end of the sixteenth century. The year 1586 has
been given as tlie precise era of his birth, but this we
can disprove by an extract which has been furnished
to us from the burgh records of his native town, and
which shows that the eldest child of his parents (a
daughter) was born at such a period of this year as
rendered it impossible that he could have been born
within some months of it. ^ It is alone certain that

^ The marriage of the parents of Jamesonc is thus entered
in these burgh records :

" Thair is promcss of marriage betwix
And" Jamesone ) • .u a .. o »•

Marjore Andcrsone j'" '7th August, 1585.

the date of the painter's birth was posterior to 1586.
Of the private life of this distinguished man few i)ar-
ticulars are known, and of these few a jiortion rest
on rather doubtful authority. Previously to his a[)-
pearance no man had so far succeeded in attracting
the national attention of Scotland to productions in
painting as to render an artist a person whose appear-
ance in the country was to be greatly marked.
At that period of our history, too, men had other
matters to occupy their minds ; and it may well be
believed, that, in passing through the fiery ordeal of
the times, many men who in peace and prosperity
might have had their minds attracted to the orna-
mental arts, were absorbed in feelings of a very dif-
ferent order, which hardly allowed them an oppor-
tunity of knowing, far less of indulging, in the elegant
occupations of peace. The father of Jamesone was
Andrew Jamesone, burgess of guild of Aberdeen, and
his mother was Marjory Anderson, daughter of David
Anderson, one of the magistrates of that city. What
should have prompted the parentsof the young painter
to adopt the very unusual measure of sending their
son from a quiet fireside in Aberdeen to study under
Peter Paul Rubens in Antwerp must remain a mys-
tery. The father is said to have been an architect,
and it is probable that he had knowledge enough of
art to remark the rising genius of his child, and was
liberal enough to ]ierceive the height to which the
best foreign education might raise the possessor of
that genius. If a certain Flemish building projecting
into one of the narrow streets of Aberdeen, and known
by the name of "Jamesone's house," be the produc-
tion of the architectural talents of the elder Jamesone,
as the period of the style may render not unlikely, he
must have been a man of taste and judgment. Under
Rubens Jamesone had for his fellow-scholar Sir An-
thony Vandyke, and the early intercourse of these
two artists had the effect of making the portraits of
each be mistaken for those of the other. In 1 620
Jamesone returned to Aberdeen, and established
himself as a portrait-painter. He there, on the 12th
of November, 1624, married Miss Isobel Tosh" — a
lady with whom he seems to have enjoyed much
matrimonial felicity, and who, if we may judge by
her husband's representation of her in one of his best
pictures, ' must have been a person of very consider-
able attractions ; he had by her several children, of
whom the sons seem to have all met early deaths, a
daughter being the only child he left behind him. ■*

.Soon after the above entry, there occurs one regarding the
baptism of their eldest child, the sister of the painter, in these
terms:

"The penult day July, 1586. Ando. Jamesone, Marjore
Andersone, dochtar in mareage, callit Elspett; James Robert-
son, Edward Uonaldson, Elspatt Cuttes, Elspatt Mydilton,
witnesses.*'

^ The marriage is thus entered in the burgh records: " 12th
November, 1624, George Jamesoune, Isobell Tosche."

'^ This picture represents the painter himself, and his wife
and daughter. The grouping is very neat, and the attitudes
of the hands as free from stiffness as those of almost any pic-
ture of the age. 'I'he daughter is a fine round-cheeked spirited-
looking girl, apparently about twelve years old. Walpole
says this picture was painted in 1623. From the date of
Jamesone's marriage, this must be a mistake. This picture
was engraved by Alexander Jamesone, a descendent of the
painter, in 1728, and a very neat line engraving of it is to be
found in Dallaway's edition of Walpole's Anecdotes.

4 The following entry in the council records of Aberdeen
relates to the birth of one of Jamesone's children: " 1629 yieris

— George Jamesone and Toche, ane sone, baptized

be Mr. Rolicrt Baron the 27th day of July, callit William;
Mr. Patrick Done, Robert Alexander, Andrew Meldrum,
William Gordone, god-fathers." The next notice of him which
we find in the same authority shows, that on the 2d January,
i6jo, he was present at the baptism of a child of "James
Toshe," probably a relation of his wife, at which, it may be
mentioned, William Forbes, Bishop of Edinburgh, officiated.
In October of the same year we find him again demanding a
similar duty for his own family: "October, 1630 yeires, George

FROM THE ORIGINAi IN THi: POSSESSIOTT OF if?- CAKKEQIE, ABERDEEN.

BLACKTE 8c SON, 01. A3O0W; -EDINUL

,,^.._^--r;r;r^C?^'

GEORGE JAMESONE.

381

A curious evidence of the locality of Jamcsone's
residence in Aberdeen is to be found in an epigram
on tiiat city by the painter's intimate friend Arthur
Johnstone, author of the Latin version of the Psalms.
It is interesting, as proving that Janiesone possessed
what was then seldom to be found in Scotland, a
habitation, which added to the mere protection from
the inclemency of the seasons, some attempt to ac-
quire the additions of comfort and taste. The epi-
gram proceeds thus : —

"Hanc quoque Lanaris mons ornat, amoenior illis,
Hinc ferrugineis Spada colorat aquis :
Inde SHburbatuiin Jamesoni despicis liorUim^
Quein domini pictum suspiclor esse manu."

In .-/ Succinct Survey of the Famous City of Aberdeen,
bv Philopoliteiiis, the passage is thus "done" into
what the author is pleased to term "English :" —
"The Woolman hill, which all the rest outvies
In pleasantness, this city beautifies ;
There is the well of Spa, that healthful font,
Whose yrne-hewed water coloureth the mount :
Not far from thence a garden's to be seen
Which unto Jamesone did appertain :
Wherein a little pleasant house doth stand,
Paintid as I guess with its master's hand."'

Jamesone appears to have been in Edinburgh dur-
ing the visit of King Charles I. in the year 1633.
To gratify the taste of that prince he was employed
by the magistrates to paint portraits, as nearly re-
sembling probable likenesses as he could devise, of
some of the real or supposed early kings of Scotland.
These productions had the good fortune to give
satisfaction, and the unhappy king, who had soon
far different matters to occupy his attention, sat for
his portrait, and rewarded the artist with a diamond
ring from his own finger. It is alleged that the
painter was on this occasion indulged with a permis-
sion to remain covered in the presence of majesty —
a circumstance which is made to account for his hav-
ing always represented himself (and he was not spar-

Jamesone, and Isobell Toshe, ane sone, baptized the 27th
day, caUit Paull; Paull Menzies of Kinmundie, provest, Mr.
Alexander Jaffray, bailrie, Mr. D.avid Wedderburne, Mr.
Robert Patrie, Patrick J.ack, Patrick Fergusson, Andrew
Strachan, godfathers." This is a curious evidence of Jame-
sone's respectability as a citizen. Paul, afterwards Sir Paul
Menzies, a man of considerable note in Aberdeenshire, and
provost of the city, appears to have been name-father, and
Alexander Jaffrey, another of the sponsors, was himself after-
wards provost. The extractor of these entries remarks, that
the chief magistrate appears to have acted as sponsor only at
the baptisms of the children of very influential citizens.

' With farther reference to this piece of pleasure-ground,
and an anxiety to collect every scrap of matter which concerns
Jamesone, we give the following entry regarding a petition,
of date the 15th of Januarj', 1645, given in to the town-council
of Aberdeen by "Mr. John Alexander, advocate in Edinburgh,
makand mention that where that piece of ground callit the
play-field besyd y« Wolman-hill [quhilk was set to umquhill
George Jamesone, painter, burges of Edinburgh in liferent,
and buildet be him in a garden) is now unprofitable, and that
the said John Alexander, sone in law to the said umquhi'l
George Jamesone, is desirous to have the same peice of ground
set to him in few heritablie to be houlden of the provest,
bailzies, and of the burghe of Aberdene, for payment of a
reasonable few dutie yeirlie theirfor;" praying the magistrates
to set to him in feu tack the foresaii piece of ground: the
request is granted by the magistrates, and farther official
mention is made of the transaction of date the loth No-
vember, 1646, where the "marches" of the garden are set
forth in full. This piece of ground was the ancient "Play-
field" of the burgh, which remained disused after the Refor-
mation had terminated the pageants and mysteries there
performed. Persons connected with Aberdeen will know the
spot when they are informed, that it is the piece of flat ground
extending from the well of Spa to Jack's Br.ae, bounded on the
east by the Woolman-hill, and the burn running at its foot ;
on the south by the Denburn and the ridge of ground on
which Skene Street now stands; on the west by Jack's Brae;
and on the north by the declivity occupied by the Gilcomston
brewery. The appropriation of the spot to the garden of the
painter is still noted by the name of a fountain, called "The
Garden Neuk y^fA,"— Council Record 0/ Aberdeen, liii. p. 37,

ing in portraits of himself) with his hat on : neither
is the permission characteristic of the monarch, nor
its adoption by the artist ; and the peculiarity may
be better attributed to a slavish imitation of his mas-
ter Rubens in a practice which had been sanctioned
by the choice of Carracci and Guido.

It is probable that the ]5atronage and notice of the
monarcli were the circumstances which introduced
the paintings of Jamesone to the notice of the nobility.
He appears, soon after tlie period we have alluded
to, to have commenced a laborious course of portrait-
painting, then, as now, the most lucrative branch of
the art; and the many portraits of their ancestors,
still in possession of families dispersed through various
parts of Scotland, attest the extent of his industry.
The Campbells of Glenorchy, then an opulent and
powerful family, distinguished themselves by their
patronage of Jamesone. What countenance he may
have obtained from other quarters we do not know,
and the almost utter silence regarding so great a
man on the part of contemporaries makes a docu-
ment which Walpole has rescued from oblivion, re-
lative to his labours for the family of Glenorchy,
highly interesting. From a MS. on vellum, contain-
ing the genealogy of the house of Glenorchy, begun
in 1598, are taken the following extracts, written in
1635, page 52: — "Item, the said Sir Coline Camp-
bell (eighth laird of Glenorchy), gave unto George
Jamesone, painter in Edinburgh, for King Robert
and King David Bruysses, Kings of Scotland, and
Charles I., King of Great Brittane, France, and
Ireland, and his majesties quein, and for nine more
of the queins of Scotland, their portraits, quhilks
are set up in the hall of Balloch (now Taymouth),
the sum of twa hundrelh thrie scor pounds." — "jNIair
the said Sir Coline gave to the said George Jamesone
for the knight of Lochow's lady, and the first Coun-
tess of Argylle, and six of the ladys of Glenurquhay,
their portraits, and the said Sir Coline his own por-
trait, quhilks are set up in the chalmer of deas of
Balloch, ane hundreth four scoire punds."- There
is a further memorandum, intimating that in 1635
Jamesone painted the family tree of the house of
Glenorchy, eight feet long by five broad. Wliat
may have become of the portraits of Robert and
David Bruce, and of the nine queens, which must
have taxed the inventive talents of the artist, we do
not know. Their loss may be, however, of little
consequence, as we can easily argue from the general
effect of Jamesone's productions, that his talent con-
sisted in giving life and expression to the features
before him, and not in design. The other paintings
have, however, been carefully preserved by the
family into whose hands they fell. They consist
of portraits of Sir Duncan Campbell, the Earl of
Airth, John Earl of Rothes, James Marquis of
Hamilton, Archibald Lord Napier, William Earl
of Marischal, Chancellor Loudoun, Lord Binning,
the Earl of Mar, Sir Robert Campbell, Sir John
Campbell, and the genealogical tree mentioned in
the memorandum. All these are, we believe, still
to be seen in good preservation in Taymouth Castle,
where in 1769 they were visited by Pennant, who
thus describes the genealogical tree: "That singular
performance of his, the genealogical picture, is in
good preservation. The chief of the Argyle family
is placed recumbent at the foot of a tree, with a
branch ; on the right is a single head of his eldest
son. Sir Duncan Campbell, laird of Lochow; but on
the various ramifications are the names of his de-
scendants, and along the body of the tree are nine
small heads, in oval frames, with the names on the

'^ Walpole's Anecdotes 0/ Pai?tting:, i. 24.

3S^

GEORGE JAMESONE.

margins, all done with great neatness: tlie second
son was tirst of the house of Breadalbane, which
branched from the other above four hundred years
ago. In a corner is inscribed 'The Geneologie of
the House of Glenorquhie, quhairof is descendit
sundrie nobil and worthie houses, yaineson faciebat,
1635.'"^ After a life wliich must have been spent
in great industry, and enjoying independence, and
even wealth, Jamesone died at Edinburgh in 1644,
and was buried without a monument in the Gray-
friars' Churcli there.

Walpole, who obtained his information from a
relation of the painter, says, "By his will, written
with his own hand in July, 1641, and breathing a
spirit of much piety and benevolence, he provides
kindly for his wife and children, and leaves many
legacies to his relations and friends, particularly to
Lord Rothes the king's picture from head to foot,
and Mary with Martha in one piece: to William
Murray he gives the medals in his coffer ; makes a
handsome provision for his natural daughter; and
bestows liberally on the poor. That he should be
in a condition to do all this seems extraordinary,
his prices having been so moderate ; for, enumerat-
ing the debts due to him, he charges Lady Hadding-
ton for a whole length of her husband, and Lady
Seton, of the same dimensions, frames and all, but
300 merks : and Lord Maxwell for his own picture
and his lady's to their knees, 100 merks, both sums
of Scots-money."" The average remuneration which
Jamesone received for his portraits is calculated at
twenty pounds Scots, or one pound thirteen shillings
and four pence sterling. People have wondered at
the extreme smallness of the sum paid to so great an
artist ; but, measured by its true standard, the price
of necessary provisions, it was in reality pretty con-
siderable, and may easily be supposed to have en-
abled an industrious man to amass a comfortable
fortune. Walpole continues, "Mr. Jamesone (the
relation from whom the facts of the account were
received) has likewise a memorandum written and
signed by this painter, mentioning a MS. in his pos-
session, 'containing 200 leaves of parchment of ex-
cellent write, adorned with diverse historys of our
Saviour curiously limned,' which he values at ^200
sterling, a very large sum at that time ! What is
become of that curious book is not known." It is
probable that the term "sterling" affixed to the sum
is a mistake. It was seldom if ever used in Scotland
at the period when Jamesone lived. We are not
given to understand that the "limning" was of the
painter's own work, and we are not to presume he
was in possession of a volume superior in value to
the produce of many years' labour in his profession.
The manuscript, though mentioned with an estima-
tion so disproportionate to that of the works of its
proprietor, was probably some worthless volume of
monkish illuminations, of which it would waste time
to trace the ownership. The description might apply
to a manuscript "Mirror of the Life of Christ," ex-
tant in the Advocates' Library.

We have already mentioned a considerable num-
ber of the portraits by Jamesone as extant in Tay-
mouth Castle. An almost equal number is in the
possession of the Alva family ; and others are dis-
persed in smaller numbers. Carnegie of Southesk
possesses portraits of some of his ancestors, by Jame-
sone, who was connected with the family. Mr.
Carnegie, town-clerk of Aberdeen, possesses several
of his pictures in very good preservation, and among
them is the original of the portrait of the artist him-
self which has been engraved for this work. An-

' To2ir, 1769, p. 87.

^ A necdctcs, i. 250.

other individual in Aberdeen possesses a highly
curious portrait by Jamesone of the artist's uncle,
David Anderson of Finzeauch, merchant-burgess of
Aberdeen, an eccentric character, the variety of whose
occupations and studies procured him the epithet of
" Davie do a' thing." Some of Jamesone's portraits
hang in the hall of Marischal College in a state of
wretched preservation. Sir Paul Menzies, provost
of Aberdeen, presents us with a striking cast of coun-
tenance boldly executed ; but in general these are
among the inferior productions of Jamesone. They
are on board, the material on which he iiaiiUcd his
earlier productions (and which he afterwards changed
for fine canvas), and are remarkable for the stiffness
of the hands, and the awkward arrangement of the
dress; two defects which, especially in the case of
the former, he afterwards overcame. There is in
the same room a portrait of Charles I. of some merit,
which the exhibitor of the curiosities in the university
generally attributes to Vandyke. It is probably the
work of Jamesone, but it maybe observed, that there
is more .calm dignity in the attitude, and much less
expression, than that artist generally exhibits. Wal-
pole and others mention as extant in the King's Col-
lege of Aberdeen, a picture called the ".Sibyls,"
partly executed by Jamesone, and copied from living
beauties in Aberdeen : if this curious production still
exists in the same situation, we are unaware of its
being generally exhil^ited to strangers. There is a
picture in King's College attributed to Jamesone,
which we would fain bestow on some less celebrated
hand. It is a view of King's College as originally
erected, the same from which the engraving prefixed
to Orem's account of the' cathedral church of Old
Aberdeen is copied. It represents an aspect much
the same as that which Slezer has given in his
Theatnim Scotiiv, and, like the works of that artist,
who could exhibit both sides of a l)uilding at once,
it sets all perspective at defiance, and most unreason-
ably contorts the human figure. In characterizing
the manner of Jamesone, Walpole observes that "his
excellence is said to consist in delicacy and softness,
with a clear and beautiful colouring ; his shades not
charged, but helped by varnish, with little appear-
ance of the pencil." This account is by one who
has not seen any of the artist's paintings, and is very
unsatisfactory.

It is indeed not without reason that the portraits
of Jamesone have frequently been mistaken for those
of Vandyke. Both excelled in painting the human
countenance — in making the flesh and blood project
from the surface of the canvas, and animating it with
a soul within. That the Scottish artist may have
derived advantage from his association with the more
eminent foreigner it were absurd to deny; Init as they
were fellow-students, candour will admit that the
advantage may have been at least partly repaid, and
that the noble style in which both excelled may
have been formed by the common labour of both.
It can scarcely be said that on any occasion Jame-
sone rises to the high dignity of mental expression
represented by Vandyke, nor does he exhibit an equal
grace in the adjustment of a breast-plate or the
hanging of a mantle. His pictures generally repre-
sent hard and characteristic features, seldom with
much physical grace, and representing minds within,
which have more of the fierce or austere than of the
lofty or elegant ; and in such a spirit has he presented
before us the almost breathing forms of those turbu-
lent and austere men connected with the dark troubles
of the times. The face thus represented seems gene-
rally to have commanded the whole mind of the
artist. The back-ground presents nothing to attract
attention, and the outlines of the hard features gene-

ROBERT JAMESOX.

3S3

rally start from a cjroun'l of dingy dark brown, or
deep gray. The tlress, frequently of a sombre hue,
often fades away into the back-ground, and tlie atti-
tude, though frequently easy, is seldom stuilied to
impose. The features alone, with their knotty brows,
deep expressive eyes, and the shadow of the nose
falling on the lip — a very picturesque arrangement
followed by Vandyke — alone demand the attention
of the spectator. Vet he could sometimes represent
a majestic form and attitude, as the well-known
picture of Sir Thomas Hope testifies. We shall
notice one more picture by Jamesone, as it is pro-
bably one of the latest which came from his brush,
and exhibits peculiarities of style not to be met with
in others. This portrait is in the possession of Mr.
Skene of Rubislaw, and represents his ancestor Sir
George .Skene of Fintray, who was born in 1619.
The portrait is of a young man past twenty; and it
will be remarked, tliat the subject was only twenty-
five years of age when the artist died. The picture
is authenticated from the circumstance of a letter
being extant from the laird of Skene to Sir George
Skene, requesting a copy of his portrait "by Jame-
sone," and in accordance with a fulfilment of this
request, a copy of the portrait we allude to is in the
family collection at Skene. Jamesone has here in-
dulged in more fulness and brilliancy of colouring
than is his general custom : the young man has a
calm aspect ; his head is covered with one of the
monstrous wigs then just introduced ; he is in a
painter's attitude, even to the hand, w'hich is beauti-
fully drawn, and far more graceful than those of
Jamesone generally are. On the whole, this portrait
has more of the characteristics of Sir Peter Lely
than of Vandyke.

Jamesone has been termed the "Vandyke of Scot-
land," but he may with equal right claim the title
of the Vandyke of Britain. Towards the latter end
of Elizabeth's reign Hilliard and Oliver had become
somewhat distinguished as painters in miniature,
and they commanded some respect, more from the
inferiority of others, than from their own excellence;
but the first inhabitant of Great Britain, the works
of whose brush could stand comparison with foreign
painters, was Jamesone.

A Latin elegy was addressed to the memoiy of
Jamesone by David Wedderburn; and his friend and
fellow-townsman Arthur Johnston (whose portrait
had been painted by Jamesone) has left, in one of
his numerous epigrams, a beautiful poetical tribute
to his memory. After his death the art he had done
so much to support languished in Scotland. His
daughter, who may have inherited some portion of
plastic genius, has left behind fruits of her industry
in a huge mass of tapestry which still dangles from
the gallery of the church of St. Nicholas in Aber-
deen. This lady's second husband was Gregory the
mathematician. A descendant of the same name as
the painter has already been alluded to as an en-
graver in the earlier part of the eighteenth century,
and John Alexander, another descendant, who re-
turned from his studies in Italy in 1720, acquired
celebrity as an inventor of portraits of Queen Mary.

JAMESON, Robert, regius professor of natural
history in the university of Edinburgh, and keeper of
the university museum, &c. — This eminent naturalist,
who has frequently been called the father of modern
natural history, was third son of Thomas Jameson,
soap manufacturer, Leith, and was born there in July,
1772. After the usual preliminary education he was
set to the study of medicine, with a view to following
the profession of the healing art; but his predilections
for natural history were so strong and early as to

decide the course of his future life. Even while a boy
at the grammar-school of Ecith, he was more intent
in stuffing birds, and collecting animals and jjlants
on the beach, than in conjugating Latin verbs,
and studying the measures of verses. As these
pursuits grew upon him until he became a confirmed
naturalist, his study of medicine in its various
departments aided his researches, and was wisely
adoptetl as their handmaid. It was by this science
that his investigations were reduced to form and
order, and that he was enabled duly to appreciate
the physiological as well as the systematic elements
of natural history. What remarkable proficiency he
had made in geology was attested by his Outlines of
the Mineralogy of the Shetland Islands and of the
Island of Arran, 7vith an Appendix containing Ob-
sensations on Peat, Kelp, and Coal — a w^ork which
he produced in his twenty-fifth year. Two years
afterwards (1800) he published his Outlines of the
Mineralogy of the Scottish Isles.

These early achievements in his favourite science,
distinguished though they were, did not satisfy the
aspirations of Jameson, and what would have suf-
ficed a less craving appetite for knowledge, in him
only whetted it into renewed vigour. Having mas-
tered all that the schools of our island could teach,
and visited London in 1793, where he enjoyed per-
sonal intercouree with Sir Joseph Banks, Dr. Shaw,
and other chief members of the Linntean Society,
he resolved to apply to the continental schools; he
accordingly passed over to Germany, and at Frey-
burg in Saxony became the disciple of the celebrated
Werner, whose theories he adopted, and of which
he became for some time one of their most enthusi-
astic propagators and expounders. After a stay of
nearly two years in Saxony, during which, for the
purpose of improving his knowledge in geology and
mineralogy, he not only attended the lectures of
Werner, but wrought in the mines like a common
workman, he returned to Scotland in 1804. He
would have again visited Germany, had it not been
for an important event which occurred in the same
year. This was his appointment to the chair of
natural philosophy in the university of Edinburgh,
in consequence of the death of Dr. Walker, who
had previously held that charge, and of whom
Professor Jameson had been the favourite pupil.
This appointment. Dr. Fleming, his highly distin-
guished friend, informs us, "raised great expectations
and were speedily realized. The notions of the
Iluttonians at this period respecting the laws of
superposition of the strata were very defective,
scarcely amounting to perceivable glimmerings.
But Professor Jameson, intimately acquainted with
the geognosy of Wenier, speedily began to group
the rocks of the neighbourhood into their distinct
formations, and to assign the relative position of our
transition rocks, old red sandstone, and the inde-
pendent coal formation. This important step in the
progress of our geology was followed by a system of
prelections, accompanied by excursions to the more
important localities wdiere the phenomena could
be studied in the field, and produced a number of
zealous observers, who have not only extended our
knowledge of the structure and contents of this
locality, but of the United Kingdom and its depend-
encies." While his lessons a-field were thus zealously
prosecuted. Professor Jameson's course of lecturing
in the class-room was not less distinguished by
devotedness to natural science, and it embraced
general views and particular details in meteorolog}-,
hydrology, mineralog}', geolog)', botany, and zoology.

In the same year that Mr. Jameson was appointed
to the professorship, he published part i in 8vo,

384

ROBERT JAMESON.

with maps and plates, of his Mineralo^ical Descriptio7i
of Scotland. This he intended to be only the
beginning of a series that should have comprised
geological accounts of all the counties of Scotland.
But from this highly usL-ful purpose he was prevented
by the cares of attending to the university museum,
the publication of a System of Mineralogy, and
a volume on the Characters of Minerals. In 1808
he founded at Edinburgh the Wernerian Natural
History Society. Hitherto the Huttonian doctrines
had prevailed, while those of the Wernerian school
were comparatively unknown, until in 1809 Professor
Jameson published his Elementsof Geognosy, by whii "
Werneriaiiisni was promulgated, and converts mai
to its theory among the scientific inquirers bot"
Scotland and England. The establishment of si
a society, which was regarded as an intrusion, and
doctrines, which were opposed as downright heresies,
roused the indignation of the Huttonians, who had
hitherto held possession of the field, and under the
distinctive titles of Plutonists and Neptunians, or
Huttonists and Wernerians, the rival parties com-
menced a war against each other which was carried
on with almost theological intensity. The strife
indeed has passed away, and even the combatants
are asking each other why they fought so fiercely; but
some such commotion was needed to quicken the
researches of the scientific, and drive them into
practical research instead of theory and hypothesis,
while science itself has been amplified and improved
by the interest which the battle had kindled. Of the
Wernerian Society which he founded in Edinburgh,
Professor Jameson was elected perpetual president,
and to the seven volumes of its Transactions which
have been published he was a frequent contributor.

The Travels of Baron Leopold Von Buck through
N'orway and Lapland during the years 1 806-7-8
having been published in one volume quarto, Pro-
fessor Jameson was so thoroughly impressed by the
scientific merits of the work, that he suggested a
translation of it for the press ; and this bemg done,
he enriched the English version with an account of
its author the distinguished traveller and geologist,
and several notes illustrative of the natural history of
Norway. It was the professor's intention that this
should form one of a series of translations, chiefly
from the German, of the travels of scientific men,
who, like Von Buch, had described the appearance
and geological structure of the countries they visited,
as well as given an attractive account of their animal
and vegetal)le productions, and the manners and
customs of their inhabitants.

In 1816 another edition of his System of Miner-
alogy appeared in three volumes, and during its day
was the most complete work on the subject. About
the same period a new edition of his Characters of
Minerals was published, and only two years after-
wards (1820), so great was the demand for these
works, that fresh editions of both were jjrepared
and issued from the press. In 1821 he published a
Manual of Minerals and Mountain J\ocks. This
was reckoned by scientific judges the best text-book
of its time, and so great was the demand for it that
1500 copies were sold in the course of a few months.

A still more strenuous task for the improvement
and diffusion of scientific knowledge was undertaken
by Professor Jameson. He had planned in con-
junction with Dr. (afterwards Sir David) Brewster the
Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, and in 1819 the
publication of the series commenced, which at Jame-
son's death, had extended to seventy volumes. For
the first six years he edited the work in conjunction
with Sir David, but afterwards was sole editor until
the close of his life. Speaking of this work in 1 S54,

the biographer of Jameson adds, "It is, we believe,
admitted to be the most valuable repository of
scientific information in Britain for the period of its
existence. The earlier volumes contain not a few
contributions from himself; and besides numerous
original articles from other hands, the journal com-
prehends translations of memoirs from the French,
German, Italian, and Swedish languages, with many
communications from foreign correspondents on all
the branches of natural history. It will form one
of thof^moit durable monuments of his talents and
inclustr, " OuV ideas of his industry and enthusiastic
lor science are enhanced by our knowledge of
fact, that during this busy life of authorship,
was diligently performing the duties of his pro-
issorial office, and giving two courses of lectures
annually, the one in summer and the other in
winter.

Although we have mentioned the principal writings
of Professor Jameson, there were many others with
which he was connected, editorially or otherwise,
which were enlarged or illustrated by his pen. This
was especially the Case with Cuvier's celebrated
Discourse on the Theory of the Earth, which was
translated into English and published by Mr. Kerr
in 1813 — a translation which ran through five edi-
tions, and made Cuvier familiar to the British public,
who until now had known little of this eminent
scientific Frenchman. This translation Jameson
entirely remodelled in the fifth edition, and so en-
tirely, that it was extended from 190 to 550 pages.
"The notes I have added," he modestly says in
the preface, "will, I trust, be found interesting; and
the account of Cuvier's geological discoveries, -which
accompanies them, will be useful to those who have
not an opportunity of consulting the great work."
Another demand was made upon Jameson by Captain
Parry, on the return of the latter from his Polar
expedition; and the professor on this occasion drew
up, from the specimens brought home, a sketch
of the geology of the different coasts discovered
and touched upon, which was published in Parry's
narrative of the voyage. Besides this, he drew up
for the Cabinet Libraiy an account of the geology
of those Arctic regions which Captain Parry had
visited. He wrote excellent articles on the physical
geography of Africa and India, which were published
in the Edinburgh Cabinet Library. He also revised
and arranged m a scientific manner a new edition
which was published of Wilson's American Ornith-
ology in four volumes, making it suitable for a text-
book in our universities and schools. Among the
detached articles which he wrote at different periods
for the Scottish encyclopcedias, may be mentioned
those entitled "Adelfors," "Ailsa," "Alabaster,"
"Altai," "Alleghany Mountains," "Amber," "Am-
bergris," "Ammoniac," "Ammonites," "Amphibia,"
"Am])hibious," "Arran," "Diamond," "Hartz,"
and "Mineralogy," which appeared in the Edinburgh
Encyclopedia — and the articles " iClineralogy,"
"Geology," and "Organic Remains," which were
published in the Encyclopczdia Britannica, when
edited by Macvey Napier. Reverting again from his
works in authorship, to the effects of his teaching, the
pupils of Jameson were such as few ])rofessors could
boast of. Of these his biographer has enumerated
nineteen who rose to the highest eminence in the
sciences which he taught, and of each of whom he
might say, as Ulysses does of Achilles —

" Injecique manum, fortemque ad fortia misi;
Ergo opera illius, mea sunt."

The following testimony to his teaching and its
effects, was given by Professor Edward Forbes, his
scholar, and afterwards his distinguished successor ; — •

ROBERT JAMESON.

"The value of professional worth should chiefly be
estimated by the number and excellence of disciples.
A large share of the best naturalists of the day re-
ceived their first instruction in the science that was
aftenvards to prove their fountain of honour, from
Professor Jameson. Not even his own famous
master, the eloquent and illustrious Werner, could
equal him in this genesis of investigators. Under
his auspices, too, were lasting friendships and unions
of kindred minds formed, that have been productive
in good to the cause of knowledge. .Valuable as
were his writings — each, when estimated wi-.n i^e^^fejA
to th&rposition of science at the time of its issAM|yprrv
effective advance — his pupils were even more valu-
able. The greatest praise of a great professor is
that which proclaims that he has founded a school.
And where else in the British empire, except here,
has there been for the last half century a school of
natural history?"

While Professor Jameson was thus unwearied in
publishing and lecturing, another subject of his care
was, that there should be a proper collection of
specimens, by which the several departments of
natural history might be illustrated. But on his
appointment to the professorship scarcely the em-
bryo of a museum existed in the university of Edin-
burgh. The splendid bequest of Sir Andrew Balfour
to the college, in 1694, of the extensive collection
which he had been forty years in accumulating, and
which was supposed at the time to be the finest in
Europe, had been so little appreciated and so care-
lessly kept, that it had mouldered away into a few
specimens, which were regai-ded as unsightly rubbish.
Accordingly, when Jameson became professor of
natural histor)', in 1804, the beggarly inventorj'
of this sometime famous collection had dwindled
into a few glasses of birds and serpents, a small
collection of minerals, and a few dresses and weapons
of savage nations. It was such a museum as is
sometimes to be found in a cellar, and shown to
spectators for the sum of one penny. Even the
birds, too, were in such a decayed condition, that
Jameson was soon forced to throw them out. Such
was the germ out of which he evolved the rich and
%videly-famed Edinburgh museum, of which he may
be justly considered the founder and builder. His
first step was to place his own collection of natural
history in the museum, and afterwards to collect or
procure, as far as his influence went, such additions
as were best suited for the purpose, much of the
expenditure for which was defrayed from his own
pocket. As the cost, however, of such a process soon
outgrew his means, he laid the case before govern-
ment, and obtained an order that ;^iOO should be
paid annually to the professor of natural history for
the use of the museum. The early increase of the
collection through the zeal of the professor necessi-
tated increased accommodation, and on applying to
the town-council, a very spacious and handsome
museum was fitted up for the reception of the articles
of natural history — and when thisaccommodationalso
in course of time became too limited, he applied for
and obtained that part of the building of the univer-
sity, then in the course of erection, which was after-
wards distinguished by the title of the New Museum.
This grant was not more than necessary, for in 1 819
the famous Dufresne collection had become the pro-
perty of the university of Edinburgh by purchase,
and at the instigation of Professor Jameson, although
the Emperor of Austria and also the Emperor of
Russia had offered much larger sums for it. About
the same time a good many valuable articles of
natural history were purchased by the university
at the sale of Mr. Bullock's cabinet — and these,
VOL. II.

with the Dufresne collection, and all the previous
collections, were safely housed and arranged, in
1820, in their new college buildings. Yet still his
own private outlay had been going on, and was
continued till the hour of his death. But far more
ample resources were needed for such a great national
undertaking, and these were obtained, although still
most inadequate for the occasion, by admitting the
public in 1820 to the museum, at the cost of half-
a-crown for each visitor, which was afterwards re-
duced to a shilling. lie also made another appeal
to government, and the annual grant of ;^loo per
annum for the benefit of the museum was raised to
j^200. And yet these would have been only drops
in the bucket or_ sprinkled upon the sand, but for
kis 'indomitable energy, as well as his personal sacri-
fices. What the museum had been in 1804, when
he first took possession of it, we have already seen:
what it had become under little more than twenty
years of his fostering care, he thus stated in his
evidence before the royal commission in gi\ing a
history of the museum from the year 1804 to 1826:
— "Since that time [the removal into the new build-
ing], the museum has increased more than at any
former period, so that the collection is nearly double
^\hat it was in 1820. About a year ago I again
stated to the commissioners for college buildings,
that further accommodation for objects of natural
historj' was wanted, the cases in the New Museum
being completely filled. The commissioners, witli
their usual liberality and activity, after considering
my proposal, ordered a suite of rooms, five in num-
ber, to be immediately fitted up. This series of
rooms, at the time this report is writing, is nearly
filled with beautiful and interesting objects of natural
historj-. The museum is rapidly increasing, and
will, ere many years pass, equal in extent and
splendour some of the most distinguished museums
in other parts of the world. "

In concluding this part of his evidence before the
royal commission, the professor had stated the ne-
cessity of still larger accommodation, and declared
that another series of rooms must be provided before
these hopes for the museum could be realized. For
this he memorialized the crown, the city, and the
senatus, and was enabled in conclusion to declare,
"The commissioners for college buildings, to whom
I have again applied, are now considering the pro-
priety of erecting another museum of natural histor)-,
on the ground to the westward of the present
museum." But notwithstanding his appeals the
subject was allowed to slip aside, and Professor
Jameson was left to "find ample room and verge
enough" where he best could, or make shift without
them. Thus affairs continued until 1852, when
the collection had so greatly increased that it could
not be exhibited without more liberal accommodation;
and this he explained in a statement which was laid
before the town-council. Convinced of the fact,
the council presented a memorial to government for
museum extension, and for converting the present
museum into a national museum for Scotland —
himself also forwarding a strong memorial to the
same effect. And we know how successful these
appeals were at last. The national museum was
built, and its collection constitutes not only one of
the proudest ornaments of our countrj', but one of
the noblest collections of which science can boast.
But Jameson, who had done so much for it, and
without whom it would probably have never existed,
was not peimitted to see the rising of the walls, or
even the lapng of the foundation-stone. After he
had reached the age of eighty years, filled his official
chair for half a centurv, and obtained a world-wide

60

386

JOHN JAMIESOX.

renown, M-hich every year has tended only to deepen
and confirm, he passed away in the full brightness
of his fame, and left a void which will not soon be
filled. His death occurred on the 19th of April,
1S54. Although of slender body, his general health
was good, and his wiry frame could endure much
fatigue without injury; and his first tokens of decay
were from repeated and severe attacks of bronchitis
during the last two years of his life, under which he
finally yielded. His remains were honoured with a
public funeral, and interred in the Warriston ceme-
tery. His chief characteristics are thus described by
the biographer from whose account we have chielly
drawn up this memoir.

"Robert Jameson was the father of modern natu-
ral history. His loss is deeply to be deplored; a man
of the same grasp of mind, devoted to physical science,
only at times appears to enlighten his age. He was
eminently fitted for the station which he had filled
with so much success. He had fine natural talents,
which had been carefully cultivated, and were applied
with vigour to the studies in which he delighted.
He was a careful observer, a comprehensive thinker,
and his industry was unwearied. He was never
satisfied with loose and general notions upon any
subject; his range of information was wide, and
what he knew he knew thoroughly. He was prac-
tical, and anxious to be useful, in days when science
and practice stood apart, as if they were two repellant
forces. He did much towards neutralizing these
states; and was one of the pioneers to whom we
are indebted for that union of science and practice
which is now the prevailing feature of our time."

JAMIESON, Rev. John, D.D., F.R.S., F.S.A.
— This excellent national philologist was born in
Glasgow, in March, 1759. His father, the Rev. Mr.
Jamieson, was one of the early ministers of the Seces-
sion, and presided over the Antiburgher congregation
of Duke Street, Glasgow. As John was also de-
signed for the ministry, he was sent in early life to
the university of his native city, where his philologi-
cal capacities obtained for him respectable notice as
an apt and diligent scholar in Latin and Greek. But
this was by no means the field in which he was ulti-
mately destined to excel; and his bent was already
indicated, in his love of ancient ruined towers and
black-letter books. His vocation evidently was not
to master a dead, but to revive a dying language; by
far the more glorious achievement of the two. After
the usual course of logic, ethics, and physics, he be-
came a student in theology, and his proficiency ex-
cited the highest expectations of future success as a
minister. At the close of his theological course he
was taken on trials as a licentiate by the General
Associate presbytery of Glasgow, and licensed as a
preacher in 1780. Two congregations were soon de-
sirous to have him for their minister; the one in
Dundee, and the other in Forfar. In this question
of contending claims, it was for the Associate Synod
to decide; and in consequence of their preference to
the call from Forfar, Mr. Jamieson was ordained to
the pastoral charge in that town by the Secession
presbytery of Perth, in 1781.

At the early age of twenty-two Mr. Jamieson thus
entered upon the sacred office of a minister. It was
at that time one of peculiar difficulty among the
Secession body; for the ferment produced in this
country by the French revolution, and the political
suspicions which it diffused through the whole com-
munity, caused all who did not belong to the Estab-
lished church to be considered as disloyal, or at
least discontented, subjects. Mr. Jamieson of course
was regarded, at his entrance into Forfar, as one

who might become a teacher of sedition, as well as
a preaciier of the gospel of peace. But he had not
been long there when his conduct disarmed the sus-
picious, and procured him general confidence and
esteem; while his able clerical labours were rewarded
with a full congregation and permanent usefulness.
He thus made trial of his ministry for sixteen years,
during which period he married the daughter of a
neighbouring proprietor, who gladdened the course
of his long life, and died only a year before his own
decease. It was in Forfar also that he commenced
his life of authorship, and his first production was of
a kind the least to be expected from a plodding, word-
sifting antiquary — it was a poem! It was published
in 1789, and entitled the " Si^rrcrn's of Slaiery, a
Poem, containing a Faithful Statement of Facts re-
specting the Slave-trade." We suspect that though
most of our readers may have read the splendid lyrics
of Cowper and Montgomery on the same subject,
they have not chanced to light upon this production
of Jamieson. He made another attempt of the same
nature in 1798, when he published "Eternity, a
Poem, addressed to Free-thinkers and Philosophical
Christians." But during the interval between these
two attempts his pen had been employed in more
hopeful efforts. These were, an "Alarm to Britain;
or, an Inquiry into the Causes of the Rapid Progress
of Infidelity," which he published in 1795; and a
"■Vindication of tlie Doctrine of Sc7-ipture, and of the
Primitive Faith concerning the Divinity of Christ, in
reply to Dr. Priestley's History of Early Opinions,'''
which appeared in the same year. The last was a
work of great scholarship and research, as well as
cogent argument; and in these departments, at least,
he showed himself a full match for his formidable
antagonist. Another work which he published dur-
ing his ministry in Forfar was of a different bearing,
as may be learned from its title, which was Sermons
on the Heart.

By these labours Jamieson won for himself an
honourable name in literature, that was especially
grateful to the religious community to which he be-
longed, and they testified their feeling in a way that
was not only creditable to him, but to themselves.
A call was sent to him in 1796, from the congrega-
tion in Nicolson Street, Edinburgh, whose pastor,
the Rev. Mr. Banks, had left them for America.
The synod at the time judged his transfer from
Forfar to Edinburgh inexpedient, and decided ac-
cordingly; but the Nicolson Street congregation
thought other\vise, and renewed their call and were
successful, so that he was inducted as their minister
in June, 1797. Jamieson's clerical duties were thus
multiplied by a new and more extensive field of
labour; but he did not remit those literary exertions
which had thus far been crowned with success. In
1799 he published his Remarks on Roioland HiWs
Journal. In 1802 appeared his work, in two volumes
octavo, entitled the Use of Sacred History; and in
1 806, the Important Trial in the Court of Conscience.
His next work, and by far his most important, was
the Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language.
The herculean attempt which he proposed to him-
self in this work, and which he has so successfully
accomplished, was the following: — 1. To illustrate
the words, in their different significations, by examples
from ancient and modern writers. 2. To show their
affinity to those of other languages, and especially
the northem. 3. To explain many terms which,
though no\v obsolete in England, were formerly
common to both countries. 4. To elucidate national
rites, customs, and institutions, in their analogy to
those of other nations.

The history of this national production of Jamieson

JOHX JA.MIE50N' GEORGE JARDIXE.

3S7

is worthy of particular notice, ^\'hen he fii^t en-
gaged in a task to which his early studies and pur-
suits had been so congenial, he had meant to produce
nothing more than a work of small dimensions — a
mere vocabulary- or glossary of the Scottish tongue;
and in the notes which he had prepared for the occa-
sion, the names of his authorities were merely men-
tioned, without further reference. It was then stig-
gested to him that the Dictionary would be more
acceptable to the public, as well as more satisfactory
as a standard, if he quoted those passages at full by
which his definitions were confirmed. He acted
upon this advice, being fully persuaded of its correct-
ness, and the consequence was, that his drudgery
was again to be undergone, and that too with many
heavy additions, so that he went over the whole
ground not only a second, but in many cases a third
time. It was not wonderful if, under such a process,
the result was two goodly quarto volumes, instead
of a slim duodecimo. The new light, also, which
broke upon him in the course of his studies, was
sufficient to inspire him with tenfold ardour in the
task. At the outset he had supposed, in common
with the prevalent opinion, that the Scottish language
was, in fact, no language at all, but a mere dialect of
the Anglo-Saxon; and that, as such, its fountain was
at no greater distance than England, and of no higher
antiquity than the days of Hengist and Horsa. His
interviews, however, with a learned Icelander, sug-
gested another and more important theory: this was,
that the primitive words of the Scottish dialect were
not Saxon, nor even Celtic, but Gothic Were the
I^owlanders of Scotland, then, the descendants not
merely of Anglo-Saxon captives and refugees, but of
a still more illustrious race — even of those who con-
quered Rome herself^ and opened the way to the
regeneration of Europe? Such, he concluded, must
be the case; and the only diiBculty that remained
was to prove it. This he endeavoured to accomplish,
by demonstrating that the Picts were not a Celtic
but a Gothic race; and that from them, and not the
Welsh or the Saxon, we derive these peculiarities of
the S cottish tongue. This theory, which he supported
with a great amount of learning and probability, is
published in his "Dissertation on the Origin of the
Scottish Language, " prefixed to the Dictionary. The
Dictionary itself was published in 1808-1809, to
which a S'upplement, in two other quarto volumes,
was added in 1825. As the first portion of the work
was soon out of print, he published an abridgment
of it in I Si 8, in one volume octavo. All this was
an immense amount of labour for a single mind, and
the literarj- world was astonished at his long-con-
tinued, unshrinking perseverance, as well as the suc-
cessful termination that requited it. But still he
never considered it completed, and continued his
additions and improvements to the last; so that, at
his death, two large volumes in manuscript had ac-
cumulated, nearly ready for the press. And besides
all this, his antiquarian industry was employed upon
other tasks of a kindred nature. In 1 8 1 1 he published
An Historical Account of the Ancient Culdecs of lona,
and of t/uir Settlement in England, Scotland, and
Ireland. In 1 8 14 appeared his "Hermes Scythicus,
or the Radical Affinities of the Greek and Latin
Languages to the Gothic." In I Si 7 he contributed
to the Edinburgh Phil. Trans, a paper "On the

Origin of Cremation, or Burning of the Dead."
In the year following he unexp)ectedly appeared in
a Grammar of Rhetoric and Polite Literature. He
also edited two important national productions, which,
on account of their obsolete language, were fast
hastening into general foi^etfulness. These were the

Wallace of Blind Harry, and the Bnue of Barbour.

This list of Jamieson's publications, of a strictly
scholastic nature, may startle some who recollect that
all the while he was minister of an Antiburgher con-
gregation; and that, too, in the heart of Edinburgh.
How were his clerical duties fiilfiUed, and his people
satisfied? But while he was delighting the literary
world by his valuable productions, and winning the
foremost place in Scottish antiquarianism, he was
not regardless of theology as his proper sphere. In
181 1 he published a sermon entitled T^e Beneficent
Woman; in 1 81 8, a sermon on The Death of the
Princess Charlotte; and in 1819, Three Sermons con-
cerning Brotherly Laze. His close attention to his
pastoral duties had also endeared him to his con-
gr^ation, while they were proud of the high repu-
tation of their minister, which was thrown with a
reflected lustre upon themselves. An event also
occurred in their religious body that highly gratified
his Christian feelings of brotherly afiection and unity,
as well as the enlarged and liberal aspirations of his
intellectual character. This was the union of the
Burgher and Antiburgher di\-isions of the Secession
church, who, after having kept apart until there
were no longer grounds for separation, at length
agreed to reunite and be at one. This consumma-
tion he had long earnestly sought ; and besides using
every effort to procure it, he preached and published
two sermons recommendatory of the union, which
was accomplished in 1 820. Ten years after this
gratifj-ing event. Dr. Jamieson, whose age had now
passed the threescore years and ten, and had entered
the last decade of the series whose "strength is but
labour and sorrow," resigned his charge «f Xicolson
Street congregation, and withdrew into private life.
And in his old age he was soon alone, for his nume-
rous family of fourteen children had gone successively
to the grave before him, many of them when they
had reached the season of manhood, and one of them,
Robert Jamieson, when he had become one of the
most distinguished lawyers in Scotland. Last of all
his wife died also, only a year before his own death,
and while his final illness was creeping upon him.
But it was then, when nothing more_ remained for
him, that he felt the immeasurable superiority of re-
ligion, and the comfort which it can impart, when
even literarj- fame, the purest of all earthly consola-
tions, has no longer the power to charm. He died at
his house in George Street, Edinburgh, on the I2th
of July, 1838, in the eightieth year of his age.

JAEDDfE, George, A.M., for many years pro-
fessor of logic in the university of Glasgow, was bom
in the year 1742 at Wandal, in the upper ward of
Lanarkshire, where his predecessors had resided for
nearly two hundred years. The barony of Wandal
formerly belonged to the Jardines of Applegirth — a
younger son of whom appears to have settled there
about the end of the sixteenth century, and to have
also been v-icar of the parish during the time of Epis-
copacy. The barony hav-ing passed from the -Apple-
girth to the Douglas' family, Mr. Jardine's forefathers
continued for several generations as tenants in the
lands of Wandal, under that new race of landlords.
His mother was a daughter of Weir of Birkwood, in
the parish of Lesmahagow.

After receiving his elementary education at the
parish school, he, in October, 1 760, repaired to Glas-
gow College, and entered as a member of a society,
where, with verj- little interruption, he was destined
to spend the whole of his life. After going through
the preliminary- classes, where his abilities and dili-
gence attracted the attention and acquired for him
the friendship of several of the professors, he entered
the di\-inity hall under Dr. Trail, then professor of

GEORGE JARDIXE.

theology, and in due time obtained license as a
preacher from the presbytery of Linlithgow. He
did not, however, follow out the clerical profession,
having, from the good wishes of several of the pro-
fessors of Glasgow College, reason to hope that he
might eventually be admitted to a chair, which was
the great object of his ambition.

In 1 77 1 he was employed by Baron Mure of Cald-
well to accompany his two sons to P" ranee, and to
superintend their education at an academy in Paris.
The baron, who was at that time one of the most
influential men in Scotland, and who lived much in
the literary circle of Edinburgh, obtained from his
friend David Hume letters of introduction to several
of the French philosophers of that day; by means of
which Mr. Jardine had the advantage of being
acquainted with Helvetius and with D'Alembert, who
were then in the zenith of their fame, and whose
manners he used to describe as presenting a striking
contrast — Helvetius having all the style and appear-
ance of a French nobleman of the first fashion, while
D'Alembert preserved a primitive simplicity of dress
and manner, at that time quite unusual in Paris.
During his residence there he lived a good deal in
the society of Dr. Gemm, the uncle of Mr. Huskisson,
who was then settled as a physician in Paris, and
noted not only for his eminence in his profession, but
for his talents as a philosopher. Dr. Gemm was an
ardent friend to liberty, and at that time did not
scruple to anticipate, to those with whom he was in-
timate, the fall of the French monarchy as an event
at no great distance.

Soon after his return from France, in July, 1773,
a vacancy occurred in the humanity chair of Glasgow
by the death of Mr. Muirhead, for which a very keen
competition arose between him and Mr. Richardson,
the result of which was doubtful until the very morn-
ing of the election, when, notwithstanding, every
exertion made in behalf of Mr. Jardine by Lord
Frederic Campbell, the lord-rector, Mr. Richardson
carried the election by a majority of one vote. Upon
this occasion Mr. Clow, the professor of logic, who
had always befriended Mr. Jardine, though, from a
prior engagement, he on this occasion felt himself
obliged to support the other candidate, told him not
to be discouraged, for that there might ere long be
an opportunity of his being admitted into their society.
The expectations which Mr. Clow thus kindly threw
out he very soon realized ; for, towards the end of the
following session, he intimated to the college, that,
from his advanced age, he required to be relieved
from the labour of teaching, and expressed a wish
that Mr. Jardine might be associated with him in the
professorshiix About this time, too, Dr. Moor, pro-
fessor of Greek, gave in his resignation ; and in June,
1774, upon the same day, the faculty of Glasgow
College elected Mr. Young to the Greek chair, and
appointed the subject of this memoir assistant and
successor to Mr. Clow.

By this arrangement the charge of the three junior
classes of Glasgow college came, at the same time,
to devolve upon three men in the vigour of life, who
all entered most zealously into the business of their
respective departments, in which they soon intro-
duced very material improvements : — in particular,
they contrived to infuse a spirit of emulation among
their pupils by the institution of prizes publicly dis-
tributed at the end of each session to those who had
distinguished themselves during the course — an in-
stitution which was gradually extended to other
classes at Glasgow, and which has now been gener-
ally introduced into the other universities. These
prizes have been increased during recent years by
the munificence of several of the lord-rectors and

the generosity of public-spirited individuals. There
are prizes bearing the names of James Watt, Lord
Jeffrey, Mr. James Ewing, the Marquis of Breadal-
bane, &c. , arising from large sums of money perma-
nently invested for that puq:)ose.

The business of the logic class had hitherto con- '
sisted in an explanation of the Dialectics of Aristotle,
followed up, towards the end of the course, by an
exposition of the most abstruse doctrines of meta-
physics and ontology, embracing the general attri-
butes of being, existence, essence, unity, necessity,
&c., and other similar abstract conceptions of pure
intellect. For the first year or two the new profes-
sor followed the same track ; but he soon discovered,
from the exammation of his students, that by far the
greater number of them comprehended very little of
the doctrines explained ; that a few only of superior
abilities could give any account of them at all, and that
the most of the young men remembered only a few
peculiar phrases or technical expressions which they
delivered by rote, unaccompanied by any distinct
notion of their meaning. Besides, even when these
abstract doctrines were understood, intelligent per-
sons who sent their sons to the logic class could not
fail to observ'e that the subjects to which their atten-
tion was directed had no relation to any profession
or employment whatever, and that little could be
derived from prelections on such topics, which was
likely either to adorn conversation, or to qualify the
student for the concerns of active life. Mr. Jardine
soon perceived, therefore, the necessity of a thorough
and radical change on the subjects of his lectures,
and after a simple analysis of the different powers of
the understanding, with the means of their improve-
ment, accompanied with a short account of Aristotle's
logic, he devoted by far the greater part of the course
to the original progress of language, the principles
of general grammar, the elements of taste and criti-
cism, and to the rules of composition, with a view to
the promotion of a correct style, illusti'ated by ex-
amples. His course of lectures was accordingly en-
tirely new-modelled, and he soon found that a great
proportion of the students entered with awakened
interest upon the consideration of these subjects, in-
stead of the listless inattention which had been be-
stowed on the abstract doctrines of metaphysics.

But the greatest improvement which he introduced
into the mode of conducting the business of the class
was a regular system of examinations and exercises.
He was of opinion with Dr. Barrow "that com-
munication of truth is only one half of the business
of education, and is not even the most important
half The most important part is the habit of em-
ploying, to some good purpose, the acquisitions of
memory by the exercise of the understanding; and
till this be acquired, the acquisition will not be found
of much use." The mere deliveiy of a lecture, espe-
cially to very young persons, he held of very little
advantage, unless they were placed in the situation
of those who were bound to give an account of it, and
the exposition of the rules of composition to be of
little avail unless accompanied by the application of ,
those ndes by the student himself. Accordingly, at
a separate hour in the forenoon the students were
examined each day on the lecture of the morning,
and written essays were required from time to time
on subjects more or less connected with those em-
braced in the lectures. These were regularly criti-
cized by the professor in the. presence of the class ;
and after the principles of criticism had been ex-|
plained, they were, towards the end of the session,
distributed among the students themselves, who were
required to subjoin a written criticism upon each
other's performances, under the superintendence of

GEORGE JARDINE.

589

the professor ; and prizes were bestowed at the end
of the session, according to the detemiination of the
students, to those who excelled in these daily ex-
aminations and exercises. This system of practical
instruction is explained in all its details in a work
published by Mr. Jardine before he relinquished the
charge of the logic class, entitled Outlines 0/ Philoso-
phical EiiHCiitio/i, in which is to be found a full expo-
sition of a system of academical discipline which was
pursued in the logic class of Glasgow during the
period of fifty years it was under his direction, and
which was found by experience to be attended with
the most beneficial effects.

The details of this system were, of course, attended
with no small additional labour to the professor ; for,
besides two, and occasionally three, hours each day
of public teaching, he had every evening to examine
and correct the essays of the^tudents, which were in
such numbers as to occupy a large portion of his
time. He was reconciled, however, to this tedious
and laborious occupation by a thorough conviction
of its great practical utility, which each year's addi-
tional experience tended more and more to confirm.
He had the satisfaction, too, of knowing that his
labours were not without success, both from his stu-
dents themselves, many of whom did not hesitate to
ascribe their advancement in after-life to the active
and industrious habits acquired in the logic class,
and also from the opinion of the public at large,
which was very clearly evinced by the progressive
increase of the number of students, the average of
which, when he entered upon the office, in the pub-
lic class was about 50, but which increased to nearly
200. This was no doubt partly owing to general
causes, applicable to the times, but to a certain ex-
tent it was assuredly to be attributed to the great
estimation in which this class was held by the public
at large. Few teachers have ever enjoyed so large a
portion of the respect and affection of their pupils.
This was owing not a little to the warm interest
which they could not fail to perceive he took in their
progress — to his strict impartiality, which admitted
of no preference or distinction of any sort except
that of talents and industry — and to a kindly, affec-
tionate, and almost paternal regard which marked
the whole of his demeanour to his students — who,
dispersed as they afterwards came to be into all
quarters of the globe, have very generally concurred
in expressions of cordial esteem to their old precep-
tor. With such a hold upon the affection of his class,
he scarcely ever required to have recourse to the ordi-
nary means of enforcing academical discipline.

From 1774, when he first entered upon his office,
till 1824, when he gave up teaching, the business
was systematically carried on in the way here described,
with such improvements from time to time as were
suggested by his experience ; and he possessed such
an excellent constitution, aided by a temper remark-
ably cheerful, that during the whole fifty years he
was scarcely a single day absent from his class on
account of indisposition. His predecessor, Mr. Clow,
survived till 1788, having the year before his death
i-esigned to his successor the whole privileges of the
office, with his seat in the faculty ; and, notwith-
standing the very laborious duties which he had im-
posed on himself by his mode of teaching, Mr. Jar-
dine still contrived to devote a portion of his time to
the extrication of the patrimonial affairs of the college,
and the arrangement of their accounts, which his
business habits enabled him to undertake without
much difficulty, and which, chiefly by his exertions,
were brought from a state of comparative confusion
into a very satisfactory arrangement. In 1792, like-
wise, when the Royal Infirmary was erected at Glas-

gow, he bestowed very great labour in promoting tlie
undertaking, and for more than twenty years after-
wards officiated as secretary, taking on himself the
chief management of the affairs of the institution,
from which he only retired a short time before his
death, when he received the thanks of the managers
for the unwearied attention he had bestowed on their
business for nearly thirty years.

The private life of Mr. Jardine did not present any
great variety of incident. During the session he
lived in college in terms of great friendship with
several of his colleagues, particularly with Pro-
fessors Millar and Young, whose views in college
affairs generally coincided with his own ; and in sum-
mer he resided at a small property which he pur-
chased in the neighbourhood of Hamilton, which he
took great delight in adorning, and entered with
much relish upon the employments of a country life,
which foniied an excellent relaxation after his win-
ter labours. His residence in that quarter naturally
occasioned a connection with the presbyteiy of
Hamilton, who, for upwards of thirty years, retunied
him as their representative to the General Assembly,
which he regularly attended, taking a considerable
share in the business, and generally coinciding in
opinion with the late Sir Henry Moncrieff Wellwood,
W'ith whom he lived for a great many years in habits
of the most unreserved friendship. One of the last
public appearances which he made was in May,
1825, upon the question of pluralities, to which he
had on all occasions been a detemiined adversary ;
when he opened the second day's debate by a forci-
ble speech on the impolicy of uniting professorships
with church livings, which, considering his great age,
was viewed at the time as a very remarkable effort,
and was listened to with profound attention.

In 1824, after having taught for fully half a cen-
tury, he thought himself fairly entitled to retire from
his labours. Those who attended the class during
that last session did not perceive any abatement
either of his zeal or energy; and during that winter
he was not absent from his class a single hour. But
he foresaw that the time could not be far distant when
these exertions must cease, and he preferred retiring
before he was actually compelled to do so by the in-
firmities of age. At the end of that session he ac-
cordingly requested his colleagues to select a person
to fill his place, declaring that he left the arrange-
ment entirely to them, and that he would not inter-
fere either directly or indirectly in the appointment
farther than by expressing an earnest wish that they
might select one who would take a zealous interest
in the prosperity of the class, and would continue the
same system of active employment on the part of the
students which had been found to be attended with
so much benefit. Their choice fell upon the Rev.
Robert Buchanan, minister of Peebles, who had him-
self carried off the first honour at this class ; whose
literaiy attainments were of a high order, and who
zealously continued to follow out the same system of
daily examinations and regular exercises wliich was
introduced by his predecessor.

Upon the occasion of his retirement from public
teaching a number of those who had been his pupils
determined to show their respect by giving him a public
dinner in the town-hall of Glasgow, which was at-
tended by upwards of 200 gentlemen, many of whom
came from a great distance to evince their respect
for their venerable instructor. Mr. Mure of Cald-
well, his earliest pupil, was in the chair, and the
late Marquis of Breadalbane, who had been pecu-
liarly under his charge at Glasgow College, and to
whom he was very much attached, came from a great
distance to officiate as croupier.

390

FRANCIS JEFFREY.

Mr. Jardine survived about three years after his
retirement from public duties, during wliieli time he
resided as usual during winter in college, and con-
tinued to take an active interest in the affairs of the
society. While attending the General Assembly in
May, 1826, he was seized with a bilious attack —
almost the first illness he ever experienced — from
which he never completely recovered, and he sank
under the infirmities of age on the 27th of January,
1827, having just completed his eighty-fifth year;
contemplating his dissolution with the composure of
a Christian, and expressing his gratitude to the Author
of his being for the many blessings which had fallen
to his lot, of which he did not consiiler as the least
the numerous marks of esteem and regard evinced by
his old i^upils, with whom he was ever delighted to
renew a kindly intercourse. His death was deeply
regretted by the society of which he had been so long
a member, and by the inhabitants of Glasgow, where
he was very generally respected and esteemed.

In 1776 Mr. Jardine married Miss Lindsay of Glas-
gow, whom he survived about twelve years, and by
whom he had one son, John Jardine, advocate, who
held the office of sheriff of Ross and Cromarty, and
died in 1S50.

JEiTFREY, Francis. — This eminent barrister,
and still more distinguished critic, was born in Edin-
burgh, on the 23d of October, 1773. His father was
George Jeffrey, one of the depute-clerks of the Court
of Session; his mother was Henrietta Louden, daugh-
ter of Mr. John Louden, farmer in the neighbourhood
of Lanark. Francis, the subject of our memoir, was
the eldest son of a family of five children; and it
will be seen, from the foregoing particulars, that the
success of his future career, be it what it might, could
derive little aid from paternal wealth or interest.
After having learned to read and write, he was sent,
at the age of eight, to the high-school of Edinburgh,
and tliere he continued six years, employed almost
entirely in the dry study of Latin — for in those days
the high-school curriculum had not expanded beyond
its ancient limits. The first four years of this long
course were spent under Mr. Fraser, one of the
teachers who had the distinguished honour of being
preceptor successively to Walter Scott, Francis
Jeffrey, and Henry Brougham; the last two years
he was taught by Dr. Adam, rector of the institution,
and author of the Roman Antiquities, under whose
able tuition he matured his knowledge of Latin. One
day, towards the close of this course, an incident oc-
curred which seldom fails to influence a young aspir-
ing mind at its outset: he saw one of the truly great,
whom the world is proud to worship. On the High
Street his notice was arrested by a plain country-
looking man, in whose appearance there was nothing
remarkable but a pair of large dark eyes, which,
when animated, were wont to glow from their deep
recesses like lighted charcoal. The young critic
even already seemed to have discovered that no or-
dinary merit was thus passing before his view, so
tiiat he continued to gaze after the stranger, until a
person standing at a shop-door tapped him on the
shoulder, and said, "Ay, laddie, ye may weel look at
that man! That's Robert Burns!" After this Jeffrey
might say, ^''tantuni Virgiliuni vidi" iox although he
afterwards enjoyed the intercourse of Campbell,
Scott, and Byron, he never saw Burns again.

Having finished his preparatory education at the
high-school, Jeffrey, now in his fourteenth year, was
sent to the university of Glasgow. His first year
■was devoted to the study of Greek under Professor
John Young, one of the most finished Grecians and
elegant scholars of his dayj the second to logic,

under Professor Jardine, a teacher in whom the
f.iculty of calling forth the latent capacities of his
pupils, and turning them to good account, seemed
to be a kind of instinct. He was tlius singularly
fortunate in having two such preceptors as an educa-
tional institution seldom possesses at the same time;
and to the benefits which he derived from their in-
structions he bore a most honourable and enthusiastic
testimony many years after, in his inaugural address
to the college on being elected its lord-rector. Of
Jardine he said, "It is to him and his most judicious
instructions, that I owe my taste for letters, and any
little literary distinction I may since have been en-
abled to attain." Such was his declaration when he
had attained the very highest literary distinction;
and there are some who can still remember how
the tears rolled down the cheeks of the good old
professor when he found himself thus gratefully and
unexpectedly requited. Daring his third season at
college, Jeffrey attended the course of moral philo-
sophy under Professor Arthur, the successor of Reid,
a man whose promise of high distinction was closed
by an early death. Thus fortunate in his opportuni-
ties of superior instruction, the young student devoted
himself with earnestness to his successive tasks, and
appears, even then, to have indicated not only his
future bent, but the eminence he would attain in it.
His note-books at the different classes were not
merely vienwranda, but regular digests of the lectures;
he was already a keen critic both of sentiment and
composition; and in the debating society of the
students, of which he was a member, he was soon
distinguished as one of its most ready speakers.
These aptitudes, however, were still more distinctly
exhibited in his private studies from May, 1789, when
he left the college of Glasgow, till September, 1791,
when he went to Oxford. This interval of a home
life, which so many youths of seventeen regard as a
season of rest, or spend they know not how, was
with Jeffrey anything but a period of repose or frivo-
lity, as his piles of manuscript written between these
dates sufficiently attested. Seated by the light of
his "dear, retired, adored little window," as he called
it, of the garret of his father's house in the Lawn-
market, he handled his already indefatigable pen
upon subjects of poetry, history, criticism, theology,
metaphysics; and the result of his diligence is attested
by twelve letters in the manner of the Spectator, and
thirty-one essays, the latter being written within the
compass of six months, while his criticisms alone
comprise fifty authors, chiefly French and English.
Even then, too, the voice of prophecy was not want-
ing to predict his future renown. One night, while
taking his "walk of meditation," he found James
Boswell, the biographer of Johnson, utterly pro-
strated upon the pavement by intoxication. It was
a fresh case of that (juare adlursit faznmcnto, for
which Boswell, on awakening from oneof his bivouacs
in the street, found in his right hand a brief and re-
tainer. Jeffrey, aided by some lads, carried the fallen
worshipper of Paoli and Johnson to his home, and
put him into bed. On the following morning Boswell,
on learning who had been his benefactor, clapped
young Jeffrey's head, and among other compliments
said, "If you go on as you have begun, you may live
to be a Bozzy yourself yet."

At the close of the last century a conviction or
prejudice was prevalent in Scotland, that the educa-
tion of an English university was necessary to com-
plete that of a Scottish one. It was deemed essen-
tial, therefore, that Francis Jeffrey, after having
ended his curriculum at Glasgow, should amplify
and confirm it at Queen's College, Oxford ; and
thither accordingly he repaired at the close of

J

;3rr G-Tikyter

OSS OF TFCE LORDS Ol-' G.ESSIOri

FRANCIS JEFFREY.

391

September, 1791. But there he found neither tlie
hapi)iness nor improvement he had expected. His
hopes, perhaps, had been raised too high to be ful-
filled; and to this disappointment was superadded
such a pining consumption of home-sickness as would
liave Ijeen enough for either Swiss or Iliglilander.
It is no wonder, therefore, if, among his letters of
this period, we find such a lugubrious sentence as
the following: — "I feel I shall never be a great man,
unless it be as a poet." In the following month he
writes: — " Whence arises my affection for the moon?
I do not believe there is a being, of whatever de-
nomination, upon whom she lifts the light of her
countenance, who is so glad to see her as I am!"
A poet, it is evident, he was in danger of becoming,
instead of a censor and scourge of poets; and this
melancholy and moon-staring was but the commence-
ment of a hopeful apprenticeship. With the same
morbid feelings he contemplated the society around
him, and characterized them all as drunkards, ped-
ants, or coxcombs. P"ew men depended more upon
locality for happiness than Jeffrey, and Scotland was
not only his native country, but his native element.
To this, therefore, and not to any inherent defects
in the education or students of Oxford, we may trace
his querulous murmurs; so that the whole world was
changed when he looked at it from Arthur's Seat or
the Pentlands.

On returning to Edinburgh at the age of nineteen,
Jeffrey appeared little changed by his sojourn in
England. He was the same vivacious, slim, short
stripling as before, with the same wide range of
thought and fluency of language that had so often
charmed or nonplussed his companions. In one
respect, however, a material change had occurred;
he had abandoned his native Doric dialect for that
sharp, affected, ultra- English mode of pronunciation,
which afterwards abode with him more or less
through life, and which was in such bad taste, that
Lord Holland declared, "Though he had lost the
broad Scotch at Oxford, he had only gained the
narrow English." It was now full time to make
choice of a profession in good earnest, and prepare
for it, as hitherto his law studies at Oxford had been
little more than nominal. He might, if he pleased,
be a merchant under his paternal uncle, who was
settled at Boston in America; but he felt no vocation
for mercantile labour and adventure. Literature he
would have chosen in preference to anything, and,
of all literary occupations, that of poetry; but author-
ship as a trade was too precarious, and the fame of
a poet too unsubstantial. Then there was the Eng-
lish bar, which gave full scope to the utmost ambi-
tion; but Jeffrey knew withal that the great expense
of preparation, followed by that of waiting for prac-
tice, was more than his resources could encounter.
Nothing remained for him but the profession of a
Scottish advocate, for which his father's legal ac-
quaintanceships could secure him as much practice
as would suffice for a commencement. Here, then,
his choice rested, and he became a student of the
classes of Scotch law in the university of Edinburgh.
But besides these he had, in the Speculative Society,
of which he became a member at the end of 1 792,
a still more effectual spur to progress, as well as
better training both for law and criticism. This
society had been established in the college of Edin-
burgh in 1764, for the purposes of reading literary
and scientific essays, and holding forensic debates
upon the subjects of these essays; it had already pro-
duced during the forty-eight years of its existence
some of the most distinguished characters of the day;
and when Jeffrey enrolled he found himself a fellow-
debater of those who afterwards obtained the foremost

name in their respective walks of life. Of these it is
sufficient to name Sir Walter Scott, Lord Brougham,
Lord Moncrieff, Francis Horner, and William Scar-
lett, at that time young men, but with whom it was
impossible for the most talented to contend without
being braced by such formidable exercise. It was
no wonder, therefore, that by such weekly meetings
Jeffrey soon perfected himself in the practice of com-
]>osition, and became a ready and eloquent debater.
Three years was the usual period of attendance; but
after this term he continued for four years a volun-
tary visitor, and took part in its proceedings with
unabated interest. In 1834, when he had reached
the full summit of his reputation as sovereign of the
empire of criticism and champion of the Scottish bar,
he presided at a dinner to celebrate the seventieth
anniversary of the institution, and gloried in acknow-
ledging the benefits he had derived from it.

Jeffrey had now reached his twentieth year, and
was busy in preparation for passing as a Scottish
advocate, while he thus characterized himself: "I
have lived on this earth very nearly one score of
years, and am about to pass some professional trials
in a few months, who have no fortune but my edu-
cation, and who would not bind myself to adhere
exclusively to the law for the rest of my life for the
bribery of all the emoluments it has to bestow." He
had so learned to love literature for its own sake, that,
be his occupation what it might, his favourite re-
creations would still be found in criticism and the
belles-lettres. This he afterwards more distinctly
intimated in a letter to his brother, where he writes:
" I shall study on to the end of my days. Not law,
however, I believe, though that is yet in a manner
to begin; but something or other I shall — I am de-
termined." But what was that something? as critic
or poet — reviewer or reviewed ? It will scarcely be
believed, that while studying law he had also been
equally diligent in verse-making, so that a poetical
translation of the Argonanticon of Appollonius
Rhodius, two dramatic productions, and a large
bundle of descriptive and sentimental poems, were
the fruits of this dangerous pursuit. Happily, how-
ever, a healthier spirit was rising within him ; and
he manifested it by keeping his poetry not merely
from the press, but the perusal of his friends. At
length the full cure of this intermittent disease was
effected on the i6th of December, 1794, for on that
day he was admitted to practise as an advocate at
the .Scottish bar — an occupation from which there is
no retreat except to politics or agriculture, and a
place at which of all others the Pluses have least
dared to intrude.

The position which the northern barristers at that
period occupied could only be peculiar to such a
country as Scotland. In England, indeed, the occu-
pation could raise a talented practitioner to greater
wealth and higher political rank ; but the English
bar was only a part of the great whole, and had but
a single voice in the complicated administration of
the common weal ; and to whatever height it might
lead its best and ablest, there was still a summit
above them which they could not reach, and under
which they were overshadowed. But in Scotland
the case was different. The union that had anni-
hilated every national distinction had left our tribunal
untouched. Here, then, was the place around which
the whole nationality of the country could rally, and
through which the iiii^eitiuin ferfei-fidiiiii could find
utterance; and therefore the Parliament House, be-
sides being a court of law, was palace, council, and
senate of the now abrogated kingdom of Scotland.
Such were the attractions which the Scottish bar
possessed, and hitherto they had sufficed, not only

392

FRANCIS JEFFREY.

for the highest talent, but the best aristocracy of the
country. But here, also, the old feutlalism of Scot-
land had made its last rallying effort, so that the
divine right of kings, the unquestionable right of
lairds, and the superiority of everj'thing that was
ancient, were the favourite axioms of the Edinburgh
Court of .Session. All this, indeed, would soon have
died out had it not been for the French revolution,
which ministered new fuel to an already decaying
flame, and made it burst forth with greater vigour
than ever. While every nation took the alarm, and
began to draw the old bands of order more tightly
around its institutions, this process was judged espe-
cially necessary for Scotland, ^^■hich had neither king
nor parliament of its own, and was therefore deemed
the more likely to join the prevalent misrule. Modern
Toryism was therefore ingrafted upon the ancient
Scottish feudalism, and unqualified submission be-
came the order of the day. Even the distance from
the seat of government only made our northern poli-
tics the more sensitive to every indication of indepen-
dent thought or action; and thus, what was nothing
more than Whiggery within the precincts of West-
minster, was sheer rebellion and high treason in the
Parliament Square of Edinburgh.

Such was the condition of that honoured and in-
fluential class into which Jeffrey was now admitted.
It will at once be seen that the'difficulties of his new
position were of no trivial amount, ilven at the out-
set his undistinguished birth was against him ; and
those who belonged to the " lordly line of high Saint
Clair" could scarcely be expected to admit the son
of a clerk-depute into full fraternity. lie undoubt-
edly possessed a superiority of talent that might more
than counterpoise such inferiority; but here, instead
of holding the field without a rival, he had many
who were fully his match — competitors as well
equipped for the encounter, and who attained as high
professional rank and reputation, as himself. Still,
however, one remedy remained. The tide of Toryism
was at the height, and by throwing himself implicitly
upon it, he would be borne onward to fortune. And
this, too, he might do not only without degradation,
but with universal approval; for loyalty was the order
of the day, and every step was commended that went
against the anarchy with which throne and altar were
menaced. But Jeffrey was a Whig. From an early
period he had revolved the questions of civil and
political liberty, and instead of discarding them as the
mere Brutus and Cassius dreams of college boyhood,
he had clung to them with all the greater tenacity as
years went onward; and now that he was about to
enter into active life, he l>oldly avowed them as the
conclusions of his matured judgment, and the prin-
ciples of his future political conduct. And what
chance had he, then, of success in a profession where
his opinions of popular riglits were not only con-
demned as mischievous, but despised as vulgar and
mobbish ? There were men, indeed, not only in
Edinburgh, but even the Court of Session, who in
political principles were like-minded with himself;
but they were for the most part so independent, either
by family, or fortune, or position, that they could
better afford to oppose the prevailing current than a
young man to whom the pathway of life was just
opened, with nothing but his own energies to bear
him forward. Taking all these circumstances into
account, there is none, be his principles in politics
what they may, who can refuse to Jeffrey the award
of unswerving integrity and high heroic consistency.
And truly he reaped the reward he merited, not only
in his own advancement, but the final ascendency
of those obnoxious political doctrines which he so
bravely advocated and consistently maintained.

On commencing practice at the bar, Jeffrey la-
boured under a difficulty upon which perhaps he had
not calculated. This was the unlucky half English
mode of speaking \\hich he had learned or assumed
at Oxford, but which he had not the good taste to
discard at Edinburgh ; and such was the strength of
popular prejudice at this period, that there were few
who would not have scrupled to intrust the manage-
ment of a law case to an "Englified" pleader.
With this mode of speech, which was thought to
savour of affectation, he combined an oppressive
sharpness of tone, volubility of words, and keenness
of sarcasm, calculated to wound the self-love of those
who could not parry and return the thrusts of such
an agile fencer. His business, therefore, as an ad-
vocate went on very slowly, and his fees were pro-
portionably scanty. Most of the cases, indeed, which
passed through his hands, were obtained by the in-
fluence of his father. The necessity of having some
other dependence than the bar became so strong,
that in 1798 he conceived the idea of commencing
authorship in London as his future profession ; and
for this purpose he repaired thither, furnished with
introductions to the editors of some of the principal
reviews and newspapers, and buoyed up with the
expectation that he would quadruple the scanty re-
venue that he could ever hope to enjoy from his
profession in Edinburgh. But London was not
destined to be his sphere, and notwithstanding his
introductions, he got so little encouragement that
he was soon glad to return. He resumed his very
limited practice as an advocate, although with a
thousand plans of emancipation that ended as such
dreams generally do, but still improving his know-
ledge, as well as increasing the circle of his literaiy
acquaintances. At length, as if to place the cope-
stone upon his desperate fortunes, he adventured
upon marriage, and in 1801 became the husband of
Catherine Wilson, daughter of the Rev. Dr. Wilson,
professor of church-history at St. Andrews, a second
cousin of his ov»-n. Jeffrey's income at this time
averaged nothing more than ;^ioo per annum, while
his wife had no fortune, except the inestimable one
of an amiable affectionate disposition and pleasing
manners, that shed a gentle charm over her whole
household economy. The happy pair established
their domicile in a third story of Buccleugh Place,
which they furnished upon the most cautious scale
of economy. But it was in the study of this dwelling,
and around the plain table and few chairs of which
the study could boast, that a plan was fomied by
which not only the literature of Scotland, but of
Europe itself, was to be revolutionized, and upon
which Jeffrey himself was thenceforth to depend for
the high literary reputation and prosperous career
that accompanied him to the end.

We allude to the establishment of the Edinburgh
Rcvieiv. Hitherto, in the critical department of
literature in England, a review had been little more
than a peg upon which to hang a book for advertise-
ment; ami the individual merits of each work were
more attended to than the great general questions of
science, litcrat^ire, or politics, which it more or less
involved. In Scotland the department of criticism
was at a still lower ebb; for the country had no re-
gular review, the only one which it possessed, called
the EJiiilmrgh Rcinciv, having expired in 1756, after
a short twelvemonth of existence. But the world
was ripe for change, and the whole framework of
intellectual and political society was already loosen-
ing, for the puq:>ose of being resolved into new forms
and combinations. It was evident, therefore, that
either in London or in Edinburgh some standard
periodical should be established, to meet, and if

FRANCIS JEFFREY

393

possible to direct and control, the cominj^ change —
and this, it was evident, could only be done by a
more ample system of reviewing than had hitherto
been attempted. Such was the impression that for
some time had been floating through the minds of
the more observant in Edinburgh; but to embody
that impression, and reduce it to action, was still the
difficulty. This, however, was soon obviated. A
meeting of Jeffrey's literary friends was assembled at
his dwelling in Buccleugh Place, and there the idea
of such a review was started, and the plan of its
management deliberated. The proposal was due to
the Rev. Sydney Smith, who is entitled "the ori-
ginal projector of the Ediiibiu-gh Rcviciu ;'''' an eager
discussion followed ; and as the night without was
very tempestuous, the coterie made themselves merry
with the thought of the still greater storm they were
devising within. The plan, after several such meet-
ings, was settled, and it was resolved to bring out
the first number of the work in June, 1802, but, from
several causes, the publication was delayed till the
loth of October. Its descent upon the literary world
was followed by a burst of astonishment — it exhibited
such a form and character of criticism as the British
public had never yet thought of — and that such should
have been produced in a remote nook like Edinburgh
greatly heightened :he general wonderment. The
contributions of Jeffrey on this occasion were five in
number, and his critique upon "Mourier on the In-
fluence of the French Revolution," was the first m
the work. His importance in the future character
and success of the Rroiew was even thus early pre-
dicted by Horner, also one of the contributors, who
made the following entry in his private journal: —
"Jeffrey is the person who will derive most honour
from this publication, as his articles in this number
are generally known, and are incomparably the best.
I have received the greater pleasure from this cir-
cumstance, because the genius of that little man has
remained almost unknown to all but his most in-
timate acquaintances. His manner is not at first
pleasing; what is worse, it is of that cast which
almost irresistibly impresses upon strangers the idea
of levity and superficial talents. Yet there is not
aiy man whose real character is so much the reverse.
He has, indeed, a very sportive and playful fancy, but
it is accompanied with an extensive and varied in-
formation, with a readiness of apprehension almost
intuitive, with judicious and calm discernment, with
a profound and penetrating understanding." It was
no small praise that Jeffrey should already have ac-
quired so high a character in a talented community
such as we might now look for in vain in Edinburgh.
The chief of these, besides Horner himself and Sydney
Smith, were Lord Brougham; Brown, the professor
of moral philosophy; Lord Webb Seymour; Mr.
Hamilton, afterwards professor of Sanscrit at Haley-
bury College; Dr. John Thomson, who became pro-
fessor of pathology in the university of Edinburgh;
Mr. Reddie, afterwards town-clerk of Glasgow; Mr.
Thomas Thomson, the eminent Scottish antiquary;
and Lord Murray, late judge of the Court of Session.
All these were young men full of talent and ambi-
tion, to whom the Edinburgh Rei'icw at its com-
mencement was a vent for feelings and theories that
had been accumulating for years. Above all, it
enabled them to give full utterance to those political
principles that were so obnoxious-to the rulers of the
day, and so doubly proscribed in Scotland. Each
individual no longer stood alone, but was part of a
collected and well-disciplined phalanx; and instead
of being obliged to express his opinions in bated
breath, and amidst an overwhelming uproar of con-
tradiction, he could now announce them in full and

fearless confidence, through a journal which was sure
of being heard and feared, at least, if not loved and
respected.

As the Edinburgh Revieiv was a new experiment
in literary adventure, its outset was accompanied
with many difficulties, arising from want of experi-
ence among its chieT conductors; and therefore it was
obliged, in the first two or three years of its exist-
ence, to grope its way, step by step, as it best could.
It was launched even without a pilot, for Sydney
Smith edited no more than the first number. The
meetings of the contributors were held with all the
dread and. mystery of a state-conspiracy, m a little
room off Willison's printing-office in Craig's Close,
to which each member was requested to steal singly,
by whatever by-way would be least susjiected; and
there they examined and criticized each other's pro-
ductions, and corrected the proof-sheets as they were
thrown off These contributions, also, for the first
three numbers at least, were given gratuitously.
No journal, it was soon felt, could long make head
against such deficiencies ; and the first important
advance in improvement was to appoint Jeffrey sole
and responsible editor. The dismal and ludicrous
secret meetings in the back-room of the printing-
office quickly disappeared — for what author, however
in love with the anonymous, could long continue to
be ashamed of being a writer in the Edinburgh
ReT'iciu! The rapid sale of the work and the large
profits it realized made the payment of articles a
necessary consequence, and therefore the first re-
muneration was fixed at ten guineas a sheet, which
rose to sixteen as the minimum price, while th.e
editor was salaried at £yx> per annum. By these
changes a coalition of talented writers was bound
together, and pledged to the furtherance of the work.
But the life and soul of that coalition was Jeffrey,
and nothing could have been more appropriate than
his appointment to the editorship. Unconsciously
he had made his whole life a training for the office,
not only by the multifariousness of his studies, but
his early practice of analyzing the authors he read,
as well as his own miscellaneous compositions, so
that the practice as well as the talents of a critic
were ready for instant action. On the appointment
being offered to him he had some dubitation on the
subject, which he thus expresses at full to his ex-
cellent friend and adviser, Francis Horner: — "There
axe pros and cons in the case, no doubt. What the
pros are I need not tell you. ;i^300 a-year is a
monstrous bribe to a man in my situation. The cons
are — vexation and trouble, interference with profes-
sional employment and character, and risk of general
degradation. The first I have had some little ex-
perience of, and am not afraid for. The second,
upon a fair consideration, I am persuaded I ought to
risk. It will be long before I make ^^300 more than
I now do by my profession, and by far the greater
part of the employment I have will remain with me,
I know, in spite of anything of this sort. The char-
acter and success of the work and the liberality of
the allowance are not to be disregarded. But what
influences me the most is, that I engaged in it at
first gratuitously, along with a set of men whose
character and situation in life must command the
respect of the multitude, and that I hope to go on
with it as a matter of emolument along with the
same associates. All the men here will take their
ten guineas, I find, and, under the sanction of that
example, I think I may take my editor's salary also,
without being supposed to have suffered any de-
gradation. It would be easy to say a great deal on
this subject, but the sum of it, I believe, is here, and
you will understand me as well as if I had been more

394

FRANCIS JEFFREY.

eloquent: I would undoubtedly prefer making the
same sum by my profession; but I really want the
money, and think that I may take it this way, with-
out compromising either my honour or my future
interest.

Such was the train of reasoning by which Jeffrey
committed himself to the AVi'/tW. It was that im-
portant step in life which a man can take but once,
and by which the whole tenor of his after-course is
determined. In Jeffrey's case it was both wise and
prosperous, notwithstanding the manifold feuds of
authorship in which it necessarily involved him.
It was not merely from the small fry of writers, who
writhed under his critical inflictions, that these
quarrels arose ; but also from men of the highest
mark, whom lie tried by a standard proportioned
to tiieir merits, and therefore occasionally found
wanting. In this way he offended such distinguished
authors as Scott, Byron, Southey, Wordsworth, and
Coleridge ; but in most instances the resentment he
kindled was transient, and followed by a cordial
reconciliation. Even Byron, the most indignant and
most formidable of the whole, recanted his vilifica-
tions of Jeffrey in a much higher strain of poetry
than that which characterized his English Bards and
Scotch Reviewers. But of all these quarrels, that
with Thomas Moore threatened to be the most
serious. In 1806 the young poet of Erin published
a volume, which will ever remain a blot upon his
fair fame. It was entitled Epistles, Odes, and other
Poems; and notwithstanding its undoubted merits,
which no one was more ready to acknowledge than
Jeffrey, he opened his critique with such a burst of
indignation as the offence of the poet merited. After
acknowledging the high talents of Moore in a few
sentences, the reviewer thus continues: "He is in-
debted, we fear, for the celebrity he actually enjoys
to accomplishments of a different description ; and
may boast, if the boast can please him, of being the
most licentious of modern versifiers, and the most
poetical of those who, in our times, have devoted
their talents to the propagation of immorality. We
regard his book, indeed, as a public nuisance, and
would willingly trample it down by one short move-
ment of contempt and indignation, had we not rea-
son to apprehend that it was abetted by patrons
who are entitled to a more respectful remonstrance,
and by admirers who may require a more extended
exposition of their dangers. " 'I'he article throughout
was judged to be so personal, that the poet resolved
to redress himself in another way than by writing
a rejoinder, either in prose or verse. In short, he
resolved to call the critic out, a purpose which he
was enabled to effect in consequ.-nce of a visit that
Jeffrey made to Eondon a short time after the article
was published. The hostile parties met in a field
near London, and Jeffrey was attended on this occa-
sion by his friend Horner. The police, however,
had got intelligence of their purpose, and arrested
the combatants when the duel was al)out to com-
mence. On reaching the police-office the pistols
were examined, when it was found that Jeffrey's
contained no bullet, as it had probably dro]iped out
when the weapon was snatched from liim; while that
of the poet was furnished with the usual complement
of lead, and ready for execution. A foolish affair
in itself, the meeting was rendered more ridiculous
still by the reports that were founded upon the harm-
less pistol, both weapons being represented as in
the same condition, and fit to produce nothing more
than a little noise. The offending parties, being
bound over to keep the peace, resolved to adjourn
the combat to the neutral ground of Hamburg. But
better thoughts occurred, and an explanation fol-

lowed, in which Jeffrey declared that it was the
morality of the book, and not of the man, which he
liad judged and condcnmed ; while Moore professed
himself satisfied \\itli the explanation. Nothing was
more natural than that two such fiery spirits should
pass from the extreme of dislike to that of friendship;
and such was the case with Moore and Jeffrey,
whose affection for each other continued till the
close of life.

We have already seen the misgivings of Jeffrey
as to the effect which his literary censorship would
produce upon his progress at the bar. In this re-
spect his fears were happily disappointed ; for, al-
though his progress was not rapid, it was steadily
growing from year to year, accelerated on the whole,
rather than retarded, by his office of reviewer. The
literary society of Edinburgh, also, was constantly
increasing, and among these he was enabled to take
an important stand, as the highest and most influen-
tial of British critics. Even the death of his amiable
wife, wliich occurred in 1805, and which he felt
more deeply than any calamity that ever befell him
eitlier before or after, only drove him more keenly
into the duties of active life. And these were neither
few nor trivial; for, besides his practice, both in the
civil and criminal courts, he took an important share
in the legal business of the General Assembly, in
which he continued a jileader for twenty years.
Saving this mournful domestic bereavement, all
things went prosperously onward, so that by the
commencement of 1807 he thus writes to his brother:
"I work at the A'civWi' still, and might make it a
source of considerable emolument if I set any value
on money. But I am as rich as I want to be, and
should be distressed with more, at least if I were
to work more for it." Of the journal itself, also,
.Sir W. Scott, who disliked its political principles
with a full measure of feudal and Tory dislike, thus
testifies to its popularity: "Of this work 9000 copies
are printed quarterly, and no genteel family can
pretend to be without it ; because, independently of
its politics, it gives the only valuable literaiy criti-
cism which can be met with." This unprecedented
success not only alarmed the enemies of political
innovation, but excited their literary ambition.
Could not a coterie be assembled in London as
learned and talented as that of Edinburgh, and an
antagonist journal be started as formidable as this
critical Goliath? At length the decision was preci-
pitated by an article in the Edinbm-gh Rti'iew for
October, 1808, on "Don Pedro Cevallos on the
French Usurpation of Spain." This talented paper,
written by Jeffrey himself, which ventured to run
counter to the political enthusiasm of the day upon
the subject of Spanish patriotism, excited the Tory
resentment to the highest pitch; and the feeling was
expressed in every form, from the magnificent disdain
of the Earl of Buchan — who kicked the offensive
number through his lol)by, and into the street, be-
lieving that thereby he had sealed for ever the fate
of the Edinburgh Kevicii.' — to the calm but stern dis-
apjiroval of Sir Walter Scott, who thus wrote to its
IHiblisher: "The Edinburgh Reziew had become
such as to render it impossible for me to continue a
contributor to it ; fww it is such as I can no longer
continue to receive or read it."

The plan of the Qua>-terly, which had for some
time been contemplated, was soon arranged, and
its first number appeared in February, 1809. It is
honourable to the Edinburgh ReT'iew to state, that
its system of management was the one adopted by
the new rival journal, at the recommendation of Sir
Walter Scott. This plan was unfolded by Sir Wal-
ter in a letter to Gifford, the newly-appointed editor

FRANCIS JEFFREY.

395

of the Quarterly, previous to its commencement.
His letter, from which we give the following extract,
sufficiently shows how essential Jeffrey had been to
the prosperity of the Edinburgh periodical, as well
as the sagacious measures which he had adopted for
the purpose. Indeed, they may be said to have
formed the exemplar of all the numerous magazines
of our day: — "The extensive reputation and circula-
tion of the Edinburgh Rei'ieiu is chiefly owing to two
circumstances : first, that it is entirely uninlluenced
by the booksellers, who have contrived to make
most of the other reviews merely advertising sheets
to puff off their own publications; and, secondly, the
very handsome recompense which the editor not only
holds forth to his regular assistants, but actually
forces upon those whose circumstances and rank
make it a matter of total indifference to them. The
editor, to my knowledge, makes a point of every
contributor receiving this bonus, saying that Czar
Peter, when working in the trenches, received pay
as a common soldier. But there is still something
behind, and that of the last consequence. One
great resource to which the Edinburgh editor turns
himself, and by which he gives popularity even to
the duller articles of his Rez'ieiv, is accepting contri-
butions from persons of inferior powers of writing,
provided they understand the books to which the
criticisms relate ; and as such are often of stupifying
mediocrity, he renders them palatable by throwing
in a handful of spice — namely, any lively paragraph,
or entertaining illustration, that occurs to him in
reading them over. By this sort of veneering, he
converts, without loss of time or hindrance of busi-
ness, articles which, in their original state, might
hang in the market, into such goods as are not likely
to disgrace those among which they are placed."
In this way Jeffrey plumed many a heavy article,
and sent it soaring heavenward, which, without such
aid, would have been doomed to dabble in the mud.
It is evident, however, that this, the most important,
was also the most difficult, of all editorial labours ;
and without a very skilful hand, would have converted
the process of fine veneering into clumsy patchwork.
It must have been amusing in not a few cases, to see
a grave contributor to the Edinburgh Rez'ieiu reading
his article for the first time in print, and wondering
at his own wit and vivacity !

Notwithstanding the merited success of the Qjiar-
terly, Jeffrey felt neither envy nor alarm ; there was
now room enough in the literary world for both
journals, and the excellence of the one was a healthy
stimulus to the other. W is affairs were also so pros-
perous, that after successive removals to more fashion-
able mansions in Edinburgh, he was enabled, in
1812, to occupy a country-house at Hatton, near
Edinburgh, once a seat of the Earls of Lauderdale.
This antique residence was soon enlivened by an
additional tenant. In 18 10 Jeffrey had met with
Miss Charlotte Wilkes, grand-niece of the celebrated
John Wilkes, who was on a visit to Edinburgh with
her uncle and aunt, and this acquaintance ripened
into an attachment, that was followed by marriage
in 181 3. As the lady, however, resided in New
\ ork, it was necessary that Jeffrey should repair to
America for his bride ; and thither accordingly he
went, notwithstanding his invincible abhorrence of
the sea, and impatience of the restraints of naviga-
tion. His journal of the voyage, as might be ex-
pected, is a wrathful enumeration of cloudy skies,
gales, sea-sickness, lumbered decks, soured com-
panions, and squalling children; ending with "If I
get back safe to my own place from tliis expedition,
I shall never willingly go out of sight of land again
in my life." It was well that such a consolation

awaited his landing, in one who, for thirty-four years,
was the comfort of his life and enlivener of his home.
At his return to Edinburgh, in the beginning of
1 8 14, he threw himself into the work of the Kcvieiu
with fresh ardour, for the disastrous campaign of
Napoleon in Russia, and the series of important
events that rapidly followed, by which the whole
history of the world was changed, gave full scope to
his political prelections. In 1815 he removed his
country residence from Hatton to Craigcrook, about
three miles to the north-west of Edinburgh, and.
there his summers were spent till the close of his life.
The mansion at first consisted of nothing but an old
tower; but this and the adjacent grounds he enlarged,
improved, and beautified, as he would have done
with some article for the Rerino that was too dull
to be published in its original state, but too good to
be neglected. By successive additions the building
was expanded into a stately baronial residence, while
the thirty or forty acres that surrounded it gave full
exercise to that taste for the pleasing and the beauti-
ful which hitherto he had expressed only in theory.
There, also, he gathered round him such distinguished
characters as Atticus himself might have envied.
"What can efface these days," exclaims his affection-
ate biographer, "or indeed any Craigcrook day, from
the recollection of those who had the happiness of
enjoying them !"

A change in the Scottish tribunal at the beginning
of 1 816 brought Jeffrey into greater legal practice
than ever. This was the introduction of juries for
the trial of facts in civil causes ; and for such a de-
partment he soon showed himself well fitted, by his
versatile intellectual powers, the variety of his know-
ledge, and ready command of every kind of oratory.
Here, too, the fact of his connection with the Rciic'w,
instead of retarding his progress, only brought him
clients in multitudes, for he was now recognized as
the champion of popular rights, as well as a most
able and accomplished pleader. Yet, with this great
addition to his professional duty, neither his diligence
nor productiveness as a writer was abated, so that,
independently of his wonted labours in the Reziinc,
he wrote the article "Beauty" in the Encyclopadia
Britannica — a treatise that, notwithstanding the
fluctuating nature of every theory upon that subject,
will always continue to be admired for the meta-
physical depth of its sentiments, and the classic
finished elegance of its style. This tide of success,
however, was on one occasion interrupted. Strange
to tell, Jeffrey stuck a speech ! In 1818 John Kemble
was about to take leave of the Scottish stage; and as
his admirers proposed to give him a public dinner
in Edinburgh, Jeffrey was commissioned to present
him a snuff-box at the banquet. He rose for the
purpose with full confidence in that extemporaneous
power which had never failed him ; but when the
dramatist raised his kingly form at the same instant,
and confronted him with magnificent obeisance, the
most fluent of speakers was suddenly struck dumb —
he sat down, with his speech half-finished and his
gift unpresented !

It was now time that honorary distinctions as well
as substantial profits should descend upon the suc-
cessful critic and barrister, so that he should become
something more than plain Francis Jeffrey. These
were now at hand ; and the first that adorned him
appropriately enough came from a seat of learning.
His own college of Glasgow had not lost sight of
its early alumnus; and after having elected the highest
and most talented to the office of lord-rector of the
university, the claims of the prince of critics to fill it
ought not to be overlooked. So felt the young
students, by whose suffrages the rector is chosen.

596

FRANXIS JEFFREY.

and in 1S20, notwithstanding the hostility of the
professors, whose dislike of JctTrey's Whiggism could
not be overcome, he was invested with the honoured
distinction. After this, proposals were made from
influerKial quarters to obtain for him a seat in parlia-
ment ; but these he declined : it was from the court
of law and not the senate that his next honours were
to be obtained. Accordingly, in 1S29, he was unani-
mously elected dean of the Faculty of Advocates,
the highest honour which his own profession can
bestow, and all the more honourable that the elec-
tion was by the votes of his brethren. It was no
trivial indication of political change, that the editor
of the Edinburgh Rciieii< should have been appointed
to such an office, in the very heart of Edinburgh,
and by a body of men who had in former times been
the keenest and most influential champions of Tor)--
ism. It was necessary, however, that his editorship
should cease, and he gladly resigned it into younger
hands. It was not an easy sacrifice to relinquish an
office so congenial to his tastes and habits, which
he had held for twenty-seven years, and which he
had raised by the force of his talents to such high
distinction in the literarj' and political world. The
list of his contributions during this period is truly
astounding, not only for quantity, but variety. They
amounted in all to 201 articles, a selection from which
was published in eight volumes, under his revision,
in 1843. After having been dean of faculty for a
ver)' short period, Jeffrey, in 1830, was appointed
lord-advocate. This office, although resembling that
of the attorney-general in England, has few recom-
mendations, beyond those of mere distinction, to a
successful practitioner at the Scottish bar; for, besides
affording a salary of only ^^300 per annum, it has
legal and political duties attached to it sufficient
for the utmost energies of the most talented indivi-
dual. For three years and a half he continued in
this laborious office, during which period he was
almost exclusively occupied with the important mea-
sures of parliamentary and burgh refonn, and spent
much of his time in attendance upon the House of
Commons, which he did as member for the Forfar-
shire burghs, and finally for the burgh of Malton.
His situation in the House of Commons was any-
thing but a sinecure, as the passing of the reform
bill for Scotland, of which he was the official man-
ager, cost him many speeches and sleepless nights,
as well as a vast amount of daily anxiety. After this
great work was successfully accomplished, his chief
ambition was to represent his native city in the fii"st
reformed parliament. Nothing, indeed, could be
more legitimate than such ambition after the toils he
had undergone in the cause of reform, not merely
as Lord-advocate of Scotland, but also as the ablest
of political writers in behalf of the measure, when
its very idea was reckoned tantamount to high-treason.
His wish was gratified. He was put in nomination
as candidate for the representation of Edinburgh,
and returned by a majority of votes on the 19th of
December, 1832, after which he resumed his parlia-
mentary duties, and the incessant worry with which
the adjustment of the details of the Reform Bill was
connected. \Vhile thus employed, a vacancy oc-
curred on the bench of the Court of Session, in
1833, and Jeffrey was appointed to this, the highest
office which a Scottish lawyer can attain. But what
he valued more highly was, that it freed him from
the harassing labours of parliament, and those of
lord-advocate, and restored him to the society of his
friends and full enjoyment of his home. It was the
natural feeling of one who had already passed three-
score years of life, and passed them in severe toil and
intellectual exertion.

Having ceased from his avocations as lawyer and
reviewer, and passed into that peaceful but dignified
office to which his merits had so honourably won
their way, the rest of the narrative of Jeffrey's life
may be briefly told. On the 7th of June, 1834, he
took his seat on the bench, with the title of Lord
Jeffrey, instead of assuming a territorial one from
the landed property which he possessed. ^Vas this
humility, eschewing a pompous designation as savour-
ing too much of aristocracy and feudalism — or pride,
that felt as if his own family name had now been
raised to such distinction as to make a lordly change
unnecessary? Both feelings may have been so curi-
ously blended in the choice, that it would be better
to leave them unquestioned. At all events, the
familiar name of Jeffrey was more grateful to the
literar)- ear than Lord Craigcrook, or any other such
title could have been. His official duties required
his attendance in the court every morning at nine
o'clock, and thus, with him, the virtue of early rising
was enforced by necessity. During the winter, when
the court was sitting, his place of residence was
Edinburgh ; he then usually repaired in spring to
London or its neighbourhood ; and in autumn he
lived at his residence of Craigcrook, which seemed
every year to become more and more endeared to
him. Having now so much leisure upon his hands,
and that too, it may be added, for the first time in
his life, he was often urged by his friends to write
some important original work, in which his whole
intellectual power would be condensed, and his fame
embodied for the esteem of posterity when the Edin-
burgh Rci.ic\i< itself would be supplanted by younger
and more popular candidates. But to this his answer
was, "I have no sense of duty that way, and feel
that the only sure or even probable result of the
attempt, would be hours and days of anxiety and
unwholesome toil, and a closing scene of mortifica-
tion." It was the apologv' of one who had already
written so much that he had become weary of the
task — or who had written so well, that he was
afraid of risking all he had already won upon such
a final and decisive cast. At all events, he rested
satisfied with the fame he had already acquired, and
in this way it may be that he acted wisely. On the
27th of June, 1838, his daughter, and only child, was
married to William Empson, Esq., professor of law
in the East India College, Haileybury ; and this
union, besides imparting an additional charm to his
yearly visits to England, produced to him those
solaces for his old age, which perhaps a new suc-
cessful literary undertaking would have failed to im-
part. These were the little grandchildren who were
soon entwined like rich tendrils around his affection-
ate heart, and in whose society he renewed all the
freshness and buoyancy of his early youth.

In his capacity of judge. Lord Jeffrey was con-
nected with those decisions of the Court of Session
that preceded the disruption of the Church of Scot-
land; and his award was in favour of that party by
whom the Free Church was afterwards constituted.
He took an intense interest in the whole controversy
from the commencement, and even at an early period
foresaw that a disruption was inevitable, while he
lamented such a fatal necessity. But still his heart
was with the dissentients, for he saw that they could
not act otherwise consistently with their convictions
as to the spiritual independency of the church. Thus
he felt while their case was discussed in the Court of
Session, and afterwards removed by appeal to the
House of Lords, and he regarded the final award of
the supreme tribunal as short-sighted, unjust, and
tyrannical. At length the crisis approached, for the
meeting of the General Assembly of 1843 was at

SIR ARCHIBALD JOIIXSTOX.

397

hand. His interest about the result in the great
coming conflict of the church was thus expressed :
"I am anxious to hear what her champions and
martyrs are now doing, and what is understood
to be their plan of operation at the Assembly. It
will be a strange scene any way, and I suppose there
will be a separation into two assemblies." He knew
too well the elements of the Scottish character, and
was too conversant with the history of our national
church, to believe, as most of the politicians of the
day believed, that the opposition of the evangelical
party would break down at the last moment under
the argument of manse, glebe, and stipend. But
would the secession be on such a scale as to consti-
tute a great national movement? Or when the crisis
came, might there not be such a fearful winnowing
as would reduce the protesting party to a mere hand-
ful ? At length the day and the hour of trial arrived.
Jeffrey was reading in his study when tidings were
brought to him that the whole body had departed as
one man — that 450 ministers had fearlessly redeemed
their pledge to sacrifice their earthly interests at the
command of duty, and had left the assembly, to con-
stitute another elsewhere ! He threw the book from
him, and exclaimed in a tone of triumph, "I am
proud of my country ! no other than Scotland," he
added, "would have acted thus."

The remainder of Lord Jeffrey's life was passed in
the enjoyment of a happy old age, his duties of
judge, to which he attended to the last, being alter-
nated with social intercourse, domestic enjoyment,
and reading — that incessant process of acquiring new
ideas, without which it seemed as if he could not have
survived for a single hour. Thus his course went on
till the close of 1849; but though still exhibiting
much of his former activity, as well as enjoying every
source of happiness, he knew that this must soon
terminate. "I have made," he thus writes to his
son-in-law and daughter, "a last lustration of all my
walks and haunts, and taken a long farewell of
garden and terrace and flowers, seas and shores,
spiry towers and autumnal fields. I always bethink
me that I may never see them again." He had in-
deed seen the last of his autumns; for on the 22d of
January following, after a brisk afternoon walk round
the Calton Hill, he was attacked by bronchitis, a
complaint to which he had for several years been
more or less subject; but so little did he apprehend
the consequences, tliat he thought that at the worst
they would only compel him to resign his place on
the bench. But death was advancing with a swift
though silent step, and after four days of illness, in
which he suffered little, and anticipated a speedy re-
covery, he breathed his last. This was on the 26th
of January, 1850. He, too, felt his ruling passion
strong in death; for in his dreams during the three
nights previous to his dissolution, the spirit of the
Edinburgh reviewer predominated, so that he was
examining proof-sheets, reading newspapers, and
passing judgment upon arguments or events as they
rose before his mind's eye in the most fantastical
variety. During the last year of his life his walks
had carried him to the Dean Cemeter)% where, amidst
its solemn vistas, enlivened with the song of the
blackbird, he had selected the spot which he wished
to be his final resting-place; and there accordingly
his remains were deposited on the 31st of January.

jMrs. Jeffrey outlived her husband only a few
months. She died at Haileybury on the iSth of
May, and her remains were interred beside his in the
Dean Cemetery.

JOHNSTON, Sir Archibald, of Warriston (a
judge by the designation of Lord Warriston), an

eminent lawyer and statesman, was the son of James
Johnston of Beirholm in Annandale, a descendant
of tiie family of Johnston in Aberdeenshire, and
who for some time followed a commercial life in
Edinburgh, being mentioned in a cliarter of 1608 as
"the king's merchant." The mother of the subject
of our memoir was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Thomas
Craig, the first great lawyer produced by Scotland,
and whose life has already been given in the present
work. Of the date of the birth of Archibald John-
ston, and the circumstances of his education, no me-
morial has been preserved : he entered as advocate
in 1633. In the great national disturbances which
commenced in 1637 Johnston took an early and dis-
tinguished part, acting apparently as only second
to Sir Thomas Hope in giving legal advice to the
Covenanters. The second or general supplication of
the nation to Charles I. for relief from his Episcopal
innovations was prepared by the Earl of Rothes and
Archibald Johnston — the former being preferred on
account of his distinction as an active and influential
partisan, and the latter from the general character
given of him by his friends, as singularly well ac-
quainted with the history and constitution of the
genuine Presbyterian Church of Scotland. This
document, which was presented to the privy-council
on the 24th of September, 1637, in the presence of a
band of the supporters of its principles, which made
the act more solemn than a regal pageant, leaves for
the politicians of all ages a fine specimen of that
calmness in reasoning and statement which men of
judgment and principle know to be necessary for the
preservation of order in a state when they are re-
presenting grievances, however deep, to a governor,
however unreasonable; and of that fimmess of posi-
tion which, when supported by a hold of popular
opinion, must either be allowed to prevail, or leave
to him who obstmcts it the odium of the confusion
which may follow. After the supplicants, who had
increased to a vast body of men, spreading over the
whole of the southern part of Scotland, had united
themselves under a representative constitution, termed
"The Tables," a renewal of the national covenant
was judged a useful measure for a combination of
effort and the insurance of a general union and pur-
pose. Johnston aiid the celebrated Alexander Hen-
derson were employed to suit the revered obligation
to which their ancestors had sworn, to the new
purpose for which it was applied, by including the
protestations against the liturgy of the Episcopal
church, under the general declarations which it pre-
viously bore against the doctrine of the Church of
Rome, and adducing authorities in support of the new
application. The obligation was signed in March,
1638, under circumstances too well known to be re-
capitulated. ■■•

Johnston, although from his secondary rank he
did not then assume the authority of a leader, was,
from his knowledge and perseverance, more trusted
to in the labours of the opposition than any other
man, and his name continually recurs as the agent
in every active measure. To the unyielding and
exasperating proclamation which was read at the
market-cross of Edinburgh on the 22d of February,
1638, he prepared and read aloud, on a scaffold
erected for the purpose, the celebrated protestation
in name of the Tables, while the dense crowd who
stood around prevented the issuers of the proclama-
tion from departing before they heard the answer to

1 For such matters connected with this period as are here,
to prevent repetition, but slightly alluded to, see the memoir's
of Henderson, of Montrose, and of the first Duke of
Hamilton, in this collection.

59S

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTOX.

tlieir challenge. On the Sth of July the king issued
another proclamation, which though termed "A
jjroclamation of favour and grace," and though it
promised a maintenance of the religion presently
professed 'within the kiui^dom, without innovation, an
interim suspension of the service-book, a rectification
of the high-commission, and the loudly called for
General Assembly and parliament, was, with reason,
deemed more dangerous than a defiance. Johnston
had a protestation prepared for the delicacy of this
trying occasion, which, with the decorum from
which he seems on no occasion to have departed,
he, "in all humility, with submissive reverence,"
presented in presence of the multitude.' When, on
the 22d of September, the parliament and General
Assembly were proclaimed, he prepared another
protestation in a similar tone to the former, which
he read in his own name, and in that of the Earl of
Montrose, for the nobles; Gibson younger of Durie
for the barons; George Porterfield, merchant in
Glasgow, for the burghs; and Henry Pollock, min-
ister of Edinburgh, for the clergy. It will be easily
conjectured that, at the period when he was thus
publicly employed, Johnston was privately acting as
a partisan of the covenant, and an enemy of Prelacy
and arbitrary power, by all the means which a po-
litical agent invariably uses. At such a period the
more we can trace the private proceedings and feel-
ings of the public man the better can we hold him
up as a biographical example. As the only curious
document connected with our subject at this period
of his existence, we give the following somewhat
mutilated letter to Johnston, from a person who did
not choose to sign his name; it is characteristic of
the feeling of the party, and of the occupation of
the subject of our memoir; and if to a speculative
politician it may breathe an illiberal spirit, let him
remember that there never existed a party, however
pure, which did not wish to suppress the opposite
party, and that not having power and numbers on
their side, the opponents of the covenant were in
the situation of disturbers of society, in as far as
they wished to impose rules on the whole kingdom.

"For Mr. Archibald Johnston of Warriston, advocate.
" Dear Christian Brother and courageous Protestant —
Upon some rumour of the Prelate of St. Andrews his coming
over the water, and finding it altogether inconvenient that he
or any of that kynd should show themselves peacably in pub-
licke, some course was taken how hee might be enterteyned
in such places as he should come unto : we are now informed
that hee (will; not come, but that Broughen is in Edinburgh
or thereabout; it is the advyce of your friends here, that in a
private way some course may be taken for his terror and
disgrace if he offer to show himself in publick. Think upon
the best r . . . by the advyce of your friends there. I fear
that their publick appearance at Gl.asgow shall be prejudiciall
to our cause. We are going to take order (with) his cheefe
supporters there, Glaidstaines, Skrymgoor, and Hallyburton.
. . . Wishing you both protection and direction from your
maister, I continew, youre owne whome you know. G.

" 2?,th October, i638."2

Such was the feeling in which the leaders of the
covenant prepared themselves for the renowned
General Assembly held at Glasgow in November
and December, 1638. On that occasion Johnston
was, by a unanimous vote, chosen clerk of the
assembly. On its being discovered that his pre-
cursor had been enabled to procure only two of the
seven volumes of minutes of the General Assemblies
held since the Reformation, the moderator, probably
in pursuance of a preconcerted measure, called upon
all those who were aware of the existence of any
others to give information on the subject to the
assembly. Johnston hereupon produced the other
five volumes — how obtained by him we know not —

' Balfour's Annals, ii. 276.

* Wodrow's Collection, Advoc. Lib. vol. Ixvi. No. 58.

by which service he greatly increased the confidence
]:)reviously placed in him. On the day before the
session terminated the assemVjly elected him pro-
curator for the church, and, as was afterwards ratified
by act of parliament, he received for the former of
these offices 500, and for the latter 1000 merks
yearly.^

Johnston was one of the commissioners appointed
by the Scots to conduct the treaty at Berwick. The
General Assembly, which was the consequence of
that pacification, passes over, and the unsatisfactory
parliament which followed is commenced, ere we
again observe Johnston's name connected with any
public affairs beyond the usual routine of his duties.
The parliament commenced its sittings on the 31st
of August, 1639. On the 14th of November Sir
Thomas Hope, in his official capacity as lord-advocate,
produced a warrant from the king addressed to the
commissioners, which, on the ground that the royal
prerogative was interested in the proceedings, ordered
a prorogation to the 2d of June, 1640. The warrant
was read by Sir Alexander Gibson of Durie, one of
the clerks of session, on which the lord-advocate
took the usual protest, calling on the clerk actually
to dissolve the meeting. On this the clerk, who
was performing an unpleasing office, answered "that
he had already read the said warrant containing the
said prorogacioun, and was readie to read the same as
oft as he should be commanded, but could not other-
ways prorogat the parliament." The Earl of Rothes
added to his embarrassment, by challenging him to
"do nothing but as he would be answerable to the
parliament, upon payne of his life." And the
junior clerk, Mr. William Scott, being called on to
dissolve the meeting, sagaciously declined ofiiciating
in the presence of his senior. Johnston then came
forivard, and, in name of the three estates, read a
declaration purporting that his majesty, having, in
compliance with the wish of his faithful subjects,
called a free assembly and parliament, and submitted
matters ecclesiastical to the former, and matters civil
to the latter; the commissioner had (it was presumed),
without the full permission of the king, attempted
to dissolve the parliament — a measure which the
estates maintained could not be constitutionally taken
without the consent of the parliament itself. ^^ ith
that respect for the person of the king which, as the
advocates of peaceful measures, the Covenanters
at that period always professed to maintain, the
document proceeds to state that the estates are
constrained to the measure they adopt by "our
zeal to acquit ourselfs according to our place, both
to the king's majesty, whose honour at all tymes,
but especially convened in parliament, we ought to
have in high estimation, and to the kingdom which
we represent, and whose liberties sail never be pro-
stituted or vilified by us." Having denounced the
prorogation as unconstitutional, this remarkable
state-paper thus proceeds — "But becaus we know
that the eyes of the world ar upon us, that declara-
tions have been made and published against us, and
malice is prompted for hir obloquies, and wateth on
with opin mouth to snatch at the smallest shadow of
disobedience, disservice, or disrespect to his majesty's
commandments, that our proceedings may be made
odious to such as know not the way how thes com-
mandments are procured from his majesfy, nor how
they are made knowin and intimat to us, and doe
also little consider that we are not now private
subjects bot a sitting parliament, quhat national
prejudices we have sustenit in tyme past by mis-
information, and quhat is the present state of the

'^ Balf. An. ii. 301, 313; Scots Worthies, itl; Act. Pari, v, 316.

SIR ARCHIBALD JOIIXSTOX.

399

kingdom;" so arguing, the presenters of the declara-
tion, that they may put far from them "all shaw or
appearance of what may give his majesty the least
discontent," resolve, in the meantime, merely to
vindicate their rights by their declaration, and,
voluntarily adjourning, resolve to elect some of
each estate, as a permanent committee, endowed
with the full powers of a parliamentary committee,
to "await his majesty's gracious answer to our
humble and just demands, and farther to remonstrat
our humble desires to his majesty upon all occasions;
that hereby it may be made most manifest, against
all contradiction, that it wes never our intention to
denie his majesty any parte of the civill and temporal
obedience which is due to all kings from their sub-
jects, and from us to our dread soverane after a
special maner, bot meerlie to preserve our religion,
and the liberties of the kingdome, without which
religion cannot continue long in safetie." — "And if
it sail happen," continues this prophetic declaration
"(which God forbid), that, efter we have made our
remonstrances, and to the uttermost of our power
and duetie used all lawful! meanes for his majesty's
information, that our malicious enemies, who are not
considerable, sail, by their suggestions and lyes, pre-
vaill against the informations and generall declara-
tions of a whole kingdom, we tak God and men to
witness, that we are free of the outrages and in-
solencies that may be committed in the mean tyme,
and that it sail be to us no imputation, that we are
constrained to tak such course as may best secure
the kirk and kingdome from the extremitie of con-
fusion and miserie."

It is to be remarked that this act of the Cove-
nanters did not assume the authority of a protest; it
was a statement of grievances to which, for a short
time, they would submit, supplicating a remedy.
The assertion that the crown had not the sole power
of proroguing parliament may be said to be an
infringement of prerogative; but this very convenient
term must owe its application to practice, and it
appears that the royal power on this point had not
been accurately fixed by the constitution of the
Scottish parliament. The choice of the lords of
articles by the commissioner — a step so far a breach
of "privilege" (the opposite term to prerogative),
that it rendered a parliament useless as an indepen-
dent body — was likewise remonstrated against, along
with the application of supplies without consent of
parliament.

The Earls of Dunfermline and Loudon were sent
as commissioners to represent the declaration to the
king. "They behaved themselves," says Clarendon,
"in all respects, with the confidence of men em-
ployed by a foreign state, refused to give any account
but to the king himself; and even to the king himself
gave no other reason for what was done, but the
authority of the doers, and the necessity that required
it; that is, that they thought it necessary; but then
they polished their sturdy behaviour with all the
professions of submission and duty which their
language could afford."

As connected with this mission, some historians
have alluded to, and others have narrated, a dark
intrigue, of which Johnston was the negative instru-
ment; a matter which has never been cleared up.
We shall give it in the words of Burnet, the nephew
of Johnston, and who had therefore some reason to
know the facts. " After the first pacification, upon
the new disputes that arose, when the Earls of
Loudoun and Dumfermling were sent up with the
petition from the Covenanters, the Lord Saville
came to them, and informed them of many parti-
culars, by M'hich they saw the king was highly

irritated against them. He took great pains to
persuade them to come with their army into Eng-
land. They very unwillingly hearkened to that pro-
position, and looked on it as a design from the court
to ensnare them, making the Scots invade England,
by which this nation might have been provoked to
assist the king to conquer Scotland. It is true, he
hated the Earl of Strafford so much, that they saw no
cause to suspect him; so they entered into a treaty
with him about it. The Lord Saville assured them,
he spoke to them in the name of the most consider-
able men in England, and he showed them an
engagement under their hands to join with them
if they would come into England, and refuse any
treaty but what should be confirmed by a parliament
of England. They desired leave to send this paper
into Scotland, to which, after much seeming diffi-
culty, he consented; so a cane was hollowed, and
this was put within it; and one Frost, afterwards
secretary to the committee of both kingdoms, was sent
down with it as a poor traveller. It was to be com-
municated only to three persons — the Earls of Rothes
and Argyle, and to Warriston, the three chief confi-
dants of the Covenanters. . . . To these three only
this paper was to be showed, upon an oath of secrecy;
and it was to be deposited in Warriston's hands.
They were only allowed to publish to the nation that
they were sure of a very great and unexpected assist-
ance, which, though it was to be kept secret, would
appear in due time. This they published; and it
was looked on as an artifice to draw in the nation;
but it was afterwards found to be a cheat indeed,
but a cheat of Lord Saville's, who had forged all
those subscriptions. . . . The Lord Saville's
forgery came to be discovered. The king knew it ;
and yet he was brought afterwards to trust him, and
to advance him to be Earl of Sussex. The king
pressed my uncle (Johnston) to deliver him the
letter, who excused himself upon his oath ; and
not knowing what use might be made of it he cut
out every subscription, and sent it to the person
for whom it was forged. The imitation was so
exact, that every man as soon as he saw his hand
simply by itself, acknowledged that he could not
have denied it."' Burnet had certainly the best
opportunities for both a public and private acquaint-
ance with such an event, and the circumstance has
been at least hinted at by others; but Mr. Laing
justly remarks that "in their conferences with these
noblemen, and with Pym and Ilambden, the Scottish
commissioners during their residence in London must
have received such secret assurances of support, that,
without this forged invitation, the committee of
estates would have chosen to transfer the war into
England."^

At the parliament which met on the 2d of June,
1640, the representative of majesty in that body
choosing to absent himself, or dreading the danger
of a journey to Scotland, the estates proceeded to
reduce themselves to a formal and deliberative body
by the choice of a president. To this convention
Johnston produced a petition from the General
Assembly, which had been ratified by the jirivy-
council, praying for a legislative ratification of the
covenant, and an order that it should be enforced on
the inhabitants of the country with all civil pains, ^
— a requisition ^^■hich the convention was not in a
disposition to refuse. On the nth of June, by the
34th act of this parliament, the celebrated committee
of forty having, in absence of the superior body which
called it into existence, the full legislative power of
a republican congress, was elected, and the members

1 Buntct, yj, 39, 41. - Laiitg, iii. 194. ' Act. Pari. v. 293.

400

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON.

were divided betwixt the camp and Edinburgh. Our
surprise that so influential and laborious a man as
Johnston was not chosen a member of this body is
relieved by the place of higher, though somewhat
anomalous, trust to which we find him appointed, as
general agent and adviser to the body — a sort of
leader without being a constituent member. "And
because," says the act, "there will fall out in the
camp a necessitie either of treatties, consultations,
or public declarations, to schaw the reasones of the
demands and proceedings in the assemblie and par-
liament, and the prejudices agains either of them,
the estates ordaynes Mr. Archibald Johnston, pro-
curator for the kirk, as best acquaint with these
reasons and prejudices, to attend his excellence (the
general) and to be present at all occasions with the
said committee, for their farther information, and
clearing thairanent.'" Johnston was one of the eight
individuals appointed to treat with the English com-
missioners at Ripon, by an act of the great committee
of management, dated the 30th of September, 1640."
AVhen this treaty was transfen^ed to London, John-
ston was chosen a member of the committee, along
with Henderson, as supernumeraries to those ap-
pointed from the estates, and probably with the
peculiar duty of watching over the interests of the
church, "because many things may occurre concern-
ing the church and assemblies thereof."^

The proceedings and achievements of this body
are so well known that, in an article which aims at
giving such memorials of its subject as are not to
be readily met with in the popular histories, they
need not be repeated. On the 25th day of Septem-
ber, 1641, Johnston produced in parliament a peti-
tion that he might be exonerated from all respon-
sibility as to the public measures with which he had
for the previous four years been connected, mention-
ing the important office which he held as adviser to
the commissioners attending on the motions at the
camp, and the duties he was called on to perform at
the treaty of Ripon and London; and observing, that
it has been considered necessar)' that others so em-
ployed should have their conduct publicly examined
in parliament, he craves that all requisite inquiry
may immediately be made as to his own proceedings;
that, if he has done anything " contrair to their in-
structions, or prejudiciall to the publict, he may
undergoe that censure which the wrongers of the
countrey and abusers of such great tmst deserves;"
but if it has been found that he has done his duty,
"then," he says, "doe I in all humility begg that,
seing by God's assistance and blessing the treattie of
peace is closed, and seeing my employment in thir
publict business is now at an end, that before I re-
turne to my private alTaires and calling, from the
which these four yeires I have been continually dis-
tracted, I may obtaine from his gracious majesty and
your lordships an exoneration of that charge, and
an approbation of my former carriage." The ex-
oneration was granted, and the act ratifying it stated,
that after due examination, the estates found that
Johnston had "faithfullie, dlliegentlie, and cairfullie
behaved himselff in the foresaid chairge, employ-
ments, and trust put upon him, in all the passages
thairof, as he justly deserves thair treu testimonie of
his approven fidelitie and diligence."''

In 1641, when the king paid his pacificatory visit
to Scotland, Johnston obtained, among others, a
liberal peace-offering. He had fixed his eyes on the
office of lord-register, probably as bearing an affinity
to his previous occupations; but the superior influ-

ence of Gibson of Durie prevailed in competition for
that situation; he received, however, the commission
of an ordinary lord of session, along with a liberal
pension, and the honours of knighthood. During
the sitting of the parliament we find him appointed
as a commissioner, to treat with the king on the sup-
plementary matters which were not concluded at the
treaty of Ripon, and to obtain the royal consent to
the acts passed during the session. ^luch about the
same period he was appointed, along with others, to
make search among the records contained in the
castle, for points of accusation against the "incen-
diaries;" the persons whom he and his colleagues
had just displaced in the offices of state and judica-
ture. It may be sufficient, and will save repetition,
to mention that we find him appointed in the same
capacity which we have already mentioned, in the
recommissions of the committee of estates, and in
the other committees chosen to negotiate with the
king, similar to those we have already described,
among which may be noticed the somewhat menac-
ing committee of 1641, appointed to treat as to com-
merce, the naturalization of subjects, the demands as
to war with foreigners, the Irish rebellion, and par-
ticularly as to "the brotherlie supplie and assist-
ance" of the English parliament to the Scottish
army. ^

In the parliament of 1643 Sir Archibald Johnston
represented the county of Edinburgh, and was ap-
pointed to the novel situation of speaker to the
barons, as a separate estate. In this capacity, on
the 7th of June, 1644, he moved the house to take
order concerning the "unnatural rebellion" of Mon-
trose,* and somewhat in the manner of an impeach-
ment he moved a remonstrance against the Earl of
Carnwath, followed by a commission to make trial
of his conduct, along with that of Traquair, of which
Johnston was a member." During the period when,
as a matter of policy, the Scots in general suspended
their judgment between the contending parties in
England, ^Yarriston seems early to have felt, and not
to ha^e concealed, a predilection for the cause of the
parliament, and was the person who moved that the
General Assembly should throw the weight of their
opinion into that scale. ^

Johnston had been named as one of the commis-
sioners, chosen on the 9th August, 1643, for the
alleged purpose of mediating betwixt Charles I. and
his parliament ; but Charles, viewing him as a
dangerous opponent, objected to providing him with
a safe-conduct, and he appears to have remained in

' Act. Pari. V. 311.
s Balf. .<4n. ii. 416.

^ Ba' four's An. ii. 408.
* Aci. Pari. v. 414.

' Act. Pari. V. 357, 371, 372, 489, S:c.

^ Balfour's Annals, iii. 177. / Act. Pari. vi. 6, 3.

' A curious evidence of his opinions, and the motives of his
political conduct at this period, exists, in the form of some
remarks on the aspect of the times, which appear to have been
addressed to his friend Lord Loudon. The manuscript is in
scroll, verj' irregularly written, and with numerous corrections;
circumstances which will account for any unintelligibility in
the portion we extract. It bears date the 21st of June, 1642.
"Seeing thir kingdoms most stand and fall together, and that
at the first design in all thir late troubles, so the last effort of
thes evil counsels prevailing stil to the suppression of religion
and liberty and the erection of poperj-e and arbitrary power,
it is eamestlye desyrd by good Christians and patriots that the
question of the warr be right stated, as a warr for religion and
libertie, against papists and prelates, and their abackers and
adherents; and that now, in thair straits and difficulties, they
might enter in a covenant with God and amongst themselves,
for the reformation of the churche, abolishing of popery and
prelacy out of England and Scotland, and preser^'ation of the
roule and peace of thir kyngdoms, q'' without dimunition of
his majesty's authorities, might not only free them of fears
from this, bot also fill them with hopes of their bearing alongst
with their proceedings the hearts and confidence of thir king-
doms. Pitmaylie may remember weal what of this kynd was
motioned at Rippon, and spoken of agayne, when the English
armye was reported to be comyng up." — Wodrow's Papers,
Ad. Lib. voL Ixvi.

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON.

401

Edinburgh. He, however, conducted a correspond-
ence with the commissioners who repaired to London,
as a ])ortion of which, the subjoined letter to liim
from the Earl of Loudon, which throws some hght
01. the policy of the Scots at that juncture, may be
interesting.^

We find Johnston sent to London on the 4th of
July, 1644, but it is probable that, before that time,
he had managed to visit England without the cere-
monial of a safe-guard from the falling monarch; and
on the 9th of January, 1645, we find him along with
Mr. Robert Barclay, "tuo of our commissioners
lattlie returned from London," reporting the pro-
gress of their proceedings to the house." The pro-
ceedings of this commission, and of the assembly of

1 "My Lord, — The sending of commissioners from the par-
liament here to the parliament of Scotland at this tyme was
upon the sudden moved in the House of Commons ybefoir wee
wer acquainted thereof by the solicitor, and seconded by
some who profes to be o' freinds, as a greater testimonie of
respect than the sending of a letter alone, and was in that
sens approved by the whole hous, who, I believe, does it for no
other end, neither is ther any other instructions given by the
house than these, whereof the copy is sent to you, which ar
only generall for a good correspondence betwixt the two king-
domes. Bot I cannot forbear to tell you my apprehensiones,
that the intention and designs of some particular persons in
sending down at this tyme, and in such a juncture of affaires
(when ther is so great rumor of division and factiones in Scot-
land\ is by them to learne the posture of business ther in the
pari', assemblies, and kingdome, that they may receave privat
information from them, and make ther applicationes and uses
thereof accordinglie. That which confirms this opinion to me
the more, is, that the sending of these persones to Scotland
was moved and seconded by such as profes themselves to be
o' freinds w'out giveing us any notice thereof till it was done ;
and the day before it was motioned, they and yo' old friend
Sir Henrj' Vaine, younger, wer at a consultation together, and
yo' loP : knowes how much power Sir Henrie Vain hes with
Sir W" Armyne and Mr. BowUs.* Sir William Armyne is a
ver>' honest gentleman, but Mr. BowUs is very deser\-ing, and
doubtless is sent , thoghe not of intention of the p.arl') as a spy
to give privat intelligence to some who are jealous and curious
to understand how all affairs goe in Scotland. Thomsone I
hear is a Independent, and (if he goe not away before I can
meitt with some freinds! I shall c'trjT.'e that there may be a
snare laid in his galtt to stay his journey; they wold be used
with all civilitie when they come, bot yo' loP : and others wold
be verie wane and circomspect in all yo"' proceedings and deall-
ings w' them; seeing the hous of pari' and all such heir as
desyres a happie and weell-grounded peace, or a short and
prosperous warre, ar desyrous that the Scottish armie advance
southward 'although I dare not presume to give any positive
judgment without presyse knowledge of the condition and
posture of o' own kingdom\ I cannot see any human means
so probable and lyklie to setle religion and peace, and make
o' nation the more considerable, as the advancing of o' armie
southward if the turbulent comotions and rud distractions of
Scotland may permitt, nor is it possible that so great an armie
can be longer entert.ained by the northern counties, so barren
and much waisted with armies; nor can it be e.\pected that the
parU of England can be at so great charge as the entertain-
ment of that armie if they did reallie intertain them', unless
they be more useful for the caus and publick ser\'ice of both
kingdomes than to lye still in thes northern counties, being
now reduced, and the king to vexe the south with forces
equall to theirs; bot there needs not arguments to prove this
poynt, unless that base crewe of Irish rebells and their perfidi-
ous confederates, and the unnatural factions of o" countrymen
forgetting o' covenant, ar grown to such a bight of mischeef
and misery-, as to make such a rent at home as to disable us
to assist o' freinds, and prosecute that cause which I am con-
fident God will Carrie on and perfyte against all oppositione;
and in confidence thereof I sh.all encourage myselfe, and rejoyce
under hope, althoghe I should never sie the end of itt. I be-
seache you to haist back this bearer, and let me know with
him the condition of affairs in Scotland; how o' good freinds
are, and how soon we may expect yo' retume hither, or if I
must come to you befoir ye come to us. I referr the Marquiss
of Argj-le and my Lord Balmerinoch, and other freinds to you
for intelligence, to spair paines and supply the want of leasure;
and will say noe more at this tyme, bot that I am your most
affectionate and faithful! friend, Loudoune." — Wodrow's .1/.?.
Collection, vol. Ixvi. The letter is dated from Worcester
House, January' 6, 1644.

- Balf. Ati. iii. 204, 248.

* The English commissioners were — the Earl of Rutland,
Sir William Armyne, Sir Henry Vane (younger), Thomas
Thatcher, and Henry Damly.
VOL. II.

divines at Westminster, with which Warriston had
a distinguished connection, may be passed over as
matters of general history. Warned, probably, by
the cautious intimations of the letter we have just
quoted, Johnston was the constant attendant of the
English commissioners on their progress to Scotland,
and was the person who moved their business in the
house. ^ On the death of .Sir Thomas Hope, in 1646,
Johnston had the influence to succeed him as lord-
advocate, an office for which he seems to have adapted
himself by his numerous motions against malig-
nants. With a firm adherence to his previous poli-
tical conduct, Johnston refused accession to the well-
known engagement which the Duke of Hamilton
conducted as a last effort in behalf of the unfortunate
monarch.

On the loth of Januarj', 1649, the Marquis of
Argyle delivered a speech, " wich he called the breck-
ing of the malignants' teith, and that he quho was to
speake after him (viz. Warriston) wolde brecke ther
jawes. " Argyle found the teeth to be five, which
he smashed one by one: — "His first was against the
ingagers being statesmen, and intrusted with great
places, quho had broken their trust. 2. Against
the engagers' committee-men, quho by ther tyranny
had opprest the subjects. 3. Against declared
malignants, fonnerlye fyned in parliament, or re-
mitted, and now agayne relapsed. 4. Against thesse
that wer eager promotters of the laitt ingagement
with England. 5. Against suche as had petitioned
for the advancement of the levey." After these were
demolished, Johnston commenced his attack on the
toothless jaws; he "read a speache two houres in
lenthe off his papers, being ane explanatione of
Arg)'le's five heads, or teith, as he named them;
with the anssuering of such objects he thought the
pryme ingagers wolde make in their awen defence
against the housse now convened, wich they did not
acnouledge to be a lawfull parliament."*

On the 6th of January, the imminent danger of the
king prompted the choosing a committee to act for
his safety under instructions. The instructions were
fourteen ; and the most remarkable and essential was,
that a protest should be taken against any sentence
pronounced against the king. " That this kingdome
may be free of all the dessolatione, miser)', and blood-
shed, that incertablie will follow thereupone, with-
out offering in your ressone, that princes ar eximed
from triall of justice.'" This was by no means in
opposition to the principles which Johnston had pre-
viously professed, but his mind appears to have been
finally settled into a deep opposition to all monarchy.
Along with Argyle he distinguished himself in op-
posing the instructions by a method not honourable
to their memory — a proposition that the measure
should be delayed for a few days to permit a fast to
be held in the interim. One of the last of his minis-
terial acts as lord-advocate was the proclamation of
Charles II. on the 5th of Februaiy, 1649; and he
was, on the lOth of March in the same year, ap-
pointed to his long-looked-for post of lord-register,
in place of Gibson of Dune, superseded by the act
of classes. At the battle of Dunbar in 1650 he was
one of the committee of the estates appointed to
superintend the militarj' motions of Leslie, and was
urgent in pressing the measure which is reputed to
have lost the day to the Scots. He was naturally
accused of treacher}', but the charge has not been
supported. "Waristoun," says Burnet, "was too
hot, and Lesley was too cold, and yielded too easily
to their humours, which he ought not to have done;"*

' Balf. An. iii. 262
6 Ibid. 384.

* Ibid. •577.
6 Burnet, 81

402

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON.

and the mistake may be attributed to the obstinacy
of those who, great in the cabinet and conventicle,
thought they must be equally great in war.

Warriston was among the few persons who in the
committee of estates refused to accede to the treaty
of Charles II. at Hreda; an act of stubborn con-
sistency which, joined to others of a like nature,
sealed his doom in the royal heart. After the battle
of Dunbar, the repeal of the act of classes, which
was found necessary as a means of re-constructing
the army, again called forth his jaw-breaking powers.
He wrote "a most solid letter" on the subject to the
meeting held at St. Andrews, July i8, 1651, which
appears never to have been read, but which has been
preserved by the careful Wodrow,' for the benefit
of posterity. He wrote several short treatises on
The Sinfulness of Joining Malignants, assailing their
arguments in a very considerate and logical manner.
One of these is extant, and lays down its aim as
follows:

"The first question concerning the sinfulness of
the publick resolutions hath bene handled in a former
tractat. The other question remaines, anent y'' sin-
fulness and unlawfulness of the concurrence of par-
ticular persons." The question is proposed in the
following terms: — "viz', when God's covenanted
people intrusts God's covenanted interest to the
power of God's anti-covenanted enemies, though
upon pretence to fight against ane other anti-cove-
nanted enemy — whether a conscienscious covenanter
can lawfullie concurre with such a partie in such a
cause, or may lawfullie abstane, and rather give
testimonie by suffering against both parties and
causes, as sinfull and prejudicial! to God's honour
and interest. It is presupposed a dutie to oppose
the common enemie. The question is anent the
meanes of resisting the unjust invader."

"Three things premitted. i. The clearing of
terms. 2. Some distinctions. 3. Some conjunctions
handled. "^ The postulates are, perhaps, rather too
sweeping for general opinion, but, presuming them
to be granted, the reasonings of this lay divine
are certainly sufficiently logical within their narrow
space, and may have appeared as mathematical de-
monstrations to those who admitted the deep sin
of accepting assistance from opponents in religious
opinion. This resistance appears, however, to have
been of a negative nature, and not to have extended
to the full extremity of the remonstrance of the
west; at least when called on for an explanation by
tile committee of estates, he declined owning con-
nection with it : " Warreston did grant that he did
see it, was at the voting of it, but refussed to give
his votte therin. He denayed that he wes acces-
sorey to the contriving of it at first.'"*

After this period he a[ipears to have been for some
time sick of the fierce politics in which he had been
so long engaged, and to have retired himself into the
bosom of a large family. He is accused by a con-
temporary— not of much credit — of peculation, in
having accepted sums of money for the disposal of
offices under him; and the same person in the same
page states the improbable circumstance of his hav-
ing restored the money so gained, on all the offices
being abolished by Cromwell, and that he was not
affluent, having "conquest no lands but Warriston,''
of the avail of looo merks Scots a year, where he
now lives freed of trouble of state or country. "■'

He was a member of the committee of protestors

' Wodrow's Collection, Ad. Lib. xxxii. 5, 15.

2 Ibid. 16. 3 jj^^if ^„ iy jgg. Scots Worthies, 275.

* A small estate so near Edinburgh as to be now encroached
upon by its suburbs.

* Scot of Scotstarvet's Sta^. State, 127.

who, in 1657, proceeded to London to lay their com-
plaints before the government. Cromwell knew the
value of the man he had before him, and persuaded
him to try the path of ambition under the new govern-
ment. Wodrow and others have found it convenient
to palliate his departure from the adherence to
royalty as an act for which it was necessary to find
apologies in strong calls of interest and facility of
temper. It will, however, almost require a belief
in all the mysteries of divine right to discover why
Warriston should have adhered to royalty without
power, and how the opinions he always professed
should have made him prefer a factious sup]iort of
an absent prince to the service of a powerful leader,
his early friend and coadjutor in opposing hereditary
loyalty.

On the 9th of July, 1657, he was re-appointed
clerk-register, and on the 3d of November in the
same year he was named as one of the commis-
sioners for the administration of justice in Scotland.'
Cromwell created Johnston a peer, and he sat in the
protector's upper house with the title of Lord War-
riston, occupying a station more brilliant, but not
so exalted as those he had previously filled. After
the death of Cromwell, Warriston displayed his
strong opposition to the return of royalty, by acting
as president of the committee of safety under Richard
Cromwell. Knowing himself to be marked out for
destruction, he fled at the Restoration to P'rance.
It is painful, after viewing a life spent with honour
and courage in the highest trusts, to trace this great
man's life to an end which casts a blot on the times
and on the human race. He was charged to appear
before the Estates; and having been outlawed in the
usual form, on the loth October, 1661, a reward of
5000 merks was offered for his apprehension. By
a fiction of law, the most horrible which a weak
government ever invented for protection against
powerful subjects — but which, it must be acknow-
ledged, was put in force by Warriston and his con-
federates against Montrose — an act of forfeiture in ab-
sence was passed against him, and he was condemned
to death on the 15th of May, 1661. The principal
and avowed articles of accusation against him were,
his official prosecution of the royalists, and particu-
larly of Gordon of Newton, his connection with the
Remonstrance, his sitting in parliament as a peer of
England, and his accepting office under Cronnvell.

It was necessary that the victim of judicial ven-
geance should be accused of acts which the law
knows as crimes; and acts to which the best pro-
tectors of Charles II. 's throne were accessory were
urged against this man. For the hidden causes of
his prosecution we must, however, look to his ambi-
tion, the influence of his worth and talents, and the
unbending consistency of his political principles;
causes to which Wodrow has added his too ungra-
cious censure of regal vice.

In the meantime Johnston had been lurking in
Germany and the Low Countries, from which, un-
fortunately for himself, he proceeded to P" ranee. A
confidant termeil "Major Johnston" is supposed to
have discovered his retreat; and a spy of the name
of Alexander Murray, commonly called "Crooked
Murray," was employed to hunt him out. This in-
dividual, narrowly watching the motions of Lady
Warriston, discovered his dwelling in Rouen, and
with consent of the council of France he was brought
prisoner to England, and lodged in the Tower on the
8th of June, 1663; thence he was brought to Edin-
burgh, not for the purpose of being tried, but to
suffer execution of the sentence passed on him in

^ Haig and Brunton's Hist. College 0/ Justice, 308.

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON ARTHUR JOHNSTON.

403

absence. When presented to parliament to receive
sentence, it was apparent that a<^e, hardship, and
danger had done their work effectually on his iron
nerves; and the intrepid advocate of the covenant
exhibited the mental imbecility of an idiot. His
friends accused Dr. Bates of havinjj administered to
him deleterious drugs, and weakened him by bleed-
ing ; an improbable act, which would have only
raised unnecessary indignation against those who
already had him sufficiently in their power. The
apostate Sharpe and his other enemies are said to
have ridiculed the sick lion;* but there were at least
a few of his opponents not too hardened to pity the
wreck of a great intellect before them.

Probably affected by the circumstances of his situa-
tion, some of the members showed an anxiety for a
little delay; but Lauderdale, who had received im-
perative instructions regarding him, fiercely opposed
the proposition. He was sentenced to be hanged at
the cross of Edinburgh on the 22d of July, his head
being to be severed from his body, and placed beside
that of his departed brother in the cause, Guthrie.
Of the mournful pageant we extract the following
characteristic account from Wodrow: —

"The day of his execution, a high gallows or
gibbet was set up at the cross, and a scaffold made
by it. About two o'clock he was taken from prison;
many of his friends attended him in mourning. When
he came out he was full of holy cheerfulness and
courage, and in as perfect serenity and composure
of mind as ever he was. Upon the scaffold he ac-
knowledged his compliance with the English, and
cleared himself of the least share of the king's death.
He read his speech with an audible voice, first at
the north side and then at the south side of the scaffold:
he prayed next, with the greatest liberty, fervour,
and sense of his own unworthiness, frequently using
the foresaid expression. After he had taken his
leave of his friends, he prayed again in a perfect
rapture, being now near the end of that sweet work
he had been so much emj^loyed about through his
life, and felt so much sweetness in. Then the napkin
being tied upon his head, he tried how it would fit
him, and come down and cover his face, and directed
to the method how it should be brought down when
he gave the sign. When he was got to the top of
the ladder, to which he was helped because of bodily
weakness, he cried with a loud voice, ' I beseech you
all who are the people of God, not to scar [be scared]
at sufferings for the interests of Christ, or stumble at
anything of this kind falling out in those days; but
be encouraged to suffer for him; for I assure you, in

1 One of these was M'Kenzie, who, with uncharitable and
improbable inferences, draws the following graphic picture
of the scene: — " He was brought up the street discovered [un-
covered] ; and being brought into the council-house of Edin-
burgh, where the chancellor and others waited to examine
him, he fell upon his face roaring, and with tears entreated
they would pity a poor creature who had forgot all that was
in his Bible. This moved all the spectators with a deep melan-
choly; and the chancellor, reflecting upon the man's former
esteem, and the great share he had in all the late revolutions,
could not deny some tears to the frailty of silly mankind. At
his examination he pretended that he had lost so much blood
by the unskilfulness of his chirurgeons, that he lost his memory
with his blood; and I really believe that his courage had indeed
been drawn out with it. Within a few days he was brought
before the parliament, where he discovered nothing but much
weakness, running up and down upon his knees begging mercy.
But the parliament ordained his former sentence to be put into
execution, and accordingly he was executed at the cross of
Edinburgh. At his execution he showed more composure than
formerly, which his friends ascribed to God's miraculous kind-
ness for him, but others thought that he had only formerly put
on this disguise of madness to escape death in it, and that, find-
mg the mask useless, he had returned, not to his wit, which he
had lost, but from his madness, which he had counterfeited."
— Sir G. M'Kenzie's ^««rt/j, 134.

the name of the Lord, he will bear your charges.'
This he repeated again with great fervour while the
rope was tying about his neck, adding, 'The Lord
hath graciously comforted me.' Then he asked the
executioner if he was ready to do his office, who an-
swering he was, he bid him do it, and crying out,
'O pray, pray! praise, praise!' was turned over, and
died almost without a struggle, with his hands lift
up to heaven. "-

The same partial hand has thus drawn his char-
acter: "My Lord Warriston was a man of great
learning and eloquence; of very much wisdom, and
extraordinary zeal for the public cause of religion
and reformation, in which he was a chief actor; but
above all, he was extraordinary in piety and devotion,
as to which he had scarce any equal in the age he
lived in. One who was his intimate acquaintance
says, he spent more time, notwithstanding the great
throng of public business upon his hand, in prayer,
meditation, and close observation of providences, and
self-examination, than ever he knew or heard of: and
as he was very diligent in making observations on the
Lord's way, so he was visited with extraordinary
discoveries of the Lord's mind, and very remarkable
providences. Lie wrote a large diary, which yet re-
mains in the hands of his relations; an invaluable
treasure of Christian experiences and observations;
and, as I am told by one who had the happiness to see
some part of it, there is mixed in sometimes matters
of fact very little known now, which would bring a
great deal of light to the history of Scots affairs in
that period wherein he lived." ^

But his nephew, Burnet, has, in his usual charac-
teristic manner, drawn a more happy picture of the
stubborn statesman and hardy zealot, too vivid to be
neglected: " Warristoun was my own uncle; he was
a man of great application, could seldom sleep above
three hours in the twenty-four: he had studied the
law carefully, and had a great quickness of thought,
with an extraordinary memory. Lie went into very
high notions of lengthened devotions, in which he
continued many hours a-day: he would often pray
in his family two hours at a time, and had an unex-
hausted copiousness that way. WHiat thought soever
struck his fancy during these effusions, he looked on
it as an answer of prayer, and was wholly determined
by it. He looked on the covenant as the setting
Christ on his throne, and so was out of measure zealous
in it. He had no regard to the raising himself or
his family, though he had thirteen children; but pro-
sperity was to him more than all the world. He
had a readiness and vehemence of speaking that
made him very considerable in public assemblies ;
and he had a fruitful invention; so that he was at all
times furnished with expedients.''

JOHNSTON, Dr. Arthur, a poet and physician,
was born in tlie year 1587, at Caskieben, the seat of
his family, a few miles from Aberdeen. He was the
fifth son of George Johnston of that ilk and of Cas-
kieben, the chief of the family of Johnston, by Chris-
tian Forbes, daughter of William, seventh Baron
Forbes. He appears to have been named after his
uncle the Honourable William Forbes of Logic, who
was killed at Paris in the year 1574.* This poet,
whose chief characteristic was the elegance with
which he expressed his own simjile feelings as a poet,
in the language appropriate to the customs and feel-
ings of a past nation, has left in his Epigramviaia
an address to his native spot; and, although Caskie-

^ Wpdrcnu, i. 385.

' H'odrmv, i. 361. Much search has lately been made for
this interesting document, but without success.

* Johnston's History 0/ the I'amily of "Johnston, 36.

404

ARTHUR JOHNSTON.

ben is a piece of ven,' ordinary Scottish scenen", it is
surprising how much he has made of it by the mere
force of his own early associations. With the min-
uteness of an enthusiast, he does not omit the cir-
cumstance, that the hill of Henochie, a conical eleva-
tion about eight miles distant, casts its shadow over
Caskieben at the periods of the equinox. As we
shall be able, by giving this epigram, to unite a
specimenof the happiest original efforts of the author's
genius with circumstances personally connected with
his histor)', we beg leave to extract it: —

j'Emula Thessalicis en hie Jonstonia Tempe,

Hospes ! hyperboreo fusa sub axe vides.
Mille per ambages nitidis argenteus undis,

Hie trepidat la;tos Uriiis inter a.^os.
Explicat hie seras ingens Bennachius umbras,

Nox ubi libratur lance diesque pari.
Gemmifer est amnis, radiat mons ipse lapil is,

Queis nihil Eous purius orbis habet.
Hie pandit natura sinum, nativaque surgens

Purpura felicem sub pede ditat humum.
Aera per liquidum volucres, in flumine pisees,

Adspicis in pratis luxuriare pecus.
Hie seges est, hie poma rubent, onerantur aristis

Ar\-a, suas aegre sustinet arbor opes.
Propter aquas arx est, ipsi eontermina coelo,

Auetoris menti non tamen sequa sui.
Imperat haee arvis et vectigalibus undis,

Et famula stadiis distat ab urbe tribus.
Haee mihi terra parens: gens has Jonstonia lymphas,

Ari-aque per eentum missa tuetur avos.
Clara ^Iaronasis ev.asit Mantua cunis;

Me mea natalis nobilitabit humus.

TR.^NSLATION.

Here, traveller, a vale behold
As fair as Tempe, famed of old.

Beneath the northern sky !
Here Urie, with her silver waves.
Her banks, in verdure smiling, laves,

And winding wimples by.

Here, towering high, Bennaehie spreads
Around on all his evening shades.

When twilight gray comes oh :
With sparkling gems the river glows ;
As precious stones the mountain shows

As in the East are known.

Here nature spreads a bosom sweet.
And native dyes beneath the feet

Bedeck the joyous ground :
Sport in the liquid air the birds.
And fishes in the stream ; the herds

In meadows wanton round.

Here ample barn-yards still are stored
With relics of last autumn's hoard

And firstlings of this year ;
There waving fields of yellow com,
And ruddy apples, that adorn

The bending boughs, appear.
Beside the stream, a castle proud
Rises amid the passing cloud.

And rules a wide domain
(Unequal to its lord's desert :
A village near with lowlier art,

Is built upon the plain.
Here was I bom ; o'er all the land
Around the Johnstons bear command,

Of high and ancient line:
Mantua acquired a noted name
As Virgil's birth-pl.ace ; I my fame

Inherit shall from mine.

Tn a similar spirit he has left an epigram on the
small burgh of Inverury, in the neighbourhood of
Caskieben, in which he does not omit the circum-
stance, that the fuel of the inhabitants (vulgo, the
jjeats) comes from the land in which he was born.
A similar epigram to another neighbouring burgh,
the royal burgh of Kintore, now holding the rank of
a very small village, infomis us that at the grammar-
school of that place he commenced the classical
studies which afterwards acquired for him so much
eminence:

"Hie ego sum memini musarum factus alumnus,
Et tiro didici verba Latina loqui."

After leaving this humble seat of learning, he is
said to have studied at Marischal College in Aberdeen;
a circumstance extremely probable, but which seems
to have no other direct foundation than the conjec-
ture of Benson, from the vicinity of his paternal
estate to that institution, and his having been after-
wards elected rector of the university, an honour
generally bestowed on illustrious alumni.*

Johnston, intending to study medicine, a science
which It would have been in vain at that period to
have attempted in Scotland, proceeded to Rome, and
afterwards to Padua, where he seems to have acquired
some celebrity for the beauty of his earlier Latin
poems, and took the degree of Doctor in Medicine.^
He afterwards travelled through Germany, Holland,
and Denmark, and finally fixed his abode in France.
If he remained for a considerable period at Padua,
he must have early finished his curriculum of study
at Aberdeen, as he is said by Sir Thomas Urquhart
to have been laureated a poet in Paris at the age of ■
twenty-three.

He remained for twenty years in France, a period
during which he was twice manied, to ladies whose
names are unknown, but who bore him thirteen
children to transmit his name to posterity. On his
return to Britain, about the year 1632, probably at
the recommendation of Laud, who was his friend, and
had commenced the career of court influence, John-
ston was appointed physician to Charles L, a circum-
stance which must have preceded or immediately
followed his arrival, as he styles himself in the first
edition of his Parcrga and Epigranunata, published
at Aberdeen in 1632, "Medicus Regius." The
Farerga consists, as its name may designate, of a
variety of small pieces of poetrj', which cannot be
conveniently classed under a more distinct name.
A few are satirical, but the lyrical (if they may be
said to come correctly under that designation) form the
most interesting portion. Johnston seldom indulges
in the metaphoric brilliancy which characterized the
native writers in the language which he chose to
use; but he has a considerable portion of their ele-
gance, while much of the poetrj' is founded on asso-
ciation and domestic feeling, of which he has some
exquisitely beautiful traits, which would have been
extremely pleasing had he used his vernacular tongue.
He is said to have wished to imitate Virgil; but
those who have elevated Buchanan to the title of
the "Scottish Virgil," have designated Johnston the
"Scottish Ovid;" a characteristic which may apply
to the versification of his Psalms, but is far from
giving a correct idea of the spirit of his original
pieces.

Benson mentions, that Johnston was a litigant in
the Court of Session in Edinburgh at the period of
his return to Britain; and probably the issue of his
suit may account for a rather unceremonious attack
in the J'an-rga on advocates and agents, unblushingly
addressed "Ad duos rabulas forenses, Advocatum et
Procuratorem," of whom, without any respect for
the College of Justice, the author says,

" Magna minorque ferse, quarum p.-iris altera lites;
Altera dispensas, utraque digna mori," &c.

On approaching the period when Johnston pub-
lished his translation of the Psalms of David, we
cannot help being struck with the circumstances
under which he appears to have formed the design.
Dr. Eaglesham had, in the year 1620, published a
criticism of considerable length, for the purpose of

' Benson's "Life" prefixed to Johnston's Psalms, vi.

'^ "Quod ex carmine manuscripto in Advocatorum Biblio-
theca, Edinburgi servato, intelligimus." The circumstance
is mentioned in Sir Robert Sibbald's Bibliograpkia Scotica,
which though not a "carmen," may be the MS. referred to.

ARTHUR JOHNSTON CHRISTIAN ISOEEL JOHNSTONE.

proving that the public voice had 6rred in the merit
it allowed to Buchanan's version of the Psalms, and
modestly displaying a translation of Psalm civ.,
of his own workmanship, between which and the
psalms of Buchanan he challenged a comparison.*
Dr. William Barclay penned a critical answer to this
challenge,- and Johnston made a fierce stroke at the
offender, in a satirical article in the PiD-erga, which
he calls "Consilium Collegii Medici Parisiensis de
Mania Hypermori Medicastri," commencing
" Qus Buchananaeis medicaster crimina musis
Objicit, et quo se jactat inane melos :
Vidimus : et quotquot tractamus Paeonis artes,
Hie vates, uno dLvimus ore, furit," &c.
Johnston, however, did not consider himself in-
capacitated to perform a work in which another had
lliiled, and he, probably at that period, formed the
resolution of writing a version of the Psalms, which
he afterwards produced under the auspices, and with
the advice, of his friend Laud, which he published at
London and Aberdeen in 1637. No man ever com-
mitted a more impradent act for his own fame; as
he was doomed by the nature of his task, not only to
equal, but to excel, one of the greatest poets in the
world. His fame was not increased by the proceed-
ings of his eccentric countryman Lauder, who many
years afterwards endeavoured with a curious pertina-
city to raise the fame of Johnston's version far above
that of Buchanan. _ Mr. Auditor Benson, a man
better known for his benevolence than his acuteness,
was made the trumpet of Johnston's fame. This
gentleman published three editions of Johnston's
psalms; one of which, printed in 1741, and dedicated
to Prince George, afterwards George III., is orna-
mented with a very fine portrait of the poet by
Vertue after Jamesone, and is amply illustrated with
notes. The zealous editor received as his reward
from the literary world, a couplet in the Diiiiciad, in
which, in allusion to his having procured the erection
of the monument to the memory of Milton in West-
minster Abbey, it is said,

"On two unequal crutches propt he came,
Milton's on this, on that one Johnston's name."
A late writer, considerably versed in classical and
biblical criticism — Mr. Tennant^finds, that even
after the luxuriant fervidness of Buchanan, there is
much to admire in the calm tastefulness and religious
feeling of Johnston, and that the work of the latter
is not only a more faithful translation, but given in
a manner better suited (in his opinion) to the strains
of the holy minstrel, than that followed by the fier>'
genius of Buchanan, when restricted to translation.
"He is not," remarks this author, "tempted like
Buchanan, by his luxuriance of phraseology, and by
the necessity of filling up, by some means or other,
metrical stanzas of prescribed and inexorable length,
to expatiate from the psalmist's simplicity, and
weaken, by circumlocution, what he must needs beat
out and expand. His diction is therefore more firm
and nervous, and, though not absolutely Hebrxan,
makes a nearer approach to the unadorned energ)-
of Jewry. Accordingly, all the sublime passages
are read with more touching effect in his than in
Buchanan's translation: he has many beautiful and
even powerful lines, such as can scarce be matched
by his more popular competitor; the style of John-
ston possessing somewhat of Ovidian ease, accom-
panied with strength and simplicity, while the tragic
pomp and worldly parade of Seneca and Prudentius
are more affected by Buchanan."^

' EgHsemii Certamen cum Georgio Buchanano pro Dignitate
Paraphraseos Psalmi civ. London, 1620.

^ Barclaii Judicium de Certamine Eglisemii cum Buchanano
pro Dignitate Paraphraseos Psalmi civ.

" Ed. Lit. Journal, iii. 2S9.

405

Let us conclude this subject with remarking the
peculiar circumstance, that while Scotland has pro-
duced two Latin versions of the psalms, rivals in ex-
cellence, the talent of the whole nation has been
unable to produce any English version which can be
considered as their equal in point of versification.
In 1641 Johnston died at Oxford, where he had gone
on a visit to a daughter married to a divine of the
Church of England. Besides the works already
mentioned, he wrote Mustr AuIUct, addressed to his
eminent contemporaries, translated Solomon's Song,
the Creed, and the Lord's Prayer, and edited the
Deliticc Podanim Scotoriim, in which he introduced
not a few of his own productions. His works were
published at Middleburg, in 1642, by his friend
Scott of Scotstarvet. The representatives of his
family are Sir William Johnston of Hilton in Aber-
deenshire, and Mr. Johnston of Viewfield in the
same county.

The brother of the poet was a man of some local
celebrity; he was Dr. William Johnston, professor
of mathematics in the Marischal College of Aberdeen.
"He was," says Wodrow, "ane learned and expe-
rienced physitian. He wrote on the mathematics.
His skill in the Latin was truly Ciceronian."''

JOHNSTOISrE, Mrs. Christi.w Isobel. This
talented literaiy lady and popular novelist was bom
in Fifeshire in 1781. When verj' young she mar-
ried a Mr. M'Leish, whom she was afterwards com-
pelled to divorce. Her second and last husband
was Mr. John Johnstone, schoolmaster at Dunferm-
line, to whom she was married about the year 181 2.
Having removed to Inverness, where Mr. Johnstone
purchased the Iiivcrtias Courier, of which he also
became editor, the literaiy talents of his wife so
effectually aided him, that the paper soon acquired
a character superior to that of most of our provincial
journals. While residing in Inverness she also
wrote Clan Albyn, a A'ational Tale, which was pub-
lished anonymously at Edinburgh in 181 5, and ob-
tained great popularity. Sir Walter Scott's novels
were already bringing Scotland into vogue, and
several writers were throwing themselves into the
popular current; but of all the followers of the
"Great Unknowm," none was received with greater
favour than Airs. Johnstone. Although the memory
of Clan Albyn is now extingxiished in the public
mind by the myriads of novels which have succeeded
it, the recollections of the vigorous sketches in that
work both of Highland and Lowland characters and
scenery, and those of the disasters of Sir John
Moore's campaign in Spain, are still fresh among
many whose lives commenced with the present cen-
tury. Having sold the Inverness Courier, IMrs.
Johnstone removed with her husband to Edinburgh,
where she was engaged by Mr. Blackwood the pub-
lisher to write another novel : in consequence she
produced her Elizabeth de Bruce, a tale of which the
locality and events are partly of Scottish and partly
of Irish character. It was published in 1827, but
although superior to Clan Albyn, it scarcely obtained
the same popularity. Either the standard of the
author of Waverley was too high, or his imitators too
numerous, to insure success in such a kind of com-
petition. It is only justice, however, to Mrs. John-
stone to add, that while the usual impression of
a three-volumed novel was 500 copies, the pub-
lisher printed 2000 of Elizabeth de Bruce, and that
of these about 1200 or 1400 copies were sold at the
regular price.

* Cntnldgiics of Scottish Writers, published by Jlr. Maid-
ment, Edinburgh, 1833, p. 114.

4o6

CHRISTIAN ISOBEL JOHNSTONE.

Mrs. Johnstone and her husband being now com-
mitted to literature, embarked in it with hearty and
mutual zeal ; the latter opened a printing-office in
St. James' Square, and ^Ir. Blackwood and Mr.
Johnstone having purchased the copyright of the
Edinburgh WWkly Chronicle, the printer and his
talented wife became the joint editors of the news-
paper. But while their views in politics were those
of the liberal party, Mr. Blackwood was heart and
soul with the Tories, which made a lasting co-pro-
prietorship impossible ; and in consequence of this
incompatibility of temper, the union was dissolved,
and the Chronicle sold. The Johnstones now threw
themselves into other literary undertakings, the
chief of which was the periodical called The School-
master, supposed to have been the earliest series of
our cheap literature in Edinburgh, the plan of which
was first suggested by Mrs. Johnstone, and after-
wards matured by her husband. As it was the
first, it was also one of the best, of our Edinburgh
cheap and popular literature, as none of its followers
can be said to have surpassed the Schoolmaster.
But it was too good to be highly popular : the im-
portance of its articles and the talent with which
they were discussed was "caviare to the multitude,"
while its cheap price repelled those readers who
estimated the value of literature merely by the amount
of its cost. On this account it was found necessary
to merge the publication into Johustone^s Magazine,
which was published monthly for a considerable
period at eightpence. This new periodical, in which
politics were almost wholly avoided, and subjects of
literary and social interest chiefly discussed, pro-
mised to be successful, when a difficulty occurred :
Taifs Magazine was also printed at St. James'
Square office, and both magazines were issued by
the same publisher. A compromise was the conse-
quence, by which yohnstoni s Magazine was absorbed
into that of Tait, while the latter, still retaining the
name of Taifs Magazine, was reduced from its
monthly price of half-a-crown to a shilling. It was
a satisfactory arrangement to both parties, while the
popularity of the periodical in this new form was
insured by the appointment of Mrs. Johnstone to be
its chief contributor and director. Although she
was nominally the editor, her authority was subject
to the control of Mr. Tait, who still retained the
principal management, and thus she acted the same
part for Tait's Magazine that Wilson did for
Blackwood's. After the accession of Mrs. Johnstone
to Tait's Magazine it was inspired with new life,
and rose rapidly in popularity, while this success
was owing not so much to the political articles
it contained, as to its elaborate, able, and just criti-
cisms, which were written almost exclusively by
Mrs. Johnstone. It may be remarked also, that
although a just she was a gentle critic, and wherever
true merit appeared in the subjects of her review, or
the promise of future excellence, she was always
careful, with feminine gentleness, to point out the
one and encourage the other.

The next separate work published by Mrs. John-
stone after Clan Albyn and Elizabeth de Bruce, was
Lives and Voyages of Drake, Cavendish, and Dampicr,
including a History of the Buccaneers. This work,
which formed the fifth volume of the Edinburgh
Cabinet Library, was published in 1831, and in the
following year appeared her Nights of the Round
Table, a punning title, in which were included a
series of lively tales and sketches. This she always
considered as the best of her works of fiction. But
a still more popular work was the Edinburgh Tales,
chiefly written by herself in the Schoolmaster, John-
stonis Magazine, and Taifs Magazine, and which

were now published with several contributions of
other writers in a regular series, in weekly numbers
and monthly parts, and which when finished com-
posed three large volumes. These were so popular,
that in their weekly and monthly form more than
30,000 copies were sold, while in their collective
form they still obtained a considerable sale. Of
these tales, by far the best are Mrs. Johnstone's own,
while the largest of the series — Violet Hamilton and
the Western Exclusives — are equal to her best pro-
ductions. Few sketches, indeed, of Glasgow society
at the beginning of the present century are at all to
be compared with those contained in the IVestern Ex-
clusii'es. The last and also the most popular of all
her works which we have occasion to mention, bore
the following well-known title. The Cook and House-
'u'ifes Manual. A Practical System of Modern Domestic
Cookery and Eatnily Management. By Mrs. Mar-
garet Dodds, of the Cleikum Inn, St. Ronans. It
was written at the earlier period of her life in Inver-
ness, and besides being lively and fanciful in style,
with the principal epicures of Scott's St. Ronan^s
Well and other popular novels as the principal
speakers and actors, the valuable directions and re-
ceipts contained in it made it the oracle of the kitchen,
and Meg Dodds' Cookery became a household word.
This combination indeed of the lively and witty
with the wise and the practical, formed the chief
attraction of the work; it was the new experiment of
investing culinary operations with the charms of
novel-writing ; and even those who did not care for
luxurious dinners were interested in the directions
given for concocting them, and the alluring style in
which these directions Nvere conveyed. This singu-
lar volume was in such great demand, that in 1S58
ten editions of it had appeared, and from the sale
Mrs. Johnstone derived a regular revenue for the rest
of her life.

While her popularity in the literary world was so
great, and always increasing, "her manner of life,"
writes one of her biographers, "was that of a perfect
gentlewoman. She might have easily obtained a
greater name in the world if she had sought it. She
sought it not. Even the good she did was often
concealed from those for whom it was done. Many
persons now occupy respectable positions in the
world who are indebted exclusively to the plans of
this gentlewoman — devised without solicitation, and
untold when they were successful. . . . Whenever
she thought that it was within her power to be useful
to those with whom she had in any v.ay become ac-
quainted, however slightly, but so far as induced her
to believe that their conduct would support her recom-
mendation, she said nothing on the subject to them,
but sought to accomplish her object. If she failed,
no hopes had been erected to be cast down again;
and if she succeeded, the success was seldom told
by herself, and the originator of some change in life
was not always known — perhaps in some cases never
known — to him whose course of life was changed."

It is only necessary to add, that after 1846 Mrs.
Johnstone's connection with Tait^s A/agazine ceased,
and that she retired into private life with the com-
petence which her industry had acquired. At length,
full of years, honoured by society, and beloved by
all who knew her, she died at Edinburgh on Aug. 26,
1857. Her affectionate husband, the director and
often the partaker of her literary exertions, followed
in a few months after, and over their grave in the
Grange Cemeterj' stands an elegant obelisk with the
following inscription: "Mrs. Christian Isobel John-
stone, died 26 August 1857, aged 76. John Johnstone,
died 3 November following, aged 78. A memorial of
literary excellence and private worth. Erected 1858."

GEORGE JOHNSTON.

407

JOHNSTON, George, M.D. This distinguished
naturalist, and attractive writer in natural science,
was born in 179S, but of what parentage we have
seen no record. He was destined for the medical
profession, and apprenticed to Dr. Abercroml)ie of
Edinburgh, who, in his day, was one of the most
eminent meiHcal practitioners of Britain. Having
gone through the usual medical education and ])rac-
tical trainmg, George Johnston graduated in Edin-
burgh in 1 819, and afterwards settled down in the
general practice of his profession at Berwick-upon-
Tweed. Having acquired a taste at Edinburgli for
the study of natural history, it was so suited to his
inquiring mind and refined poetical temperament
that he continued to prosecute it till the end of his
life; and although occupied with a laborious profes-
sional practice, which leaves small leisure or inclina-
tion for other pursuits, the works which he published
in natural history have sufficed to establish his name
among the most distinguished writers in that depart-
ment.

At the time when Dr. Johnston first settled as a
medical practitioner in Berwick-upon-Tweed, little
was known of the lower forms of animal life, to
which he devoted his attention ; and thus, although he
stood alone, he occupied a field in which his re-
searches might go on without a rival, and which, by
the right of pre-occupation, he could make his own
for the time being. And nobly did he justify the
advantages of such a starting-point. After he had
established himself in Berwick, he proceeded to
publish the results of his inquiries in the various
natural history journals and the transactions of natu-
ral history societies. Thus his principal papers, in-
dicating the wide range of his sympathy with natural
objects, his remarkable powers of observation, and
his sound and cautious judgment, appeared in the
Edinburgh Philosophical yournal, the Magazine of
Natu7-al History, the Annals of iVaticral Htstojy (of
which latterly he was one of the editors), the Transac-
tions of the A'atural Histoiy Society of Neiocastlc, and
the Proceedings of the Berwickshire Naturaliits' Club,
of which he was one of the founders. But the work
by which he was best known to the scientific world
at large, and which perhaps will constitute the most
lasting monument of his fame, was his History of
British Zoophytes. Of this important work we see
the original elements in his "Descriptive Catalogue of
the Recent Zoophytes found on the Coast of Durham,"
which appeared in the second volume of the Trans-
actions of the N^atural History Society of N'e'wcastle-
upon- Tyne, and in his "Catalogue of the Zoophytes of
Berwickshire, " published in the Proceedings of the Ber-
wickshire iVaturalists' Club. His great original His-
toiy of British Zoophytes was published first in Edin-
burgh in 1838, and afterwards a second edition of it
was issued from the London press in 1847. The
work was welcomed as by far the most complete and
accurate account of the British forms of these animals
we yet possessed; and to enhance its value, it was
beautifully illustrated by Mrs. Johnston. But while
employed upon the zoophytes, the sponges and coral-
lines did not escape his notice, and in 1842 he pub-
lished A History of British Sponges and Lithophytes.
This work, like the previous one, is still the best and
most complete in our language on the subject of
which it treats; and the effect of both was to raise
the reputation not only of the author, but the town in
which he dwelt, so that Berwick, only distinguished as
yet by its traditions of border warfare, had now be-
come so notable in science, as to be scarcely second to
Selborne. The subjects indeed which employed the
pen of Dr. Johnston had not the same attractive and
popular interest as those on which White of Selborne

had written; but his lively fancy and elegant pleas-
ing style could impart to them a charm which ele-
vated them from their dulness and apparent insig-
nificance into objects of popular importance. Having
devoted much of his attention to the mollusca, as
appears from many of his papers on the subject, Dr.
Johnston published in 1850 his Introduction to Con-
chologv, or Plements of the Natural History of Mol-
luscous Animals. This is a delightful literary per-
formance, and full of interesting illustrations of the
structure and habits of the shell -fishes of Great
Britain.

Hitherto we have viewed this excellent naturalist
ranging among zoophytes and lithophytes, cnistacea
and molluscs, and all the forms of invertebrate life.
Wherever he went he observed; his professional
visits were made with restless inquiring eye to what-
ever was interesting in the kingdom of nature; and
even while standing upon the sea-shore, every object
which the waves deposited upon the sand arrested
his attention, and became a subject of study. To
him the sea was a populous and living world, instead
of a picturesque mass of water. "It is very true,"
he said, "that I have been a scholar for many years
in the book of nature; and I have taught myself to
take note of, and pleasure in, those works with w-hich
the Creator has crowded and adorned the paths I
daily walk; and sure I am that now I can see and
appreciate a beauty and excellence where othenvise
they would not have impressed me." Such was his
declaration in the preface to a new work entitled
Terra Lindisfarnensis, of the first volume of which,
The Natural History of the Easto-n, Borders, Dr.
Johnston was the author. The field over which it
ranged comprised the whole of Berwickshire, the
liberties of Berwick, North Durham, and the imme-
diately adjacent parts of Northumberland and Rox-
burghshire; and while the specific object of the
volume was to describe the "botany" of that dis-
trict, it was abundantly interspersed with anecdote
and folk-lore, legend, poetr}', and biography, local
objects and scenery to interest eveiy reader. To the
active mind of its author, however, such a produc-
tion was a recreation and relief from more severe
studies, to which he returned with redoubled ardour.
He had long been investigating the annelida, the
true worms of the naturalist, but a greatly neglected
branch of British zoology, and had written several
papers on British annelides and Irish annelides, which
were greatly admired, and had called the attention
of naturalists to the subject. Thus encouraged to
persevere, he had made preparations for writing a
complete work on British annelides, when he was
seized with paralysis, and died on the 3d of July,

1855-

The unexpected death of Dr. Johnston was la-
mented in the scientific world as no ordinary be-
reavement. To a mind untired in investigation, and
which phenomena, however minute, could not escape,
he added those powers of eloquence and charms of
imagination which adorned whatever he touched, and
invested the humblest objects of nature with new
interest and beauty. He resembled indeed the la-
mented Hugh Millar, although in a different field of
natural science. It was his observant eye that first
detected the new water -weed (Anacharis alsinastrnin)
in the lake at Dunse Castle in 1838, and again in
the waters of the Whiteader in 1841. His interest
in science was also manifested not only in his writ-
ings, but the societies with which he was connected.
He was an active member, if not also the founder,
of the Berwickshire Natural Histor>' Club, and one
of the founders of the Ray Society for the publica-
tion of works on natural histon', and was one of the

43S

JAMES JOHNSTONE JAMES F. W. JOHNSTON,

secretaries of the society till his death. With regard
to his personal and private character, one of his
biographers adds, "He was a man of the most genial
and kindly disposition, and greatly beloved in the
circle of naturalists by whom he was surrounded, and
whom he often met in the Naturalists' Field Club he
had established. He was well read in the literature
of natural history, and nothing delighted him more
than imparting his copious stores of information to
others. His correspondence was extensive, and many
a living naturalist is indebted to him for encourage-
ment in the prosecution of his earliest labours." Such
■was the man who contributed so largely to the litera-
ture of the natural history of Great liritain, and who,
although half- buried in a humble position and ob-
scure border town, obtained so high and so wide a
renown in the scientific world.

JOHNSTONE, James, a physician of some emi-
nence, was born at Annan in the year 1730. He
was the fourth son of John Johnstone, Esq., of Gala-
bank, one of the oldest branches of the family of that
name. He received the rudiments of his classical
education from Dr. Henry, the well-known author
of the History of Great Britain. The science of
medicine he studied first in Edinburgh and after-
wards in Paris; and such was his progress in these
studies, that he took the degree of Doctor of Medicine
before he had completed his twenty-first year. On
this occasion he published a thesis, Dc Acris Factitii
Imperio in Corpore Hiimano, which discovered an
ability that procured him many valuable friends.
On completing his education. Dr. Johnstone com-
menced practice at Kidderminster, in Worcestershire,
where he quickly acquired a great degree of celebrity
by the successful manner in which he treated a pecu-
liar epidemic, called, from its remarkable virulence
in that locality, the Kidderminster fever. Of this
fever, and his mode of treating it, he published an
account in 1758, an exceedingly important treatise,
from the circumstance of its pointing out the power
of minerals and vapours to correct or destroy putrid
febrile contagion. This discovery, now so frequently
and successfully employed in arresting the progress
of infection, and in purifying infected places, though
since claimed by others, belongs beyond all doubt
to Dr. Johnstone; who pointed out also the simple
process by which it was to be effected — viz. by pour-
ing a little vitriolic acid on common salt.

Dr. Johnstone was well known in the learned
world by several interesting publications on subjects
connected with his profession, and by several im-
portant adilitions which he made to the general stock
of medical knowledge. Amongst these was the dis-
covery of a cure for the ganglion of the nerves and
of the lymphatic glands.

From Kidderminster he removed to Worcester,
where he continued to practise till within a few days
of his death, which happened in 1S02, in the seventy-
third year of his age. His death was much regretted,
and it was then considered that the medical science
had by that event lost one of its brightest ornaments.
Dr. Johnstone acquires no small degree of additional
celebrity from his having been the intimate friend of
the amialile George Lord Lyttleton, and from his
being the author of the affecting account of that
nobleman's death inserted by Dr. Johnson in his
Lives of the Poets.

In a letter which he addressed to the editor of
Doddridi^t^s Letters, he says — "Lord Bacon reckons
it a great deficiency in biography that it is for the
most part confined to the actions of kings and princes,
and a few persons of high rank, while the memory
of men distinguished for worth and goodness in the

lower ranks of life has been only preserved by tra-
dition." The latter character was Dr. Johnstone's,
and the deficiency would indeed have been great had
his name been omitted in the list of those who have
deserved well of their country and of posterity. His
general character and conduct are spoken of in terms
of high admiration by all his contemporaries and
biographers; and the serenity of his death, the cheer-
ful and resigned spirit in which he contemplated and
awaited that event, is made a conspicuous feature in
the history of his useful but unobtrusive life. His cele-
brity as a medical practitioner was verj' great, and his
professional skill was fortunately associated with a
singidar degree of kindness and amenity of manner —
qualities to which the Rev. Job Orton, a man himself
celebrated for piety and talent, thus bears testimony:
— "I left Shrewsbury and came to Kidderminster that
I might have the advice of a very able and skilful
physician, Dr. Johnstone, who hath always proved
himself a faithful and tender friend, to whose care
as a physician I, under God, owe my life, and to
whose friendship I am indebted for some of the
greatest comforts of it."

Several of Dr. Johnstone's physiological inquiries
were published in the Philosophical Trausactions, and
are to be found in the 54lh, 57th, and 60th volumes
of that work. They were afterwards enlarged and
printed separately.

JOHNSTON", James F. W. This excellent prac-
tical chemist, who applied the science of chemistry
to agriculture, was born at Paisley in 1796, but in
infancy and boyhood, in consequence of the repeated
migrations of his father, he first removed to Man-
chester, and afterwards to Kilmarnock in Ayrshire.
During this time his education had been going on ;
and resolving to devote himself to the clerical pro-
fession, he studied at the university of Glasgow,
supporting himself in the meantime, like many of
his fellow-students, by private teaching. Having
finished his courses of philosophy and theology,
he became a licentiate of the Church of Scotland;
he also opened a school at Durham, and solaced
himself with its drudgeiy while he patiently awaited
the uncertain chances of clerical promotion. From
this uncertain position, however, he was delivered
by a marriage with one of the daughters of the late
Thomas Ridley, Esq., of Park End. Possessing by
this union a competent income, he abandoned his
school, and devoted himself to the study of chemistry,
to which he had long felt a preference, and to perfect
himself in the science he removed to Sweden, and
became the pupil of the celebrated Berzelius. His
proficiency was so rapid and remarkable, and his
reputation as a chemist so fully established, that
before returning to Scotland in 1833, he was ap-
pointed to the readership of chemistry and mineralogy
in the university of Durham, then newly established,
the charge being kept vacant until his return from
•Sweden. This appointment he retained until his
decease, although he made the neighbourhood of
Edinburgh his regular home, giving his attendance
during t£rm time only at Durham.

During the first year of his readership. Professor
Johnston appears to have chiefly confined himself to
researches in pure chemistry, and in this period
he produced a valuable series of papers on the
Chemistry of the Kesins, and other similar subjects.
This, however, was too narrow a range for the
practical and expansive mind of the professor, and
in 1840 the period arrived when his general reputa-
tion was to commence. In that year Liebig laid
before the British Association his Treatise on Chem-
istry applied to Agriculture and Physiology, and

JAMES F. W. JOHNSTON JOHN JOHNSTON.

4C9

Johnston enthusiastically threw his mind into the
subject. His pmi>ec vocation had been suggested;
he devoted himself at once to the study of agricultural
chemistry, and soon afterwards he delivered a course
of lectures in tliat department of the science to the
Durham County Agricultural Society, which, com-
mencing in 1841, were finished in 1844, and com-
posed when published, during tlie last year above
mentioned, one large octavo volume. During the
issue in parts of this publication, which contained
the pith and substance of his lectures, the attention
not merely of the practical farmers of England, but
those of Scotland also, was powerfully attracted to
the subject; and while his Lectures on Agricultural
Chemistry and Gcolog\' confirmed his reputation
as the chief British authority in this important de-
partment, in 1843, when the Agricultural Chemistry
Association of Scotland was established, Professor
Johnston was elected as the fittest person to hold
the office of its chemist. His laboratory in Edinburgli
thus became the central point of the agricultural
chemistry of his native countiy, and during the five
years in which he held this office his assiduity was
unwearied, while his researches, which were of ex-
traordinary extent and immense practical utility,
inspired our farmers with a scientific intelligence of
their profession to which hitherto they had been
almost entirely strangers. As the Agricultural Chem-
istry Association for Scotland had been established
only for five years, being incorporated at the end of
that time with the Highland Society, Johnston left
Edinburgh, and returned to his permanent charge at
Durham.

While thus actively employed in experimenting,
the pen of the professor had not been idle; and
besides his highly popular lectures, he published a
Catechism of Agricultural Chemistry and Geology,
which was so popular that thirty-three editions have
been published in this country alone. Nor was this
all, for it has been translated into nearly every lan-
guage in Europe, and been widely disseminated over
the United States of America, v.diere his reputation
is as warmly cherished as in Britain, and where his
lessons find a fresher and wider field of occupa-
tion. Soon after his return to Durham he was
invited to deliver lectures on agricultural chemistry
in the United States and Canada, with which he
complied ; and on coming home he published his
work entitled JVoteson North America, which though
less professional than his other writings, contains
important observations on the agriculture and general
social condition of North America, and its vast
resources in soil and climate. Besides these entire
productions, he wrote several articles which were
"published in literary and scientific magazines, among
the latter of which it is sufficient to mention Black-
wood's Magazine and the Edinburgh Rez'ieio. But
the most popular, and perhaps the most useful, of all
his works was the Chemistry of Common Life, which
he commenced only two years before he died.
Than this work no scientific publication has been
more popular, and while the style is so simple as to
attract general readers, and so intelligible as to be
understood by the most unlearned, the subject is
of such vital importance that all feel interested in
it. The last effort of his pen was employed in the
production of a kindred work entitled the Geology 0/
Common Life, when his career was unexpectedly
terminated. He had been upon the Continent for
several months, and was about to return to England,
when he caught cold, but did not apprehend any
serious results. Scarcely, however, had he reached
his home in Durham, when symptoms of hemor-
I'hage in the lungs appeared, and he died of a rapid

decline on the i8th of September, 1S55, aged fifty-
nine years. Such was the end of this scientific
Triptolemus, who taught mankind at large how to
cultivate the soil to the best advantage, and how to
use its produce, and who will continue to be the
benefactor of millions who may be ignorant even
of his name. His valuable scientific apparatus he
generously bequeathed to the Free Church College
of Edinburgh.

JOHNSTON, John, a Eatin poet and classical
scholar of considerable eminence in the earlier part
of the seventeenth century. Though this individual
is one of the ornaments of a very distinguished age
of Scottish literature, the date of his birth is not ac-
curately ascertained, but it must have been previous
to the year 1570, as in 1587 he began to be known
to the world. He styles himself " Aberdonensis ;"
and as he was a member of the House of Crimond,
he was probably born at the family s;at near Aber-
deen. Dr. M'Crie, whose minute labours have
thrown so much light on the literary history of this
period, has, among other facts connected with John-
ston (which we shall here carefully recapitulate),
discovered the name of his master from the last will
of the poet, in which he affectionately leaves to that
individual his white cup with the silver foot.^ The
same instrument appoints as one of his executors,
"Mr. Robert Johnston of Creimond," probably his
brother, a person who appears to have been in 1635
elected provost of Aberdeen.^ Johnston studied at
King's College in Aberdeen, whence, after the usual
custom of the age, he made a studious peregrination
among the continental universities, which he continued
during a period of eight years. In 1587 we find
him at the university of Hehnstadt, whence he trans-
mitted a manuscript copy of Buchanan's Sphcrra to
be re-edited by Pincier, along with two epigrams of
his own.^ In 1587 he was at the imiversity of Ros-
tock, where he enjoyed the intimacy and correspond-
ence of the elegantly learned but fanciful Justus
Lipsius.

Johnston appears to have early embraced the doc-
trines of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland, and
to have retained them with the characteristic firmness
of the body. He was the intimate friend of its ac-
complished supporter Andrew Melville, whose in-
fluence probably procured him the appointment to
the professorship of divinity in the new college of
St. Andrews, as successor to John Robertson — an
advancement which he obtained previously to the
year 1594, as he is discovered, under the term
"maister in the new college," to have been elected
one of the elders of St. Andrews, on the 28th No-
vember, 1593. Johnston was a useful assistant to
his illustrious friend in the opposition to the harass-
ing efforts of King James to introduce Episcopacy.
He must have been included in the interdict of the
visitation of the university commission, by which the
professors of theology and philosophy, not being
pastors of the church, were prohibited from sitting
in church-courts, except through an election regu-
lated by the council of the visitation: and in the
General Assembly which met at Dundee in 1598,
whither both had resorted to oppose the too great
tenderness of James for the church, in proposing to
admit its representation in parliament, Ivlelville and
Johnston were charged to quit the city, with the

1 Item — I leave to Mr. Robert Merser, Persoun of r.an-
quhorie Banchory', near Aberdeen!, my auld kynd maister, in
Laiken of my thankful dewtie, my quhyit cope with the silver
fit."— M'Cne's Melville, i. 351.

- History 0/ the Family of yohnston, 29.

2 JM'Crie's Melville, i. 331.

410

JOHN JOHNSTON ROBERT JOHNSTON.

usual formality of the pain of rebellion in case of
refusal. In 1603 these friends again appear acting
in concert, in a correspondence with Du Plessis, on
the subject of the sj-nod of Gap in France having
censured certain peculiar opinions on the doctrine of
justification. "They did not presume to judge of
the justice of the synod of Gap, but begged leave to
express their fears that strong measures would in-
flame the minds of the disputants, and that a farther
agitation of the question might breed a dissension
very injurious to the interests of the evangelical
churches. It appeared to them that both parties
held the Protestant doctrine of justification, and only
differed a little in their mode of explaining it. They
therefore, in the name of their brethren, entreated
Du Plessis to employ the authority which his piety,
prudence, learned writings, and illustrious services
in the cause of Christianity had given him in the
Gallican church, to bring about an amicable adjust-
ment of the controversy."^ Without inquiring into
the minutiae of the controversy, the knowledge that
it was a theological one is sufficient to make us ap-
preciate the advice as exceedingly sound ; and we
have the satisfaction to know, as a rare instance,
that it produced the desired effect.

During the previous year Johnston had published
at Amsterdam his first complete poetical work, en-
titled '''' Inscriptwties Historiaz Regiim Scotonim, con-
tinuata annorum serie a Fergusio I. ad Jacobum VI.
Priefixus est Gathelus, sive de gentis origine, Frag-
mentum Andreas Melvini. Additse sunt Icones
omnium Regum nobilis Familiae Stuartorum," 410;
and in 1603 he published at Leyden Heroes ex o??ini
Historia Scotica Ledisiimi, 410. Both these pro-
ductions have been preserved in tYi&Delitia Foetanim
Scotonim, by the author's relative, Arthur Johnston.
The former is a series of epigrammatic addresses to
the Scottish monarchs, commencing with Fergus I.,
and duly passing through the extended list to the
reigning monarch James VI. ; regarding whom it is
worthy of commendatory remark, that the author is
more lavish of congratulations on the good fortune
which Providence had bestowed on him than on his
talents or kingly qualities. The Heroes is a tissue of
similar epigrams addressed to the heroes who dis-
tinguish the reigns of the same line of kings, com-
mencing with Ferchard, the great commander-in-
chief of King Reuther. Of course, both works laud
the virtues of many men who never drew breath.
The merits of Johnston as a poet cannot be said to
rise beyond those of tlie mere epigrammatist: to the
classical elegance of his Latinity we believe few
objections can be found, but he displays more of the
neatness of illustration and precise aptness of asso-
ciation, which may be taught, than of the inborn
poetic fire; and his works are perhaps more pleasing
in the restrictions of a classical tongue, than they
might have been had he allowed himself to range in
the freedom of his vernacular language. When treat-
ing of those who never existed, or of whom little is
known, the absence of all interest from the subject
adds to the coldness of the epigram, and leaves room
for the mere conceit to stand alone ; but in treating
of interesting or remarkable events, Johnston could
sometimes be lofty, and strike a chord of feeling.
We might instance, as favourable specimens, the
epigram to the family of the Frasers, massacred by
the Clanranald in 1544. and that to Robert the Bruce.
In 1609 Johnston published at Leyden, Consolatw
Christiana sub Criue, et Iambi de Felicitate Hominis
Deo reconciliati, 8vo; in 1611 he published Iambi
Sacri; and in 1612, Tetrasticha et Lemmata Sac9-a —

' M'Crie's Melville, ii. 101.

Item Cantica Sacra — Item Icones Regum yitdecB et
Israelis. Lugd. Bat."

Johnston died in the month of October, 1612; the
last scene of his life is drawn by James Melville in
a letter to his uncle, dated the 25th of November
ensuing ; of which we cannot avoid giving the terms
as translated by Dr. M'Crie. "Your colleague Jolm
Johnston closed his life last month. He sent for the
members of the university and presbytery, before
whom he made a confession of his faith, and pro-
fessed his sincere attachment to the doctrine and
discipline of our church, in which he desired to die.
He did not conceal his dislike of the lately-erected
tyranny, and his detestation of the pride, temerity,
fraud, and whole conduct of the bishops. He pro-
nounced a grave and ample eulogium on your in-
structions, admonitions, and example; craving pardon
of God and you for having offended you in any in-
stance, and for not having borne more meekly with
your wholesome and friendly anger. As a memorial
he has left you a gilt velvet cap, a gold coin, and one
of his best books. His death would have been a
most mournful event to the church, university, and
all good men, had it not been that he has for several
years laboured under an incurable disease, and that
the ruin of the church has swallowed up all lesser
sorrows, and exhausted our tears."'

We learn that he had married Catharine Melville,
of the family of Carribee — but at what period seems
not to be known — and he has left behind him epi-
taphs on her and their two children. It appears that
in 1600 he had been solicited to become "second
minister" of Haddington. Besides the works already
mentioned, there exist, or did exist, by him in M.S. in
the Advocates' Library, "Ile/x 'Lrt<pav(i3v sive de Co-
ronis Martyrum inScotia Liber Unus" — "DeCoronis
Martyrum in Anglia Libellus alter" — and "Peculium
Ecclesiae Scotican», et alia qucedam Poemata." He
wrote epigrams on the chief towns of Scotland, which
have been appropriately inserted in Cambden's Bri-
tanuia; and some of his letters are to be found in the
correspondence of that eminent antiquarv'. Andrew
Melville says, "Mr. Johne Davidsone left sum nots
behind of our tyme, and so did ISIr. Johne John-
stoun:" what has become of these we know not.

JOHNSTON, Robert, an historian, existed in
the earlier part of the seventeenth centur)'. The
works of this individual are well known, but he has
not achieved personal eminence; and we neither know
when he was bom, nor the station which he occupied
in life. At Amsterdam was printed, in 1655, his
Historia Ra'iim Britainiicariim, ut et vuiltai-iim Gal-
licariini, Belgicarum, et Germaiiicamm, tarn politi-
cariim qtiam ccclesiasticariim, ab atmo 1572 ad 1628.

This work was intended as a continuation of
Buchanan; and Bishop Nicholson, no bestower of
heedless praise, appears to think that it nearly
equals in style the work which it imitated.* Lord
Woodhouselee, a less scnipulous critic where a
Scotsman was concerned, calls it "A work of great
merit, whether we consider the judicious structure of
the narrative, the sagacity of the reflections, the acute
discernment of characters, or the classical tincture of
the style. In those passages of his histor)-," says this
writer, "where there is room for a display of elo-
quence, he is often singularly happy in touching

2 Maidment's Catalogiies of Scots Writers, 14: Sibbald's
Bibliotlieca Scotica, MS. 49. There is some difference in
the names, as recorded by these two writers, and never ha\'ing
seen the works themselves, we take what appear to be the
more correct titles.

^ M'Crie's Meli'ille, ii. 284.

* Nicholson's Scottish Historical Library, 121.

PAUL JONES.

411

those characteristic circumstances which present the
picture stron;^'ly to tiie niiud of tlic reader, without
a vain jxaracle of words or artificial refinement of
sentiment. We may cite as an example, his descrip-
tion of the death of Mary, Queen of Scots, lib. iv.
s!il> a into 1586: and the circumstances attending the
death of Essex, with the author's reflections on that
event, lib. ix. siil> anno 1641." The same author
farther mentions that Robert Jolinston was one of the
executors of George lieriot, the founder of the hos-
pital.^ Johnston, besides this Ilistoria Keruin Rri-
taiinicaritm, wrote The History of Scotland dnring
the Minority of yames VI., published at London in
1646. Wodrow mentions an Epitontc Ilistorice Rcruni
Britannicanim, puljlished, according to his account,
in i2mo, in 1642, some time previously to the ap-
pearance of the larger work." Sir Robert Sibbald
seems to find nothing more remarkable to tell us
about Johnston than that he was on intimate terms
with Bruce, Baron of Kinloss. " Robertus Jon-
stonus baroni Killosensi Brusio dum viveret, charus:
vir varia: lectionis, egregire eruditionis, limati judicii. "
He mentions that Johnston is said to have died in
1630, and gives us an epigram on his history from
the pen of Joannes Owen.^ There is in the Ad-
vocates' Library a ponderous manuscript history of
Scotland, by a person of the name of Johnston, and
generally understood to be at least partly written by
the subject of our memoir. The manuscript has
belonged to Lord Fairfax, and at the commence-
■ ment is the following note in his handwriting: —

"Of the gift of Mr. David Johnston, burgess of
Edinburgh, itt beinge the labour of his late father
and grandfather (the first draught). A transcript
whereof he reserves to himself (but is not all printed),
nor is ther any coppy therof, but onlye this, beinge
for the most part a translation of Bucquhanan, but
with very many additions not thought fit to publish.
Fairfax. — 20/// October, 1655."

JONES, Paul (originally John Paul), a nautical
genius of no ordinary character and endowments,
was born at Arbigland, in the parish of Kirkbean,
and stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in the month of
July,- 1747. He was the reputed son of John Paul,
who acted as gardener to Mr. Craik of Arbigland,
by his wife, who had been cook to the same gentle-
man. It was generally believed, however, that Mr.
Craik was the real father of this extraordinary ad-
venturer. The education of Paul Jones — to use the
name which he assumed in after-life — was in no
respect different from that usually given in .Scotland
to boys of his rank ; and it is not recorded that he
showed any symptoms, while at school, of that capa-
city by which he was undoubtedly distinguished in
advanced life. From his earliest years he manifested
a decided predilection for a seafaring life, and at the
age of twelve was apprenticed as a mariner to a Mr.
Young, a respectable merchant in Whitehaven,
whence he made his first voyage in 1760, in the ship
Friendship of that port, under the care of a Captain
Benson, for the Rappahannoc, Virginia. Living on
the shore of the Sohvay, all the amusements and
ideas of young Paul seem to have been from his very
cradle maritime. While yet a mere child he hoisted
his mimic flag, rendezvoused his tiny fleet, and gave
forth his orders to his imaginary captains, with all
the consequence of a veteran commander. The
town of Dumfries was at this period deeply engaged
in American trade, particularly in importing tobacco,

' Tytler's Kniiics, k Ap. i.

^ Wodrow's Catalogues of Scottish Writers, 14.

^ Sibbaliii Bibtioth. Scot. MS. 221.

and the Nith being too shallow to float the larger
vessels up to the town, their cargoes were discharged
at Carsethorn, on the Galloway coast, where the
subject of this memoir was a daily observer of their
operations, and not unfrequently ventured to chal-
lenge the modes of procedure followed by experienced
seamen. Here, too, he had early and abundant
opportunities of becoming acquainted with the colo-
nists engaged in that traffic, whose bold and liberal
sentiments seem, at a very early period of his life,
to have made the New World, as he afterwards ex-
pressed himself, "the country of his fond election."
These early impressions were doubtless aided by the
circumstance of an elder brother having settled there,
and being in the full enjoyment of the peace and the
plenty with which, so long as the states were sub-
missive colonies of Great Britain, it was universally
admitted the inhabitants were generally blessed.
With this brother he made his abode during the
time his ship was in the Rappahannoc on his first
voyage, and most probably on his subsequent voyages;
which could not fail in some degree to have attached
him to the country, though he had been devoid of
any prepossessions in its favour. The early indica-
tions of genius which we have noticed above, were
fully supported in his new station. Flis singular
intelligence and propriety of conduct excited the
wonder, and, in some degree, the respect of his
shipmates, at the same time that they gained him
the esteem and the confidence of his employer, who
promised to give him the proof of his approbation
by appointing him to the command of one of his
ships. Unfortunately for both parties untoward cir-
cumstances prevented the master from having it in
his power to jiay this substantial tribute of respect
to the merits of his faithful apprentice, whose time
having expired, he entered upon the command of a
slave-ship, and made several voyages to the coast of
Africa in prosecution of that disgraceful traffic.
How long he continued in this trade his biographers
have not told us; but to his honour they have stated
that he felt disgusted with the employment, and at
length "confined his ser\'ices to the command of
vessels engaged in a more reputable and legitimate
commerce." In the year 1773 the death of his
brother in Virginia, without having left any children,
called him over to that country to look after the
settlement of his affairs, on which occasion, all his
transatlantic predilections being revived, he resolved
to withdraw from the vicissitudes of a seafaring life,
to settle in the colony, and to devote the remainder
of his days to the peaceful pursuits of rural industry
and philosophic retirement.

There is nothing more curious in the history of
the human mind than that satiety and languor which
so frequently come over the most active spirits.
Cowley often had thoughts of burying himself in the
woods of America, where he fancied he would be
happy, in seclusion from all intercourse with the
busy and bustling portions of society : Cromwell,
with all his unconquerable daring and unquenchable
activity — and Hampden, one of the brightest, the
boldest, and the most disinterestetl spirits that have
adorned any age or country, despairing of the state
of political affairs in their native land, sought to
escape their uneasy sensations, and to secure religious
peace and happiness, by the same expedient. Akin
perhaps to these cases was that of Paul Jones, whose
mind seems from the first to have been replete with
lofty aspirations, fitting him for greatness, while his
connections in his own country were of a nature to
prevent his ever gratifying them. We can easily
conceive this bold and enthusiastic man sensible of
the superiority of his powers above those of most

41-

TAUI. JOXES.

other men, but fretting at the cold obstructions which
^\■e^e put Ijefore him by the rules and habits of
society in his own country, and also perhaps at the
notoriety of his ignoble origin ; and therefore pre-
ferring to lose himself in an American forest, where,
if he did not gain any distinction, he would not at
least be esteemed as lower than his personal merit
warranted. Had the colonies been in a state of
tranquillity, Jones would probably have spent the
remainder of his days as a simple colonist, or perhaps
gone back to sea to escape the monotony of a life
but little suited to his faculties. The country, how-
ever, was now in a state of high effervescence, which
was every day increasing, and wliich called forth the
energies, such as they were, of every individual
among them, either on the one side or the other.
Great dissatisfaction had for a long period been pre-
valent respecting the measures of the British govern-
ment in reference to the colonies, and in the specula-
tions of the colonists with regard to the steps neces-
sary to be taken for counteracting these measures
Jones found the tedium of liis retirement wonderfully
relieved. Open resistance was no sooner proposed
than he found that he had mistaken the natural bent
of his genius, which was much more turned towards
action than solitary speculation; and when congress,
in tlie close of the year 1775, began to equip a naval
force to assist in asserting American independence,
he stepped boldly forward to offer, his service. He
was at once appointed to be first lieutenant aboard
the Alfred, one of the only two ships belonging to
the congress; and in that capacity hoisted with his
own hands for the first time the flag of independent
America. In the course of a few months, by his
activity and success, he gained the entire confidence
of the marine committee, and from the hands of the
president received a captain's commission. In the
end of the year 1777 he was sent to France in com-
mand of the Ranger, a new sloop of war, with des-
patches containing an account of the victory obtained
by the colonists at Saratoga. As a reward for the
important services he had already rendered to the
Americans, it was ordered that he should be pro-
moted to the command of the Indian, a fine frigate
built for the congress at Amsterdam, the Ranger
at the same time acting under his orders ; but the
American commissioners at Paris, from motives of
polic)', assigned the Indian over to the King of
France. Captain Jones, of course, remained in
command of the Ranger, with which he convoyed a
fleet of merchantmen to Quiberon Bay, and there,
from the French commandant, received the first salute
that had ever been given to the American flag.
Iliglily indignant at the resolution taken by the
British government to treat every colonist who
supported congress in their aims at independence as
traitors, and emulous of the exploits of some British
seamen on the American coast, Jones soon after
entered the Irish Channel, and on the night of the
22d of April came to anchor in the Solway Firth,
almost in sight of the trees which sheltered his native
cottage. The place must have awakened many
strange associations, but tliey were of no friendly
import. With thirty-one volunteers he sailed in
two row-boats for the English side of the firth, with
intent to bum the shipping (upwards of 200 sail) in
the harbour of Whitehaven. This bold and hazardous
project he had certainly executed if the receding
tide had not retarded his progress so much, that the
day began to dawn before he reached the shore; as
it was, he could scarcely have failed had he been
seconded by his followers. The smaller of the boats
he sent to the north of the port, to set fire to the
ships, whilst he himself passed southwards to secure

the fort. The morning was cold, and the sentinels,
unsuspicious of the approach of an enemy, were in
the guard-room; a circumstance of which Jones knew
well how to take advantage. Climbing up by the
shoulders of one of his men, he crept through one
of the embrasures, and was promptly followed by
all his company. Making fast the door of the
guard-room, he spiked every gun on the fort,
thirty-six in number, and, without having hurt a
single individual, proceeded to join the party who
had it in charge to burn the ships. A false alarm
had deterred this party from executing their orders.
Jones, however, proceeded to fire tlie ships within
his reach ; but the inhabitants were by this time
alarmed, and hasting to the protection of the port ;
and he was compelled with his small party to retreat,
after having set fire to three ships, one of which only
was totally destroyed. This achievement cannot be
denied the praise of singular daring ; yet there is
something so unnatural in making war upon one's
native land, and especially one's native city, improv-
ing all the knowledge and the associations of early
years for the purposes of destruction, that every
generous mind revolts at the idea, and cannot award
the praise which, it may be admitted, would other-
wise bs due to the undertaking. But this attempt
was only the first exploit which signalized the 22d
of April. Early in the forenoon he landed with a
part of his crew at St. Mary's Isle, on the Galloway
coast, the beautiful residence of the Earl of Selkirk,
whom he hoped to have surprised, and carried off a
prisoner to America, that he might serve as a hostage
for the security of such of the colonists as should fall
into the hands of the British. Happily for his lord-
ship he was not at home, and Jones, as he approached
the house, and learned that there were only ladies
within it, wished to return to his ship without farther
procedure ; but his followers had no ^uch exalted
ideas. In venturing upon an undertaking so hazard-
ous, they were influenced by the hope of plunder,
which, being now in view, they refused to relinquish.
He succeeded, however, so far, that they agreed to
offer no violence to any one, that they should not
enter the house, and that the officers, having made
their demand, should accept of what might be put
into their hands without further inquiry. These
stipulations were punctually fulfilled; but the inmates
of the house were not aware of them, and, terrified
for their lives, were glad to redeem them by deliver-
ing up the whole family plate, which was carried off
in triumph by the sailors, who neither understood
nor cared for the discredit which it brought upon
their intrepid commander and the cause they served.
The circumstance was, as he probably foresaw, im-
proved with great effect to his disadvantage. To
heighten the odium of the affair, it was industriously,
but most falsely, given out that the father of Jones
had been gaidener to the Earl of Selkirk, and that
it was from this circumstance he had learned all the
localities of the estate, which enabled him to com-
mit the robbery without danger either to himself
or his marauding crew. Not one of Jones' relations
had ever been in the serv'ice of Lord Selkirk ; and
he showed that he had a spirit far above the mean-
ness imputed to him, by buying the whole of the
articles from the captors, who claimed them as their
right by the usages of war, and, at a subsequent
period, restoring them, in their original packages,
to the noble owner. In a correspondence which
was carried on between Jones and Lady Selkirk
relative to the affair, her ladyship most gratefully
acknowledged the generosity and the integrity of his
character.

But these exploits on shore did not exhaust the

PAUL JONES.

413

good fortune of Jones. The very next day, in the
bay of Carrickfergus, he fell in with the Drake, a _
king's ship of twenty guns, and after a desperate re-
sistance, in which the English captain and his first
lieutenant were both killed, made her his prize, with
\vhich, and another large ship, he returned to Brest,
after an absence of twenty-eight days. In this short
period, besides destroying a niiml:)er of valuable
ships, he had thrown the coasts both of Scotland
and Ireland into the deepest consternation. This
cruise, short as it was, occasioned the British govern-
ment immense sums of money for the fortification
of harbours, and it was the ostensible cause of em-
bodying the Irish volunteers.

Notwithstanding the brilliant success that had at-
tended his exertions, Jones was now subjected to no
small degree of mortification. As a token of good-
will to the United States, the Erench ministry had
promised to furnish him with a ship, aboard of which
he was to hoist the American flag ; but after multi-
plied applications, and a numberof written memorials,
th ; engagement seemed to be forgotten or disregarded.
^Vearied out with the delays and apologies which he
was daily receiving, Jones set out for Paris to make
his application to the French ministry in person, in
consequence of which he obtained the command
of the Duras, a ship of forty guns, the name of which,
in compliment to a saying of Poor Richard, "If you
would have your business done, come yoursalf," he
changed to Le Iton hommc Ricliard. In this vessel,
badly manned and poorly furnished, Jones sailed
with a little squadron, to which he acted as com-
modore. This squadron consisted of the Alliance,
of thirty-six guns, the Pallas of thirty-two, the Serf
of eighteen, the Vengeance of twelve, and two priva-
teers, who were promised their share of the prizes
that might be made. Having taken a number of
prizes, the Alliance, the Serf, and the privateers
deserted him, in order to pursue their own plans
singly. The courage and skill of the commodore,
however, did not forsake him, and after again alarm-
ing the coasts of Ireland, he sailed by the North .Sea
round to Leith, in the roads of which he appeared
with his own ship, the Richard, accompanied by the
Pallas and the Vengeajice, in the month of September,
evidently determined to seize upon the guard-ship
and two cutters that lay in the roads, and to lay
Leith and perhaps the city of Edinburgh under con-
tribution. The wind, however, which was fair when
he made his appearance, shifted during the night,
and the next day he continued working up the firth
with great labour and slow progress. While he was
thus employed, a boat from the shore, sent out by
an official character, who mistook his ships for Brit-
ish, informed Jones that he was greatly afraid of a
visit from that desperate buccaneer Paul Jones, and
begging that he would send him some powder and
shot. Highly amused with his mistake, the good-
humoured republican sent him a barrel of gunpowder,
with a civil answer to quiet his fears, and a modest
apology for not including shot in the present he had
sent him. In the meantime he relaxed nothing in
his exertions to come at the ships of war in the roads,
and other two tacks would have laid him alongside
of them, when a sudden gale of wind sweeping down
the firth sunk one of his prizes, and carried his
squadron irresistibly out to sea. The captains of
the Pallas and l-'engeance were so much dejected at
this accident, that they could not be prevailed upon
to renew the attempt. His little squadron shortly
after fell in with the homeward-bound Baltic fleet,
under convoy of his majesty's ships the Sera/is and
the CoHtitess of Sca7-horoitgh. A desperate engage-
ment ensued, in which Jones displayed the most

consummate skill, dauntless intrepidity, and perfect
presence of mind. The battle was obstinately con-
tested; but the Coitntess of Scarborough was at last
obliged to strike to the Pallas, and the Serapis to
the Bo)i Homme Richard, which was so shattered
in the action, that next morning, after all hands had
left her, she went to the bottom. Though the
Serapis was nearly in the same condition, Jones
hoisted his flag aboard of her, and under jury-masts
with some difficulty steered her along with his other
prizes into the Texcl. He now used all his influence
with the Erench court to have his prisoners ex-
changed against American prisoners in England, in
which he had the pleasure of succeeding to the ut-
most of his wishes, receiving, in a short time after,
a letter from Benjamin Eranklin, the American min-
ister at Paris, which informed him, "that he (Erank-
lin) had just completed the noble work which he
(Jones) had so nobly begun, by giving liberty to all
the Americans that then languished in England."
The Erench ambassador at the Hague was at the
same time ordered to communicate to Commodore
Jones the high sense which his majesty the King
of Erance entertained of his merits, and the personal
esteem he bore for his character, and especially for
his disinterested humanity.

Jones now took the command of the Alliance, the
captain of which had been summoned to Paris to
answer for his insubordination in deserting the com-
modore on the coast of Ireland; but his situation was
now perilous in the extreme. Summoned to deliver
him up to the vengeance of the English government
as a pirate and a rebel, the Dutch were constrained
to order him out to sea, where an English squadron
was watching to intercept him. Erom this dilemma
he could have been saved by accepting of a commis-
sion from the King of Erance, whose ambassador
earnestly pressed him to adopt that alternative; but
he thought himself bound in honour to decline the
offer, and determined, at whatever hazard, to abide
by and support the flag of the country- which he had,
upon the maturest reflection, adopted. " Eortune
favours the brave" is a maxim we see every day ex-
emplified. Jones weighed anchor and escaped
through the Straits of Dover, almost under the eyes
of the English men-of-war, all of which had strict
orders to secure him, and were besides inflamed
against him in a high degree from the repeated
defeats that British ships had sustained at his hands.

Towards the close of the year 1780 he sailed with
important despatches for America in the ship Ariel,
and by the way, meeting an English ship of twenty
guns, engaged her, and with his usual gallantly made
her his prize. The King of France had, previously
to this, testified his approbation of Jones' serv'ices
by presenting him with a superb gold-hilted sword;
and a letter from the Erench minister, M. de Sartine,
was now transmitted to the President of the United
States, requesting liberty "to decorate that brave
officer with the cross of the order of mditaiy merit."
The letter was laid before congress, and, a law ac-
ceding to the proposal being passed on the 27th of
February, he was formally invested by the Chevalier
De la Luzerne, at a public fete given to the members
of that body. Congress, in the month of April fol-
lowing, on the report of a committee, passed a vote
of thanks to the Chevalier John Paul Jones "for the
zeal, prudence, and intrepidity with which he had
sustained the honour of the American flag, for his
bold and successful enterprises to redeem from cap-
tivity those citizens of America who had fallen under
the power of the enemy, and in general for the good
conduct and eminent services by which he had added
lustre to his character and to the arms of America."

414

PAUL JONES.

No farther opportunity for distinguishing himself
occurred during the war; but, after its conclusion,
congress, as an expression of gratitude, had a gold
medal struck with appropriate devices to perpetuate
the memory of his valour, and the singular services
he had performed for the States.

In the year 17S7 the Chevalier Jones, being
charged with a mission to the court of Denmark,
sailed for that country in the month of November,
and passing through Paris on his way, he was
strongly solicited by the agents of Russia to take
the command of the Russian fleet in the Black
Sea. This he declined, but he was scarce arrived
at Copenhagen when the Empress Catharine sent
him, by a special messenger, an urgent invitation to
visit St. Petersburg. After what he had performed
it would have been strange if the Chevalier Jones
had not felt some reluctance to enter into the service
of Russia, where every maxim by which he had been
guided during his exertions for liberty behoved to be
reversed, and where, instead of being directed by the
united voice of an intelligent people, he must regu-
late his conduct by the single will of a despot. It
is one of the greatest evils of despotism that the
despot, once established, has the means of corrupt-
ing and enslaving even the most generous minds.
The Chevalier Jones saw many reasons for declining
to enter into the service of Catharine; but, flattered
by her attention and kind offers, he thought he could
not do less than to wait upon and thank her in per-
son for her friendly intentions. For this purpose he
set out instantly from Copenhagen, by the way of
Sweden, but at Gushelham found the Gulf of Bothnia
blocked up by the ice. After making several un-
successful attempts to reach Finland by the islands,
he conceived a plan for effecting his progress by
doubling the ice to the southward. With this view
he sailed from Gushelham in a boat thirty feet long,
followed by a smaller one that might be hauled over
tlie ice, but told none of those who accompanied
him what were his intentions. Having set out early
in the morning, he had by the evening got nearly
opposite Stockholm, when, instead of landing as the
boatmen expected, he drew out a pair of pistols and
ordered them to proceed in the direction he had pre-
viously determined upon. Resistance with a man
of the chevalier's character was probably judged by
the simple boatmen to be in vain; and following his
orders, with a fair wind they expected to reach the
coast of Finland by the morning. An impenetrable
bar of ice, however, defied all their efforts, nor from
the state of the weather was it possible for them to
return. Their only resource was to sail for the Gulf
of Finland, which they did, steering at night by a
pocket-compass, lighted by the lamp of the chevalier's
carriage, and in four days, having lost the smaller of
their boats, landed at Revel in Livonia. The cheva-
lier hasted from Revel to .St. Petersburg, wiiere he
met with a most gracious reception, and, unable any
longer to hold out against the kind wisiies of tl^e
empress, entered into her service without any stipu-
lations but that he should not be at any time con-
demned without being heard. Invested with the
rank of rear-admiral, he proceeded without delay to
take the command of a fleet stationed at the Liman
or mouth of the Dnieper, destined to oppose the
Turkish fleet under the Capitan Pacha. He hoisted
his flag as commander of this fleet on the 26th of
May, 1788, on board the Vlodimcr, and was sup-
ported by a flotilla under the Prince of Nassau, and
a number of land troops under Prince Potemkin.

Throughout this campaign, though it produced little
that is worthy of the notice of the historian, the
Chevalier Jones had many opportunities of display-
ing his professional skill and the singular intrepidity
of his character; but mean jealousy and the malig-
nant caballing of heartless and narrt)w-minded cour-
tiers denied him the well-earned praise that was due
to his services. He was however, on his return to
.St. Petersburg, as an acknowledgment of his fidelity,
invested with the order of St Anne, and informed
that in a short time he would be called to perform a
part in services of much greater importance. He
had seen enough of the Russians, however, and dis-
gusted with the sordid selfishness and the low sensu-
ality that reigned in the court of Catharine, took
leave of her dominions in the month of August, 1789.
The remainder of his days he spent partly in Holland
and partly in France, devoting his leisure hours to
the arrangement of his affairs, and to the preparation
of papers which might exhibit his character and his
services in their true light to posterity. He also
made a large collection of important documents re-
lating to the public transactions in which he had
been engaged, which will be at some future day, it
is to be hoped, given to enrich the history of the im-
portant period in which he lived. He was seized
with water in the chest, and died at Paris in the
month of July, 1792. As the laws relative to the
interment of Calvinists or heretics were not then
abolished in France, application W'as made to the
national assembly, which gave free liberty for his
being buried with all public honours, and ordered a
deputation of their number to attend, one of whom
pronounced an elegant eulogium upon his character
over his grave. He left among his papers a copious
memoir of his life written with his own hand, which
his friends, it has been said, had it in contemplation
to publish. We cannot doubt but that its publica-
tion would add to the history of that important era
many valuable notices, and be hailed by the public
as a most valuable contribution to the general stock
of literature. From the brief sketch of his life \\hich
we have given, the reader will be at no loss to ap-
preciate the character of Paul Jones, which, in his
own country, has been misrepresented by prejudice.
That he was a naval genius of the first order his
actions abundantly demonstrated. He was the man
who first flung upon the winds the flag of the United
States; and he graced it by a succession of victories,
all of which were relatively of the most splendid
character. Unlikethevauuted achievements of single
ships belonging to the same nation in the subsequent
war, every one of which possessed a vast superiority
of men and of metal, Jones accomplished his purposes
with means to all appearance inadequate to the
end, his ships being often half-rotten, only half-pro-
vided in necessaries, and his sailors of the most
motley description. In every battle which he fought
superior skill and bravery were the evident sources
of victory. Nor can the circumstance which has
been so often urged against him, that of turning his
arms against his native country, detract in the small-
est degree from his merit. He was, be it remem-
bered, at the commencement of the war, a regular
colonist of America, and was therefore no more
liable to this charge than was any other individual
out of all the thousands who at first took up arms
against Great Britain, and eventually constituted the
American republic. Less, however, can be said for
his entering the service of Russia, which was dis-
creditable to his generosity and love of freedom.

JOIL\ KAY.

415

K.

KAMES, Lord. Sc-e Home (Henry).

KAY, John, long well known in Edinhiirgli as
a miniature-painter and caricaturist, and almost the
only artist of the latter kind produced in Scotland,
was born in April, 1742, at a place called Oibraltar,
near Dalkeith. His father and an uncle named
Norman were both stone-masons, and he was him-
self destined to follow the same profession. Having
lost his father, however, in his eighth year, this
scheme was given up, and he was placed with some
relations of his mother in Leith, who, it appears,
treated the poor orphan boy with great cruelty —
almost to the hazard of his life. He also was oftener
than once, while in this situation, in danger of drown-
ing in Leith harbour.

At the age of thirteen he was placed by his mother
with a barber in Dalkeith, whom he served for six
years; he then set up in Edinburgh, having first paid
about ;^40 to the society of surgeon-barbers for the
freedom of the corporation, and soon after married
a young woman, by whom he had eleven children,
all of whom long predeceased himself. The trade
of a barber was then more lucrative, and consequently
more dignified, than latterly. Kay had good employ-
ment in dressing the wigs and trimming the heads
of a certain number of gentlemen every morning, all
of whom paid him a certain annual sum (generally
about four guineas) for his trouble. Among his
customers was a fine specimen of the old Jacobite
country gentleman, Mr. Nisbet of Dirleton, who took
a fancy for him, and frequently invited him to the
country, to the great injury of his business. Kay
had, even in his boyhood when residing in Leith,
manifested a turn for sketching familiar objects, such
as horses, dogs, ships, &c., using chalk or coal, and
tracing his delineations on such pieces of dead wall
as presented a large enough ground. Now and then
in later life he made some attempts in miniatures
and pencil sketches. It may easily be conceived
that, finding himself possessed of this talent, and
encouraged by a man of rank in developing it, he
felt some difficulty in restraining himself to the
humble career which destiny seemed to have marked
out for him. At Mr. Nisbet's country-seat he for
the first time found proper opportunities and proper
materials for his favourite study; while any com-
punctious visitings he might feel as to the danger to
which he thus exposed the permanent livelihood of
himself and family, were laid to rest by the kindness
of his patron, who, in the meantime, sent money to
support his domestic establishment in Edinburgh,
and promised speedily to obtain for him some per-
manent provision which should render him inde-
pendent of business. Unfortunately, in 1782, Mr.
Nisbet died, without having executed his kind inten-
tion; and Mr. Kay was left in somewhat awkward
circumstances, having, as it were, fallen to the ground
between certainty and hope. The heir, however, so
far repaired the omission of his predecessor as to
settle an annuity of ;^20 upon Kay for life.

He now began effectually to fallow out his bent
for limning and etching, and, after a few trials, aban-
doned his trade as a barber. In 1784 he published
his first caricature, which represented a half-crazed
Jacobite gentleman, named Laird Robertson, who
was wont to amuse the citizens of Edinburgh by cut-
ting caricatured resemblances of public characters,

which he fixed on the head of his stick, and whose
figure was perfectly known to all the inliabitants.
The portrait accordingly excited some attention, and
the author was induced to attempt others. Tiie style
assumed by Mr. Kay was the stippled or dotted style,
and nothing could ecpial the felicity of the hkeness.
From that time forward, till he was about eighty
years of age, this untutored son of genius pursued
his vocation, taking off, one after another, the whole
of the public and eccentric persons who appeared in
the Scottish capital, and occasionally caricaturing
any jocular incident that happened to attract atten-
tion. To speak of his portraits as caricatures is
doing them signal injustice. They were the most
exact and faithful likenesses that could have been
represented by any mode of art. He drew the man
as he walked the street every day : his gait, his cos-
tume, every peculiarity of his appearance, done to a
point, and no defect perceptible except the stiffness
of the figures. Indeed, he may be said to have
rather resembled one of the prosopographuses or
apographs of modern times, than a living artist
trusting to his eye and hand. Hence, nothing can
be more valuable in the way of engraved portraits
than his representations of the distinguished men
who adorned Edinburgh in the latter part of the
eighteenth century — the Blairs, the Smiths, and the
Robertsons. It was only in certain instances that
his productions could be considered as caricatures,
namely, in those combinations by which he meant
to burlesque any ridiculous public transaction : and
even here his likenesses displayed all his usual cor-
rectness. During a considerable part of his career
Mr. Kay was a professed miniature painter, and
executed some specimens which, for delicacy and
finish, would surprise such individuals as have only
been accustomed to inspect his published etchings.
It is said that his only fault in this capacity was a
rigid and unbending adherence to likeness — a total
want of the courtly system practised in so eminent a
degree by Lawrence and other fashionable painters.
Once, it is related, he was " tryst ed" with an exceed-
ingly ill-looking man, much pimpled, who, to add
to the distresses of the artist, came accompanied by
a fair nymph to whom he was about to be married.
Honest Kay did all he could in favour of this gen-
tleman, so far as omitting the ravages of bacchan-
alianism would go; but still he could not satisfy his
customer, who earnestly appealed to his inamorata
as to the injustice which he conceived to be done to
him, and the necessity of improving the likeness, for
so he termed the flattery which he conceived to be
necessary. Quite tired at length with tliis literally
ugly customer, and greatly incensed, the miniaturist
exclaimed, with an execration, that he would "paint
every plook in the puppy's face : would that please
him!" It is needless to remark that in this, as in
other instances, Mr. Kay lost by his unbending accu-
racy of delineation.

During almost the whole of his career as an artist
Mr. Kay had a small print-shop in the Parliament
Sf[uare, the window of which was usually stuck full
of his productions. He etched in all nearly nine
hundred plates, forming a complete record of the
public characters, of every grade and kind, includ-
ing many distinguished strangers, who made a figure
in Edinburgh for nearly half a century. It may be
safely affirmed that no city in the empire can boast

4IO

JAMES KEILL JOHN KEILL.

of so curious a chronicle. From the first to the last
there is a remarkable similarity in his style. After
forty years' experience he was just as deficient in
grouping, and other acquired gifts in the art, as when
he first began to use the graver. It would almost
appear as if nature had designed him for that pecu-
liar style alone in which he so much excelled all
other men, and had denied him every common effect of
his art, which other men generally attain with ease.

In a profile of himself, executed about the year
17S5, Mr. Kay appears with a handsome aquiline
countenance, of much delicacy and ingenuity- of ex-
pression. In his latter days, when the writer of this
notice first saw him, he was a slender but straight
old man, of middle size, and usually dressed in a
garb of antique cut; of simple habits, and quiet un-
assuming manners. His head was of a singular
structure, presenting a very remarkable protuberance
in the forehead, where phrenologists, we believe,
place the organs of obser\-ation : in Kay, the profile
of this feature formed the arc of a perfect circle, be-
ginning under the hair, and terminating at the root
of the nose. According to the information of his
widow (a second spKJuse, whom he married in 1787),
he cared for and could settle at no emploj-ment
except that of etching likenesses. He would sud-
denly quit his lucrative employment in miniature-
drawing in order to commit some freak of his fancy
lo copper, from which j)erhaps no profit was to be
ho{)ed for. It was the con-\nction of this lady, that
if he had devoted himself to the more productive art
he would soon have acquired a competency.

Mr. Kay died in Edinburgh, some time in the year
1830. His wife sun-ived him till 1835. After her
death the copj)erplates of his works were purchased
by Mr. Hugh Paton, Edinburgh, who republished
them in two quarto volumes, with biographical
sketches, imder the title oi Kay's Edinburgh Portraits.
The work forms a collection altogether imique, and
possesses great general as well as local interest, even
in a generation comparatively unacquainted with the
subjects of the prints.

"K^H'i i-T. James, a physician and philosopher of
eminence, the younger brother of the celebrated per-
son whose memoir foUows this in alphabetical order,
was bom in Scotland on the 27th of March, 1673.
He received his early education in Edinburgh, after-
wards stud)-ing the sciences and languages at Leyden
and other continental universities. On his return to
Britain he applied himself assiduously to the acqui-
■ sition of a knowledge of anatomy, studying the science
practically by constant attendance at the dissecting
rooms. Ha%-ing accustomed himself to deliver his
opinions on anatomy privately to his friends, he at
last undertook public tuition, and delivered with
considerable applause lectures on anatomy at Oxford
and Cambridge, by the latter of which xmiversiues
he was presented with the degree of Doctor of Medi-
cine. In 169S he translated from the French,
Lemery's Course of Chimistry, and soon after pub-
lished in the Philosophical Transactions, "An Ac-
count of the Death and Dissection of John Bayles of
Northampton, reputed to have been one hundred and
thirty years old."' To Xo. 361 of the same journal
he gave "De Viribus Cordis Epistola." In 1708 he
published An Account of Animal Secretion, the Quan-
tity of Blood in the Human Body, and Muscular Mo-
tion. On the subject of animal secretion, and the
manner in which the fluids of the animal body are
separated from the blood, he undertakes to show:
I. How thev are formed in the blood before thev

come to the place apfwinted for secretion ; 2. In
what manner they are separated from the blood by
the glands. Upon the former head he shows, " that
the blood consists of a simple fluid, in which swim
corpuscles of various figures and magnitudes, and
endued with different degrees of attractive force.
Hence he concludes, that of such particles as the
blood consists of must the fluids be composed which
are drawn from it This he proceeds to show to be
not only possible, but actually so in several secre-
tions. From this principle, that the blood consists
of corpuscles of various figures and magnitudes, and
endued with various degrees of attractive jX)wer, &c,
he attempts to show the force of the air upon the
blood in breathing, in order to demonstrate that by
the pressure of the air the cohesion of the globules
of the blood is dissolved. After this he shows how
the union of the attractive particles is hindered near
the heart, and that the particles which imite first,
after the blood is thrown out of the great artery,
must be such as have the strongest attractive force;
and that such as have the least, must unite last; and
all the intermediate ones according to their respective
attractive p)ower."* Besides this work, Keill pub-
lished Anatomy of tJu Human Body, for the use of
his pupils; and in 171 7, Essays on Several Parts of
the Human Economy. He apj)ears to have given
up public tuition, and some time previously to the
publication of his last work to have established him-
self as a practising ph}-sician at Northampton, where
he gained considerable fortune and reputation, and
remained till his death, which took place in July 16,
1 7 19, from a cancer in his mouth. He was buried
in the church of St. Giles, where his brother John,
to whom he left his property, erected a handsome
monument to his memory.

K h:i I .T.J John, an eminent mathematician and
natxiral philosopher, the elder brother of the preced-
ing, was bom in Edinburgh on the ist of December,
1671.* He received the rudiments of education in
the schools of his native city, and remained at the
Edinburgh university until he was enabled to take
the degree of Master of Arts. He early displayed a
genius and predilection for mathematics, and had
the good fortune to study the science, along with the
Newtonian s\-stem of philosophy, under Dr. Gregory.
\Vhen, in the year 1694, Gregor)- went to tn- his
fortune in England, Keill followed him, and con-
trived along with him to find admission to Oxford,
where he held one of the Scottish exhibitions in
Baliol College. Keill made his first appearance be-
fore the scientific world in his Examination of Dr.
Burnet's Theory of the Earth, together vith some
Remarks on Mr. Ultistons Acit' Theory of the Earth,
published at Oxford in the year 1698. Any "theory
of the earth," or account of its formation and state,
in anticipation of the discovery of facts to support
it, always formed a fhiitful subject of debate; but
Burnet's Theory afforded more ample field for cen-
sure than any other which pretended to supf>ort from
the enlightened doctrines of modem philosophy. The
grand outlines of his theorv' were of themselves suffi-
ciently imaginative, and their effect was increased by
the curious speculations with which he filled up the
minor details of his edifice. He supposes the earth
to have been originally a heterogeneous mass of fluid
matter, of which the hea\-ier portions fell to the
centre, forming there a dense body, surrounded and
coated by lighter bodies, while the water — the
lightest of all the heterogeneous mass — remained on
the outside of the whole. The air and other ceies-

1 Phil. Trans. \xy.

- Martin's Biograpkia PhUosophica,

Ibid. 4;-.

JOIIX KEILL.

417

tial fluids (loated round this body : while between it
and tlie water was gradually formed a coat of unctu-
ous or oily matter, higher than water. U]')on this
unctuous coat certain im]iure particles which hatl at
first been mingled with the air descended, and float-
ing about covered the surface, forming a shell over
the water, which became the crust of the earth. This
crust was level and uniform, without hill or vale; so
it remained for about sixteen centuries, imtil the heat
of the sun having cracked it in divers places, the
water rushed forth, causing the general deluge. This
water found, however, a means of partially subsiding
betwixt the broken masses of the crust, thus leaving
the globe in the state of ocean, hill, and valley.

Keill, who, besides being a man of accurate science,
was a person of clear good sense and critical acumen,
saw clearly the evil done to science by the admission
of suppositions which have a fully greater chance of
being wrong than of being right, while the richness
of the doctor's imagination, and the poetic beauty of
his language and illustration, did not protect his
principles from a subjection to the strict rules of
logic. Keill's book is full of the clear argumenta-
tion of a man who is rather formed to correct and
check the discoveries of others, than to allow his in-
vention to stray so far as to make any of his own.
He occasionally condescends to use demonstration,
while, well knowing that there may be positions
against which the gravity of an argument is misap-
plied, he makes very frequent use of sarcasm, a
power of which he is an accomplished and apt
handler. Most of the vigour of the attack is derived
from the manner in which the different parts of the
theory are found inconsistent with each other, with-
out any very extensive reference to other authority.
"After this fashion," says Keill, after giving an out-
line of Burnet's first formation of the earth, " has the
theorist formed his antediluvian habitable world,
which doth not much differ from the Cartesian
method of making the earth : only Des Cartes, being
somewhat wiser than the theorist, would not allow
the outward crust, within whose bowels the waters
were shut up, to be a habitable earth, knowing well
that neither man nor beast could live long without
water. But he made the crust first be broken, and
the waters flow out, before he placed any inhabitants
on it. Another small difference betwixt the two
hypotheses is, that Monsieur Des Cartes never
thought of making the exterior orb of oily liquids,
which the theorist asserts to be absolutely necessary
towards the formation of the crust; for if it were not,
says he, for the oily liquor which swims upon the
surface of the abyss, the particles of earth which fell
through the air had sunk to the bottom, and had
never formed the exterior orb of earth. But not-
withstanding this, I believe it may be easily made
evident (though neither of these systems is true),
that the theorist's hypothesis is the worse of the two,
which I will prove from his own concessions : for
he has already owned that the oily liquor is much
lighter than the watery orb. He has mentioned also
that the terrestrial particles when falling from the
air, if the orb were only water, would sink to the
bottom; and therefore these particles must be heavier
than water. From thence I think it does necessarily
follow, that these terrestrial particles must also be
heavier than the oily fluid, which is lighter than
water, and therefore they will more easily descend
through it than they did through water, it being well
known that there are several bodies which will swim
in water, but sink in oil.""^

Proceeding on such positions Keill destroys what

VOL. II.

' Examination, 37, 38.

has been raised by his adversary, wisely substituting
nothing in its stead, except what experiment and
demonstration support; the general aim of the prin-
ciples he espouses being that, excepting in so far as
we know by experiment the operation of nature, we
must take the cosmogony of the earth, either liter-
ally as we find it laid down in holy writ, or, admit-
ting our inability to penetrate into its secrets, be
content with what is afforded us by experience, de-
monstration, and rational or certain deduction.
Whiston, in his A'rM Theory of the Earth, Jrom its
Original to the Coiisiit/iiiiation of all Things, main-
tained that the Mosaic account of the creation did
not give a philosophical account of the formation of
the universe, but that it was merely intended, in the
most simple and intelligible manner, to give a history
of the formation of the globe we inhabit; that before
being brought into existence as an inhabited world,
it had been a comet, which beiiig subject to perpetual
reverses from heat to cold, became by the alternate
congealing and melting of its surface, covered with
a coat of heterogeneous matter or a chaos, within
which the solid nucleus formed a great burning globe.
This great mass of matter, as the eccentricities of
its orbit decreased, became more nearly circular,
and the materials ranging themselves according to
their gravities, assumed at the period of the "crea-
tion" the forms of earth, water, and air. If this
theory does not possess any recommendation to our
belief superior to that claimed by Burnet, its author
had at least the art to found a greater number of his
conclusions on experiments, and to deduce others in
a less imaginative manner. Keill treats this adver-
saiy with more respect than he affords to Burnet,
seldom proving his positions "impossible," and
generally contenting himself with being sceptical; he
allows that the author ' ' has made greater discoveries,
and proceeded on more philosophical principles,
than all the theorists before him have done."

Keill's small work isoften referred to as an authority
by geologists and natural philosophers; it contains
many experimental calculations, among which is that
estimate of the depth of the sea on which Breislak
in later times founded his celebrated calculation, that
there never could have been a sufficient quantity of
water in and about our globe to have kept the matter
of it at any time in solution. It was considered by
many that Keill had used the venerable Dr. Burnet,
much his elder in years, a scholar, and a man es-
teemed for his private virtues, with too much asperity
and unbecoming sarcasm. It appears that the re-
spective theorists answered the attack, although iR
what manner we have been unable to discover.

In 1699 Keill published a rejoinder, entitled An
Examination of the defections on the Theory of the
Earth, together with a Defence of the Remarks on
Mr. Whiston^s N'ezo Theory. The defence of the
Theory appears by no means to have infused into
Keill a greater spirit of politeness. He proceeds
with the impatience of a man of sense and knowledge
interrupted, terminating with an advice to Burnet to
study "numbers and magnitude, astronomy and
statics, that," he continues, "he may be the better
able to understand the force of my argimients against
his Theory, after which I doubt not but that he will
easily perceive its errors, and have the ingenuity to
acknowledge them. But till then, all farther dis-
putation between him and me must needs be vain
and frivolous, since true reasoning on natural philo-
sophy depends on such principles as are demonstrated
in those sciences, the knowledge of which he has not
yet attained."^ To his other opponent, ^Whiston,

2 Examination 0/ the Rejiections, 160.

62

4iS

JOHN KEILL.

Keill has in this work, probably owing to the man-
ner in which he was answered, forgot his former
courtesy, treating him with no more deference than
he has used toward Ihimet.

In 17CO Dr. Thomas Millington, Sedleian pro-
fessor of natural philosophy in Oxford, on his ap-
pointment as physician in ordinar}- to the king, sub-
stituted Kcill as his assistant to read his public
lectures; and the term for enjoying the Scottish ex-
hibition at Haliol College then expiring, he accepted
an invitation from Dr. Aldrich, dean of Christ's
Church, to reside there. As his master Gregory was
the tirst who introduced tlie Newtonian philosophy
to the universities, Keill himself possesses the repu-
tation of having been the first to demonstrate its
principles on experiment; a task he is said to have
performed through machinery of his own invention,
but of what description, or to what extent he pro-
ceeded in his proofs, we are not informed.

In 1 701 Keill published his Introdiictio ad Veram
riiysicam, a useful and popular treatise on the New-
tonian philosophy. It is considered as an excellent
introduction to Sir Isaac Newton's rrincipia, and
has frequently been reprinted in England, and in a
French translation. About the year 1708 Keill was
chosen a fellow of the Royal Society, and after his
admission he [lublished in the ritilosophkal Transac-
tions a pretty lengthy paper, "in which the laws of
attraction and other princii^les of physic are shown."'
At this period the scientific world became disturbed
by the dispute, which had assumed the aspect of a
national ipiestion, whether Leibnitz formed his idea
of the doctrine of fluxions from some unpublished
discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton, and which of these
two great men could properly be considered the in-
ventor of that sublime addition to the power of the
human intellect. In the Acta Eruditortim, published
at Leipsic, it was maintained that Leibnitz was the
sole inventor, all right on the part of Newton being
denied. To this Keill answered in a paper whicli
he communicated to the Royal Society, defending
his friend without much regard to the accusations
which he brought against his opponent.

In 171 1 Leibnitz complained to the Royal Society
that Keill had accused him of obtaining and publish-
ing his knowledge in a manner not reputable to a
philosopher, or even exactly consistent with honesty;
he appealed to Sir Isaac himself as a witness of his
integrity, and required that Keill should publicly
disavow the offensive constniction which might be
applicable to his words. The Royal Society being
appealed to as philosophical judges in the matter,
a])pointed a committee to examine the papers and
<locuments connected with the dispute, who did not
find it difficult to produce a report rather unfavour-
able to the continental philosopher, bearing "that
Mr. Leibnitz was in London in 1673, and kept a
correspondence with Mr. Collins, by means of Mr.
Oldenburgh, till September, 1676, when he returned
from Paris to Hanover by way of London and Am-
sterdam; that it did not ajipear that ^L Leibnitz knew
anything of the differential calculus before his letter
of the 2ist June, 1C77, which was a year after a copy
of a letter wrote by Sir Isaac Newton, in the year
1672, had been sent to Paris to be communicated to
him, and about four years after Mr. Collins began to
communicate that letter to his correspondents; where-
in the method of fluxions was sufficiently explained
to let a man of his sagacity into the whole matter:
and that Sir I. Newton had even invented his method
before the year 1669, and of consequence fifteen years

' " Epistol.-i ad clar: Vir: Guliclmum Cockbum, Medicina;
Doctorcm— in nua Leges Attractionis Aliaque Physicae Prin-
cipia tradjntur." — Pkil. Trajts. xxvi. 97.

before Mr. Leibnitz had given anything on the sub-
ject in the Leipsic Acts;" from which train of cir-
cumstances they concluded that Keill was justified
in his imputations. The censure of the society, and
the papers connected with it, were published apart
from the Transactions, in 1712, under the title Com-
vuTcinin Epistolicum de Analysi Promota. For some
time the philosopher appears not to have answered
this array against him, until the Abbe Conti, in the
year 1716, addressed him, calling on him, if he did
not choose to answer Keill, at least to vindicate him-
self from the non-admission of his claim on the part
of Newton;- and he just commenced the work of
vindication at a period when death prevented him
from completing it.

In the year 1709 Keill was appointed treasurer to
the Palatines, and in performance of his duties at-
tended them in their passage to New England. On
his return, in 17 10, he was appointed successor to
Dr. Caswell, Savilian professor of astronomy at Ox-
ford. At this period he again entered the field of
controversy, in .support of his friend Sir Isaac New-
ton, whose philosophy had been attacked on the
foundation of Des Cartes's theory of a plenum; and
he published in the Philosophical Transactions for
1713 a communication to the society on the rarity
of matter and the tenuity of its composition.* In
this controversy he was, however, interrupted by his
appointment to the situation of decipherer to the
queen, and he was soon afterwards presented with
the degree of Doctor of Medicine by the university
of Oxford. About this period we find him gratefully
remembered by that unfortunate scholar Simon
Oakley, for having permitted him the use of the
Savilian study.*

Keill, in the year 1717, took to himself a wife.
The name of the lady who made him the happiest
of men has not been presei"ved; but it is said he
married her "for her singular accomplishments."
In the GenilcmaiCs Magazine for 1739 we find a
curious Horatian ode addressed to Keill by the cele-
brated Anthony Alsop; its period of publication is
some years after the death of both the parties, and
there is no comment alluding to the date of its com-
position; but the circumstances mentioned show it
to be a congratulatoiy epistle to Keill on his mar-
riage. The ode is extremely spirited and not desti-
tute of elegance; but whether from other motives,
or the anxiety of the author to reach the familiar
vivacity of the Roman lyrist, he has treated his grave
subject in a manner which would not now be con-
sidered very worthy of a divine, or to convey a pleas-
ing compliment to a venerable professor. The sub-
ject was one of some delicacy to Alsop, \\\\o was
then enduring a species of banishment, the consequence
of a verdict obtained against him for breach of a
contract of marriage; and whether from this circum-
stance, or his classical feelings, he has dwelt on the
habits of his friend in a manner which would hardly
fail to draw "damages" from a modern jury. In
1718 Keill published Introdiictio ad J'tTain Aslro-
tioniiam, sen Lectiones Astronoinicce, a work which was
reprinted in the year 1 721, at which period, at the
request of the Duchess of Chandos, he published a
translation of this work in English, with emenda-
tions, inider the title of An Introduction to the True
Astronomy ; or, Astronoinical Lectures read in the
Astronomical School of the University of Oxford.

* Published in the Pliil. Trans, xxx. 924.

^ "Theoremata qu.-cdam infinitam materiae divisibilitatem
spectantia, qure ejusdem raritatem et tenuem compositionem
dcmonstrant, quorum ope plurimae in physica toUuntur difficul-
tales."— /'/j//. Trans, xxviii. 82. /

* Nichols' Literary Anecdotes,

GEORGE KEITH.

419

The year in which he accomplished these literary
labours was tlie last of his life; during the summer
of 1 72 1 he was seized with a violent fever, of which
he died in the month of September, in the fiftieth
}car of his age. Besides tlie works we have men-
tioned, he published in 1715 ''^''^ edition of Com-
mandinus' Euclid, with additions.

KErrH, George, fifth Earl Marischal, founder
of the Marischal College of Aberdeen. Tlie period
of tliis nobleman's birth is unknown ; his father was
AMlliam Lord Keith (eldest son of the fourth Earl
Marischal), a person known in history as having
been taken prisoner into England in 1558, and re-
leased for a ransom of ;^200o. This individual
married Elizabeth Hay, daughter to the I'^arl of
JCrrol, by whom, at his death in 15S0, he left, besides
the subject of our memoir, three sons and four
daughters.* George succeeded his grandfather in
the year 1581, and we find him towards the end of
the year following doing his duty in parliament. -
We are led to understand, that, previously to his
succeeding to the title, he had spent some time
among the seats of learning on the Continent. As
with most men wdio have been remarkable in ad-
vanced life, it was recollected of him after his death,
that in youth he showed an extreme desire for know-
ledge and a facility in its acquisition. We are in-
formed that he studied at the King's College of
Aberdeen,^ and that at the age of eighteen he was
an adept in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew lan-
guages, and in the studies of antiquities, history,
and literature; when, discontented with the scope
allowed in his own country, he resolved to study in
Erance.* On this journey it is said that he was
courteously received by the Landgrave of Hesse (the
chief among the descendants of that celebrated tribe
of "Catti," from which the fabulous historians have
traced the family of Keith), along with the other
noble youths of the age. While he was accumu-
lating knowledge, he did not forget the opportunities
afforded him in France of perfecting himself in the
knowdedge of arms and the feats of athletic jugglery
then in vogue. After some time Keith left France,
preferring a residence in Geneva, with the illustrious
Theodore Beza, by whom he was instructed in divin-
ity, history, and the art of speaking. During his
residence there an accident of a melancholy nature
happened. His younger brother, William, who had
accompanied him on his journey, and had, apparently
with high promise of future eminence, shared in his
studies, was killed in a tumult during an excursion
into the country. His eminent master, along with
Gaulter and Andrew jMelville, have celebrated the
memory and talents of this young man. Beza, in
the dedication of his Icones Virorum Doctrina et
Pietate lUusty-ium to King James, mentions with
much satisfaction the circumstance of having been
intrusted with the education of pupils so illustrious.
After the death of his brother Keith left Geneva,
and visited the courts of Europe, where his rank and
great wealth admitted his making a considerable
figure. It is said that even in this employment,
presumed to be full of gaiety, he was a grave and
accurate student : that he indulged in the splendour
of courts more for the purpose of acquiring historical

1 Douglas' Peerage, 193. - Act. Pari. iii. 326.

* Middleton's Account of tJie King's College 0/ Aberdeen
and 0/ the Great Men there, MS. Bib. Ad. M. 6, 15.

*"Oratio Funebris, in obitum maximi virorum Georgii
Marischalli comitis, D. Keith et Altre, &c., Academiae Mar-
ischallanse Aberdoniae fundatoris, et Mecaenatis munificen-
tissimi; scripta et pronunciata a Gulielmo Ogstono, philosophiae
moralis ibidem professore." — Aber. Raban, 1623, 4to, p. 11.

knowledge than of pursuing pleasure, and that he
travelled less for the purpose of recreation and
variety, than for the acquisition of correct knowledge
of the various countries of the world, having seldom
seen a country of which he did not show his acquaint-
ance by embodying his knowledge in a map.' He
returned to his native country after an absence of
seven years. The Scottish peer who in the sixteenth
century founded a university and encouraged learn-
ing must have been a man whose penetration and
grasp of mind were very different from those of his
colleagues in rank, yet he appears not to have been
totally exempt from the barbarous habits and feelings
of the day.

On the 8th of June, 1585, we find him obtaining
a remission under the great seal, for "art and part"
of the slaughter of his relative William Keith, ap-
parent of Luduquhairn ;* and in 1595 he is charged
to appear before the king and council as a person
entertaining a deadly feud with the laird of Mel-
drum.' Soon after his accession to the earldom the
celebrated Raid of Ruthven took place, a political
movement as to which it is difficult to discover his
view, but with which his connection seems to have
somewhat displeased the king. He was apparently
not present at the " raid," nor does he appear to
have approached so hot a political atmosphere until
the king's escape from Falkland to St. Andrews,
whither he repaired apparently as a neutral person;
but he is represented as having retired to his own
home in disgust, on the king changing the lenient
measure he had at first proposed towards the rebels.'
The earl was a member of that parliament which,
on the 19th of October, 1582, approved the acts of
the conspirators, holding their proceedings as legal,
and protecting their persons from punishment, by an
act which was afterwards expunged from the statute-
book." It is not without surprise, that, after such
a measure, we find him acting as chancellor of the
assize of peers, which, with considerable partiality
in its proceedings, found the Earl of Gowrie guilty
of treason on account of his share in the Raid of
Ruthven.'" It can scarcely be doubted, that in these
proceedings he w^as guilty of inconsistency: it is not
likely that any one attended a parliament held under
the auspices of the conspirators for the purpose of
voting against them, and it was not customary for
the crown to choose assizors who would acquit, while
his having acted as chancellor leaves no doubt that
he voted for a verdict of guilty! Charity can only
palliate this tergiversation on the circumstance, that
Gowrie had, in the interval between these events,
been guilty of additional acts of disobedience.

After the singular proceedings on the part of James
towards the court of Denmark in attempting a
negotiation of marriage with the eldest daughter of
Frederick II., wdiich terminated in that monarch
(not presuming the King of Scotland to be serious
in his proposals) marrying his daughter to the Duke
of Bmnswick; the lover, disappointed of one daugh-
ter, was resolved to tiy more consistent plans for
obtaining the other, and James proposed to send
Lord Altrj', uncle to the Earl Marischal, to Den-
mark, to make serious proposals to Frederick's
second daughter, Anne. The disposition of the
council of .Scotland was such as prompted Altrj', an
old and infirm statesman, averse to engaging in the
excitement of politics, to decline the high office, and
his nephew, the Earl Marischal, showed a desire to

^ Oratio Funebris, ut sup. " Douglas' Peerage, i. 193.
' Pitcairn's Criminal Trials, i. 353.

* Melville's y1/««c/ri, 270-274. ^ Act. Pari. iii. 326,

'" Pitcairn's Critninal Trials, i. 116.

420

GEORGE KEITH.

officiate in his stead. "Now the Earl Marischal,"
says Sir James Melville in his cautious manner,
"was desirous to supply the place of his uncle, my
lord of Altry: and his majesty was content that he
should be sent thither. NVhereupon I took occasion
to represent to his majesty that the said earl was
very well qualified for that employment, and that
he would go the better contented if he might have
in commission with him some of his own friends and
acquaintance. His majesty answered that it was his
part to choose his own ambassadors; that the Earl
Marischal should have the first place as a nobleman,
but," continues .Sir James with his usual compla-
cency, "that he would repose the chief handling
with the regent and council of Denmark upon me."'
It is probable that the great wealth of the earl, who
was then the ricliest nobleman in Scotland, was a
cogent reason for appointing him to superintend an
expensive expedition. It was the policy of Queen
Elizabeth to object to the proposed alliance, and the
privy-council of .Scotland showed a disposition to
accede to her wishes. In the meantime the trades-
men of Edinburgh, instigated, it is said, by the secret
interference of James, took the matter into their
hands, threatening the privy-council, and denouncing
vengeance against Thirlestane, the chancellor, whom
they looked upon as the chief agent of Elizabeth.
James had made his resolution, and the earl was
finally despatched to Denmark, along with the con-
stable of Dundee, and Lord Andrew Keith, whom
he had requested permission to take as an associate.
Owing to the vacillat-ing policy of James, "his power
to conclude was so limited, and his commission so
slender, that he was compelled to send back again
my Lord Dingwall, either for a license to come home
or for a sufficient power to conclude."'' Dingwall
found the king at Aberdeen, who, as the chancellor
and most part of the council were absent, was now
in a situation to give more ample powers. The
storm which interrupted the voyage of the princess
is well known as an amusing portion of Scottish
history; in the meantime the chancellor, who was
the deadly enemy of the Earl Marischal, had, from
his opposition to the measure, sunk in the favour of
James, and did not recover his former estimation
without suffering the expense of procuring the hand-
some fast-sailing vessel, in which the monarch made
that voyage to Denmark which has been considered
so unaccountably inconsistent with his general char-
acter. We shall give, in the words of Sir James
Melville, an account of the very characteristic squab-
bles which took place between the two rival peers
at the court of Copenhagen. "The company who
were with his majesty put him to great trouble to
agree their continual janglings, strife, pride, and
partialities. The Earl Marischal, by reason that he
was an ancient earl, and had been first employed in
this honourable commission, thought to have the
first place next unto his majesty so long as he was
there. The chancellor, by reason of his office, would
needs have the pre-eminence. There were also con-
tentions between him and the justice-clerk. The
constable of Dundee and my Lord Ding^vaIl could
not agree about place. George Hume did quietly
shoot out William Keith from his office of master of
the wardrobe. At length they were all divided into
two factions; the one for the Earl Marischal, the
other for the chancellor, who was the stronger, be-
cause the king took his part; so that the chancellor
triumphed."' The munificence and great wealth of
the earl prompted him to bear, in the first instance,
the expense of the mission; he could not have done

' Melville's Memoirs, 357. - Ibid. 358. » Ibid. 363.

a service more acceptable to his sovereign, and it
appears to have finally reinstated him in favour. In
1592 the earl received a parliamentary ratification of
his acts as concerned the mission, and was at the
same time empowered to recover from a forfeited
estate the expense he had incurred, stated as amount-
ing to 3156 merks.* Up to the commencement of
the eighteenth century the debt was, however, un-
recovered,' and it is not probable that after that
period it was ever paid.

In 1583 the earl was one of the commissioners
appointed to superintend the "new erection" or
alteration in management of the King's College of
Aberdeen; and it is probable that the duties in which
he was then engaged prompted him ten years after-
wards to perform that act of enlightened munificence,
which has perpetuated his name as the founder of
Marischal College. The charter of the university
was granted by the earl on the 2d April, 1593; it
was approved of by the General Assembly of Dundee
on the 24th of the same month, after having been
submitted to the examination of a committee, and
was ratified by parliament on the 21st of July fol-
lowing. The college was endowed to maintain a
principal, three regent-professors, and six bursars.
By the foundation the languages and sciences ap-
pointed to be taught were Greek, Hebrew, and
-Syriac, natural historj-, geometr)-, geography, chrono-
logy, and astronomy. In opposition to the prin-
ciple previously pursued, by which each professor
conducted a class of students through all the branches
of knowledge taught in any university, the sul>jects
taught in Marischal College were divided among
separate masters, each of whom adhered to his
peculiar branch — an excellent regulation, aftervvards
departed from, but resumed in the middle of the
eighteenth century.'' Without descending to the
particular benefits of this institution, the circum-
stance that many eminent names are connected with
Marischal College, and that its small endowments
have cultivated intellects which might have long
lain unproductive, are sufficient of themselves to
speak to the honour of its noble founder. There are
1 14 bursaries connected with the college, of the an-
nual value of ^^1150. About seventy of these are
open to competition. Two of them are of the annual
value of £10 each, and are adjudged for excellence
in mathematics to students who have studied that
science for two sessions, and are held for two years.
The bursaries range in value from £'i, to ;i^i5 an-
nually— the smallest paying the full fee of the pos-
sessor for the four years during which he remains at
the university, and the larger frequently forming for
a time the chief support of one or two individuals
who would otherwise remain uneducated. They are
carefully protected as the rewards of talent and
labour, and held by those who gain them as their
right, independently of the authority of the officials
of the university. The ancient buildings of the
university having fallen into decay, the foundation
of a splendid new building in the Gothic style from
designs by Mr. Archibald Simpson, architect, was
laid with masonic honours by the Duke of Richmond,
chancellor of the university, on the 18th of October,
1837. The builder's contract amounted to ^(^2 1,420,
of which sum ;^i5,cxx), with interest thereon from
1826, was granted by government, the remainder

■• Act. Pari. iii. 541.

^ " A Short Relation 0/ tlie Origin of the Keitlis in Sect-
land, with a list of the predecessors of the present Earl
Marischal of that kingdome, beinij ane abstract of the history
of that noble family, anno Domini, 1690. Aberdeen, x die
Aprilis, An. I)om. 1700."

* For a farther account of this matter, see the memoir of
Alexander Gerard in this collection.

GEORGE KEITH JAMES KEITH.

421

being raised by private subscription. The new
buildings were completed in 1S42. Several new
chairs have been instituted. The average number
of students for the succeeding twenty years was
— in arts, 190; in divinity, 120 ; in law, 35; in
medicine, 84.

Within the same year that Marischal College
was founded, we find its patron engaged in other
works of public utility. He granted a charter to
Peterhead. And by the act 1593, c. 48, we find
him empowered to exact a toll of twenty pence for
every last of goods entering or leaving a harbour he
had attached to that town.* At the same period the
secret transactions with the court of Spain, of which
some of the northern peers were suspected, and the
discovery of those mysterious documents known by
the name of "the Spanish blanks," created alarm in
the nation and consternation at court ; and by the
same act of 1593 the Earl Marischal, as a trusty
statesman, was empowered to act the part of king's
commissioner in the shires of Kincardine, Aberdeen,
and Banff, and to inquire into the conduct of the
Earls of Errol, Huntly, Angus, and others.' A
trust of still higher order was reposed in the earl in
June 6th, 1609, when, by commission under the
great seal, he was appointed lord high-commissioner
to the parliament of Scotland.

In the year 1622, in the old age of a well-spent
life, the earl felt his last illness come upon him,
and he retired to his fortress of Dunnotter, where
he is said to have borne his sickness with patience
and religious resignation. Dr. Dun, one of the pro-
fessors of his college, attended him as physician,
and the disease for a time yielded to medicine, but
finally relapsed.^ The latter days of this great and
useful man do not appear to have been permitted to
pass in domestic peace, and his death-bed was dis-
turbed by the desertion and crime of an unfeeling
wife. The circumstance to which we refer is one of
a very singular nature; and as it is impossible at this
period to trace all the motives from which it origi-
nated, we shall state -it, almost verbatim, as it
occurs in the criminal record, avoiding antiquated
orthography. "On the 3d of March, 1624, Dame
Margaret Ogilvie, countess-dowager of ^larischal,
along with her then husband. Sir Alexander Strau-
chane of Thometoun, knight, and Robert Strauchan,
doctor in physic, were accused before the high court
of justiciary, of the ignoble crimes of masterful theft
and stouthrief, in having stolen from the place of
Benholm, belonging to the earl, certain jewels, silver
plate, household stuif, gold, silver, and title-deeds,
in October, 1622, a little before the said earl's
decease." On the same day James Keith of Ben-
holme was cited to answer for a similar crime,
committed at the same time, and in the same place.
The two cases are evidently connected together, and
the minute in the latter provides us with the follow-
ing inventory of articles stolen, which is an evidence
of the magnificence and wealth of the earl, and an
extraordinary feature in the transaction. Of Portugal
ducats, and other species of foreign gold, to the avail
of ;^26,ooo or thereby; thirty-six dozen gold buttons;
a rich jewel set with diamonds, which the deceased
earl received as a gift when he was ambassador in
Denmark, worth 6000 merks; the queen of Denmark's
picture in gold, set about with rich diamonds, esti-
mated at 5000 merks; a jasper stone for stemming
of blood, estimated at 500 French crowns; a chain
of "equall perle," wherein Avere 400 pearls great

\ Act. Pari. iv. 35.

- Act. Pari. iv. 44. Pitcaim's Criiit. Trials, \. 2S3.

' Oratio Futiebris, ut siip.

and small; two chains of gold, of twenty-four ounce
weight; another jewel of diamonds set in gold, worth
3000 merks; a great pair of bracelets, all set with
diamonds, price thereof 500 crowns; the other pair
of gold bracelets at £(yoo the pair ; a turquois ring
worth ten French crowns; a diamond set in a ring,
worth twenty-eight French crowns, with a number
of other small rings set with diamonds and other
rich stones in gold, worth 300 French crowns; also
16,000 merks of silver and gold ready coined, which
was within a green coffer; together with the whole
tapestry, silver-work, bedding, goods, gear, and
plenishing within the said place. The case, as re-
garded the countess and Sir Alexander and Dr.
Strauchane, was postponed by a royal warrant to the
2d of July, from thence to the 27th of July, and
from thence to the 8th of December, of which date
no entrj- appearing, the lord-advocate seems to have
been prevailed with to give up the pursuit; Keith of
Benholme, who seems to have occupied, or been
steward of, the house so strangely dilapidated, was
outlawed for not appearing.*

The earl died at five o'clock on the morning of the
5th day of April, 1623, and a monument with a
poetical inscription was erected to his memory.
The funeral oration, so frequently referred to, was
read at Marischal College, on the 30th of June, 1623,
by Ogston, the professor of moral philosophy; it
compares his death to an earthquake and sundry
other prodigies of nature — heaps too great a load of
virtues on his shoulders for mankind to bear with
comfort, and in detailing the perfections of the dead
Mecsenas, the author does not neglect those of the
li\-ing Solomon. A book of Tears was also pub-
lished to his memory, chiefly composed by Massy
and Alexander Wedderburn.* The lady already so
equivocally mentioned was his second wife, a daughter
of James, sixth Lord Ogilvie : he had previously
married Margaret, daughter of Alexander, fifth Lord
Hume," and by both he had several children.

KEITH, the Honourable James, commonly
called Marshal Keith, the younger son of William,
ninth Earl Marischal, and Lady Mar}- Drammond,
daughter to the Earl of Perth, was bom in the year
1696. His aptness for learning seems to have been
ver}- considerable, since he acquired in after-life a
reputation for letters scarcely inferior to his military
renown; a circumstance which was possibly in no
small degree owing to his having had the good
fortune to receive the rudiments of his education
from the celebrated Bishop Keith, who was allied
to his family by consanguinit}-, and who officiated
as tutor to himself and his elder brother, the tenth
Earl Marischal.

Mr. Keith was originally designed for the law, and
with the view of making it his profession he was
sent to Edinburgh to complete his studies. It was
soon discovered, however, that he entertained a
much stronger predilection for the camp than the
bar; — he seems indeed to have been ver}- early
attached to the military' profession. His language,
when the subject happened at any time to be alluded
to, was always full of martial enthusiasm, even while
}'et a mere stripling. "I have begun to study the
law," he said, "in compliance with the desires of
the Countess of Marischal (his mother), but com-
mend me, gentlemen, to stand before the mouth of

* Pitcaim's Crini. Trials, iii. 562.

* "Lachrimje Academiae Marischallanae sub obitum Me-
c^natiset Fundatoris sui, munificentissimi, nobilissimi et illus-
trissimi, Georgii Comitis Marischalli, Domini de Keith et
Altre, &c." — Abcrd. Raba?i, 1623.

^ Douglas' Peerage.

422

JAMES KEITH.

a cannon for a few minutes; this either makes a man
in an instant, or he dies gloriously in the field of
battle." Such was the spirit in which the young
soldier entered on his career of fame.

The Earl Marischal, elder brother of the subject
of this memoir, was one of those Tory noblemen
who signed the proclamation of George I. The
party being disappointed in their hopes of office
under the new dynasty, he returned in a state of high
irritation to Scotland^ and at York met his brother
James, who was on his way to London for the pur-
pose of asking a commission in the army. The two
young men returned home together, burning with
resentment, and on the commencement of the insur-
rection of 1715 they were incited at once by their
own feelings, and by the advice of tlieir mother, wlio
■was a Catholic, to declare for the I'retender. The
meeting held by the Earl of Mar (who was their
cousin), under the semblance of a hunting match,
was attended by the two brothers, and they continued
throughout the remainder of the campaign to act a
bold and conspicuous part under that unfortunate
leader. The immediate subject of this memoir is
said to have manifested a degree of resolution and
conduct which attracted much attention, and inspired
hopes of his future fortune. On the final dispersion
of the rebel army at Ruthven in Badenoch, they had
no resource but to make the best of their way to a
foreign land, where they might be safe from the
consequences of their enterprise. They proceeded,
in company with many other Lowland gentlemen, to
the Western Isles, where they designed to wait till
a vessel could be procured to convey them to France.
AVhile in the isles, where they were detained nearly
a month, the fugitives were frequently alarmed by
reports of their retreat having been discovered, and
that an armament had been despatched in quest of
them; and on one occasion they were informed that
three frigates, with two battalions of foot on board,
were within ten miles of them. They, however,
were not molested. On the 20th of April a ship,
which had been despatched from France for the
purpose, arrived at the island on which they were
concealed. Losing no time, they, along with about
a hundred companions in misfortune, embarked on
board of this vessel, and arrived in safety at St. Paul
de Leon in Brittany, on the 12th of May, 1716. On
their arrival at this port the greater part of them
proceeded immediately to wait upon the Pretender,
who was then at Avignon; the others, amongst whom
was Keith, went straight to Paris, where the latter
had at that time several relations residing. On reach-
ing Paris Keith waited upon the queen-mother, by
whom he was most graciously received, and who,
amongst other flattering things, said, that she had
heard of his good services in her son's cause, and
that neither of them should ever forget it. Keith
now proposed to the queen-mother to visit the king,
by which he meant the Pretender, and asked her
permission to do so. She, however, dissuaded him
from taking this step, saying that he was yet but
young, and had better remain in Paris and recom-
mence his studies, and concluded by proposing to
bear the charge of his future education. Notwith-
standing this flattering reception, a whole montii
elapsed before Keith heard anything further from
the queen-mother, and, in the meantime, he was
reduced to great straits for want of money, living
princi\)ally by selling horse-furniture, which military
officers were at this period in the habit of carrying
about with them, and which, being sometimes richly
ornamented with silver, was a very valuable article.
There were many friends of himself and his family
in Paris, who would readily have afforded him any

pecuniary assistance he might have required, but, as"
he himself says in a MS. memoir of his life, written
with his own hand, to which we have access, "I
was then either so bashful, or so vain, that I would
not own the want I was in." His wants, however,
of this kind were soon amply provided for, and from
various unlooked-for sources. The queen-mother at
length sent him looo livres, and much about the
same time a Parisian banker waited upon him, and
informed him that he had instructions from Scotland
to supply him with money, and an order from King
James to pay him 200 crowns a year, with an apology
for the smallncss of the sum, as it was all that his
(the king's) circumstances enabled him to do. Re-
lieved now from his pecuniary difficulties, he betook
himself to study, to which he devoted the whole of
the remaining part of the year 17 16, and a great
part of the following year. Previous to this, and
while pursuing his studies, he received a commission
as colonel of horse in the sen'ice of the King of
Sweden, who entertained a design of making a
descent on Scotland in favour of King James. The
project, however, was discovered long before it could
be carried into execution, and thus both the intended
invasion and Keith's commission fell to the ground.
Another opportunity, although equally fruitless in
its results, presented itself to the young soldier, now
in his twentieth year, of pushing his fortune with his
sword. This was the appearance in Paris of Peter
I. Emperor of Russia. Keith made every effort to
obtain admission into the service of that potentate,
but without effect, he himself supposes on account
of his not having employed the proper means. In
the following year, 1718, learning that there was an
intention on the part of Spain, similar to that which
had been entertained by the King of Sweden, viz.
to attempt the restoration of King James by invading
Scotland — Keith and his brotlier the Earl Marischal
set out for Madrid, with the view of offering their
services in the proposed expedition. These were
readily accepted, and the two brothers, after repeated
interviews with Cardinal Alberoni, then prime minis-
ter of Spain, were furnished with instructions regard-
ing the intended descent, and with means to cany
that part of it which was intrusted to them into
execution. By previous appointment Keith and
his brother the Earl Marischal were met at Havre
de Grace, the point at which they had fixed to em-
bark for Scotland, by several of the Scottish leaders
in the rising of 1715, who were still lurking about
France. All of them having been advised of the
undertaking, were furnished with commissions from
the King of Spain, to apply equally to the Spanish
forces which were to be sent after them, and to those
which they should raise in the country.

The co-operation in this enterprise which they were
led to expect was the landing in England of the Duke
of Ormond with an army, which it was proposed
should immediately take place. Two frigates, with
Spanish troops on board, were also to follow them
within a day or two, to land with them in Scotland,
and enable them to commence their operations in
that kingdom. On the 19th of March the expatri-
ated chiefs embarked on board a small vessel of about
twenty-five tons, and after encountering some stormy
weather and running great risk from some English
ships of war which they fell in with, they reached
the island of Lewis on the 4th of April. They were
soon afterwards joined by the two frigates, and a
debarkation on the mainland was immediately de-
termined upon. In the expectation of being joined
by large bodies of Highlanders, they proposed to
march forward to Inverness, from which they hoped
to drive out the small force by which it was garrisoned.

JAMES KEITH.

423

The whole enterprise, however, hurried on to a
disastrous conclusion. The Duke of Ormond's fleet
was (Hspersed; the Highlanders refused to embark in
the desperate undertaking; a very few only joining
the invaders, and these showing little enthusiasm in
the cause; and to complete their ruin, they were at-
tacked and defeated by a body of troops which had
been despatched to arrest their progress. They were,
however, not so completely routed but that they were
enabled to retire in partial order to the summit of
some high grounds in the vicinity of the scene of
action. Here a council of war was held during the
night, in which it was resolved that the Spaniards
should on the next day surrender themselves prisoners
of war, that the Highlanders should disperse, and
that the officers should each seek his safety in the
best way he could.

Thus Keith found himself placed in exactly the
same desperate circumstances in which he was after
the rising of 1 7 15 — an outlawed fugitive, without
means and without a home. After lurking some
months in the Highlands, during the greater part of
which, to add to his misfortunes, he was in bad
health, he found his way to Peterhead, where he
embarked for Holland, whither his brother had gone
before him. Being here joined by the latter, they
both proceeded to the Hague, and some time after-
wards to Madrid. Here Keith's pecuniary difficulties
became as pressing and infinitely more desperate
than they were in Paris on his arrival there in 1715.
"I was now," he says, "as the French have it, an
fie de la Icttre sur le pave. I knew nobody and was
known to none, and had not my good fortune brought
Rear-admiral Cammoek to JNIadrid, whom I had
known formerly in Paris, I don't know what would
have become of me; he immediately offered me his
house and his table, both which I was glad to accept
of" Thus shifting, together with the aid of some
arrears of pay which he received from the King of
Spain, he remained the greater part of the year 1720,
and with the exception of some sliort absences, all the
year 1721, at Madrid. He then removed to Paris,
where he lived for the next three or four years, receiv-
ing the pay of a Spanish colonel, but without being
attached to any regiment. At the end of this period
Keith again returned to Spain, and was employed
in active service up to the year 1728. Thinking
himself, however, rather overlooked, he in this year
addressed a letter to the king, soliciting his patronage,
and requesting that he might be appointed to the
command of the first Irish regiment which should
become vacant. The answer of his majesty to this
application was, that so soon as he knew that he was
a Roman Catholic he should not only have what he
asked, but that his future fortunes should be cared
for. Finding all hopes of promotion in the Spanish
service thus cut off on account of his religious belief,
Keith solicited a recommendation from his Spanish
majesty to the court of Russia, where he now deter-
mined to tiy his fortunes. The recommendation
which he sought was at once granted and forwarded
to the Emperor of Russia, who soon after intimated
to him his admission into his service as a major-
general. On Keith's leaving Madrid for Moscow
the King of Spain presented him with a douceur of
1000 crowns, and soon after his arrival in Russia he
was promoted to the command of a regiment of
guards, an appointment of great trust, and which
had hitherto been bestowed on none but especial
favourites of the sovereign. He was further named
one of three inspectors of army details, and awarded
as his department the frontier of Asia, with the
country on both sides of the Volga and Don, together
v/ith part of the frontier of Poland. About this time

one of his early instructors, a Mr. Morton, hearing
of his good fortune, wrote to him a letter of congra-
tulation on his prosperity. The general's reply par-
took of his nature; it was kind and unaffected. "I
am a true Scotsman indeed," he said amongst 'other
obliging things, "wise behind the hand; for had I
been more careful to imbibe the excellent instructions
I received under your inspection, I had still made a
better figure in the world." Hitherto the general,
though he had proven himself at once a zealous and an
able officer in the discharge of his military duties, had
had no opportunity of exhibiting his talents for active
warfare. Such an opportunity, however, at length
offered. On the death of the King of Poland, that
unhappy kingdom was entered by a Russian army
to overawe, or rather control, the election of a new
king. On this occasion the general was despatched
into Poland with six battalions of foot, 600 dragoons,
and 4000 Cossacks. While on this service he was
ordered by the commander-in-chief. Prince Schah-
ofskoi, to ravage the country. With a feeling of
humanity and in a spirit of honour which reflects
much credit on his character both as a soldier and
a man, he endeavoured to evade the painful and, as
he felt it, dishonourable duty. Finding that no
dictates of humanity would weigh with the com-
mander-in-chief, he tried the effects of interested
considerations; representing to him, that if the system
of devastation was continued, not only would the
inhabitants, but the Russian army also, be reduced
to a state of absolute stan-ation. This had the
desired effect. The general was immediately ordered
to desist from further spoliation. During the whole
of this war the general conducted himself with a
degree of judgment and gallantry, and in short,
discovered throughout such a possession of the best
and most valuable qualities of the soldier, as now
ranked him indisputably amongst the first captains
of the age. He was severely wounded in the knee
in this service at Ocrakow. The injuiy was of so
serious a nature that the Russian surgeons recom-
mended that the wounded limb should be ampu-
tated, and the general at once gave his consent to
the operation being performed. But his brother,
who had gone to visit him on this occasion, would
not listen to the proposal. "I hope," he said,
"James has yet more to do with that leg, and I
will not part with it so easily, at least not until I
have the best advice in Europe." In the spirit of
brotherly affection which these expressions bespeak,
he immediately removed the general to Paris, to
procure the advice of the surgical skill of that city,
and the result was highly favourable. The French
surgeons, doing what those of Russia had neglected,
laid open the general's knee, and extracted some
pieces of cloth which had been driven into the
wound by the shot, and had all along prevented
that cure which was now soon effected.

The military fame of General Keith was now
spread over all Europe, and had attracted in a par-
ticular manner the notice of the warlike Frederick of
Prussia, who lost no time in inviting him into his
service, offering him the rank of a field-marshal and
the governorship of Berlin, with ample means to
support the dignity of these situations. These offers
were too tempting to be refused. The general ac-
cepted them, and immediately proceeded to the
Prussian court. His affable manners and military
genius soon won him the personal esteem of his new
master, who not only admitted but invited him to
the most familiar intercourse, travelled with him
throughout his own dominions and those of the
neighbouring states, and acknowledged him as an
adviser in matters of niilitaiy business, and as his

424

JAMES KEITH.

companion in his hours of relaxation. For some
time after his arrival in Prussia the marshal enjoyed
a respite from military' ser\'ice, Frederick happening
then to be, we cannot say at peace, but not at actual
war with any of the European powers. This leisure
lie devoted to literary pursuits, entering into and
maintaining a correspondence with some of the most
eminent politicians and philosophers of the day, all
of whom bear testimony to the great talent and
ability with which he discussed the various subjects
on which he wrote, and not the smallest portion of
their praise was bestowed upon the elegance and
felicity of language which his correspondence ex-
hibited.

Frederick's, however, was not a ser^•ice in which
much repose of this kind could be expected. He,
of whom it is said, that he looked upon peace only
as a preparation for war, was not likely either to
remain long idle himself, or to permit such a man as
Marshal Keith to be so. The outrageous conduct of
Frederick in repeated instances had long given great
umbrage to many of the European powers, but none
of them had dared to come to open hostilities with
him. At length, however, they fell upon the plan
of combining their efforts for the chastisement of the
■warlike monarch, whom none of them would venture
to face singly.

Austria, Russia, Germany, and France all took
the field against the Prussian monarch. During the
vicissitudes and operations which ensued, in attack-
ing at one time, and resisting at another, the various
efforts of his numerous enemies, Frederick intrusted
the most important tasks, next to those which he him-
self assumed, to Marshal Keith, whose military talents
and sound judgment he found during the arduous
struggle which followed had not been overrated.
\Vhen summoned by the Prince of .Saxe-Hildburg to
surrender Leipsic, which Frederick had left him to
defend with 8000 men, the gallant soldier, then up-
wards of sbcty years of age, replied to the messenger,
"Let your master know that I am by birth a Scots-
man, by inclination as well as duty a Prussian, and
shall defend the town in such a manner that neither
the country which gave me birth, nor that which has
adopted me, shall be ashamed of me. The king,
my master, has ordered me to defend it to the last
extremity, and he shall be obeyed." Early on the
following morning the marshal summoned the magis-
trates of the town together, told them of the com-
munication which he had from the enemy, and ad-
vised them to wait upon the prince, and beg of him,
for their own sakes and that of the inhabitants in
general, to refrain from proceeding to extremities
against the city; "for," said he, with a tact which
showed the consummate soldier, "if he proceeds in
this resolution, I will myself begin to set fire to the
.suburbs, and if that be not sufficient to oblige the
enemy to desist from his enterprise, I will go further,
and not spare even the city itself;" and with many
expressions of reluctance to have recourse to such
dreadful measures, to which he said necessity alone
could compel him, he dismissed the terrified citizens,
who instantly despatched a deputation to wait upon
the prince. All, however, they could obtain from
the latter was a modification of the terms of the
original summons. Another was sent, in which the
Prussians were offered the liberty of marching out
of the town without molestation. This summons
Marshal Keith rejected with the same determination
as the former, to the great provocation of the prince,
who, in his resentment at the tone of defiance as-
sumed Vjy the Prussian commander, declared that if
the latter carried his threat into execution regarding
the burning of the town, he would lay Berlin or

Potsdam in ashes. The extremities which were thus
threatened on both sides were, however, prevented by
the approach of the Prussian monarch, who arrived
in the neighbourhood of Leipsic with a large force,
and averted the destruction of the city by bringing
on the celebrated battle of Rosbach, in which he
was completely victorious. Soon after this Marshal
Keith marched into Bohemia with an army, and laid
that kingdom under contribution, having previously
dislodged the Austrians from the mountains of
Saxony, where they had been strongly posted. The
brilliant career, however, of this soldier of fortune
was now about to close for ever; the death which
became him awaited him, and was close at hand.

Frederick had taken up a position in the village
of Hochkirchen, which he was particularly desirous
of retaining, and which the enemy were equally de-
sirous of possessing. The consequence was, that
this point was attacked during the night following
its first occupation. On the first alarm of the
enemy's motions. Marshal Keith mounted his horse,
and hastily collecting what troops were in his imme-
diate neighbourhood, marched towards the village.
On arriving there he found it already in the hands of
the enemy. Charging, however, at the head of his
troops, he drove them from the position. Fresh
bodies of the enemy came up, and the marshal was
in turn forced to retire. Again he returned to the
combat, leading on his men, and cheering them as
he advanced; and again he cleared the village of the
enemy. Determined on possession of the position,
the latter once more returned with increased numbers,
until latterly the whole flower of the Austrian army
were concentrated pn this sanguinary spot, defended
by a handful of Prussians. At eight o'clock in the
morning, and while the combat was yet at the hot-
test, although it had now lasted several hours, the
marshal received a severe and dangerous wound.
He refused, however, to quit the field, but continued
to conduct the desperate encounter with unabated
enthusiasm and gallantry. At nine o'clock, an hour
after he had received his first wound, a second shot
passed through his breast, and instantly stretched
him lifeless on the ground. His body was stripped
by the Austrians, who had now driven the Prussians
from the field, and was thus left exposed until it Avas
recognized by Count Lasci, who had been one of his
pupils in the art of war. That nobleman imme-
diately gave orders for its interment; but this having
been done with little reverence, it was shortly after-
wards taken up by the curate of Hochkirchen, and
again committed to the earth with everj' mark of
decency and respect. The remains of the marshal
were, by the special orders of the king, finally re-
moved to Berlin, and buried there with all the hon-
ours which a nation and a great monarch could pay
to splendid talent and great moral worth.

If anything were wanting to complete the illustri-
ous character of this great man, it is to be found in
the circumstance of his death having been nearly as
much lamented by the Austrians, then the enemies
of Prussia, as by the Prussians themselves. His
humanity was ever on the alert to protect even those
against whom he fought from any unnecessary vio-
lence, and the Austrians had, in a thousand instances,
been indebted to this ennobling trait in a character
admirably calculated in all its parts to gaiji the esteem
and admiration of mankind. Marshal Keith died in
the sixty-third year of his age. He was never mar-
ried, but to whatever chance this was owing, it does
not appear to have proceeded from any want of
susceptibility, for, while in Paris in 1718, on being
first urged by some of his friends to offer his services
to the court of Spain, which he was then informed

JAMES KEITH ROBERT KEITH.

425

meditated some designs on Sicily, he says, "But I
\vas then too much in love to think of quitting Paris,
and, although my friends forced me to take some
steps towards it, yet I managed it so slowly, that I
set out only in the end of that year; and had not my
mistress and I quarrelled, and that other affairs
came to concern me more than the conquest of Sicily
did, it's probable I had lost many years of my time
to verj- little purpose — so much was I taken up with
my passion." Of the final result of this attachment
we are not informed; but it does not appear that he
ever formed another.

Some years after his death, a monument was
erected in the churchyard of Hochkirchen to the
memory of the marshal, by his relative Sir Robert
Murray Keith. It bore the following inscription,
composed by the celebrated Metastasio :

Jacobo Keith,

GuUelmi Comitis Marescelli Hered.

Regni Scotise,

Et Mariae Drummond, Filio,

Frederici Borussorum Regis

Summo E.\ercitus Prsefecto;

Viro

Anriquis Moribus et Militari Virtute claro,

Qui,

Dum in prselio non procul hinc,

Inciinatam suorum aciem

RIente, Manu, Voce, et Exemplo

Restituebat,

Pugnans ut Heroas decet,

Occubuit,

Anno 1758, Mense Oct.

The Earl Marischal, elder brother of Marshal
Keith, also deser\-es some notice in the present work,
as an enlightened and distinguished man. Attainted
for his share in the insurrection of 1 715, his fate con-
tinued for some time identified -with that of his
younger brother; till, in 1750, he was appointed by
Frederick II. of Prussia as ambassador extraordinary
to the court of France. He afterwards ser\-ed the
same sovereign as ambassador to the court of Spain,
and in this capacity had an opportunity of reconcil-
ing himself to his native court. Ha\ing discovered
the secret of the family compact, by which the dif-
ferent princes of the house of Bourbon had bound
themselves to assist each other, he communicated
that important intelligence through Mr. Pitt to the
British government, to whom it was of the highest
importance. The consequence was a pardon ex-
tended by the king to Earl Marischal, awd an act of
parliament to enable him to inherit property in Great
Britain.

After this happy event he proceeded to London,
and was introduced to the king (George II. ), who
received him very graciously. It afterwards was
discovered that, by this movement, he escaped a
very considerable danger, for within thirty-six hours
of his departure from Madrid, notice was received by
that court of the communication he had made. The
reconciliation of the earl to the house of Brunswick
appears to have given great offence to the relics of
the Jacobite party, who, it is needless to mention,
still retained all their pristine antipathy to that family.
Among the papers of Bishop Forbes of Leith is an
anecdote to the following effect: "It had been a
constant practice in the parish of Langside in Aber-
deenshire, to have bonfires, and even to ring the
parish bell, on the 2d of April, o.s., the birthday
of Earl Marischal. On Thursday the 12th Februar}-,
being a general fast throughout Scotland, when the
bellman was ringing the first bell, the news came to
Langside containing the accounts of the Earl Maris-
chal having taken the oaths at London; and at that
ver}- instant the said bell rent from the top down-
wards, and then across near the mouth, and that soon
after the bell had begun to ring.

"-■\. gentleman," continues this curious memorial,
"walking in his garden, about a quarter of a mile
from the church of Langside, asked a man passing
by, what the matter was with the bell in stopping so
suddenly. The answer being that she was rent,
'Well,' said the gentleman, 'do you know what the
bell says by that? — even, the deil a cheep mair sail
I speak for you. Earl Marischal!'"^

The earl resided in Britain for several years, pur-
chased back some of his family property, and intended
finally to settle for the remainder of his life in Scot-
land. The King of Prussia, however, pressed him
so warmly to return to his dominions — saying, in one
of his letters, "If I had a fleet, I would come and
carry you off by force," — that he once more became
an exile from his native land. He spent the rest of
his life in Prussia, on the most intimate terms of
friendship with its extraordinary monarch, and the
enjoyment of ever)' pleasure that a cultivated mind
and a virtuous course of life can secure for mortals.
Frederick had discovered that the earl was sincerely
attached to his person, and he therefore bestowed
upon him in return more of his own friendship than
was ever experienced by any other individual. The
earl was also the friend and correspondent of Hume
and other literary men of his own countr\', besides
the European literati in general. He died at Pots-
dam, May 28, 1778, in the eighty-sixth year of his
age — two days before Voltaire, who had nearly at-
tained the same age, expired at Paris. An Eloge
de My-lord Marischal, by the celebrated D'Alembert,
was published at Berlin in 1779.

KEITH, Robert, commonly called Bishop Keith,
an eminent scholar and antiquary, was bom at Uras
in Kincardineshire, February 7, 1 68 1. He was
named Robert after the Viscount of Arbuthnot, who
had been suckled by his mother. His father, Alex-
ander Keith, having died while he was only two
years of age, the care of his education devolved upon
his mother, a most exemplary woman, who spared
no pains and no expense within the reach of a very
limited income, to inculcate those lessons of virtue
and religion, and that knowledge of letters, which
after\vards procured her son so much honourable dis-
tinction.

The bishop seems to have entertained, during his
whole life, a deep sense of the obligations under
which he lay to this amiable parent, and to have
taken great pleasure in expressing it. Though in
but indifferent circumstances in the early period of
his life, he was yet closely related to one of the most
ancient and noble families in the kingdom, being
lineally descended from Alexander, the youngest son
of William, third Earl Marischal.

When he had attained the age of seven years his
mother removed with him to Aberdeen, where he
obtained the earlier part of his education. In 1703
he procured the situation of tutor to the young Lord
Keith and his brother, and in this employment he
remained till 17 10, when he was admitted to the
order of deacons in the Scottish Episcopal Church,
by Haliburton, (titular) Bishop of Aberdeen; and in
November following became domestic chaplain to
Charles Earl of Errol, and his mother the counte-ss.
Two years after, he accompanied his lordship to the
baths of Aix-la-Chapelle, and had thus an opportu-
nity of visiting some of the most celebrated towns
and cities on the Continent. Leaving the earl at
Aix-la-Chapelle, he returned to England and landed
at Dover, where he was compelled to remain for

' The worthy bishop gives this anecdote as one related at
his table by the celebrated Mr. John Skinner, Episcopal
minister at Langside,

426

ROBERT KEITH

SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH.

several months in consequence of a severe illness,
brought on by exposure during a \-iolent storm which
he had encountered in crossing the Channel. On
recovering sufficiently to enable him to undergo the
fatigue of travelling, he set out for Edinburgh, where
he arrived in February, 1713. He was shortly after
this invited by a congregation of Scottish Episcopa-
lians in that city to become their minister, and was
accordingly raised to the priesthood by Bishop Hali-
burton, on the 26th May, in the year just named.
His talents and learning had already attracted some
notice, and had procured for him a considerable de-
gree of influence in the church to which he belonged,
and of which he was always a steady, zealous, but
rational supporter; for although firmly attached to the
faith in which he was educated, he was yet extremely
liberal and tolerant in his religious sentiments. In
June, 1727, he was raised to the episcopate, and was
consecrated in Edinburgh by Bishops Miller, Rattray,
and Gadderar. •Jie was, at the same time, intrusted
■with the superintendence of the district of Caithness,
Orkney, and the Isles, and in 1733 was preferred to
that of Fife.

For upwards of twenty years after this period
Bishop Keith continued to exercise his duties in
Edinburgh, filling a respectable, if not a dignified,
place in society, and employing his leisure, it would
appear, chiefly in the compilation of those historical
works which have transmitted his name to posterity.
In a manuscript memoir by Mr. Murray of Broughton,
secretarj- to Prince Charles Stuart — which the pre-
sent writer has perused — it is clearly signified that,
previous to the insurrection of 1745, the bishop cor-
responded on subjects relating to his depressed and
suffering communion with the court of the Pretender,
and that the latter personage, as the supposed head
of a supposed church, gave xhe. conge d^elire neces-
sary for the election of individuals to exercise the
episcopal office.

The first historical work published by the bishop
appeared in 1734, in a folio form, under the title of
a *' History of the Affairs of Church and State in Scot-
laud, from the Beginning of the Refomiation in the
Reign of James V. to the Retreat of Queen Mary
into England." Though tinged here and there with
high-church prejudices, the original narrative is a
useful and, upon the whole, a candid record of a
very controverted part of our history: while the state
documents quoted in the body of the work and at its
close have proved of incalculable service to every
later writer upon the same subject. The list of sub-
scribers prefixed to this work is highly curious, as
being an almost complete muster-roll of the Jacobite
nobility and gentry of the period : among the rest is
the famous Rob Roy. In 1755 the bishop published
his well-known Catalogue of Scottish Bishops, which
has also been a mine of valuable knowledge to later
writers. The latter years of this venerable person
appear to have been spent at a villa called Bonny-
haugh, on the banks of the Water of Leith, which
belonged to himself Here he died on the 20th of
January, 1757, in the seventy-sixth year of his age.
He was buried in the Canongate Churchyard, a few
feet from the wall on the western side, where a plain
tombstone, inscribed simply with his name, has
since been erected.

Besides his eminent qualifications as an historian
and antiquary, the subject of this notice possessed
those of an acute and painstaking genealogist, a study
to which he was probably directed by the high value
which he always attached to the dignity of his own
descent, and which he was at much pains to establish.
An instance of his tenacity in this particular, and of
his peculiar talent for genealogical research, was ex-

hibited in a dispute into which he entered with Mr,
Keith of Ravelstone, on the subject of the compara-
tive proximity of their several families to the house
of the Earls Marischal. On that occasion he printed
a "Vindication of Mr. Robert Keith, and of his
young grand-nephew Alexander Keith, from the un-
friendly representation of Mr. Alexander Keith, jun.,
of Ravelston." In this vindication he not only suc-
ceeded in establishing his superior claims to the par-
ticular honour in dispute, but showed that he was
also related to the Dukes of Douglas and Hamilton.
His reason for being at so much pains in vindicating
the nobility of his descent is thus spoken of in the
document above alluded to : "For although he him-
self (he speaks in the third person), now in the close
of the seventieth year of his age, and having only
one daughter, might be pretty indifferent about any-
thing of this nature, yet he suspects his young grand-
nephews (for there are no less than three of them,
Alexander, Robert, and John), when they came of
age, might reproach the memory of their uncle, and
justly perhaps, for his not endeavouring to set their
birth at right against so flagrant an attack, seeing
the one was capable, and the others might not have
the same means of knowing, or the same abilities to
perform it." The good bishop seems to have been
no hoarder of money, for at his death he left oiJy
^450, while his colleague and assistant died worth

£ZOCM.

KEITH, Sir Robert Murray, K.B. In this
distinguished personage we have presented before us
the rare character of a high-minded, honourable,
upright diplomatist. But, what is perhaps equally
rare, he was a Scottish diplomatist. That our country,
which has produced so many distinguished men,
should have left such a profitable walk almost un-
occupied, and that a people so accustomed to veil
their feelings, so habituated to self-command, and so
shrewd and penetrating, should yet be able to pro-
duce so few names illustrious for diplomatic talent,
is one of those inexplicable anomalies that stand out
so strongly in the national character, to the great
perplexity of ethnical psychologists. It classes with
the fact that the Scot, who at any moment is ready
to die for his country, is equally prompt to quit it,
and in no great hurry to return to it.

That brasch of the Keiths to which the subject of
this memoir belonged was descended from the
Keiths of Craig, in Kincardineshire. He was the
eldest son of General Sir Robert Keith, who for
some time was ambassador at the courts of Vienna
and St. Petersburg; his mother was a daughter of
Sir William Cunningham, of Caprington ; his sister,
Mrs. Anne Murray Keith, the intimate and esteemed
friend of Sir Walter Scott, was beautifully delineated
by the great novelist, under the name of Mrs.
Bethune Baliol, in the Chronicles of the Canongate.
Robert was born on the 20th of September, 1730.
His father being much abroad, employed in his
public duties, and his mother having died when he
had only reached the early age of eleven, the youth
was thus left in a great measure to his own manage-
ment ; but even already the maternal care had cul-
tivated that high moral sense and delicacy of feeling
which his character afterwards exhibited ; while his
father's letters prepared him for those diplomatic
employments by which he was to secure for himself
an honoured name in the political world. The edu-
cation of Robert Murray Keith was for some time
conducted at the high-school of Edinburgh, and
this he turned to good account in after years, by
using Latin, which he could do fluently, both by
speech and writing, in various parts of Europe, whea

SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH.

427

his communications could not be so fitly expressed
in ordinary language. At the age of sixteen he was
removed to an academy in London ; and as the
military profession was at this time his choice, he
studied riding the great horse, fencing, French, for-
tification, music, and drawing. All this was enough
for an accomplished soldier, but to these he added a
thorough knowledge of modern languages, at that
time too much neglected in education; so that besides
French, he had a complete command of Dutch,
German, and Italian — a circle which he afterwards
widened so greatly, that among his studies he was
able to specify his " ten tongues" as part of his daily
employment.

On completing his education, Robert Murray
Keith received a commission in a Highland regi-
ment employed in the Dutch service, and known by
the name of the Scotch- Dutch, where he continued
till the age of twenty-two, and had attained the
rank of captain when the regiment was disbanded.
He then entered the service of one of the German
states, but found it the roughest of all military
schools, on account of the hardships and privations
that attended it. Among the other necessaries of
life, the article of fuel was dealt out with such a
sparing hand, that he was obliged, in the depth of
winter, to keep constant watch over it — a necessity
that brought upon him the habit of sleep-walking.
With all this, the chance of military glory as a re-
compense was somewhat uncertain, for he was at-
tached as adjutant-general and secretary to Lord
George Sackville, who commanded the English
contingent of the allied army under Prince Ferdinand
of Brunswick. Sackville found it necessary to resign;
but Keith, through the influence of his father, was
soon appointed to serve in a new Highland corps,
raised for the war in Germany, with the rank of
major-commandant. He was now one of the leaders
of a body of men from whom much was expected,
and who by no means disappointed the expectation.
Although these Celts were raw undisciplined lads,
fresh from their native hills, they were marched into
the fire only the third day after their arrival ; and
under Keith they attacked a village svi'ord in hand,
and drove out of it a regiment of veteran dragoons
with great slaughter. In consequence of their gallant
behaviour more Highlanders were sent to Germany,
and well did they justify the wise policy of Chatham
in employing them, as well as the declaration of the
Prince of Brunswick, that "they did wonders."
Such was the case throughout the campaign of 1760,
and at the battle of Fellinghausen, in July, 1761.
On this occasion the claymore was more than a
match for the bayonets of the choicest troops of
France, whom the Highlanders defeated with great
loss ; while their kindness to the wounded and
prisoners after the battle, if possible, surpassed their
valour in the field. In fact, the celebrated but
diminutive Marshal Broglie, who commanded against
them, and contrasted their proM-ess with their light,
short, spare figures, declared, when the fight was
over, that "he once wished he were a man six feet
high, but now he was reconciled to his size, since
he had seen the wonders performed by the little
mountaineers."

Soon after Keith's military career terminated, for
the Highland corps was disbanded in 1763. After
a year spent in Paris, where his manners and accom-
plishments made him a universal favourite, he re-
turned to London, and was promoted to the rank of
colonel. Four years were^spent in the metropolis,
when, in 1769, Colonel Murray Keith, whose high
civil capacities and aptitude for business had been
discerned by Mr, Pitt, was appointed British envoy

to the court of Saxony. To Dresden he accordingly
repaired, where he appears to have had little occu-
pation besides that of keeping open the friendly re-
lationship between that country and Great Britain,
and playing a conciliatory part with all the gay as-
semblies in which Dresden abounded. His letters
at this period give an amusing sketch of the nature
of his duties, and the manner in which they were
performed: — "I'll give you a little sketch of my way
of living. — Morning, eight o'clock: Dish of coffee,
half a basin of tea, biUcts-dotix, embroiderers, toymen,
and tailors. l^cii: Business of Europe, with a little
music now and then, pour egayer les affaires. Twelve:
Drooirs at one or other of the courts (for we have
three or four), from thence to fine ladies, toilettes,
and tender things. Tiuo: dine in public — three
courses and a dessert; venture upon half a glass of
pure tvine, to exhilarate the spirits without hurting
the complexion. Four: Rendezvous, sly visits, de-
clarations, ecclarissemens, &c. &c. Six: Politics,
philosophy, and whist. Sez'en: Opera, appartement,
or private party; a world of business, jealousies, fears,
poutings, &c. After settling all these jarring interests,
play a single rubber of whist, en atlendant le soztper.
Ten: Pick the wing of a partridge, propos galans,
scandal, and petits chansons. Crown the feast with
a bumper of Burgundy from the fairest hand, and at
twelve steal away mysteriously ho7ne to bed." "And
is this the way a kingdom may be ruled?" exclaims
the disappointed reader. But why not, if peace in-
stead of war is to be the order of the day? From
this drolling sketch it will be evident that Colonel
Keith always kept his head cool for action, whatever
might occur, and that, too, in a country where dissi-
pation and deep drinking, even in courtly halls, made
the latter half of the day little better than a nullity.

If Keith secretly felt that he occupied an unworthy
position, from having so little to do, he was soon
cured of this uneasiness by being transferred to the
court of Denmark. At Copenhagen the whole
scene was changed. There foreign influence was
jealously watched, and foreign diplomatists held at a
M-ary distance. The gay parties, in which public
measures could be openly and frankly discussed,
were discountenanced; and so completely was the
society of the court broken into circles, that even at
the theatre they were obliged to confine themselves
to their separate places. "Those who sit two boxes
from me," he writes, "might as well be in Norvvay,
for any manner of communication I can have with
them. It is really ridiculous to see how the world
is parcelled out here into no less than nine classes,
six of whom I must never encounter without horror."
All this, however, he endured and sunnounted with
his usual tact, and performed the duties of his mission
to the satisfaction of his own court, but without ex-
citing the suspicion of the Danish government. It
was much, indeed, that a heart so open and a dis-
position so buoyant should have maintained this
tranquillity in such a freezing atmosphere ; and
therefore, while he waited for orders, and fulfilled
them punctually when sent, he thus expressed his
private feelings: — "In the meantime I heartily con-
sign that old harridan Etiquette, with all her
trumpery, to the lowest underling of all possible
devils."

A fatal necessity soon occurred for Keith to give
all these jealous court restrictions to the winds, and
hurl defiance at the very throne of Denmark. To
understand this, the most important event of his life,
we must premise that the Danish sovereign. Chris-
tian VII., had for his queen, Matilda, sister of
George III. But Christian, unfortunately, was a
Strange compound of idiot and madman, such as

42S

SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH.

Europe had scarcely seen even in the worst days of
the Roman empire. In the course of his travels he
had picked up a certain physician^, Struensee, whom
he ennobled and appointed to the first place in the
government; and so implicitly did he put trust in
his favourite, that every measure, whether of court
or kingdom, was wholly regulated by the parvenu
Count Struensee. It is easy to imagine with what
feelings both nobles and people regarded his eleva-
tion; but as if their united dislike had been insuffi-
cient for the ruin of the luckless stranger, Christian
himself aggravated their hatred of the man of his
choice by the incredible fooleries in which it was
his pleasure to indulge. Among these, one of his
royal pastimes was to go down on all fours, and play
the part of a horse! — and not content to top his part
by gambolling and neighing, he must needs also
complete the resemblance by receiving a due portion
of the kicks and cuffs too often bestowed upon the
nobler animal which he aspired to imitate. Count
Brandt, the friend of Struensee, who was compelled
to play the part of the surly groom on this occasion,
by being threatened with the punishment of a traitor
if he disobeyed, was afterwards beheaded for his
compliance. Such was the husband of Matilda!
But this was not the utmost of her calamity; for an
ambitious and unprincipled queen-mother was also
dominant in the court of Copenhagen; one who had
studiously perverted poor Christian both in mind
and body from infancy, that she might pave the way
for the succession of her son. Prince Frederick, and
was now bent upon the ruin of Matilda, as one by
whom her aims were likely to be defeated. It was
by this Ate that the court was set against the young
and beautiful queen, and her husband, who really
loved her, withdrawn from her society; and when
Matilda, thus forsaken, was obliged in self-defence
to form a coalition with the powerful minister, it
was foully insinuated that their meetings were for
the purpose of adulterous intercourse. She was thus
traduced, that she might be the more easily and
effectually destroyed. Even the high talents which
Struensee undoubtedly possessed, and his superior
accomplishments and manners, were quoted to con-
firm the accusation. To seize the queen and minister
was now the aim of their enemies; but although
several schemes were laid for the purpose, they were
always defeated by accident. At length a masked ball
was given one night at the palace; and amidst the rest
and security that usually follow a revel, the conspi-
rators entered the king's bed-chamber, and by fright-
ening him with the report of a conspiracy against his
life, obtained from him an order for the instant arrest
of the queen. Count Struensee, and their followers.
Struensee and Brandt were seized in their beds, and
hurried off to the citadel of Copenhagen; Matilda,
in her night-dress, was apprehended in her own bed-
chamber, and after an agonizing struggle to gain
access to the king, which was prevented by the
guards with their crossed muskets, was incarcerated
in the fortress of Cronenburg. On the following
morning the streets of Copenhagen rang with huzzas
of mob loyalty, and in the evening they were lighted
with an illumination. The people were taught that
the queen was not only an adulteress, but had at-
tempted to poison her husband; and while the
churches were filled with thanksgiving for the pre-
servation of such a valuable sovereign, it was easy
for the senate, without waiting the ceremony of trial,
to declare her guilty of both charges.

It was now the season for Colonel Keith to despise
etiquette, and dare the utmost. Hitherto he had
seen and lamented the situation of his sovereign's
sister; but the jealousy with which the proceedings

of the court were guarded had prevented his inter-"
ference, and the astounding explosion had taken him,
as it did every one else but the queen-mother and
her agents, at unawares. Alone, amidst an excited
and infuriated capital, he forced his way into the
council where the fate of the queen was at issue, and
denounced war against Denmark if a single hair of
her head was touched. The British fleet was to be
immediately summoned to Copenhagen, and the
bombardment of the capital commenced. It was an
act worthy of the proudest days of Rome, when her
ambassador drew a line upon the sand, and com-
manded the king of Egjpt not to cross it until he
had decided whether he would have peace or war.
After having delivered this stem declaration before
the council, upon whom it fell like a thunderbolt,
Keith despatched a messenger to his own court with
an account of the jiroceedings, and a request for
further orders, and till these should arrive he locked
up himself and his household, and remained for four
weeks in a state of quarantine, or rather of siege and
defiance. At the end of that time the expected
packet arrived, and on eagerly opening it the insignia
of the order of the Bath fell at his feet. It had been
inclosed by the king's own hands, to mark his sense
of Sir Robert's heroic conduct, and was accompanied
with a command to invest himself forthwith, and ap-
pear at the Danish court. It was thus seen that the
ambassador's menace was no idle threat, but would
be made good, if need were, by a British armament.
Brandt and his patron Struensee were indeed tried
as traitors, and executed with revolting cruelty, having
first their right hands cut off, and aftervvards their
heads. But against Matilda they dared not proceed
to the extremities they intended. After being con-
fined two months in a fortress, she was sent to the
castle of Zell, in Hanover, where she died before
her day, the broken-hearted victim of infamous accu-
sations.

After this tragic event Sir Robert was weary of
Copenhagen. During nearly a twelvemonth that he
had resided there he had never experienced anything
like kindness, and this reserve would soon, in all
likelihood, have been changed into downright rude-
ness. For was Danish pride likely to forget how he
had braved it at its height? Fortunately he \\as not
subjected to the experiment; for in November, 1772,
he was appointed to hold at Vienna the situation of
British ambassador, the same office which his father
had held nearly twenty years before at the court of
Maria Theresa. Vienna appears to have been more
to Sir Robert's taste than Copenhagen, but it was
only because it was the least of two evils, for, in
other respects, the Austrian capital appears to have
been a huge compound of frivolity and dulness.
The following is his sketch of it: — "The ephemeral
fly, which is born in the morning to die at night,
might hold up the conversation of one-half of our
most brilliant aides. The play, the dance, your
horse, my coach, a pretty embroider)-, or a well-
fancied lining, these are the favourite topics; upon
every one of which I am a numskull of the first water.
I never play at cards; ergo, I am not only a stupid
fellow, but a useless one." Cards, indeed, he held
in utter detestation, and could not be persuaded to
touch them, either in jest or earnest; and yet the
Viennese were such a gambling, card-playing people,
that a diplomatist could have little chance among
them unless he countenanced them in their folly. Sir
Robert, in this case, hit upon the following compro-
mise, on the ingenuity of which he valued himself
not a little: "A lady who is generally remarkably
lucky at cards, but who had lately a bad run of about
a week, complained t'other day loudly of her misfor-

SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH GEORGE KEITII-ELPIIINSTOXE.

429

tunes, and said she must soon relinquish cards, her
favDurite amusement. I immediately thought I might
strike an advantageous bargain with this dear creature,
and satisfy all mankind. 1 therefore agreed to attack
Dame Fortune with my money and her fingers; and
now she plays her three parties every day in my
name, and at my risk; and I am now one of the
prettiest card-players in Vienna — by proxy!'" All
this was dull enough at the best; but one of his
official duties was to endure it with a contented
countenance, and appear happy with everything
around him. His chief consolation consisted in
epistolary correspondence with his friends at home,
and while he freely imparted to them those lively
communications in which his duties of political
secrecy were not compromised, he was urgent for a
full requital. Amidst these interchanges, also, the
thought of his own country, of which he had seen so
little, was always uppermost, and he was anxious for
its improvement; so that amidst his diplomatic cares
he would attend to the welfare of Scottish plantations
as zealously as if he had been a retired country gentle-
man. Upon this head, among many other topics,
he thus writes to his only sister, the Margaret
Bethune Baliol of Sir Walter Scott: "And now
pray, my dear Anne, let me appoint you my substi-
tute with G (his bailiff in Tweeddale), to din

into his ears ' Trees, trees, trees, ' every time you meet
him. I have not a twig of his planting at the hall,
and I own I expected a forest. This is no joking
matter; I would rather be master of a handsome
plantation and ktdgeroius, than a mine of gold; so
you know you can and will pursue it. You shall be
the ranger of the new forest in Tweeddale, and your
husband, when you get one, shall be lord-warden of
the marches." Want of trees at this time did indeed
constitute the nakedness and the shame of Scotland;
and though exertions had for some time been going
on to repair the deficiency, all that had as yet been
done was little better than Adam's fig-leaf. It is
pleasing to contrast with this the gay costume of
foliage with which our country is clothed in the pre-
sent day.

After having ably discharged his duties of envoy
at Vienna, Sir Robert was a second time appointed
to the office. The sky of Europe was already lower-
ing with the coming French revolution, so that
the utmost political foresight and circumspection
was necessary; and here he showed himself a states-
man fitted for the crisis. In his duties he was griev-
ously hampered by the remissness of the home
government, that left his despatches unanswered;
and in 1788 we find him writing to the Marquis of
Caermarthen, then secretaiy of state, upon the sub-
subject, with an honesty somewhat rare in diplomatic
correspondence, and with a strict stern disinterested-
ness which few of our envoys would venture to use
towards their official superiors. Fifty-three letters
he had already written to the secretary's office,
without receiving an answer to any of them. After
an indignant remonstrance at such neglect, he adds:
"A complete change of system, in regard to German
politics, has become not only expedient, but indis-
pensably necessary. But that it should have taken
place in the king's councils without any secretary of
state's having ever given me the most distant intima-
tion of such a decision, is what I cannot comprehend.
I am bold to say (and I should not deserve the
honour of serving the king as his minister at the first
court of Germany if I refrained from saying it loudly),
tliat such concealment is disgraceful to me in the
position in which the king has placed me, and like-
wise prejudicial to his service." The conclusion to
this remonstrance was inevitable: — unless the injury

was "immediately repaired by confidential informa-
tion and instructions," he must tender his resignation
of an office for which he was thus declared unfit.
The integrity and decision of the justly offended
statesman were too well known to be trifled with,
and liis appeal was followed with due acknowledg-
ment.

The political career of Sir Robert Murray Keith
was closed with the pacification of Austria, Russia,
and Turkey, previous to the excesses of the French
revolution — a pacification which his labours tended
greatly to accomplish. He died at Hammersmith,
near London, in 1795, in the sixty-fifth year of
his age.

KEITH-ELPHINSTONE, George (Viscount
Keith, K.B. , Admiral of the Red, &c. ), a distin-
guished naval officer, was the fifth son of Charles,
tenth Lord Elphinstone, by the Lady Clementina
Fleming, only child of John, sixth Earl of Wigton,
and niece and heir-of-line to the last Earl Marischal.
His lordship was bom on the I2th Januarj', 1746,
at Elphinstone in East Lothian, the ancient but now
dismantled seat of the family of Elphinstone.

Mr. Elphinstone was early taught, by his remote-
ness from the chance of family inheritance, to trust
to his own exertions for the advancement of his for-
tune ; and having from his earliest years shown a
predilection for the navy, he was at sixteen ranked
as a midshipman in the Gosport, commanded by
Captain Jervis, afterwards Earl St. Vincent. The
peace of 1763 soon put an end to his immediate
hopes of naval gloiy — though not before he had ex-
perienced much advantage from the tuition of his
eminent commander. He subsequently serv-ed in
the J21110, Lively, and Emerald frigates, and, enter-
ing on board an Indiaman, commanded by his elder
brother, the Honourable W. Elphinstone, made a
voyage to China, where, however, he suffered con-
siderably from the climate. Notwithstanding this
latter circumstance, he did not scruple to make a
voyage to the East Indies in 1767, under Commodore
Sir John Lindsay, by whom he was promoted to a
lieutenancy.

In 1772 he was advanced to the rank of com-
mander in the Sco/pion of fourteen guns. In the
spring of 1775 he was made post-captain on board
the Marlborough, seventy-four guns, and soon after
he obtained, first, the command of the Pearl, and
then of the Perseus frigate. In the Perseus, which
was remarkable as the first ship in the British navy
that was sheathed with copper, he made a con-
spicuous figure during the early years of the contest
with America as an active and intrepid officer on the
coast of that country, under Lord Howe and Admiral
Arbuthnot. He was likewise often engaged in the
services, in this unhappy war, where sea and land
forces were united— in particular, at the reduction of
Charleston, he conducted himself with such gal-
lantry in the command of a detachment of seamen as
to gain frequent and most honourable mention in the
official despatches of General Sir Henry Clinton.
The experience which he thus acquired was of great
service to him long afterwards, when he had a more
prominent and distinguished part to perform.

In 17S0, having returned to England with de-
spatches from Admiral Arbuthnot, he was on his
arrival appointed to the command of the JVativick
of fifty guns. In the general election which took
place this year, he was chosen member of parliament
for Dumbartonshire, where his family possessed some
influence; and he was one of those who met at the
St. Alban's Tavern to attempt a reconciliation be-
tween Fox and Pitt and the Duke of Portland, with

43°

GEORGE KEITII-ELnilN'STOXE.

the view of forming what was called "a broad-
bottomed administration." This attempt, as is well
known, proved unsuccessful. In the following year,
as he was cruising down the Channel in his ship the
iritni'icA; he encountered the Rotterdam, a Dutch
ship of war, bearing fifty guns and 30x3 men. The
manner in which he attacked this vessel and com-
pelled her to strike — more especially as the engage-
ment happened immediately after the Iris, a ship of
equal force, had been baftled in the attempt — gained
Captain Eljihinstone much public notice. Soon
after he went out to the coast of America, where
he served during the remainder of that disastrous
war.' While on this station, he, in company with
other three British vessels of war, captured the
French frigate L'Aigle of forty guns (twenty-four
pounders on the main deck), and a crew of 600 men,
commanded by Count de la Touche. Unfortunately
for the captors, the enemy's captain escaped to shore
with the greater part of a large quantity of specie
which was on board the frigate. Two small casks
and two boxes, however, of this valuable commodity
fell into the hands of the victors. Along with the
captain, there also escaped several officers of high
rank, and amongst them the commander-in-chief of
the French army in America. During his service
on the American coast Captain Elphinstone had the
honour to receive on board his ship as midshipman,
Prince William Henry, afterwards King William IV. ;
a distinction the more flattering, that the choice of
the ship and officer was made by his royal highness
himself. At the close of the war, when the subject
of our memoir returned to Britain, the Prince of
W^ales appointed him for life to be secretary and
chamberlain of the ])rincipality of Wales.

In April, 17S7, Captain Elphinstone married Jane,
daughter of William Mercer, Esq. of Aldie, in the
county of Perth, a lady of large property, by whom
he had a daughter, afterwards Viscountess Keith,
and wife of Count Flahault, aide-de-camp to the
Emperor Napoleon. In 1786 Captain Elphinstone
was chosen to represent the shire of Stirling. The
breaking out of the French war in 1793 opened a
new field for his. enterprise and activity, and soon
after the occurrence of that event he was appointed
to the Robust of seventy-four guns, and sailed under
the command of Lord Hood to the Mediterranean.
The object for which the latter had been sent to
these seas was to endeavour to effect a co-ojieration
with the royalists in the south of France. In this
his lordship so far succeeded, that the sections of
Toulon immediately proclaimed Louis XVII., under
a promise of protection from the British fleet, and
Marseilles was only prevented from taking a similar
step by the approach of a republican army. Before
taking possession of Toulon, which was part of the
arrangement made with the French royalists by Lord
Hood, it was deemed proper to secure the forts which
commanded the ships in the roads, and for this duty
1500 men were landed under Captain Keith, who,
after effecting this service, was directed to assume
the command of the whole as governorof Fort Malgue.
In a few days afterwards General Carteaux appeared
at the head of a detachment of the republican army
on the heights near Toulon. Captain Elphinstone,
placing himself at the head of a small body of British
and Spanish soldiers, instantly marched out to attack
him, and after a gallant contest completely routed
the enemy, and captured his artillery, ammunition,
horses, and two stand of colours.

In the October following Captain Elphinstone,
with Lord Mulgrave and Rear-admiral Gravina, at
the head of a combined force of British, Spaniards,
and NeajJolitans, obtained another complete victory

over a detachment of the French army, consisting of
nearly 2CXX3 men, at the heights of Pharon. In this
engagement the enemy's loss in killed, wounded, and
prisoners was about 1500 men, while on the part of
the allied force it amounted only to eight killed,
seventy-two wounded, two missing, and forty-eight
prisoners.

These successes, however, were insufficient to
secure the British in possession of Toulon. The
whole force of the repuljlicans became directed to
their expulsion ; and finding the place no longer
tenable, it was determined, though not without much
reluctance, to abandon it. In pursuance of this re-
solution, the whole of the combined troojts, to the
number of 8000 men, together with several thousand
royalists, were embarked on board the British ships
early in the morning of the 8th December, without
the loss of a single man. This important service was
superintended by Captains Elphinstone, Hallinel,
and Matthews; and it was principally owing to the
care, attention, and vigorous exertions of these
officers, and more especially of the first, that it was
so well and speedily accomplished. Captain Elphin-
stone's efficient services on this and some of the
immediately preceding occasions procured him high
encomiums from both Lord Hood and Lieutenant-
general Dundas. On his return to England, which
was in the year 1794, he was invested with the
knighthood of the Bath, having been previously pro-
moted to the rank of rear-admiral of the blue, and
in July the same year was made rear-admiral of the
white, aiTtl in this capacity hoisted his flag on board
the BarJIeur of ninety-eight guns, and in the year
following, having shifted his flag to the JMotiarch,
he sailed with a small squadron for the Cape of Good
Hope, then in the possession of the Dutch.

A war being about to commence between Great
Britain and the Batavian republic, the object of
Admiral Elphinstone was to reduce the settlements
at the Cape — a service which he effectually accom-
plished, besides capturing a squadron which had
been sent out for its defence. On the completion of
this important undertaking he returned to England,
now advanced to the rank of vice-admiral; and the
cabinet was so highly gratified with the great sendee
he had rendered his country by securing to it so
valuable a colony as that of the Cape, tliat they
conferred upon him yet further honours.

In 1797 he was created an Irish peer by the title
of Baron Keith of Stonehaven-Maiischal, and shortly
after assumed the command of a detachment of the
Channel fleet. In this year also he was presented
by the directors of the East India Company with a
splendid sword, valued at 500 guineas, as an acknow-
ledgment of his eminent services. In 1798 Lord
Keith hoisted his flag on board the Foudroyaiit, and
sailed for the Mediterranean as second in command
under the Earl St. Vincent, who was already there
with a large fleet.

Early in the beginning of the following year he
was promoted to the rank of vice-admiral of the red,
and on the occasion of a temporary indisposition of
Earl St. Vincent, assumed the entire command of
the fleet. Here he continued employed in blockad-
ing the Spanish fleet till May, 1799, when he went
in pursuit of the Brest fleet. His search, however,
being unsuccessful, he returned to England. In
November he again sailed for the Mediterranean to
take the command of the fleet there, and which was
now wholly resigned to him in consequence of the
increasing illness of the Earl St. Vincent. While
in this command Lord Keith performed a series of
important services. By the judicious arrangement
of his ships and the co-operation of Lord Nelson he

GEORGE KEITH-ELPHINSTONE-

GEORGE MEIKLE KEMP.

431

succeeded in cajJturing two large Frei^cli ships pro-
ceeding to La Valctta with troops and stores. lie
blockaded the ports of Toulon, Marseilles, Nice,
and the coast of the Riviera; and, co-operating with
the Austrians who were besieging Genoa, he so
effectually cut off all supplies from the French gar-
rison in that place by the activity of his blockade,
that they were compelled to surrender. In the fol-
lowing September tiie island of Malta was captured
by a detacliment of his lleet. The I3ritish cal)inet
having determined to make a descent on Spain, Lord
Keith and Sir Ralph Abercromby entered the bay
of Cadiz with a large fleet, liaving on board about
18,000 troops. Circumstances, however, occurred,
wiiich the admiral and general conceived warranted
them in not attemiHing tlie proposed landing, and
they accordingly withdrew without making any de-
scent.

The greatest and most brilliant of all Lord Keith's
services, however, was yet to be performed; this was
the celebrated landing of Aboukir, one of the most
splendid affairs in the annals of war; and it was in a
great measure owing to the promjititude and skill of
the admiral alone, that this critical and perilous
enterprise was so triumphantly accomplished. For
this important service Lord Keith received the thanks
of both houses of parliament, antl on the 5th De-
cember, iSoi, he was created a baron of the United
Kingdom, by the title of Baron Keith of Barheath,
county of Dumbarton. He had been previously
advanced to the rank of admiral of the blue. In the
fulness of the country's gratitude for his services he
was also presented by the corporation of London
with the freedom of the city in a gold box, together
with a sword of the value of 100 guineas, and was
invested by the Grand Signor with the order of the
Crescent, which he had established to perpetuate the
memory of the services rendered to the Ottoman
empire by the British.

In 1803 Lord Keith was appointed commander-
in-chief of all his majesty's ships in the North Sea.
In 1S05 he was further advanced to the rank of rear-
admiral of the white, and in 1812 succeeded Sir
Charles Cotton as commander-in-chief of the Channel
fleet. While on this station it was his lot to be the
means of capturing the person of Napoleon Bona-
parte on his flight from France after the battle of
Waterloo. The disposition which Lord Keith made
of his ships on this occasion was such, that the dis-
tinguished fugitive, after being taken by Captain
Maitland of the Bellerophon, acknowledged escape
to have been impossible. His treatment of his
prisoner was as noble, delicate, and humane, as the
arrangements for seizing him had been dexterous.
He acted throughout the whole affair with so much
good sense and right feeling, that he at once gained
the esteem and gratitude of Napoleon, and the ap-
probation of the government which he represented.

In 1814 Lord Keith had been created a viscount;
and at the conclusion of the war by the exile of
Napoleon to St. Helena, he retired to enjoy his well-
earned honours in the bosom of his family and the
society of his former friends. Latterly he resided
constantly on his estate of Tulliallan, where he erected
a mansion-house suited to his rank and fortune.
There he also expended large sums in works of per-
manent utility, and united with constant acts of volun-
tary bounty the encouragement of industrious pursuit
and useful occupation, those sure sources of comfort
to a surrounding population. The strength of his
natural understanding enabled him to derive the
vitmost benefit from all that he had occasion to see
or to contemplate. A most tenacious memory and
great readiness enabled him to bring all his informa-

tion effectually into action when the occasion called
for it. Such powers, united to a fertility of mind
which is rarely excelled, rendered him a most dis-
tinguished character in all that regarded his profes-
sion. In social intercourse his kindly nature was
constantly predominant: he was entirely free of
affectation in conversation, and he dealt out the facts
and anecdotes with which his memory was stored in
a most interesting and amusing manner. Lord Keith
was invariably influenced by the kindest feelings for
all who were connected with him, and, without
solicitation on their part, he was uniformly alive to
whatever could promote their interest. But this did
not limit the extent of his usefulness to others; on
the contrary, being always open to approach, he was
zealous in forwarding to the utmost of his power the
objects of deserving men. Accordingly, it may be
safely said of him that he could reckon as great a
number of meritorious officers of all ranks and de-
scri]Hions, who had been placed in their proper
stations by his efforts, as any man of his rank who
served during the same distinguished period of our
naval history.

His first lady having died in 1789, Lord Keith
married, in January, 1808, the eldest daughter of
Henry Thrale, Esq., M.P. for Southwark; of which
union the issue was one child, a daughter. In 1822
Lord Keith was permitted by the king to accept the
last additional honour he was to receive on earth, in
the shape of a grand cross of the royal Sardinian
order of St. Maurice and St. Lazare. He died at
Tulliallan House on the loth of March, 1823, in the
seventy-eighth year of his age.

KELLIE, Earl of. See Erskine (Thom.\s
Alexander).

KEMP, George Meikle. — This architect, whose
gi'eat work, the Scott Monument, one of the noblest
ornaments of Edinburgh, has secured the admiration
of Europe and the approbation of the highest judges
of architectural excellence in every country, was the
son of a lowly shepherd, who pursued his occupation
on the southern slope of the Pentland Hills. Such
a scenery, where nothing but nature predominated,
in the form of bare brown mountains and dashing
waterfalls, was the least of all adapted to create a
perception of the beautiful in art; so that, had not
Kemp been born an architect, he would probably have
been to the end of his days a shepherd or a mechanic.
But at the age of ten years, having been sent with
a message to Roslin, only six miles distant, he then,
and for the first time, beheld the creative power
of man, in the remains of the ancient castle of Roslin,
and above all, in its exquisite gem, the chapel. The
delight he experienced at this new revelation, and
the earnestness with which he gazed at each portion
of the work, not only confirmed his choice of life,
but abode with him as vivid remembrances to the
end of his days. The present, however, had to be
cared for in the meantime; and young Kemp, as
soon as he was fit for work, became apprentice to a
joiner near Eddlestone; and when his term of service
had expired, he went to Galashiels, where he was
employed nearly a twelvemonth in the workshop of
a millwright. The last-mentioned locality brought
him into the neighbourhood of those districts where
some of the richest specimens of ancient cathedral
architecture which our island contains are all but
grouped together, and thus he had many an oppor-
tunity of inspecting the remains of the abbeys of
Melrose, Dryburgh, Kelso, and Jedburgh. After
having fully studied these inspiring lessons, until
Kemp, the humble millwright, had become heart
and soul an architect, he went to England, where he

432

GEORGE MEIKLE KEMP.

worked a short time as a joiner, but omitting no op-
portunity of jjursuing his natural vocation by studying
the remains of Gothic architecture. A specimen of
his zeal in this way was his walking fifty miles to
York, to inspect its cathedral, and aftenvards return-
ing on foot. From Lancashire he removed to (ilas-
gow, where he lived some time as a journeyman at
his craft, and as a student within the massive shadows
of the calheilral. Mr. Kemp came to Edinburgh in
1816 or 1S17, and remained in the emjiloyment of
the same party, as a joiner, until May, 1824, when
he went to London. l)uring this period he displayed
the same bent of mind, as he was in the constant
habit of making excursions into the country, even to
remote districts, to e.xamine some object of interest.
A Roman camp, a fragment of Norman or early
Gothic architecture, a battle-field, or the birthplace
of some poet or warrior, all alike interested him.
In pursuit of some such object he would often leave
his work for days together. He was fortunately an
excellent pedestrian, and could walk forty miles
a day with ease; for in those days the facilities of
railway travelling did not exist. Kemp was an
ardent admirer of our older poets. Chaucer, Sir
David Lindsay, and Drummond were his favourites;
Burns he could almost repeat by heart; and he wrote
occasional verses himself. Nor did he entirely
neglect his musical powers. He was fond of the
violin, and could bring out his favourite Scotch airs
on that instrument with taste and feeling. Kemp,
therefore, while following his humble calling, was
recognized by his immediate friends as a man of
genius; and during the whole period of his residence
in Edinburgh, he was on terms of closest intimacy
with the family of his employer, with whom, on all
festive occasions, he was a welcome guest.

Having learned all that Britain could teach him
in the science of Gothic architecture, Mr. Kemp
resolved to carry his researches into a more ample
field. His design was to travel over Europe, inspect-
ing its ancient remains of architecture, wherever
they were to be found, and supporting himself,
during his stay in the neighbourhood of each, by
working at his ordinary trade. It was the spirit
of the ancient builders, who roamed in companies
from land to land, and whose footsteps a thousand
years have not erased — men who were content to
merge their individual names into the band of which
they were a part, and into the art which they so de-
votedly and disinterestedly loved ; and who cared
not, if their works only survived to future ages,
whether posterity should retain or throw aside the
memory of those by whom such permanent sanctu-
aries for peace and contemplation were created in
the midst of universal strife and havoc. It must
have been such men as Kemp who were the leaders
and master-spirits of such bands. In 1824 he com-
menced his tour, which extended from Boulogne to
Abbeville, to Beauvais and Paris, halting at each
place for some weeks, and studying their architec-
tural remains during every hour of leisure in his
handicraft employment. In such a city as Paris his
pecuniary difficulties might have been increased but
for the demand of English workmen in France for
mill machinery; and as Kemji was skilful in this de-
partment, he obtained full and profitable employ-
ment, so that he could confront the expenses of
living in the capital, and study at leisure the details
of Notre-Dame, and other less noted structures.
After two years' travel of this kind in England and
France, Kemp, on returning to I'xlinburgh, com-
menced business as a joiner, but was unsuccessful — •
and could he well be otherwise, when his heart was
neither in the wood-yard nor at the planing-board?

His hand, indeed, was more conversant at this time
with the pencil than with axe or saw ; and he was
busy in the study of drawing and perspective, in
which he soon became a proficient without the aid
of a master. Having been unsuccessful in business
as a master-joiner, Kemp returned to his former sta-
tion as journeyman, to which he addeil the employ-
ment of an architectural draughtsman; and such was
now the superior beauty and correctness of his draw-
ings, that they soon found jiurchasers. One of the
commissions of this kind he received was from Mr.
Burn, the eminent architect, by whom he was em-
ployed to copy some of the working-drawings for
the palace proposed to be built at Dalkeith as the
future mansion fijr the princely house of Buccleuch.
Instead, however, of proceeding with the drawings,
he set about modelling a section of the building in
wood, and with such success, and so greatly to the
satisfaction of the architect, Mr. Burn, that it re-
sulted in a commission to do the whole edifice in
the same style. On receiving this commission he
commenced the model with characteristic enthusiasm,
and his own modest apartments soon becoming too
small for the work, the architect's ample drawing-
room was, for the time being, converted into a work-
shop, and in it this remarkable specimen of zeal,
ingenuity, and neat-handedness, was brought to a
satisfactory conclusion, after occupying Kemp and
an assistant for two whole years. After the minia-
ture palace was finished, it was transferred to the
vestibule of the ducal residence at Dalkeith, of which
it forms an attractive ornament.

Amongst the engagements into which the occupa-
tion of draughtsman brought him, was that of furnish-
ing drawings for a work illustrative of the ecclesi-
astical antiquities of Scotland, similar to Eritton's
Cathedral Aniigidties, projected by Mr. James John-
ston, engraver, Edinburgh. For this his intimate
knowledge of architectural detail eminently qualified
him; and he accordingly, during the years 1832
and 1833, executed a number of drawings of singular
correctness and beauty, besides a large series of pre-
parative sketches, embracing Elgin, Pluscardine,
Kinloss, Melrose, Roslin, and other of our ecclesi-
astical remains. During the progress of these draw-
ings Mr. Kemp and the publishers of the present
work became acquainted. After Mr. Johnston's
premature death, the drawings made for him came
into their possession, and Mr. Kemp subsequently
completed, at their expense, the measurements and
drawings of the Glasgow Cathedral, during the years
1834-35. While he was making these drawings,
the project of repairing and completing this beauti-
ful specimen of early pointed architecture was put
forth by Mr. M'Lellan, in Glasgow. This led Kemp
to prepare a design for the restoration and comple-
tion of the building. Fully to exhibit the character
of this design, and to demonstrate his ability to con-
struct it if em]5loyed to do so, he, in the years 1837,
1838, and 1S39, at much sacrifice and labour, pre-
pared a model of the entire cathedral, in which so
jierfectly did the new portions harmonize with the
old, that it would have puzzled any architect not
conversant with the building as it really stood, to
tell what part was old, and what were Mr. Kemp's
additions. Unhappily, the design would have cost
more money to execute than there was at that time
any expectation of obtaining from government or
otherwise; and it remains only an evidence of Mr.
Kemp's persevering patience, skill iii handicraft, and
architectural genius.

Thus matured in taste, talent, and skill, by an
apprenticeship that was unique in the history of
modern architecture, it was now full time that the

GEORGE MEIKLE KEMP

KENNETH G. KEMP.

433

knowledge of Mr. Kemp's abilities should be ex-
tended beyond the circle of his admiring friends,
into the world at large. Nothing less, indeed, than
a great national work was adequate to such a genius;
but what chance was there that an aproned, hard-
handed mechanic would be intrusted with such a
commission, especially when so many learned Vitru-
vios were in the field? Happily enough, however,
the chance did come. The more than national, the
iiniz'crsal desire to erect a monument to Sir Walter
Scott in the fair metropolis of that country for which
he had done so much, and the proposals that were
issued for plans of the work, excited an unwonted
stir of artistic emulation ; it was an opportunity by
which the fortunate candidate might link himself to
the undying fame of the great poet and novelist.
Fifty-four plans sent to the head-quarters of the
committee of subscribers in Edinburgh were the
fruits of this competition, of which plans there were
twenty-two Gothic structures, eleven statues com-
bined with architectural accompaniments, fourteen
Grecian temples, five pillars, one obelisk, and one
fountain. Amidst such a profusion the committee
made no decisive choice ; but, in terms of their
agreement, they selected the best three for the prize
of £^o a piece, and laid themselves open for fresh
competition. Of the three designs thus distinguished
above the rest, two were by eminent English archi-
tects, and the third by some individual who as yet
had no name of his o\\ti, or was shy of bringing it
into notice, for he signed himself John Morvo. Who
was this John Morvo? It was no other than Kemp
himself, who had thus come timidly forward, and
secured a safe retreat in case of failure. In five days
he had drawn tlie plan, during Mhich period he had
suspended his work on the model of the Glasgow
Cathedral, with which he was at this period occupied,
and as soon as it was done he resumed his labour,
apparently thinking no farther of a trial in which
the chances were so hopelessly against him. In this
inood he trudged home from Linlithgow on the even-
ing of the day of decision, and on crossing his thresh-
hold was met by his wife with news of the three
lucky candidates, which she had learned from an
acquaintance, and whose names she repeated. What
a happy moment it must have been for both when
the real John Morvo was revealed !

As the lists were now opened for a second trial,
Kemp, animated by his late success, was ready to
resume it with double ardour. His first plan had
been a tall Gothic tower or spire, Avhose original
conception and details he had adapted from Melrose
Abbey, a structure the lines of which had been for
years impressed upon his memor)', and of which,
also, three drawings that he had executed in 1830
first brought him into notice as an architect in the
highest sense of the term. Adopting his earlier
design as the groundwork, he now produced such an
improvement upon it as secured for it the choice of
the whole committee, with the exception of only two
dissenting voices — one on the plea that Kemp was
unkno\\-n, and the other that his plan was a plagiar-
ism. The declaration, however, of the committee,
that the "design was an imposing structure of 135
feet in height, of beautiful proportions, in strict con-
formity with the purity in taste and style of Melrose
Abbey, from which it is in its details derived," and
the attestation of Mr. Bum, who expressed to the
committee "his great admiration of the elegance of
Mr. Kemp's design, its purity as a Gothic composi-
tion, and more particularly the constructive skill
exhibited throughout in the combination of the grace-
ful features of that style of architecture, in such a
manner as to satisfy any professional man of the

VOL. II.

correctness of its principle, and the perfect solidity
which it would possess when built " — these testi-
monies sufficed, in the first instance, to show that
Mr. Kemp's plan was a congenial inspiration, not a
plagiarism, and that, if he was still unknown to the
world, he ought to be so no longer. But who would
now think of adducing such frivolous objections,
with the testimony of the whole world against him?
The Scott Monument has been visited from everv*
land ; engravings of it are diffused over the wide
earth ; and as long as it stands in its majestic and
imposing beauty, the pilgrims of future centuries,
who gaze upon it in silent admiration, will connect
the name of its builder with the thought of him
whom it commemorates.

Mr. Kemp had thus passed, by a single stride,
from the condition of a humble mechanic to the
highest rank in architectural talent and distinction ;
and having won such an elevation while life was
still in its prime, a long perspective of professional
achievements, and the rank and profit by which they
would be accompanied, was naturally anticipated
for him by his friends, and perhaps by himself also.
The building, too, which he had planned, was
rapidly rising from base to summit, while at each
step the public eye detected some new beauty, and
waited impatiently for the completion. But here
the life of the artist was brought to a sudden and
most disastrous termination. He had been absent
from home, employed in matters connected with the
structure; and on the evening of the 6th of March,
1844, was returning to his dwelling at Momingside,
through Fountainbridge, when, in consequence of
the darkness of the night, he had diverged from the
direct road, and fallen into the canal-basin at the
opening. His body was found in the water several
days afterwards, and the whole citv-, that had now
learned to appreciate his excellence, bewailed the
mournful event as a public calamity. It was in-
tended to deposit his remains in the vault under the
Scott Monument, as their fitting resting-place ; but
at the last hour this purpose was altered, and the
interment took place in St. Cuthbert's Churchyard ;
while ever}- street through which the funeral passed
was crowded with spectators. Such was the end
of this promising architect, when his first great work,
at that time nearly completed, surpassed the latest
and best of those of his contemporaries, and gave
promise that architecture would no longer be classed
among the rtr/c'j- /dW/te in Scotland. Mr. Kemp was
married, in September, 1832, to Miss Elizabeth
Bonnar, sister to the eminent artist Mr. William
Bonnar. He left four children, two boys and two
girls. His eldest son, a student of architecture,
died in December, 1853, at the age of twenty. He
was a youth of rare promise and amiable manners,
inheriting all his father's genius and enthusiasm
for art.

KEMP, Kenneth G. Of this talented scientific
experimenter and lecturer, our notice must neces-
sarily be brief, in consequence of his premature de-
parture while his high fame was yet in progress.
He was bom in 1807; and as soon as he was able
to make choice of a particular path in intellectual
life, he selected that of chemistr}-, into which he
threw himself with all the ardour of a devotee, or
even of a martyr — this last expression being fully
needed to express the daring investigations into
which he directed his studies, and the equally dan-
gerous experiments by which he arrived at new and
important results in chemical science. Not the least
of these were his experiments on the theorv- of com-
bustion and the liquefaction of the gases, with which

63

434

GRACE KENNEDY.

he delighted the British Association at their meet-
ings in Edinburgh in 1836. It was not surprising,
also, that in such pursuits his inquisitive energetic
mind should have made not only discoveries on
several chemical compounds, but have recommended
the science itself, as yet too generally neglected in
Scotland, to the attention of his countrymen — more
especially when he had obtained the situation of
lecturer on practical chemistry in the university of
Edinburgh. Besides his researches into the com-
pounds of substances and the evolvement of gases,
Mr. Kemp studied deeply the mysteries of electricity
and magnetism, and was so fortunate as to be the
discoverer of the use of zinc plates in galvanic bat-
teries, by which that invisible power of galvanism
can be controlled at pleasure, and directed to the
most useful purposes. "Let us never forget to
whom we owe this discovery, which, of itself, en-
ables galvanic batteries to be used in the arts. Ages
to come will perhaps have to thank the inventor,
whom we are too apt to forget — yet still the obliga-
tion from the public to Mr. Kemp is the same."
This testimony, from an eminent writer, who could
well appreciate the subject, will, we trust, have its
weight in identifying the discoveiy with its originator.
Another which Mr. Kemp was the first to make —
at least the first in Scotland — was the solidifying of
carbonic acid gas.

Thus, even at an early period of life, Mr. Kemp
had attained to high scientific distinction, and made
the abstruse researches of chemistry a subject of
popular interest in Scotland, while his example had
stimulated those kindred intellects by whom further
progress in the science was certain to be secured.
Although this was much, still more was anticipated,
when his career was cut short by a disease of the
heart, under which he had laboured for years, and
•which perhaps the peculiar nature of his studies
among strange substances and deleterious atmos-
pheres had tended silently to aggravate. He died
in Edinburgh, on the 30th of December, 1843, at
the early age of thirty-six,

KENNEDY, Grace. This amiable and talented
authoress, who shunned fame as earnestly as others
seek it, but who nevertheless acquired the highest
reputation in her own humble department of litera-
ture, was the fourth daughter of Robert Kennedy,
Esq. of Pinmore, Ayrshire, and Robina, daughter of
John Vans Agnew, Esq. of Barnbarroch, in the
county of Wigton. She was born in the family
mansion of Pinmore, near Girvan, in 1782, but at an
early age was removed with her parents to Edinburgh,
where the rest of her life was chiefly spent. Her
childhood and youth were periods of silent intellec-
tual progress, in which there was nothing to attract
the eye or arrest attention ; chiefly consisting of
general reading and the acquirement of languages,
while of female accomplishments she had an average
share. For music indeed she had no predilection,
and never studied it, but this defect was compensated
by her talent for drawing, in which her ability was
attested by the sketches prefixed to her works, which
were designed by her own pencil. Amidst the p;ir-
suits, however, of a shy and retiring but very active
mind, religion was the great object of her solicitude,
and this she studied not only as the chief theme of
intellectual interest, but of her best affections, and the
guide of her whole inner and external life. She was
thus unconsciously in training for the department of
authorship in which she was to take so conspicuous
a part, and her writings were but the transcripts of
her habitual thoughts and emotions embodied in
interesting narratives.

The entrance of Grace Kennedy into literary life
was consistent with her personal character. She felt
within herself the consciousness of a power as yet
untried, while her desire to promote the best interests
of society suggested its direction and use. During
the intervals of home occupations, or the demands
of social intercourse, her chief recreation hatl been
to convert her place of retirement, whether in town
or country, into a study; and there, with a scrap of
paper and a pencil, and with a book for a desk, she
was wont to write down her thoughts as tfcey arose,
and reserve them for future use. All this too was
done so quietly and unobtrusively, that even the
members of her family were ignorant of these stolen
hours of study ; and when her first works issued
from the press, they were astonished to find that
this new anonymous author of whom every one
spoke was no other than their own sister. Although
her pen had been employed for years, her first pub-
lication did not make its appearance until 1S21, when
she was now thirty-nine years old. It was called
The Decision ; or Relii^ion ttnist be All, or is Nothing;
and while works of this nature had hitherto been
confined to scenes of humble life, and were exclu-
sively written for the instruction of the poor, Miss
Kennedy, in The Decision, had selected that higher
and more educated class of society to which she her-
self belonged, and with which shewas best acquainted.
Her reasons for such a selection she thus stated in a
letter to her publisher: "It has often struck me,
that amongst the great variety of excellent little
works published of late years for the purpose of at-
tracting the attention and regard of young people to
the subject of religion, scarcely any have been ad-
dressed to the youth of the higher classes. At least I
know of veiy few indeed. It is true, works suited
to the poor are equally calculated to teach truth to
the rich, when written in the correct and beautiful
style that many of them are; but the characters de-
scribed, and the attendant circumstances, are gene-
rally taken from the lower ranks and habits of life,
and young people of a higher class too soon learn
from those whose opinions they naturally adopt, to
consider religion as an excellent thing for the poor,
without, at the same time, feeling that they are
equally interested in the truths it teaches. I have
attempted," she adds, "to make the accompanying
little work such as a religious friend might present
to a young person of a better class, with a hope
that it might bring the necessity of personal religion
home to the conscience. I am sensible that I have
mingled a good deal that is perhaps trifling in the
conversations; but feared, from what I have observed
in young people, that they otherwise would have ap-
peared stiff and unnatural."

This publication having proved eminently success-
ful. Miss Kennedy was encouraged to bring out in
the following year a work of a similar character,
under the title of Profession is not Principle; or, the
Ka)ne of Chris/ian is not Christianity. This was
closely followed in the same year by a smaller work
devoted to the "short and simple annals of the poor,"
entitled, ''''Jessie Allan, or the Lame Girl, a Story
founded on Eacts." This religious sketch or tale con-
tained the historj' of a young woman whose real
name w^as Nanny Henderson, with whose personal
character and history the authoress had become con-
versant. In December, 1823, appeared the most
popular of her works, luider the title of Father Cle-
tnent, which, in the fonn of a well-told and interest-
ing tale, embodies the chief points at issue betweea
Protestantism and Popeiy, and shows the insuffi-
ciency of the latter to satisfy the cravings of a sen-
sitive inquiring mind, dissatisfied with its present

GRACE KENNEDY

JAMES KENNEDY.

435

weakness, and anxious about its future safety. Father
Clement at once became deservedly popular with
every class of readers, and the number of editions
through which it subsetiuently passed showed the
permanent hold it had established upon the public
favour. On the ensuing spring Miss Kennedy pub-
lished her religious tale called Anna Kcss, of equal
interest but less pretension, being a "story for chil-
dren." Two tracts from her pen followed soon after,
the first being Andniu CamphelPs Visit to his Irish
Cousins, and the second The Word of God and the
Word of Man, a work addressed to Irish Roman
Catholics. At the end of the following year ap-
peared her largest production, Dunallan: or, A'no7u
■ivhat you Judge. Although so late in its appearance
it should have been the first of her publications,
liaving been written several years before the rest; but
its equivocal form, which somewhat partook of the
appearance of a novel, was such an offence in the
eyes of the strictly religious, as might have sufficed
to extinguish her authorship at the outset. Even as
it was, it was condemned by many who had piously
abstained from reading it, notwithstanding its ad-
monitory title, Kiunv 7vhat you fudge. The last
work of Miss Kennedy had for its title, Philip Col-
ville, a Co7'enanter''s Storv, and was a vindication of
the aspersed children of the covenant, against whom
the ancient odium was revived in double heat by Sir
Walter Scott's Old Jlfortality. The authoress boldly
entered upon her self-imposed task by selecting the
murder of Archbishop Sharpe as the principal event,
and some of the agents of the deed as the chief heroes
of the tale.

Such is the list of the writings of Grace Kennedy
during the short space of little more than three years
over which her authorship extended, and which,
since her death, have been published in six goodly
volumes. Independently, however, of the industry
which they indicate, their literary merits are of no
small amount, so that they deservedly held their
place as the most popular writings of their class, al-
though at the time such religious works for the young
employed not a few talented writers, and were pro-
duced in great abundance. The incidents they relate
are happily devised and full of interest; the char-
acters, besides being natural, are admirably deline-
ated; the dialogues in which they express their sen-
timents are given in natural every-day phrase, instead
of stilted declamation; while their religious teach-
ing, instead of being obtruded, arises spontaneously
from the actors of the scene, or the incidents de-
scribed. Such are their excellencies, not usually to
be found in that species of literature which may be
termed the religious novel, and the works of Grace
Kennedy show how well she was qualified to obtain
distinction in the more ambitious departments of in-
tellectual competition. But to the young her whole
])owers and aims were devoted, independently of
literary fame, and it would be difficult to estmiate
the number of youthful minds whom she thus trained
for a maturity of excellence and distinction. And
still her labours were conducted so unobtrusively,
that her name remained unknown till the last year
of her life even to her publisher, while his book-
shelves were laden with her productions, and his
shop with their purchasers, while every tongue was
ready with the question, "Who is the author of
Father Clement?" It was only when laid upon her
death -bed, and a short time previous to her depar-
ture, that she absolved her family from their pro-
mise of secrecy in regard to her works — declaring
that the truths which she had endeavoured to urge
upon others, she now found sufficient to support her
own soul, and that she thought if this were known

it might tend to their being of more use to those who
read them. After a severe and tedious illness, she
died on the 28th of February, 1825. Her venerable
pastor, Dr. Jones, one of the ministers of Edinburgh,
who unexpectedly made her death the subject of a
funeral sermon, after describing with deep emotion
the many noble and amiable qualities by which her
life was distinguished, thus spoke of her last mo-
ments : "Fifty years and more I have been honoured
by being permitted to attend the dying beds of Chris-
tians, and many a calm, and many an instructive, and
many a peaceful, and many a joyful, and many a
dignified, and many a triumphant death have I seen
— but never have I seen one more placid, more edi-
fying, or more glorious than that of Grace Kennedy.
Full of faith and the Holy Ghost, nothing silly or
frivolous coidd fall from her; all her words were
words of wisdom, and all her actions were great and
good. On much better grounds than he did, we
may say with Addison, 'Come, see how a Christian
can die!' Let me die the death of the righteous,
and let my last end be like hers !"

KENNEDY, James, Bishop of St. Andrews, was
the younger of the two sons of James Kennedy of
Dunure, and his wife, the Countess of Angus,
daughter of Robert III. King of Scotland. He was
born about the year 1405 or 1406. The earlier part
of his education he received at home, under the eye
of his mother, and was afterwards, agi^eeably to the
practice of the times, sent abroad to complete it.
Being early destined to the church, the only road to
preferment at that period, and the only profession
worthy his dignified descent, he devoted himself to
the study particularly of theology and the canon
law; but besides his acquirements in these depart-
ments of knowledge, he made a singidar proficiency
in the languages and other branches of learning, and
was altogether looked upon as by far the most ac-
complished prelate of his day.

On his entering into holy orders, he was preferred
{1437) by his uncle James I. to the see of Dunkeld.
The good bishop was no sooner installed in his office
than he set assiduously to work to reform abuses in
the church, and to compel his vicars and parsons to
a faithful discharge of their duties. He enjoined
them to remain in their parishes, and to instruct their
parishioners in the knowledge of religion, to preach
to them regularly, and to visit, comfort, and en-
courage the sick. He himself visited all the churches
within his diocese four times every year, preaching
in each of them as he went along. On these occa-
sions he never failed to inquire of the people if they
were duly instructed by their pastors; if they had no
complaints against them; whether their poor were
properly cared for; and if their youth were brought
up in the fear of God. Such were the pious labours
of this excellent man at the outset of his career, and
he never deviated from them during the whole of a
long and active after-life. Finding his own autho-
rity insufficient to enable him to accomplish all the
good he was desirous of doing, in reforming the
abuses which had crept into the church, he went
over to Florence to procure additional powers for
this purpose from the pope, Eugenius IV. On this
occasion his holiness, as a mark of his esteem for the
M'orthy prelate, bestowed upon him the comniendam
of the abbacy of Leone.

On the death of Wardlaw, Bishop of St. An-
drews, an event which happened on 6th April, 1440,
Kennedy was chosen as his successor in that see;
and to this new and more important charge he
brought all that activity and anxiety to do good
which had distinguished him at Dunkeld. He con-

436

JAMES KENNEDY SIR JAMES SHAW KENNEDY,

tinued his efforts to reform the manners and practice
of the clergy, and in 1446 set out on a second jour-
ney to Italy, to consult with and obtain the co-
operation of the pope in his work of reformation.
On this occasion he was accompanied by a train of
thirty persons; for thou^di moderate in all his enjoy-
ments, he was yet of an exceedingly liberal disposi-
tion, and a scrupulous maintainer of the dignity
of his sacred office. His dislike of turbulence, his
constant elTorts to reconcile differences where they
existed, and to discountenance oppression, rendered
him peculiarly obnoxious to the house of Douglas;
and in revenge of the part he took in restraining the
l)ower of that ambitious family, his lands were plun-
dered by the Earl of Crawford and Alexander Ogilvie
of Inveraritie, at the instigation of the Earl of Douglas,
who had farther instructed them to seize if possible
the person of the bishop, and to put hini in irons.
This fate he only avoided by confining himself to his
castle. He was, however, eventually the means of
reducing the power of the Douglases within limits
more consistent with the peace and safety of the
kingdom. James II., almost driven from his throne
by the increasing insolence of the chief of that house,
^\•ent in despair to St. xVndrews to seek the counsel
of its able bishop. On the prince and prelate meet-
ing, the former informed him that Douglas was
mustering a large army either to dethrone him or
drive him from the country; that he knew no means
of resisting him, and was utterly at a loss what steps
to take in this emergency. " Sir," replied the bishop,
"I entreat your grace to partake, in the meantime,
of some refreshment, and while ye do so I will pass
into my chamber and pray to God for you and the
commonwealth of this realm." When the king had
finished his repast the bishop came forth, and taking
liim by the hand led him into the apartment in which
lie himself had been praying, and there they both
knelt down and besought the guidance and assist-
ance of Him who directs all things. When they had
concluded their devotions, the bishop proceeded to
point out to the king such a mode of procedure as
he deemed the most suitable to the circumstances.
He advised the monarch immediately to issue pro-
clamations calling upon his subjects in the north
to muster around his standard, which he afterwards
erected at St. Andrews, and offer pardon to all who,
having previously attaclied themselves to the Earl of
Douglas, would now abandon his cause and aid that
of the king. The consequence was that James soon
found himself at the head of 40,000 men. The final
muster took place at Stirling, and a battle, which
was to decide whether a Douglas or a Stuart was to
be King of Scotland, appeared to be at hand; for
the former with an equal force was at that moment
encamped on the south side of the Carron. But
while in the very act of advancing, Douglas detected
the effects of the amnesty proclaimed by James by
the advice of the bishop. A spirit of disaffection
and indications of wavering appeared in his ranks.
Alarmed by these symptoms he marched his army
back to their encampment, ho]iing to restore their
confidence, but the result was very different, for on
the following morning there were not a hundred men
remaining of all Douglas' host. Finding himself
thus deserted, the earl fled; and in this manner fell
the overgrown power of the house of Douglas — a
circumstance mainly, if not entirely, attributable to
the wisdom and energy of the Bishop of St. An-
drews.

On the death of James II. Bishop Kennedy was
intrusted with the charge and education of his son,
afterwards James III., then about seven years of age.
His known wisdom, prudence, and integrity, pointed

him out as the fittest person for this important duty,
and on the same ground there was added to it a large
share in the management of public affairs during the
regency of the (jueen-mother. He had acquired an
authority in the kingdom by the mere influence of
his character, which few had ever, attained, and he
was thus enabled to accomplish more amongst a rude
people than would have been effected by mere power
or rank. The consequence was, that unusual quiet-
ness and prosperity pervaded the whole kingdom
during his administration. He enjoyed the confid-
ence of all parties, and was no less esteemed for
his probity, humanity, and wisdom, than admired
for the splendour of his abilities; and so universal
was the satisfaction which his government .afforded,
that the chief management of public affairs was still
left in his hands even after the death of the queen-
mother, and remained with him until his own death,
which took place on the loth May, 1466.

Bishop Kennedy was not less remarkable for his
munificence than for his other splendid qualities.
He founded the college at St. Andrews called St.
Salvador's, in honour of our Saviour, and endowed
it with a fund for the maintenance of a provost, four
regents, and eight poor scholars or bursars, at an
expense of about /"lOjOOO. He built a ship, which
was afterwards known by the name of the BisJwfs
Barge, at a similar cost; and his tomb is said to have
been equally expensive with the two former. In
1444 he was appointed chancellor of the kingdom,
but this office he resigned a few weeks afterwards,
as he found that it interfered with those projects for
doing good in his clerical capacity, which he had
resolved to follow out from the beginning of his
career. He was, by his own desire, interred in
the collegiate church of St. Andrews, where his
tomb is still shown, along with several silver maces
which were found in it some years ago.

KENNEDY, General Sir James Shaw, K.C.B.
This gallant soldier and skilful military tactician
was born in 1788. His name was originally James
Shaw, that of Kennedy being added at a subsequent
period. After being educated at the Royal Military
College, he entered the army at Hythe as ensign in
the 43d regiment, went through the course of drill
and discipline put into practice by Sir John Moore,
and was present at the siege of Copenhagen and
battle of Kioge in 1807. Under that distinguished
commander, also, he accompanied the 43d in 1808
in the advance from Corunna to Sahagun; and during
the retreat and afterwards, was attacked by violent
fever, followed by long illness, from which he never
fully recovered. .

In 1809 James Shaw accompanied the 43d to
Lisbon, and was present with his regiment at the
battle of Talavera. It was on this occasion that the
43d, 52d, and 95th regiments, under General Robert
Crawford, reached the British camp, after performing
the incredible march of sixty-two English miles in
twenty-six hours, in the holiest season of the year,
and although each soldier carried from fifty to sixty
pounds weight of arms and luggage. At Talavera
Shaw became adjutant of his regiment, and at Campo-
Mayor he was appointed aide-de-camp to Major-
general Robert Crawford. Under this daring and
impetuous commander, to whom danger seemed the
main charm of a military life, Shaw was present in
the numerous affairs that took place on the Agueda
and around Ciudad-Rodrigo, and took part in that
most interesting charge of cavalry which occurred
near to Villa del I'uerco. On this occasion a square
of French infantry, consisting of about 200 men com-
manded by Captain Gouache, had formed in such a

SIR JAMES SHAW KENNEDY.

437

"peculiar position, that Shaw was commissioned to
ride up close to the face of it, and ascertain its exact
position before the attack commenced. He accord-
iiiL^ly looked at and over the square, but though so
close at hand, not a shot was fired at him — the enemy
were too intent upon keeping their ranks compact
and steady to discompose their order by bringing
down one man. To Shaw it seemed a golden
opportunity of deciding the long-pending question,
whether well-formed and steady infantry can be
broken by a ciiarge of cavalry. The square was first
attacked by a troop of the King's German Hussars
and a troop of the l6th Light Dragoons, and after-
wards by a squadron of the 14th Light Dragoons;
but, in both cases, the attacks failed, and their
assailants were beaten off, witii the loss of their
colonel and thirty-two troopers, while the French
did not lose a man.

When Ney advanced towards Almeida on the Coa,
and General Crawford rashly resolved, with little
more than 5000 British and Portuguese, to abide the
onset of 30,000 French, Shaw received a wound in
the left elbow-joint, which, owing to exfoliations of
the bone, was long in healing, so that he was
secluded for a considerable period from active service.
\\'hen the Duke of Wellington undertook the siege
of Ciudad-Rodrigo, in January, 1812, Shaw, now
cured of his wound, was with General Crawford as
aide-de-camp, and carried the duke's summons to
the governor of the town for its surrender. He also
accompanied General Crawford when the light
division advanced to the storming of the place. On
this occasion Crawford, with that recklessness of
danger which had always characterized him, and
which seemed to be justified by his numerous escapes,
separated himself from the advancing column to about
sixty yards on its left, and planting himself on the
very crest of the glacis, issued his orders in the
loudest tones. He was thus a mark which the
enemy could not miss, except by a miracle, and he
fell desperately wounded. Shaw, who alone was
with him on this occasion, raised and removed his
dying commander from the spot, and received his
last instructions. His chief desire in his last moments
was, that Shaw should tell his wife "he was quite
sure that they would meet in heaven."

The death of Crawford having freed him of his
duties as aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Shaw rejoined the
43d regiment, and v.'as present at the siege and assault
of liadajos in 1812. The attack was to be made
upon the town from different quarters simultaneously,
and was so well planned that it was hoped it would
l>rove irresistible; but, from some of these casualties
which are so frequent in war, the unity of the effort
was prevented, and the enemy put upon their guard.
On this account the whole was reduced to a trial of
desperate fighting, in which the British had to con-
tend not only with a determined foe, but a fortress
doubly and trebly fortified, so that to press on was
almost with the certainty to perish. But the assail-
ants, animated with the thirst of revenge and plunder
in addition to their native courage, surged on through
a tempest of fire and steel that met them at every
ditch, gate, and ravelin. They only went onward
to fall in heaps, while the enemy taunted their vic-
tims as they fell, with, Jl7n' tiicy did not come into
Badnjos? "In this dreadful situation," writes the
historian of the Peninsular war, "while the dead
were lying in heaps, and others continually falling,
the wounded crawling about to get some shelter from
the merciless shower above, and withal a sickening
stench from the burned flesh of the slain, Captain
Nicholas of the engineers was observed by Lieu-
tenant Shaw of the 43d, making incredible efforts to

force his way with a few men into the Santa Maria.
Collecting fifty soldiers, of all regiments, he joined
him, and, passing a deep cut along the foot of the
breach, these two young officers, at the head of their
band, rushed up the slope of the ruins; but ere they
gained two-thirds of the ascent a concentrated fire of
musketry and grape dashed nearly the whole dead
to the earth. Nicholas was mortally wounded, and
the intrepid Shaw stood alone." This was a situa-
tion which might have confounded the courage of
the bravest, but even at this moment the coolness
and considerateness of Shaw remained unshaken ;
and while thus standing alone, he deliberately pulled
out his watch, rejieated the hour aloud, and declared
that the breach could not be carried that night. This
instance of intrepid coolness Captain Nicholas saw,
while lying mortally wounded, and afterwards re-
ported before he died. The lieutenant's prediction
was correct ; the attack on the breach of the Santa
Maria bastion was not repeated that night; and, col-
lecting the remains of his followers, and a few chance
stragglers from other regiments, Shaw withdrew
them to a ruined ravelin which afforded them some
shelter from the enemy's fire, and there resolved to
continue until the morning, in the correct belief that
the occupation of the position was of importance,
should the assault on Badajos be repeated on the
following day. But they had not long been on the
ravelin when the alarm was raised that the French
were making a sortie into the ditch, which compelled
the handful of British to a hasty retreat.

These, however, were not the whole of Lieutenant
Shaw's exploits in the siege of Badajos. Two or
three days before the assault was given, an order was
issued that the light division was to form for the
assault, for which purpose it was stationed after dark,
and in the greatest silence, on the left of the Rivellas,
with the head of the column near to the quarry, and
pointing to the bastion of Trinidad. The head of
the column was not to pass the point at which it
would be exposed to the enemy's shot; but to ascer-
tain this point would be extremely difficult in the
darkness, and impossible by daylight. It was hon-
ourable to Lieutenant Shaw that he was chosen to
solve the difficulty; and to make it as safe as possible,
Colonel M'Leod and another officer posted them-
selves on the height of St. Michael, to signalize him
of any movements of the French from Badajos, or
the fort of Pardaleras. The cool, courageous, and
scientific manner in which this dangerous midnight
exploration was effected, will be best told in Shaw's
own language from his autobiography: — "Com-
mencing at a well-ascertained point on the left of
the Rivellas — which point could not be mistaken
even in the night — I took regular paces — counting
my paces — and proceeded directly towards the bas-
tion of Trinidad, until I got very near to the covered
way of that bastion, and saw that no further advance
could be made by a column without exposure to
the fire both of the bastion and of the Pardaleras.
M'Leod now made the signal, indicating that the
French had sent out a party from the Pardaleras to
intercept my return. By returning at the same mea-
sured and slow pace at which I had advanced I
accomplished two things, viz. measuring again the
distance, and imposing on the P^rench detachment;
for they evidently were intimidated, from supposing
that I was supported. This successful measurement
of the required distance for the column to stand upon
in safety was of much importance on the night of the
assault. By it the column of the light division was
placed in the position from which it proceeded to
the assault."

After the capture of Badajos Lieutenant Shaw

438

SIR JAMES SHAW KENNEDY

continued with the 43'! during the advance to Sala-
manca in 1S12, the taking of the forts there, tiie
operations on to the Douro, and the retreat to Sala-
manca. He also did his duty in the memorable
battle of Salamanca, where the Duke of Wellington,
to use a French officer's expression, '"defeated 40,000
men in forty minutes." He then accompanied the
army in its advance to Madrid, the reduction of the
Ketiro, and until after the retreat from Madrid had
commenced. During this retreat he became aide-
de-camp to General Baron Alten, commanding the
light division, and was with him in that capacity
in the retreat to Salamanca, and afterwards to Rod-
rigo, and in the affairs that took place in the retreat.
After the retreat of the army to Portugal at the close
of 1812, the state of Shaw's health required a return
to England on sick-leave, and his return was suc-
ceeded by a long and severe fever, the effects of which,
and some partial relapses, made his health ever after
delicate and precarious, and unfit for severe field-
service. But his genius for the higher military opera-
tions on which success in war so greatly depends,
only shone out the more brightly, and won for him
that rank and distinction not always accorded to
mere soldierly courage and activity.

Having only partially recovered from these re-
peated attacks of fever, Shaw rejoined the army, and
in 1815, on Napoleon's return from Elba to France,
was attached in Belgium to the third division of the
Anglo-allied army, which was commanded by General
Baron Alten. In this division Shaw held the office
of deputy assistant quartermaster-general. Scarcely,
however, had the army been a quarter of an hour on
the field of Quatre Bras, when the assistant quarter-
master-general was wounded, in consequence of
which Shaw succeeded to the whole charge of his
department for the third division during the momen-
tous days of the i6th, 17th, and i8th of June. This
division having been severely engaged on the i6th,
had on the following day to be withdrawn under
circumstances of peculiar danger, in consequence of
the advance of the army under Napoleon from the
field of Ligny ; and preparatory to this critical process,
Shaw was ordered to reconnoitre the country from
near Piermont, where the division was stationed, to
the Dyle, and fix upon its line of retreat, and the
point at which it should pass the Dyle, so as to leave
the passage at Genappe free for the other portions of
the army. This trying duty of the quartennaster-
general was ably performed, as was shown by the
operations of which it formed the guide. The third
division retired upon the line which Shaw had
mapped out for it, in the face of Napoleon's army,
with which they actually came into contact, although
not more than 6000 strong — crossed a considerable
river —and at length reached in safety the great road
leading from Genappe to Waterloo. This successful
retreat is thus described by the quartermaster him-
self in his autobiography: — "Every possible pre-
caution was taken to withdraw a great portion of the
division before the enemy perceived that it was mov-
ing in retreat, and the three brigades were so arranged
that they kept in echelons on the line of retreat, each
brigade forming on ground favourable for repelling
an attack, and so that each brigade should retire in
succession; thus the enemy constantly found, as he
advanced, brigade after brigade regidarly formed for
action. Although the enemy closely followed the
division, he never attempted any regular attack
upon it."

When the great conflict of Waterloo followed, the
subject of our memoir performed an important part
in that eventful drama. On the i8th of June, when
th2 formation of the French army indicated the de-

sign of an attack on the British position, the Prince
of Orange and General Baron Alten were anxious
to know how the third division should be formed in
order of battle, and referred the question to the Duke
of Wellington, who joined them during the discus-
sion. "Form in the usual way," replied the duke,
and rode on. This answer did not satisfy the anxious
officers, who knew that the division woukl be parti-
cularly exposed to the fire of the enemy's artillery,
and the attacks of their numerous and efficient
cavalry ; and after Wellington had passed onward,
the discussion was renewed, but without any result.
At length Shaw interposed, and begged that he
might be allowed to form the division, to which
Baron Alten assented. Aware of the terrible charges
of cavalry to which the division would be exposed,
and that its formation ought to be such as to give it
facilities of rapid formation for resisting cavalry, and
equal facilities for the reformation of the line, the
quartermaster-general formed the front line into five
oblongs, and the second line into four, placed as
nearly as possible in exchequer, so that the oblongs
of the second line should close up the openings of
the first. The propriety of this arrangement was
admirably manifested in the engagement: as soon as
the French cavalry advanced to charge, the third
division readily threw itself into the prescribed ob-
longs, and the terrible onset, that, in ordinary cir-
cumstances, would have sufficed to trample down
resistance, or sweep their opponents off the field,
was met, broken, and driven back with fatal recoil.
In the action Shaw himself had one horse killed and
another wounded, and for a short time was disabled
by a shot, which, first breaking to pieces the strong
steel handle of his sword, struck him on the side.
Baron Alten also was wounded, and compelled
to quit the field. But these were such trivial dis-
asters compared with the great victor}-, that the
wounded heroes felt no room for regret. Nor was
General Alten unmindful of the merits of his quarter-
master-general; and in his report on the following
day to the Duke of Wellington, he acknowledged
them in these words: — "The services of Captain
Shaw, deputy assistant quartermaster-general, who
was senior of the department in the absence of Major
Jessop, from a wound, were indispensable to me for
executing the disposition of the troops for the attack."
On the following day, also, he thus expressed him-
self upon the same subject in a letter to the duke:
"Captain Shaw, deputy assistant quartermaster,
general, whose ser\ices previous to and during the
action were most important to me, is an officer who
should be brought forward and placed in situations
where his military talents can be best employed."
This, however, was not all. After the victory of
Waterloo, and the triumphant entrance of the allies
into Paris, Baron Alten thus recommended Shaw,
who had been promoted to a majority, to General
Sir George Murray, who was appointed chief of the
staff to the allied army of occupation: —

"As I perceive by the general orders of the 3d
inst., that Major Shaw of the 43d regiment, assistant
quartermaster-general to the third division, will be
discontinued on the staff from the 25th inst. , I beg leave
to inform you that his grace the Duke of Wellington
was good enough to appoint that officer on the staff
in May last, and to the third division, then under my
command, in consequence of my recommendation,
which I grounded on a long acquaintance I had with
Major Shaw in the Peninsula, where he served on
my staff, and gave me an opportunity to know his
value as a staff-officer. Since his late appointment
in this country, and particularly during the actions
of the i6th and 18th of June last, where he was in

SIR JAMES SHAW KENNEDY,

439

charge of the department witli the division, he has
again so much confirmed the high ojiinion I always
entertained of his gallantry, zeal, and abilities, that
I feel it due to him to bring it to your knowledge,
and to say that, should you at any period have an
opening in the quartermaster-general's department,
and are disposed to fix your choice on him, I can
with every confidence recommend him as an ac-
quisition."

On the formation of the allied army of occupation
in France, the contlition that Calais should be open for
this portion of the British troops in its communica-
tions with England was inadvertently omitted. The
Duke of Wellington obtained the consent of the
French government that this error should be rectified,
and that Major Shaw on the part of his grace should
settle at Calais, with a colonel on the part of France,
as to how this town should be jjartially occupied by
a British detachment until the army of occupation
was withdrawn. The negotiation to that effect was
conducted by Shaw so ably and effectively, that the
Duke of Wellington expressed his approbation, and
declared that but for this settlement, he should have
been obliged to change the establishment from Calais
to Ostend. The arrangements for the embarkation
of the army of observation fell upon the major and
Captain Hill of the navy. Five thousand Russian
troops were previously to be embarked, and for his
services on this occasion Major Shaw received the
thanks of the Emperor Alexander, and the present
of a diamond ring, through Count Woronzow.
After the army of occupation had been broken up
in France, he was also promoted to the brevet rank
of lieutenant-colonel upon the recommendation of
the Duke of Wellington.

The active services of Colonel Shaw in the field
being now terminated by the establishment of a
lasting peace, he returned to his native country, and
in 1820 espoused Mary, daughter of David Kennedy,
Esq., in consequence of which marriage he added
the latter name to his own. In 1826 he was ap-
pointed assistant adjutant-general of the northern
district of Ireland, and near the close of 1826 he was
removed to Manchester in the same capacity, where
he remained till 1836. That long period was one of
considerable excitement among the workpeople of
the potteries and manufactories of Lancashire, and to
suppress these fell entirely upon Colonel Shaw Ken-
nedy, as the general officers who commanded the
northern districts had their head-quarters in York-
shire, and seldom entered Lancashire. In describing
his situation under such trying circumstances, the
colonel says, "I leave others to judge what degree
of difficulty and delicacy there is in the management
of so wide a district, with so great a population,
when it is much disturbed. The prompt supply of
troops as they may be properly wanted; their proper
distribution; the preparation of temporary barracks;
the arrangements to be arrived at with the magis-
trates in their respective districts ; and, above all,
the personal command of the troops when opposing
riots, are presumed here to present no trifling diffi-
culties, if they are so managed as to prevent loss of
property, and maintain the supremacy of the law and
the complete authority of the magistrates, and yet
so as to avoid the necessity of absolute collision and
bloodshed." Coming to the conclusion, he adds,
"These objects, I presume to state, were thoroughly
accomplished during the whole period of my being
on the staff in the northern district, not only for
Manchester, but for the whole of the surrounding
district; — for the whole of Lancashire and the dis-
trict of the potteries." How well they were performed
was indicated by the official thanks of the military

authorities, and tliose at the home-office, at his de-
parture; and by a handsome address and a testi-
monial of a service of plate from the town of Man-
chester.

After holding office for about nine years at Man-
chester as assistant adjutant-general, Colonel Shaw
Kennedy was offered the appointment of first com-
missioner of the metropolitan police force, then about
to be formed by Sir Robert Peel, secretary of state
for the home department ; but, being unwilling to
leave his own profession, he declined the offer. But
his talents being now recognized in the suppression
of civil commotions, he was desired by government
to take the situation of inspector-general of the Irish
constabulary force when it was consolidated into a
civil army of 8000 men, and as this situation was
more of a military character than the other, he un-
dertook the office. Among the other regulations by
which this large force was organized for its peculiar
duties, Colonel Kennedy w'rote out for its express
use a system of drill and field exercise, which was
so effectually carried out, that the Irish police was
fit to form the advance or rear guard of an army, or
to have formed in a solid order of battle. Having
brought the body into this efficient state, he resigned
his command, after he had held it for two years.

During the great Chartist demonstration in London
in 1848, government, being anxious about the state
of Liverpool, resolved to send there a body of troops
under the command of a general officer, and Kennedy,
having two years previously been promoted to the
rank of major-general, was appointed to command
it. In the same year a still more formidable in-
surrectionary movement having taken place in Ire-
land, he was appointed, in company with Viscount
Hardinge, to assist in its suppression. But at the
time he was in Scotland, and so ill in health that
he was unable to sit on horseback even for an hour,
so that he was obliged reluctantly to forego so hon-
ourable an appointment. The same cause obliged
him in 1852 to resign the command of the forces in
Scotland, after he had accepted the office, and been
in readiness to proceed to Edinburgh.

Thus full of years and of honour, and distinguished
by talents alike fitted for foreign wars and intestine
commotions. Major-general Sir James Shaw Ken-
nedy died at Bath, on the 30th of May, 1865, at the ripe
age of seventy-seven. His character is thus summed
up in the Guardian, by the Rev. W. C. Luke, who
enjoyed his intimacy and appreciated his worth: —

"If it had not been for a delicacy of health, like
that which Napier describes in Colonel ISI'Leod,
' whose feeble body would have been quite unfit for
war if it had not been sustained by an unconquer-
able spirit,' General Shaw Kennedy would unques-
tionably have been one of the greatest commanders
of the time. This, I believe, was Sir William
Napier's opinion. He was, in addition to this, a
man of extensive reading and remarkable powers of
conversation; and there must be some of your readers
who were brought in contact with him in later life,
when at seventy-five he retained the freshness and
animation of a boy, who must have been impressed
like myself with the feeling that they scarcely ever
met with a man of greater natural power and energy.
. , . In many qualities there is often said to be a
resemblance between the profession of a clerg)'man
and that of a soldier, and I think that few clergjmen
could have been brought into the presence of so much
resolution, energy, and modesty, without feeling
themselves the better for it, and believing that their
own profession would not be injured by the study of
such examples." ^

Although the general was so well qualified to

440

JOHN KER.

illustrate the important subject of military science,
liis only literary production in this department was
a single volume, entitled A'oU-s on the Battle of
Waterloo, published in London in 1S65. It consists
of critical and explanatory notes of that great con-
flict, with a map of the battle-field, and sketches of
the positions of the different battalions — a brief
autobiography of his own ser\'ices, from which the
foregoing account has been taken — and a plan for
the defence of Canada, a subject of daily growing
importance.

KER, John, third Duke of Roxburgh, distin-
guished by liis eminent bibliographical knowledge,
and his extensive and valuable collection of books,
was born in Hanover Square, London, on the 23d
April, 1740. He was the eldest son of Robert, the
second duke, by Essex Mostyn, daughter of Sir
Roger Mostyn, of Mostyn, in Kentshire, Baronet.
Li 1755 he succeeded his father in the dukedom, to
which was attached the British peerage of Earl and
Baron Ker of Wakefield; and he appears to have
soon after proceeded upon his travels on the Conti-
nent. It is stated that while in Germany he formed
an attachment to Christiana Sophia Albertina, eldest
daughter of the Duke of Mecklenburg Strelitz, and
that their nuptials would have taken place, had not
her sister Charlotte just at that time been espoused
by the King of Great Britain. Eticpiette then inter-
fered to prevent what would otherwise have been
an equal and proper match, it being deemed impro-
per that the elder should become the subject of the
younger sister. Both parties, however, evinced the
strength of their attachment, by devoting their after-
lives to celibacy. It seems to have been to this event
that Sir Walter Scott alludes, when he says of the
duke:^ "Youthful misfortunes, of a kind against
which neither wealth nor rank possess a talisman,
cast an early shade of gloom over his prospects, and
gave to one splendidly endowed with the means of
enjoying society, that degree of reserved melancholy,
Avhich prefers retirement to the splendid scenes of
gayety." To whatever extent George III. might
be the innocent cause of his grace's misfortune, it
does not appear to have in the least marred a strong
friendship which existed between them — -"a tie of
rare occurrence," Sir Walter Scott justly observes,
"between prince and subject." In 1767 his grace
^\•as appointed a lord of the bed-chamber, and next
year was invested with the order of the Thistle.
The former honour gave him a title to be much
about the court; but he never farther engaged himself
in a public career.

The taste which his grace imbibed to so extra-
ordinary an extent for book-collecting, is stated by
Sir Walter to have originated in an accidental cir-
cumstance. "Lord Oxford and Lord Sunderland,
both famous collectors of the time, dined one day at
the house of the second Duke of Roxburgh, when
their conversation happened to turn upon the cditio
prhiceps o{ Boccaccio, printed at Venice in 147 1, and
so rare that its very existence was doubted of The
duke was himself no collector, but it happened that
a copy of this very book had passed under his eye,
and been offered to him for sale at a hundred guineas,
then tliuught an immense price. It was therefore
M'iih complete assurance that he undertook to pro-
duce to the connoisseurs a copy of the treasure in
question, and did so at the time appointed, with no
small triumph. His son, then Marquis of Beaumont,
never forgot the little scene upon this occasion, and
used to ascribe to it the strong passion which he

1 Quarterly Review, xliv. 446.

ever afterwards felt for rare books and editions, and
which rendered him one of the most assiduous and
judicious collectors that ever formed a sumptuous
library." But a still stronger instance of the jjower
of bibliomania was afforded at the sale of the duke's
library, and in the case of this very book. When it
was put up, the first offer was 100 guineas, the origi-
nal sum which his grace had paid for it — but at the
sight of it a tempest of enthusiasm pervaded the
meeting, the biddings rose, and after a long and
almost frantic competition, it was at length knocked
down to the Marquis of Blandford for £21(^0. Such
a sum for a copy of the works of Boccaccio ! Well
might it be said by one who describes the scene, that
the sound of the fall of the auctioneer's hammer was
"heard in the libraries of Rome, of Milan, and St.
Mark. " The purchaser had previously a cojn' of the
same edition, but it wanted five leaves, and he was
resolved to secure the present one, though he should
go as far as ^^5000 for it.

There can be no doubt, at the same time, that the
duke chanced to possess that perseverance of char-
acter and genuine literai-y taste, without which such
an impulse as this must have been of no avail.
"Sylvan amusements," says Sir Walter, "occupied
the more active part of his time when in Scotland;
and in book-collecting, while residing in London,
he displayed a degree of patience which has rarely
been etpialled, and never excelled. It could scarcely .
be said whether the Duke of Roxburgh's assiduity
and eagerness were most remarkable, when he lay
for hours together, though the snow was falling at
the time, beside some lovely spring in the Cheviot
Hills, where he expected the precarious chance of
shooting a wild goose, when the dawning should
break; or when he toiled for hours, nay, for days,
collating and verifying his edition of the Black Acts
or Caxton's Bake of Troy.

With the exception of singularly fortunate adven-
tures in the procuring of old books, the duke's life
passed on in an almost unvaried tenor, in the pursuits
just alluded to. At his scat of Fleurs in Scotland,
where he spent but a small portion of his time, he
had a proportionately small library; but at his house
in St. James' Square, London, where he chiefly re-
sided, he, in time, amassed the most valuable private
library in the country. In 1796 he was appointed
groom of the stable, and initiated a privy-councillor,
and in iSoi was honoured with the Garter, which he
was permitted to bear along with the Thistle, a mark
of honour conferred on no other subject since 1712,
when the Duke of Hamilton had the same distinction
from Queen Anne." For upwards of forty years he
continued his book-collecting habits without inter-
mission, being much aided during a great part of the
time by Mr. G. Nichol, bookseller to the king,
whose sei-vices towards the excellent library collected
by George HI., and afterwards given by George IV.
to the nation, were also ver)' eminent. At length,
on tlie 19th of March, 1S04, the duke died of inflam-
mation in the liver, at his house in London, in the
sixty-fourth year of his age. He was buried at
Bowden, near Melrose.

His library, at his death, consisted of upwards of
10,000 distinct articles, many of them of the greatest
rarity and of high value, though it was understood
that in many cases he had purchased them at com-
paratively low prices. It would be vain to pretend
that his grace had made, or could make, a good use

2 No man could have borne these honours with more grace
than the Duke of Roxburgh, whose "lofty presence and
felicitous address," according to Sir Walter Scott, "recalled
the ideas of a court in which Lord Chesterfield might have
acted as master of the ceremonies,"

ROBERT KERR.

441

of such a vast mass of literature, much of it of an
obsolete kind; yet, neither can there be any doubt
that he read much of what he purchased, and seemed,
upon the whole, to aim rather at gratifyin;^ an innate
taste for letters, and a devout and worshipful regard
for their brightest ornaments, than either for the pride
of possessing so many curiosities, or the usual anti-
quarian appreciation of minute peculiarities in the
externe of books.

Early English literature and the Table Rondc had
been the chief objects of his research. Of the former
he possessed not only the rarest, but, in point of
condition, the most beautiful specimens in existence.
He idolized the talents of Shakspeare and Cervantes,
and collected everything that could illustrate their
works. Fifteen different editions of Shakspeare's
complete works, with seventy-five separate plays in
diflerent editions, and fourteen distinct works re-
specting this great dramatic author, are to be found
in the catalogue. In the poetical department of early
English literature he had a great collection; in which
the most curious article was a very large assortment
of ancient ballads and fugitive pieces of poetry, in
three volumes folio, which had been first formed for
the library of the Earl of Oxford, afterwards enlarged
by Major Pearson and Mr. Isaac Reid, then increased
to a great extent by the duke himself, and which
brought at the sale no less than £\'T], 15.?. The
duke had also collected many ancient manuscripts,
some of them splendidly illuminated; and it is men-
tioned, that he read these with great facility, as was
testified by various remarks which he wrote upon
them with his own hand. He had the largest and
finest collection of the books printed by Caxton, in
England. At his death he was in full pursuit of the
English dramatic authors; and when the large collec-
tion he possessed is taken into account, along with
the comparative briefness of the time during which
he had directed his attention this way, his industiy
seems prodigious. He had an uncommon quantity
of books and tracts relative to criminals, detections
of witches, and other impostors. Mr. Nicol, in the
preface to the catalogue, says, "He had a particular
pleasure in exercising those discriminating powers
which he so eminently possessed in tracing out the
images by which the perverted ingenuity of the
human mind often attempts to impose upon the
credulity of its fellow-creatures." This splendid
library was, after a long. and distressing delay from
litigation, brought to sale, in May, 1812; an event
which may be said to have created more sensation
than any other connected with literature during the
present century — the disclosure of the Waverley
secret alone excepted.

KERR, Robert, a miscellaneous writer, was born
in the year 1755.* He was the son of Mr. James Kerr
of Bughtridge, jeweller in Edinburgh, convener of
the trades and AI.P. for the city, which honours he
held at the same time,^ by Elizabeth, daughter of

' The exact place of his birth is not known: but it was a
mansion in Roxburghshire, near the Cheviot Hills, where his
mother happened to be on a visit at the time. The usual
re>idence of his parents was in Edinburgh.

- An intimate friend of Mr Robert Kerr supplies us with the
f jUowing information respecting his father : —

" Mr. James Kerr was the son of a jeweller in the Parliament
Square, Edinburgh, whose shop was attached to the walls of
the old cathedral of St. Ciiles; the first on the right hand in
g )ing into the square. The hoiise occupied by this person
was a mere cellar under the shop, and partly projecting below
the adjacent pavement, from which its sole light was derived
by means of a grating. In consequence of the family, which
■was very numerous, being brought up in this miserable and
unhealthy hovel, they all died in infancy, except the father of
the author, whose life was saved by his being removed to
more roomy accommodations on the opposite side of the square.

Lord Charles Kerr, second son of Robert, first Mar-
quis of Lothian. Mr. Kerr was educated at the
high-school and university of Edinburgh; and having
qualified himself to act as a surgeon, entered into
business as partner with an aged practitioner named
Wardrope, whose daughter he subsequently married.
He had the misfortune to be very lame in one of his
limbs, which caused him to sink greatly to one side
in walking. His first literary effort was a translation
of Lavoisier's Eleineuts of C/iemistry, published in
1789, in which year he also gave to the world a
version of Berthollet's Essay on the Xeiu Metliod of
BUacliiiig by Meajis of Muriatic Acid and Oxygen.
The approbation with which these publications were
received induced him to commence a translation of
Linnaeus' Zoological System; two volumes of which
were published (4to) in 1792, but which did not
meet with so much success as to tempt him to pro-
ceed Avith the rest. Having failed with the dry
classifications of the Swedish philosopher, he com-
menced a translation of the more popular work of
Buffon on Ovi/'orons Quadrupeds and Ser/ents, the
first volume of which appeared in 1793, and the
fourth and last in 1 800. The execution of these
translations was highly extolled in the reviews of
the time, and caused Mr. Kerr to be respectfully
known in the world of letters.

The political predilections of this gentleman being
decidedly ^Vhiggish, he published in 1794 a pam-
phlet, entitled A Vindication of the Friends of Free-
dom from the Aspersion of Disloyalty; being designed,
as its name imports, to prove that the liberality of
his party was not inconsistent with a steady attach-
ment to the existing monarchical form of government.
The prevailing tone of his mind was political, and he
used to argue on topics which interested him with
great ardour and even enthusiasm, insomuch that he
often appeared suffering from passion when he was
not.

In the year 1794 Mr. Kerr was induced to embark
his fortune, which was not inconsiderable, in the
purchase and management of a paper-mill at Aytoun
in Berwickshire. The speculation, after a trial of
several years, turned out unfortunately, and reduced
him in the latter part of life to circumstances veiy
inconsistent with his merits, either as a man or as an
author. These circumstances, however, renewed
his exertions in literature, after they had been long
intermitted. In 1809 he published a General Vieio
of the Agriculture of Boiuickshire, and in 1811 Me-
moirs of Mr. IVtlliam Smellie, and a History of Scot-
land during the Reign of Robert Bnice, both of A\-hich
last were in two volumes octavo. About the same
time he conducted through the press, for Mr. Black-
wood, a General Collection of Voyages and Travels,
in eighteen volumes octavo. The Memoirs of Mr.
Smellie, though disproportioned to the subject, con-
tain m.uch valuable literary anecdote. Mr. Kerr's
last work was a translation of Cuvier's Essay on the
Theory of the Earth, which was published in 1815
(after his death), with an introduction and notes by
Professor Jameson. The event just alluded to took
place on the iith of October, 1813, when he was
about fifty-eight years of age. He left one son, a
captain in the na%y, and two daughters, both of
whom were married.

Mr. James Kerr was the last citizen who had the honour to
represent the city in parliament. It may be mentioned that
he was one of the jury on the famous trial of Carnegie of Fin-
haven, for the murder of the Earl of Strathmore in 1728,
when, through the persuasive eloquence of the first Lord-
president Dundas, then at the bar. and counsel for the
prisoner, the jury recognized the liberty of Scotland, by
resuming the right to judge not only of the naked fact, but
of the fact and l£e law conjunctively."

442

WILLIAM KIRKALDV,

Mr. Kerr was a kind and warm-hearted man,
liberal and honourable in his dealings, possessed of
extensive information, and in every respect an orna-
ment to society.

KIRKALDY, William, one of the earliest con-
verts to the I'rotestant faith in Scotland, and a brave
and accomplished man, was tlie eldest son of Sir
James Kirkaldy of Grange, high-treasurer to James
V. of .Scotland.' Of the period of his birth and the
method of his education we have been unable to
discover any satisfactory information; but like the
greater number of the Scottish barons at that time,
he seems to have chosen, or to have been devoted
by his parents, to the profession of arms. At the
death of James his father seems to have lost his
situation in the government; yet with a view of
procuring that nobleman's assistance to the cause of
Protestantism, he was one of the most active assist-
ants in raising Arran to the regency; but in the hope
he had formed he was to a considerable extent dis-
appointed.

Young Grange, as well as his father, had embraced
the principles of the Reformation ; and his first
appearance in the historic page is as one of the
conspirators against the persecutor Cardinal David
Beaton. The circumstances of this renowned con-
spiracy have already been commemorated in tliese
pages. The conspirators having, by an act which
cannot be justified, avenged the death of the martyr
Wishart by assassinating his murderer, shut them-
selves up in the castle of St. Andrews, which they
held for several months, and only surrendered after
being besieged by a French force, in the end of July
or the beginning of August, 1546. It was stipulated
that the lives of all that were in the castle should be
spared; that they should be transported to France,
whence, if they did not choose to continue in that
country, they were to be transported to whatever
other country they chose, Scotland excepted. The
victors, however, did not find it necessary or con-
venient to attend to the terms of the stipulation; the
greater part of the garrison were sent to the galleys,
and the leaders immured in different dungeons.
Norman Leslie, Peter Carmichael, and the subject
of this memoir, were imprisoned in Mount St.
Michael, where they lay a considerable time. From
this place they wrote a letter to John Knox, who
was in the galleys, asking the somewliat superfluous
question whether they might not with a good con-
science break their prison. To this Knox naturally
answered in the affirmative, with the proviso that
they were not morally entitled to shed blood in the
attem|)t.

Embracing the opportunity of a festival night,
when the garrison were intoxicated, they bound
every man in the castle, locked the doors, and de-
parted, having, it is said, strictly adhered to the
humane recommendation of Knox. The two Leslies
came to Rohan and speedily escaped; but Kirkaldy
and Peter Carmichael, disguised as beggars, wan-
dered through the country for upwards of a quarter
of a year; at the termination of which period tliey
got on board a French ship, which landed them in
the west of Scotland, whence they found their way
into I'",ngland.

Kirkaldy appears to have spent a considerable
portion of the ensuing period of his life in France,
where he entered the army, and was distinguished

' The facts in this article are in general taken from the
memoir of Kirkaldy of Grange by Mr. Graham Dalyell, a
gentleman who has been so minute in his investigations that
It would be difficult to find a fact of importance omitted by
him.

as a brave and skilful soldier in the wars between the
French king and the Kmperor Charles V. Sir James
Melville iid'orms us that in these wars he commanded
a hundred light horsemen; and for his useful ser-
vices received the commendation of the Duke of
\'endome, the Prince of Conde, and the Duke of
Aumale. Henry II., he adds, used to point him
out and say, "Yonder is one of the most valiant
men of our age." Henry indeed seems to have used
him with the most endearing familiarity, and in all
the pastimes which he attended, is said to have chosen
Grange as a supporter of his own side in their mimic
battles; while, according to the same writer, who is
always circumstantial in recording the honours paid
to a Scotsman, the great constable of France would
never speak to him uncovered. We are not aware
of the exact date of his return to Scotland, but we
find him in that country in the year 1559.

During the border wars of this period an incident
occurred peculiarly characteristic of the chivalrous
temper of Kirkaldy, which is otherwise remarkable
as being the latest "passage of arms" which has
been handed down to us, described with all the
minute "pomp and circumstance" of Froissart.
Lindsay of Pitscottie, who describes the circum-
stance, tells us, that Lord Evers' brother desired to
fight with Kirkaldy "ane singular combatt upone
horseback with speares." Sir William was "very
Weill content" with such a species of amusement,
and consented to meet the challenger on any spot he
might prefer. The Lord Evers' brother was at-
tended by the governor of Berwick and his whole
garrison, while Kirkaldy was waited on by "Mon-
seor Doswell (Mons. D'Oswell?), the King of France
lieftennent," with the garrison of Heymoulh, and
other Scottish gentlemen. In bringing the oppos-
ing armies so near each other, and within view of
example so seducing, it was necessary to "decerne
under paine of treasoun, that no man should come
near the championes, be the space of ane flight
shot." Each of the champions had a squire to bear
his spear, there were two trumpeters to sound the
charge, and after the most approved method, t\to
lords were appointed as judges of the field, "to sie
the matter finished." "And when all things war
put to ordour, and the championes horsed, and their
speirs in their hands, then the trumpeters sounded,
and the heralds cryed, and the judges let them go,
and they ran together very furiously on both sides,
bot the laird of Grange ran his adversar, the Inglis-
man, throw his shoulder blaid, and aff his hors, and
was woundit deadlie, and in perill of his lyff; but
quhidder he died or lived I cannot tell, but the
laird of Grange wan the victorie that day."^

Kirkaldy became after this incident actively en-
gaged in the cause of the Reformation. When the
French troops arrived to subdue Scotland, and by
means of the Popish faction reduce it to a province
of France, no man stood firmer to the interests of
his country, and in the first encounter he is said to
have slain the first man with his own hand. To the
P'rench, who were aware of his bravery and military
skill, he was particularly obnoxious, and in one of
their inroads through Fife they razed his house of
Grange to the foundation. Naturally exasperated
at such an act, Kirkaldy sent a defiance to the French
commander; re]iroached him for his barbarity, and
reminded him of the many Frenchmen whom he had
saved when engaged in quarrels not his own. The
commander, less chivalrous than Grange, paid no
regard to the connnunication; and the latter took
vengeance by waylaying a party of marauders, and

* Lindsay of Pitscottie, ii. 524.

\YILLIAM KIRKALDY,

443

cutting them off to a man. During this invasion of
Fife by the French he had a mere handful of men,
and these were but poorly provided, yet he retarded
the powerful and well-appointed troops of France at
every village and at every field, disputing as it were
every inch of ground, and making them purchase at
a ruinous price every advantage.

In common with all the wise and good among his
countrymen, Kirkaldy was convinced of the danger
of the French alliance, and of the far superior ad-
vantages which might be derived from a connection
with Fngland, which by a barbarous and ignorant
policy had been always overlooked or despised, and
he contributed materially to the formation of that
friendship which subsisted between the ministers of
Elizabeth and the Scottish reformers, without which
it may be doubted if the Reformation of that country
could have been effected. In the contests that arose
between Mary and her subjects, while it must be
admitted that his correspondence with the English
was clandestine, contrary to the law, and not perha]3s
dictated by motives quite purely patriotic, he steadily
adhered to the popular cause. Kirkaldy was among
the number of the adherents of Moray who, on the
temporary success of the queen, were compelled in
1565 to take refuge or "banish themselves" in Eng-
land, and the criminal record shows us some instances
of barbarous punishment denounced on those who
had intercourse with them, as "intercommuning
with rebels."*

When, after her unhappy marriage and flight to
Dunbar, she returned with an army to meet the lords
who had entered into a confederation for the pre-
servation of the prince, Grange was one of the most
active and influential among them, having the com-
mand of 200 horse, with which he intended at Car-
berry Ilill, by a stratagem, to have seized upon the
Earl of Bothwell, which he hoped would have been
the means of putting an end to the contest between
the queen and her subjects. The queen, however,
who highly respected him, perceiving the approach
of the troop, and understanding that he was their
leader, requested to speak with him, which prevented
the attempt being made. While he was in this
conference with the queen, Bothwell called forth
a soldier to shoot him, who was in the very act of
taking aim, when the queen perceiving him, gave a
sudden scream, and exclaimed to Bothwell that he
surely would not disgrace her so far as to murder a
man who stood under her protection. With that
frank honesty which was natural to him, Kirkaldy
told her that it was of absolute necessity, if she ever
expected to enjoy the services and the confidence of
her subjects, that she should abandon Bothwell, who
was the murderer of her husband, and who could
never be a husband to her, having been so lately
married to the sister of the Earl of Huntly. Both-
well, who stood near enough to overhear part of this
colloquy, offered to vindicate himself by single com-
bat from the charge of any one who should accuse
him of murdering the king. Grange told him he
should have a speedy answer; and returning to the
lords, found little difficulty in persuading them of the
propriety of his accepting the challenge, which he
did without hesitation. Bothwell, however, thought
it prudent to decline, on the plea that Kirkaldy, being
only a baron, was not his equal. To the laird of
Tullibardine he objected on the same ground. The
Lord Lindsay then came forward, whom he could
not refuse on the score of inequality; but he finally
declined to engage. The queen then sent again for
Grange, and proposed surrendering herself to the

'Pitcaim's Crim. Trials, i. (p. i.) 466, 478.

lords. Bothwell in the meantime made his escape.
The queen holding out her hand, Kirkaldy kissed it,
and taking her horse l)y the bridle turned him about,
and led her down the hill. This was almost the full
measure of Mary's humiliation, which was accom-
plished by her entry into Edinburgh amidst the
execrations of the rabble. The lords (particularly
Kirkaldy) were still willing to treat her with kind-
ness, if she could have been prevailed on to abandon
Bothwell. The same night, however, she wrote a
letter to him, calling him "her dear heart, whom
she should never forget nor abandon, though she was
under the necessity of being absent from him for a
time;" adding, that she had sent him away only for
his own safety, and willing him to be comforted,
and to be watchful and take care of himself This
letter falling into the hands of the lords, convinced
them that her passion for Bothwell was incurable;
and they determined to secure her in Lochleven.
Grange alone wished to excuse her, and hoped that
gentle usage might yet reclaim Iter; but they showed
him her letter to Bothwell, which left him no room
to speak more on her behalf The queen, in the
meantime, sent him a letter, lamenting her hard
usage, and complaining of broken promises. He
wrote to her in return, stating what he had already
attempted in her behalf, and how his mouth had
been stopped by her letter to Bothwell; "marvelling
that her majesty considered not that the said earl
could never be her lawful husband, being so lately
before married to another, whom he had deserted
without any just ground, even though he had not
been so hated for the murder of the king her hus-
band. He therefore requested her to dismiss him
entirely from her mind, seeing otherwise that she
could never obtain the love or respect of her subjects,
nor have that obedience paid her which otherwise
she might expect." His letter contained many other
loving and humble admonitions, which made her
bitterly to weep. Eager to free the queen and the
nation of Bothwell, Grange most willingly accepted
the command of two small vessels that had been
fitted up from Morton's private purse (for Bothwell
had not left a sufficient sum for the purpose in the
Scottish treasury), with which he set sail towards
Orkney, whither it was reported Bothwell had fled.
He was accompanied by the laird of Tullibardine
and Adam Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney. Bothwell
having made his escape from Orkney, was pursued
by Grange to the coast of Norway, where, at the
moment when they had almost overtaken the fugi-
tive, the impetuosity of Kirkaldy, who called on
the mariners to hoist more sail than the vessel was
able to carry, lost them their prize, and they were
wrecked on a sandbank. Bothwell escaped in a
small boat to the shore, leaving his ship and his
servants a prey to Kirkaldy. This unhappy man
fled to Denmark, and the method of his end is too
well known to be repeated.

The Regent Moray was in the meantime establish-
ing order and tranquillity generally through the coun-
try. The king, an infant, had been crowned at Stir-
ling, and his authority in the person of the regent very
generally acknowledged, when the queen, making
her escape from Lochleven, and putting herself into
the hands of the Hamiltons, created new and serious
calamities. The regent being at that time in Glas-
gow holding his justice-eyre, was just at hand, and
meeting with the queen and her followers at Lang-
side, on the way for Dumbarton Castle, gave them,
though they were far more in number than all the
king's friends that he could muster, an entire over-
throw. The regent led the battle himself, assisted
by Grange, who, being an experienced soldier, was

444

WILLIAM KTRKALDV,

appointed to oversee the whole battle; to ride to
every wing, and to encourage and make help where-
cver it was most required. The dispositions of the
regent were excellent, and his foHowers behaved
with great courage; so that the victory was soon
won, and tliere being few horsemen to pursue, and
the regent calling out to save and not to kill, there
were not many taken or killed; the greatest slaughter,
according to Sir James Melville, being at the first
rencounter by the shot of some troops that were
l)lanted behind the dykes at the head of tlie lane
leading up to the village.

Having taken the command of the castle of Edin-
burgh from Sir James I3alfour, the regent bestowed
it upon Grange, who a])pears to liave had the prin-
cipal direction of affairs during the time that Moray,
through the intrigues of the (jueen's faction, was
called up to the conferences at York. Lelhington,
subtle, restless, and changeable, had by this time
turned to the queen's side, whom he almost openly
owned during the thne of these conferences, and he
had imposed upon the unsuspecting (disposition of
Grange, enticing him into a ]<ind of doubtful neu-
trality, which had an unhappy influence upon the
public cause, and ended fatally for Grange himself.
Lethington and Sir James Balfour having been both
at last arrested under an accusation of having been
concerned in the king's murder. Grange took them
into his own hands and protected them in the castle,
which he refused to deliver up to the regent. On
the murder of the Regent Moray in 1570, it did not
immediately appear what party (Grange would em-
brace. It was evident, however, that for some time
previous to this event he had leaned to the side of
the queen, and the castle of Edinburgh in a short
time became the resort and general rendezvous of all
who opposed the party of the prince.

The Earl of Lennox succeeding to the regency was
supported by Elizabeth, who sent an army into Scot-
land for that purpose, and to retaliate upon some of
the border chieftains who had made inroads into the
English territories, particularly Buccleugh and Ferni-
hurst. Grange, in the meantime, by the orders of
the queen's faction, who now assembled parliaments
of their own, liberated all those who had been for-
merly given him in charge as prisoners, for their
opposition to the king in the person of the regent.
These dispersing themselves over the country, some
pretending to be employed in a civil, and others in
a military capacity, carried dissension and rebellion
along with them, to the entire ruin of the miserable
inhabitants. Lord .Seton, to intimidate the citizens
of Edinburgh, who in general leaned to the side of
the king, assembled his vassals at Holyrood House,
while the Hamiltons, with the whole strength of
their faction, assembled at Linlithgow, when they
made a sudden and unexpected attack upon the
castle of Glasgow, the residence of Lennox the
regent. Coming upon the place by surprise, they
gained the court and set fire to the great hall; but
they were soon repulsed, and the ap])roach of the
king's army, a principal part of which was English,
compelled them to raise the siege. Tiie Hamiltons
suffered most severely on this occasion, their lands
in Clydesdale being ravaged, Cadzow plundered, and
the town of Hamilton, with the seat of the Hamil-
tons, burned to the ground. Nor did this suffice;
they also burned the house of the Duke of Chatel-
herault in Linlithgow, the palace of Kinnoul, the
house of Pardovan, and Bynie, Kincavil, and the
chapel of Livingston.

Grange, meanwhile acting somewhat dubiously,
and not supporting the extreme measures of either of
the parties, was confounded to see a foreign foe in

the heart of tlie kingdom, and Mar)''s friends used
with such extreme rigour; and afraid of being en-
tra|>ped himself, began to fortify the castle with all
haste, and lay in everything necessary for a siege.
Lennox in the meantime summoned an army in the
king's name to attend him, with twenty days' provi-
sion, and to complete his equipments he applied to
Grange for some field-pieces. The request was,
however, refused, under a pretence that he would
not be accessory to the shedding of blood. The
purjDose of this armament was to interfere with a
parliament which the queen's party intended to have
held at Linlithgow, which it effectually accomplished;
and in the following month (October) Lennox held
one for the king in Edinburgh. The insignia of
royalty being supposed necessary to the legality of
parliaments, they were demanded from Grange, who
flatly refused them, and from that time forth he was
regarded as determinedly hostile to that cause for
which he had done and suffered so much. Through
the mediati(;n of Elizabeth, however, who was at the
time amusing Mary and her friends with jiroposals
for restoring her to some part of her authority, a
cessation of hostilities was agreed upon for two
months, which being renewed, was continued till
the succeeding April, 1571.

The truce, however, was not strictly observed by
either of the parties. Fortresses were taken and re-
taken on both sides oftener than once, and in the
month of April, Dumbarton Castle, reckoned im-
pregnable, was taken by surprise by the friends of
the regent, who, on a sentence of forfaulture in ab-
sence, hanged Hamilton, Archbishop of St. Andrews,
who had taken refuge in the place. Alarmed at the
fate of Dumbarton, Grange repaired the walls of the
castle, cut away all the prominences on the rock, and
smoothed the banks to prevent the possibility of an
escalade. He also prepared the steeple of St. Giles
for receiving a battery, and carried away the ordnance
belonging to the town. His brother James at the
same time arrived from France with "ten thousand
crowns of gold, some murrions, corslets, hagbuts, and
wine, whilk was saiflie convoyit from Leylh be the
horsemen and soldiers of the town." All men who
favoured not the queen were now commanded to
leave the town, and even his old tried friend and
fellow-sufferer, John Knox, was obliged to quit his
place, which was supplied by Alexander, Bishop of
Galloway. The regent's soldiers, however, took
possession of some loiinous houses close to the walls,
whence they annoyed the town. There was now an
end to all business; public worship ceased, and there
was nothing to be heard but the thundering of
artillery. The queen's party had now, however, the
pride of also holding a ])arliament in Edinburgh,
which declared the demission of Maiy null; forbade
any innovation to be made in the Presbyterian reli-
gion; and after two or three hours' deliberation, rode
in procession from the Canongate to the castle, hav-
ing the regalia borne before it. I'rayers for the queen
were ordered by this meeting, and all who omitted
them were forbidden to preach. During these pro-
ceedings there were daily skirmishes on the streets,
and the regent still kept possession of Holyrood
House. In the month of Augiist, in this year, an
envoy arrived from the King of France, with money,
arms, and ammunition for Grange; but the money
fell into the hands of the regent. In the ensuing
month Grange laid a plan for seizing the regent at
Stirling, and bringing him safe to the castle, which
failed of success only through the imprudence of those
wdio conducted it. The regent was actually made a
prisoner, and on the road for Edinburgh, when,
principally through the valour of Morton, he was

^VILLIAM KIRKALDV JAMES KIRKWOOD.

445

rescued, but shot by one of the party when they saw
they could not carry him away. David Spens of
Wgrmiston, who had him in charge, and used every
endeavour to save him, was also shot in revenge,
tliough the wounded regent attempted to protect
him. This was unfortunate for Grange. Mar was
immediately elected regent; a man of far higher
merit, and much more respected, than Lennox, and
in still greater favour with the ministers of Elizabeth;
and he in the end proved too strong for the misled
though patriotic Grange. The war now assumed the
most ferocious character. Morton destroyed the
whole of Grange's property in Fife. Grange on the
same day retaliated by burning Dalkeith; and for
upwards of two months they reciprocally hanged
their prisoners.

The distress of the town and the surrounding dis-
tricts now became extreme; the poor were turned
without the gates, and the empty houses pulled down
and sold for fuel; a stone weight being sold for what
would purchase a peck of meal. Through the media-
tion of the English and Erench ambassadors an
armistice was at last agreed to, and all the differ-
ences between Morton and Grange nearly made up.
Through the intrigues of Maitland, however, who
had gained an extraordinary influence over him,
Grange rose in his demands, and nothing was accom-
plished further than a renewal of the truce. In the
meantime Mar, who was a sincere, good man, and
truly devoted to the public interests, died, and was
succeeded by Morton, a man of great address, and
the mortal enemy of Maitland. lie too, however,
professed to desire peace, and offered the same terms
as Mar. Grange was to deliver up the castle in six
months, and a convention was called to consider the
means of effecting a double peace. Both parties
were at the same time attempting to overreach each
other. Morton thirsted for the wealthy estates of
some of the queen's adherents; and the queen's ad-
herents wanted to gain time, in the hope of procur-
ing effectual aid from France. The Hamiltons,
Huntly, Argyle, and their followers, were now weary
of the war; and in a meeting at Perth accepted of
the terms offered by Morton, and, according to Sir
James Melville, abandoned Grange, who would will-
ingly have accepted the same terms; but from that
time forth Morton would not permit the offers to be
mentioned to him. The day of the truce had no
sooner expired than a furious cannonade was com-
menced by Grange on the town from the castle. lie
plso shortly after, on a stonny night, set fire to the
town, and kept firing upon it to prevent any person
coming forth to extinguish the flames; a piece of
wanton mischief, which procured him nothing but
an additional share of odium. Being invested by
the Marshal of Berwick, Sir William Drur}', with an
English army, the garrison was soon reduced to great
straits. Their water was scanty at best, and the falling
of one of the chief towers choked up their only well.
The .Spur, a building of great strength, but imperfectly
manned, w-as taken by storm, with the loss of eight
killed and twenty-three wounded. Sir Robert Mel-
ville, along w'ith Grange, were, after beating a par-
ley, let over the walls by ropes, for the gate was
choked up with rubbish. They demanded security
for their lives and fortunes, and that Maitland and
Lord Hume might go to England, Grange being
permitted to go or stay as he might deem best.
These conditions not being granted, they returned to
the garrison, but their soldiers refused to stand a new
assault, and threatened in case of another that they
would hang Lethington, whom they regarded as the
cause of their protracted defence, over the wall.
Nothing remained therefore bat an unconditional

surrender; and so odious were the garrison to the
citizens, that an escort of English soldiers was neces-
sary to protect them from the rabble. After three
days they were all made prisoners. Lethington died
suddenly, through means, it has been supposed, of
poison, which he had taken of his own accord.
Grange, Sir James Kirkaldy (his brother), James
Mossman and James Leckie, goldsmiths, were
hanged on the 3d of August, 1573, and their heads
afterwards set up on the most prominent places of
the castle-wall.^

Thus ignominiously died one of the bravest war-
riors of his age; the dupe of a volatile and crafty
statesman, and of his own vanity to be head of a
party. He had been one of the earliest friends, and
during its first days of peril one of the most intrepid
defenders, of the Refomiation. Knox, who knew
and loved him well, lamented his apostasy, and with
that sagacity which was peculiar to his character
admonished him of the issue. "That man's soul is
dear to me," said Knox, "and I would not willingly
see it perish; go and tell him from me, that if he
persists in his folly, neither that crag in wliich he
miserably confides, nor the carnal wit of that man
whom he counts a demi-god, shall save him; but he
shall be dragged forth and hanged in the face of the
sun." Kirkaldy returned a contemptuous answer
dictated by Maitland; but he remembered the warn-
ing when on the scaffold with tears, and listened
with eagerness when he was told the hope that Knox
always expressed, that though the work of grace
upon his heart was sadly obscured, it was still real,
and would approve itself so at last; of A\hich he
expressed with great humility his own sincere con-
viction.

KIRKWOOD, James, an eminent teacher and
writer on grammar, in the latter part of the seven-
teenth century, was born near Dunbar. The circum-
stances of his education are unknown ; he was first
schoolmaster of Linlithgow, and subsequently of
Kelso. His school at Linlithgow was one of con-
siderable reputation, and he would appear to have
been intrusted, like many teachers of the present
day, with pupils who boarded in his house. The
celebrated John, second Earl of Stair, was thus
educated by him. The first work ascertained to
have been published by him v.-as an Easy Gi-ammar
of the Latin language, which appeared at Glasgow
in 1674. In 1677 he published at London an octavo
fasciculus of Sentences for the use of learners. In
the succeeding year appeared his Compendium of
Rhetoric, to which was added a small treatise on
Analysis. After the Revolution he was sent for by
the parliamentary commissioners for colleges, on the
motion of Lord-president Stair ; and his advice was
taken about the best Latin grammar for the Scottish
schools. The lord-president asked him what he
thought of Z't-jr/rtwto-. He answered, "A very unfit
grammar; but by some pains it might be made a
good one." The Lord Crossrig desiring him to be
more plain on this point, he said, "My lord-presi-
dent, if its superfluities were rescinded, the defects
supplied, the intricacies cleared, the errors rectified,
and the method amended, it might pass for an excel-
lent grammar." The lord-president afterwards sent
for him, and told him it was the desire of the com-
missioners that he should immediately reform Des-
pauter, as he had proposed; as they knew none fitter
for the task. He accordingly published, in 1695,

' In the case of Kirkaldy there appears to have been con-
siderable debate on the relevancy of the indictment on which
he was tried, too technical to be interesting to the general
reader. — Pitcaim's Critn. Trials, ii. 3.

446

JOHN KXOX.

a revised edition of Dcspatiter, which continued to
be commonly used in schools till it was superseded
by Ruddiman's Rudiments. Kirkwood was a man
of wit and fancy, as well as of learning; and having
fallen into an unfortunate quarrel with his patrons
the magistrates, which ended in his dismission, he
took revenge by publishing a satirical pamphlet, en-
titled The Twenty-seren Gods of Linlil/igaiv, meaning
thereby the twenty-seven members of the town-
council. He appears to have afterwards been chosen
schoolmaster at Kelso, where he probably died,

KNOX, John, the most eminent promoter of the
Reformation in Scotland, was born at Haddington
in the year 1505. His father, though himself a man
of no note, was descended from the ancient house
of Ranfurly in the shire of Renfrew. Of the mother
of the great reformer nothing farther is known than
that her name was Sinclair — a name which he fre-
quently used in after-life, when to have subscribed
his own would have exposed him to danger: thus
many of his letters in times of trouble are signed
"John Sinclair." Though a man of no rank in
society, his father would yet seem to have been
possessed of a competency beyond that of the ordin-
ary class of the peasantry of the times, if such an
inference hi permitted from the circumstance of his
having given his son an education which was then
attainable only by a very few. This is a point, how-
ever, on which there has been also much dispute ;
some representing his parents as in a "mean condi-
tion," others as persons of extensive property. What-
ever may have been the condition of his parents —
a matter of little moment — there is no doubt regard-
ing the only circumstance of any importance con-
nected with the question, namely, that he received
a liberal education.

His course of learning began at the grammar-
school of Haddington, where he acquired the ele-
ments of the Latin language. He was afterwards,
about the year 1524, sent to the university of St.
Andrews. From the circumstance of the name
"John Knox" appearing on tlie list of matriculated
students for the year 1520, in the Glasgow College,
it has been presumed that he studied there also, and
this, as appears by the dates, four years previous to
his going to St. Andrews ; but the supposition that
this John Knox was the reformer is much weakened
by the fact that many of the Knoxes of Ranfurly,
the house from which his father was descended,
were educated at the university of Glasgow. Amongst
the last of these of any note were Andrew Knox,
Bishop of the Isles, and, after him, his son and suc-
cessor, .Sir Thomas Knox. In the absence, there-
fore, of all other evidence, this circumstance in tlie
life of the reformer must be held as extremely doubt-
ful, especially as no allusion is made to it, either by
himself, his contemporaries, or any of the earlier
writers who have spoken of him. Knox, when he
went to St. Andrews, was in the nineteenth year of
his age, and was yet undistinguished by any indica-
tions of that peculiar character and temper, or that
talent, which afterwards made him so conspicuous.
His literary pursuits had hitherto been limited to
the acquisition of the Latin language, Greek and
Hebrew being almost unknown in Scotland, although
at an after period of life Knox acfjuired them both.
His removal to St. Andrews, however, opened up
new sources of learning and of knowledge. John
Mair, a celebrated doctor of the Sorbonne, who had
studied at the colleges of England and Paris, was
then principal of St. S.ilvator's College, St. An-
drews. He was a man of no great strength of mind,
nor of very high attainments ; but he had while in

Paris imbibed, and he now boldly inculcated, civil
and religious principles directly at variance with the
opinions and practices of the times. He denied jhe
supremacy of the pope, and held that he was amen-
able to a general council, which might not only re-
buke and restrain him, but even depose him from
his dignity. He held that papal excommunications
were of no force, unless pronounced on just and
valid grounds, and that tithes were not of divine
origin. He, besides, fearlessly censured the avarice
and ambition of the clergy. And with regard to
civil matters, his opinions were no less daring, and
not less boldly inculcated. He taught his pupils to
consider kings as having no other right to their eleva-
tion but what proceeded from their people, to whom
they were amenable for their conduct, and by whom
they might be judicially proceeded against. Such
were some of the doctrines taught by Alair; and that
they had taken a strong hold of Knox, who was one
of his pupils, his after-life sufficiently shows. For
we -find him, with the courage which belonged to
his character, practising himself, and showing others
how to practise, that which his preceptor only
taught.

In the studies of the times Knox now made rapid
progress. He was created Master of Arts, and or-
dained a priest before he had attained the age (twenty-
iive) appointed by the canon-law for receiving ordina-
tion. It will not perhaps be lost time to pause
for a moment at this period of his life, since it pre-
sents us with the interesting sight of a great mind
slumbering in its strength, and unconscious at once
of the darkness with which it was surrounded, and
of there being a brighter and a better world beyond
the narrow precincts which it had been taught to
consider as the utmost limits of its range. Here we
find the great reformer, passively and without re-
mark or objection, becoming a minister of that
church which he was afterwards to overturn and
erase from his native soil; becoming a minister of
that religion which he was afterwards to drive from
the land, with a violence which shook both the
kingdom and the throne. A little longer, however,
and we find this mighty mind emerging gradually
but majestically into the light of day. The discovery
had been made that there lay a wider and a fairer
region beyond the bounds of the prison-house, and
Knox hastened himself to seek and to point out the
way to others.

He soon betook himself to the study of the writ-
ings of the fathers of the Christian church; and, in
the works of Jerome and Augustine, found the doc-
trines and tenets which effected that revolution in
his religious sentiments, afterwards productive of
such important results. He \\'as now in the thirtieth
year of his age, but he did not either publicly avow
the change which had taken place in his religious
creed, or attempt to impress it upon others, for
several years afterwards. In the meantime the work
of reformation had been making irregular but rapid
progress. Patrick Hamilton had already preached
the new faith in Scotland, and had fallen a martyr
to its doctrines, and several others of not less zeal,
but of less note, had shared a similar fate. Copies
of the Scriptures were now surreptitiously introduced
into the kingdom, and eagerly read by those into
whose hands they fell. Poets employed their fascin-
ating powers in bringing the Church of Rome and
its ministers into contempt. The effect of all this
was a violent agitation of the public mind. The
reformed doctrines were everywhere spoken of and
discussed. They became the topics of common con-
versation, and were the themes of disquisition amongst
the learned. It was at this critical period, about

JSn^OTeU'bf Cha.? Cook.

3UM M.n(BX

FROM THE OBIGMAI IN POSST: iUD TOKPHICHER,

JiT CAIX'ER EOUBiD.

i./irKTK fcsau, si^soow; TXPiHBTmeH R-'imaiair.

'OY.K

the year 1542, in the midst of this feverish excite-
ment of public opinion, tliat Knox first stepped into
the arena as a combatant in the cause of tlie new-
faith. He was still a teacher of philosophy in the
college of St. Andrews, but he availed himself of the
opportunities which this appointment afforded of
disseminating his doctrines amongst his pupils, whom
he taught to look with abhorrence and contempt on
the corruptions and errors of the Romish church.
Though such opinions were now spreading widely,
and were made matter of ordinary discussion, their
abettors were not yet by any means safe from the
vengeance of the Romish ecclesiastics, who were still
struggling hard to suppress the heresies which were
everywhere springing up in the land, and threatening
the speedy ruin of their church. Knox's case was
too marked and too conspicuous an instance of de-
fection to escape for any length of time some proof
of that wrath wdiich it was so well calculated to
excite. He was degraded from the priesthood, had
sentence passed against him as a heretic, and only
escaped assassination by fleeing from St. Andrews,
that fate having been marked out for him by Cardinal
Beaton. On leaving St. Andrews Knox found pro-
tection in the family of Douglas of Langniddrie,
where he acted in the capacity of tutor. Here,
Douglas himself being a zealous advocate for the
new faith, Knox continued to preach the doctrines
which had driven him from St. Andrews ; and in
these doctrines he not only instructed the family
with wdiich he lived, but also the people in the
neighbourhood, whom he invited to attend his pre-
lections. From the consequences which must in-
fallibly have attended this perseverance in disseminat-
ing principles so inimical to the church, Knox was
only saved by the death of Cardinal Beaton, who
was assassinated in the castle of St. Andrews, on the
29th of May, 1546. Though, by the death of
Beaton, Knox probably escaped the utmost severities
which prelacy could inflict, -he yet did not escape all
visitation from its wrath. John Hamilton, the suc-
cessor of Beaton, sought his destruction with as much
eagerness as his predecessor had done, compelling
him to flee from place to place, and to seek his safety
in concealment. Apprehensive of falling at last into
the hands of his enemies, he, after having led a
vagrant and miserable life for many months, at length
sought an asylum in the castle of St. Andrews,
which had been in the possession of the cardinal's
assassins since the period of his death, and which
they had held out against repeated attempts of the
Earl of Arran, then Regent of Scotland, to take it.
Knox entered the castle of St. Andrews at the time
of Easter, 1547. This step he had been prevailed
upon to take by two of his warmest friends, the
lairds of Langniddrie and Ormiston, at a time when
he had himself determined to retire to Germany.

The circumstance of Knox's having taken shelter,
on this occasion, with the assassins of Beaton, has
given rise to reflections on his character, involving
charges of the most serious nature. Some of them
are wholly unfounded, others unreasonable. He
has been accused of being one of the conspirators
who projected the death of Beaton ; which is totally
unsupported by any evidence, and must therefore,
in common justice, be utterly rejected. He has been
said to have made himself accessory to the crime of
the cardinal's murder by taking shelter amongst those
by whom it was perpetrated— a most unreasonable
and unwarrantable conclusion. His own life was
in imminent danger, and he naturally sought shelter
where it was most likely to be found, without refer-
ence to place or circumstances, and we cannot see
by what reasoning he could be reduced to the dilemma

JOHN KNOX. 447

of either sacrificing his own life or submitting to be
accused as an accessory to murder ; the one conse-
quence threatening him by his remaining at large,
the other by his fleeing to a place of refuge. He has
been accused of vindicating the deed in his writings.
This length he certainly has gone ; but, considering
all the circumstances connected with it, such vindica-
tion on the part of Knox is not much to be wondered
at, nor is it calculated to excite much reasonable
prejudice against him. Beaton eagerly sought his
life; he was his personal enemy, and a relentless and
cruel enemy to all who were of the same faith. If,
therefore, we are called upon to disapprove of Knox's
justification of the death of Beaton, we should at the
same time be permitted to remark that it was an
event which he had but little reason to regret.

After entering the castle of St. Andrews, Knox
resumed his duties as a teacher, and proceeded to
instruct his pupils as before. He also resumed his
lectures on the .Scriptures, and regularly catechised
his hearers in the parish church of the city. Hither-
to Knox's appearances as a disciple and teacher of
the reformed doctrines had been rather of a private
character, or at least only before select audiences,
such as his own class of pupils, or a few neighbours
congregated together, as at Langniddrie. He Avas
now, however, about to come forward in a more
public, or at least more formal, capacity. At the
time that he sought refuge in the castle of St. An-
drews there were three persons of note there, all
zealous reformers, who had also fled to it as a sanc-
tuary. These were Sir David Lindsay of the Mount,
Henry Balnaves of Hallhill, and John Rough, a
celebrated reformed preacher, and who was at this
moment publicly preaching in St. Andrews. These
persons were so' much struck with Knox's talents
and his manner of instructing his pupils, that they
earnestly exhorted him to come publicly fonvard as
a preacher of the refonned doctrines. This, how-
ever, Knox declined ; not from any unwillingness to
expose himself to the dangers which then attended
the discharge of such a duty, nor from any reluctance
to devote himself to the great cause which he had
espoused, and of which he was afterwards so singidar
a promoter ; but from a feeling of diffidence in his
own powers, and a deep sense of the awful import-
ance of the charge to which he was invited ; he besides
entertained some scruples as to the regularity of the
call which was now made upon him, and, with a
conscientiousness and feeling of delicacy which be-
came his religious professions, expressed a fear that
his coming forward as a preacher, on the summons
of only two or three individuals, might be deemed
an intrusion into the sacred office of the ministry.

Bent on their object, however, the three persons
above named, without Knox's knowledge, consulted
with the members of the church in which Rough
preached, and the result was the fixing of a certain
day when Knox should, in the name and in the face
of the whole congregation, becalled upon by the mouth
of their preacher to accept the office of the ministry.
On the day appointed, and while Knox was yet
wholly unaware of what was to take place, Rough,
after preaching a sermon on the election of ministers,
in which he maintained the right of a congregation,
however small its numbers, to elect its own pastor
(and he farther maintained that it was sinful to refuse
to obey such a call when made) ; then suddenly turn-
ing to Knox— "Brother," he said, "you shall not be
offended although I speak unto you that which I
have in charge, even from all those that are here
present, which is this — In the name of God and of
his Son Jesus Christ, and in the name of all that pre-
sently call you by my mouth, I charge you that you

4^rS

JOHN KNOX.

refuse not this holy vocation, but, as you tender the
glory of God, the increase of Christ's kiiii^dom, the
edification of your brethren, and the comfort of me,
vhom you understand well enoui,'h to be oppressed
by the multitude of labours, that you take the public
office and char<;;e of preaching, even as you look
tp avoid God's heavy disi)leasure, and desire that he
shall multiply his graces unto you." Turning now
to the congregation, "Was not this your charge
unto me?" he said, "and do ye not approve this
vocation?" "It was, and we approve it," was the
reply. Deeply impressed with the circumstance,
Knox made an attempt to address the audience, but
his feelings overcame him ; he burst into tears, and
rushed out of the cluirch. Though not without the
hesitation and the doulits and fears of an ingenuous
and religious mind, Knox acce]ited the charge thus
solemnly and strikingly imposed upon him, and on
an appointed day appeared in the pulpit. On this
occasion, a highly interesting one, as being the first
public appearance of the great reformer as a preacher
of the gospel, he gave out the twenty-fourth and
twenty-fifth verses of the seventh chapter of Daniel
—a choice which shows the great changes which
he already anticipated in the religious establish-
ments of the land, and the confidence with which
he looked forward to the result of the contest now
begun with the Church of Rome. The sermon
which he preached on this occasion subjected him to
the high displeasure of the church dignitaries ; he and
Rough were summoned before a convention of
learned men to answer for the heretical doctrines
which they entertained and promulgated. In the
controversy which took place in tliis assembly between
Knox and the person appointed to dispute with him,
a grayfriar of the name of Arbukill, on the various
points at issue, the former so utterly discomfited his
opponent, and so strongly established his own posi-
tions, that the Romish clergy, resigning all hopes of
maintaining their ground either by scriptural ap-
peals or by force of reasoning, carefully avoided for
the future all such exhibitions of public disputation.
The castle of St. Andrews, in which Knox still
found refuge, was soon after this (June, 1547) be-
sieged by a French fleet, which had been despatched
from France to assist the governor in its reduction,
and after a stout resistance of several weeks' dura-
tion, the garrison was compelled to capitulate, and
all within it were made prisoners of war. Knox and
all the others who were taken with him were carried
on board the French ships, which soon afterwards
proceeded witli them to France. On their arrival
tliere the greater part of them were distributed
throughout different prisons, but Knox, with two or
three others, were detained on board the galleys in
the Loire during the whole of the succeeding winter.
His confinement on ship-board altogether extended
to nineteen months. At the end of that long period
his liberation took place ; and the cause is ascertained
to have been the intercession of Edward \l. employed
in his behalf

On obtaining his liberty Knox immediately pro-
ceeded to England, v.here the Reformation was
making considerable progress, under the auspices of
Archbishop Cranmer and other powerful persons in
that kingdom. Knox's reputation as a preacher and
zealous reformer was already well known to Cranmer
and his colleagues, who were not long in finding him
suitable employment. He was despatched by the
privy-council to Berwick to preach the reformed doc-
trines, and was allowed a salary for his maintenance.
Here lie remained for two years, daily strengthening
the great cause in which he was embarkeil, and
weakening that of its opponents. During this period

too great numbers were converted by his powerful
reasoning and impressive eloquence; nor were the
good effects of his ministry confined to the effecting
a beneficial change in the religious sentiments of his
hearers ; their morals and manners were also greatly
improved by the force of his example, and the strik-
ing tniths exhibited in his precepts. While in Ber-
wick, Knox was involved in another controversy or
public disputation similar to that in which he had
been engaged in St. Andrews. The scene on this
occasion was Newcastle, whither he had been sum-
moned by the Bishop of Durham to appear before an
assembly of the learned men of his cathedral to dis-
cuss the doctrines which he taught. These Knox
defended with his usual ability, and with his usual
success. He retired triumphant from the debate,
leaving his opponents silencetl and confounded by
the ingenuity and strength of his arguments, and
the fervour and energy of his eloquence.

His reputation was now daily spreading wider and
wider, and so highly did the privy-council appreciate
the value of his services, that they conferred on him
in December, 155 1, a singular mark of their appro-
bation, by appointing him one of the king's chap-
lains. \Vhile residing in Ben\ick Knox formed an
acquaintance with a young lady of the name of Mar-
jory Bowes. This lady afterwards became his wife,
but without the consent of her father, who could
never be induced to approve of the connection. He,
however, had a warm friend in the young lady's
mother, who not only gave her sanction to the mar-
riage of her daughter, but used every effort, though
without effect, to reconcile her husband to the union.
Family pride, together with some differences of
opinion in religious matters, are supposed to have
been the cause of Mr. Bowes' objection to accept
the reformer as a son-in-law. As a natural result,
the malevolence of Knox's enemies, those who ad-
hered to Popery, kept pace with the success which
attended his efforts against the Romish church.
They narrowly watched his every word and action,
and at length laying hold of some expressions of a
political nature which they conceived might be em-
ployed to his prejudice, they denounced him to the
privy-council. In consequence of this charge, which
was supported by the Duke of Northumberland, who
entertained a personal dislike to Knox, he was sum-
moned up to London. The result, however, was in
the highest degree favourable to him. He not only
convinced the council of the uprightness of his inten-
tions and the malice of his accusers, but succeeded in
gaining a yet greater degree of favour with that body
than he had before enjoyed. He M'as appointed to
preach to the court, and gave such satisfaction in the
discharge of this duty, that the privy-council deter-
mined to invite him to preach in London and the
southern counties during the following year. They
offered him the living of All-Hallows m the' city.
He, however, declined the appointment, as also that
of a bishopric, which was soon afterwards tendered
him at the special request of the king, by whom he
was much esteemed. These splendid offers of pro-
motion he refused for conscience' sake — there being
several things connected with the English ecclesias-
tical establishment repugnant to the faith which he
had adopted, such as the reading of homilies, the
chanting of matins and even-song, the prevalence of
pluralities, &c.

In the meantime the king, Edward VI., who had
evinced so much readiness to jjatronize our reformer,
died, and was succeeded by one of the most sanguin-
ary and relentless enemies which the reformed reli-
gion had, during any period, to contend with. This
was Wary. The accession of this princess to the

JOHN KXOX.

449

throne totally altered Knox's situation and his views.
Her bigotry and jiersecution soon made England
unsafe for him to live in it.

Finding his danger becoming daily more and more
imminent, heat length came to the resolution, though
not without much reluctance, of retiring to the Con-
tinent ; and making choice of France, proceedefl to
Dieppe in that kingdom in the year 1554. Here he
remained till the latter end of the following year,
occasionally visiting Geneva, then the residence of
the celebrated Calvin, with whom he formed a close
intimacy. At the latter end of the autumn of 1555
Knox returned to Scotland, induced by the tem-
jiorary favour which the queen-dowager, Mary of
l.orraine, had extended to the Protestants in her
dominions. As this favour, however, did not pro-
ceed from any feeling of regard for those who had
adopted the new faith, but was employed as a means
of checking the clergy who had been averse to the
dowager's obtaining the regency of the kingdom, it
was of short duration, and lasted only so long as that
jirincess thought it necessary to her interests. In the
meantime Knox was zealously and industriously em-
ployed in disseminating the doctrines of the reformed
religion. He went from place to place preaching
the gospel, and gradually increasing the number of
his disciples, amongst whom he was soon able to
reckon some of the first persons in the kingdom.
While thus employed, he received an invitation from
an English congregation at Geneva to become their
pastor. With this invitation he thought it his duty
to comply, and accordingly proceeded thither in the
month of July, 1556. He was on this occasion ac-
companied by his wife and mother-in-law, the hus-
band of the latter being now dead. On learning that
he had left Scotland, the clerg}' there proceeded to
evince those feelings regarding him which they had
not dared to avow, or at least to act upon, while he
was present. Knowing that he could not appear,
they summoned him before them, passed sentence
against him in absence, adjudging his body to the
flames, and his soul to damnation. The first part
of the sentence they made a show of carrying into
effect, by causing his effigy to be burned at the cross
of Edinburgh. On reaching Geneva he imme-
diately took charge of his congregation, and spent
the two following years in promoting their spiritual
interests. This was perhaps the happiest period of
Knox's life. He lived upon the most affectionate
footing with the members of his church, by all of
whom he was greatly beloved. He enjoyed the
society and friendship of Calvin, and the other
ministers of the city; and to complete his felicity, he
lived in the bosom of his own family, a happiness
of which he had hitherto had but a small share.
No degree of enjoyment, however, or of earthly
felicity, could wean him from the desire of pro-
moting the Reformation in his native country; to this
he continued to look forward with unabated eager-
ness, and only waited for more favourable times to
gratify this ruling passion of his life.

When he had been about two years in Geneva,
the long-cherished wishes of our refonner to exercise
his ministry in his native land seemed about to be
realized. Two persons, citizens of Edinburgh, the
one named James Syme, the other James Barron,
arrived in Geneva with a letter signed by the Earl
of Glencairn, the lords Lorn and Erskine, and Lord
James Stewart, an illegitimate son of James V., and
afterwards Earl of Moray, inviting him to return to
Scotland. Knox immediately obeyed the call, and
had proceeded as far as Dieppe on his way to Scot-
land, when he received letters from the latter country
containing the most discouraging accounts of the state

VOL. 11.

of the kingdom and of the Protestant interest there.
Grieved and disappointed beyond expression, he
again returned to Geneva, where he remained for
another year. During this period he assisted in
making a new translation of the Bible into English,
and also pul)lished his Letter to the Queen Rei^eut, his
Appellation and Exhortation, and I'lie First Blast of
the Trumpet at^ainst the A/onstrous Regiment of
ITomen. Matters having at length taken a more
favourable turn in Scotland, the Protestant lords
sent a second invitation to Knox to join them, ac-
companied by the gratifying intelligence that the
queen-regent had promised them her countenance
and protection. He placed little reliance on these
promises, but he readily obeyed the call of his
friends to return to his native country.

He sailed from Dieppe on the 22d of April, and
arrived safely in Leith on the 2d of May, 1559. The
distrust which Knox entertained of the good faith of
the queen-regent was not without sufficient cause.
By the time he arrived, that artful and able princess,
conceiving that she had no longer any occasion for
assistance from the Protestants, not only gave them
to understand that they had nothing more to hope
from her, but openly avowed her determination to
suppress the Reformation by every means in her
power, and to employ force for that purpose if it
should be found necessaiy.

In this spirit she authorized Archbishop Hamilton
to summon the reformed preachers before him in St.
Andrews to answer for their conduct, giving him at
the same time a similar assurance of protection and
support with that which she had a short while before
given to the Protestants. A threat, however, having
been conveyed to her that the preachers would not
go unattended to the impending trial, she deemed it
prudent to prorogue it until she should be in a better
state of preparation, and accordingly wrote to the
primate to delay any further proceedings in the
matter for the time. On the faith of receiving as-
sistance from France, which had united with Spain
for the extirpation of heresy, she soon after resumed
the process against the Protestant preachers, and
summoned them to stand trial at Stirling. Thither
Knox, though he had been proclaimed an outlaw
and a rebel, by virtue of the sentence formerly pro-
nounced against him, determined to repair to assist
his brethren in tlieir defence, and to share the dan-
gers to which they might be exposed; but the artifice
of the queen-regent deprived him of the opportunity
of carrying this generous resolution into effect.

The preachers in their progress to Stirling were
attended by large bodies of people, who had deter-
mined to abide by them during the impending trial.
Unwilling, however, to give the queen-regent any
offence by approaching her in such numbers, they
halted at Perth, and sent Erskine of Dun before
them to Stirling to assure her that they meditated
no violence nor entertained any but the most peace-
able intentions. Unsatisfied by this representation
at the approach of so great a multitude, she had
recourse to dissimulation to prevent their coming
nearer. She informed Erskine that she would stop
the trial if he would prevail upon his brethren to
desist from their journey. Unsuspicious of the de-
ception she meditated, Erskine was persuaded to
write to the assembled Protestants, requesting them
to proceed no further, and intimating that he was
authorized by the queen to promise them that no
trial of their preachers should take place. Rejoiced
by these very welcome and very unexpected over-
tures, they instantly complied, and the greater part
of them returned to their homes. But when the
appointed day of trial came, the summonses of the

43°

JOHN KXOX.

preachers were called in court by the express orders
of the queen. They were outlawed for non-appear-
ance, and all persons prohibited under pain of re-
bellion from harbouring; or assisting them.

When this infamous proceeding took place, Knox
was with the rest of his brethren at Perth, wliere he
had preached a sermon against idolatry and the cele-
bration of mass, on the very day on which intelligence
reached that place of what had occurred at Stirling.
On the conclusion of llie sermon a priest who was
present had the impudence to uncover an altar-piece
on which were some images, and prepared to cele-
brate mass, regardless of the excited state of the
public feeling, which had just been roused by the
eloquence of Knox, and armed, as it were, -for vio-
lence by the duplicity of the regent. Under these
circumstances little was required to bring on a crisis,
and that little was not long wanting. A boy having
littered some disrespectful expressions, was instantly
struck by the hot-headed priest. The boy retaliated
by throwing a stone, which, missing his assailant,
for whom it was intended, struck tlie altar and broke
one of the images. This fired the train. In an in-
stant all the interior decorations of the church were
torn down and destroyed, altar and images were
overturned and trampled under foot; a mob collected
outside, but finding the work of destruction already
completed here, they proceeded to the monasteries,
which they in a short time laid in niins. This was
the first ebullition of popular feeling connected with
the Reformation, and Knox has been accused of
having been the cause of it. If he was, he certainly
was so unconsciously and innocently, for he reprobated
the violence which had taken place, and in speaking
of it says it was perpetrated by "the rascal multi-
tude"— language sufficiently indicative of the light
in which he viewed it. The Protestant lords, find-
ing now that they had not only nothing more to hope
for from the queen, but that she was their declared
enemy, determined to make a vigorous effort to
ostabiish the reformed religion without either her
assistance or consent. They proceeded to ascertain
the numbers of their friends, established a corres-
pondence with them, and united the whole by pro-
curing their subscriptions to a religious covenant —
copies of \vhich they despatched for that purpose to
different districts throughout the country. These
thus united were distinguished by the name of the
Congregation, and the noblemen who were included
by that of the Lords of the Congregation. The latter,
still desirous of accomplishing their purpose rather
by the force of reasoning than by the sword, engaged
Knox to meet them on a certain day at St. Andrews,
where they proposed he should deliver a series of
sermons. On his way to St. Andrews he preached
at Anstruther and Crail, and arrived at the first-
named place on the 9th of June.

Here occurred a striking instance of that personal
intrepidity for which the great reformer was so re-
markable. The archbishop, informed of his design
to preach in his cathedral, assembled an armed force,
and sent woril to Knox, that if he appeared in the
pulpit he would order the soldiers to fire upon him.
Alarmed for his safety, Knox's friends endeavoured
to dissuade him from preaching, but in vain. "He
could take God to witness," he said, " that he never
preached in contempt of any man, nor with the de-
sign of hurting an earthly creature; but to delay to
preach next day, unless forcibly hindered, he could
not in conscience agree. As for the fear of danger
that may come to me," he continued, "let no man
be solicitous, for my life is in the custody of Him
whose glory I seek. I desire the hand nor weapon
of no man to defend me." Knox accordingly ap-

peared in the pulpit at the appointed time, and
preached to a numerous asseml)ly, without ex-
periencing any interruption; but although the threat-
ened attempt upon his life was not made, he retains
a full claim to all the courage which a contempt and
defiance of that threat implies.

On this occasion he preached for three successive
days; and such was the effect of his eloquence anc^
the influence of his doctrine, that both the inhabi-
tants and the civil authorities agreed to set up the
reformed worship in the town. The monasteries,
were demolished, and the church stripped of all
images and pictures. The example of St. Andrews
was soon after followed in many other parts of the
kingdom. At the latter end of the month Knox
arrived with the forces of the Congregation in Edin-
burgh, and on the same day on which he entered
the city, he preached in .St. Giles', next day in the
Abbey Church, and on the 7th of July the inhabi-
tants met in the Tolbooth, and appointed him their
minister, there being then only one place of worship
in Edinburgh, viz. St. Giles' Church. In this
charge, however, he was not long permitted to re-
main. The forces of the regent soon after obtained
possession of the city; and, although against his own
inclination, his friends prevailed upon him to retire
from the town. On leaving Edinburgh he under-
took a tour of preaching through the kingdom; and
in less than two months had gone over the greater
part of it, disseminating with the most powerful
effect the doctrines of the reformed religion. He
next retired to .St. Andrews, where he officiated as
minister for several months; and on the conclusion
of the civil war, which the determination of the Con-
gregation to establish the reformed religion, and the
regent's efforts to suppress itj had created, he re-
turned to Edinburgh. In 1560, after an arduous
struggle and many vicissitudes, the faith for which
Knox had fought such a "good fight," seemed to be
secyrely established in the land. The queen-regent
was dead, and by the assistance of England — an
assistance which Knox had been the chief instrument
in procuring — the arms of the forces of the Congrega-
tion were completely triumphant.

The accession, however, of Mary to the actual
government, who was known to be strongly attached
to Popeiy, again excited the fears of the Protes-
tants, and of no one more than Knox, who insisted
that the invitation sent to France to that princess to
ascend the throne of her ancestors should be accom-
panied by the stipulation that she should desist from
the celebration of mass; and when the rest of the
council urged that she ought to be allow'ed that
liberty within her own chapel, he predicted that
"her liberty would be their thraldom."

A few days after the queen's arrival at Holyrood
she sent for Knox, and taxed him with holding poli-
tical opinions at once dangerous to her authority
and the peace of her realm, and with teaching a
religion different from that allowed by its princes.
Knox entered at great length into these subjects,
defending himself and his doctrines with his usual
ability and boldness. His language on this occasion
was so stern and decisive as to throw the queen into
a fit of weeping, but her tears were those of rage
rather than sorrow. The arrival of the dinner hour
broke off this interesting interview, and Knox retired
from the presence with some expressions of good
wishes for the queen's happiness. Frequent confer-
ences took jilace afterwards between the reformer
and Mary, but with little increase of regard on either
side. On one of these occasions, when he had
spoken with even more than his usual boldness, and
just as he was about to retire, he overheard some of

JOHN KXOX.

451

the queen's Popish attendants say, " He is not
afraid." "Why should the pleasin;^ face of a gentle-
woman frighten me?" replied the stout reformer,
turning round upon them; "I have looked in the
faces of many angry men, and yet have not been
afraid beyond measure." Knox's ministerial duties
were in the meantime exceedingly laborious. His
charge, as already mentioned, was St. (Jiles' Church,
where he had fulfilled these duties since theyear 1560.
He preached twice every Sabbath, and thrice on
other days of the week, besides meeting regularly
with his kirk-session once every week for discipline,
and with others for exercises on the Scriptures. He
also regularly attended all the meetings of the General
Assembly and the provincial synod ; and at almost
every meeting of the former a mission to visit and
preach in some distant part of the country was im-
l)osed upon him. Witii the view of relieving him
of part of these overwhelming labours, the town-
council, in April, 1562, solicited John Craig, minister
of Canongate, to undertake the half of his charge.
From the difficulty, however, of obtaining an addi-
tional stipend, Knox remained without assistance
till June in the following year. It has been already
said that many interviews took place from time to
time between the queen and Knox; these were still
occasionally occurring ; but their only effect was to
increase her dread and dislike of the reformer; and
although some instances occurred in which there was
something like an approach to a better understand-
ing, yet on the part of the queen it was never sincere;
antl there is little doubt that she longed for an op-
portunity of getting rid of so troublesome a subject,
whom neither her threats nor blandishments could
divert from the strict path of his duty. Such an
opportunity as she desired, or at least such a one as
she certainly rejoiced in, seemed now unexpectedly
to present itself. Two persons, Protestants, were
indicted to stand trial for having, with several others,
intruded into the palace during a temporary absence
of the queen, for the purpose of interrupting the
celebration of certain Roman Catholic rites which
was about to take place in the chapel of Holyrood.
The Protestants of Edinburgh, dreading that the
queen would proceed to extremities against these
men, requested Knox to write circular letters to the
principal gentlemen of their persuasion, detailing
the circumstances of the case, and inviting their pre-
sence on the day of trial. One of these letters fall-
ing into the hands of the Bishop of Ross, he im-
mediately conveyed it to the queen, who again lost
no time in laying it before her privy-council, by
which it was pronounced treasonable, and the writer
was soon afterwards indicted to stand trial in Edin-
burgh for the crime of high treason.

The queen presided in person at the trial, and with
an ill-judged and ill-timed levity, burst into a fit of
laughter, when, on taking her seat in court, she per-
ceived Knox standing uncovered at the foot of the
table. " That man," she said, pointing to the re-
former, "had made her weep, and shed never a tear
himself: she would now see if she could make him
weep." The trial now proceeded, and after the
charge against him had been read, Knox entered
upon his defence at gi^eat length, and with such self-
possession, intrepidity, and ability, that although he
had several enemies amongst his judges, he was, by
a great majority, acquitted of the crime of which he
had been accused. Alluding to the queen's feelings
on this occasion, he says in his history, "That night
(the evening after the trial) was nyther dancing nor
fiddling in the court; for madame was disapoynted
of hir pur[50se, quhilk was to have had John Knox
in hir will, be vot of hir nobility."

A second attempt on the part of the queen and
her husband Darnlcy to supjiress the stern and un-
compromising truths, both political and religious,
which the reformer continued to proclaim to the
world, was soon after made. He had given out a
text which occasioned such offence to the stripling
king, that on the afternoon of the same day he was
taken from his bed and carried before the privy-
council, who suspended him from his office. As the
suspension, however, was limited to the time of their
majesties' residence in the city, it was but of short
duration, as they left Edinburgh before the following
Sabbath, when Knox resumed his ministr}', and de-
livered his sentiments with the same boldness as
before. This occurrence was soon after followed by
the murder of Rizzio, the queen's secretary — an event
which gave the queen, now at Dunbar, a pretence
for raising an army, ostensibly to enable her to resent
the indignity which had been shown to her person
by the assassins of Rizzio, and to punish the per-
petrator of that deed, but in reality to overawe the
Protestants. On (he approach of the queen and her
forces to I".dinburgh, Knox, long since aware of the
dislike which she entertained towards him, deemed
it prudent to leave the city. On this occasion he
retired to Kyle, and soon afterwards went to England
to visit his two sons, who were there living with
some relations of their mother's, who had died in
1560. Knox returned again to Edinburgh after an
absence of about five or six months. Dining that
interval two events had taken place which entirely
mined the queen's authority in the kingdom, and
left him nothing to fear from her personal resent-
ment: these were the murder of Damley and her
marriage with Bothwell. He therefore resumed his
charge without intermption, and proceeded to take
that active part in the national affairs, both political
and religious, which the times required, and for
which he was so eminently fitted; and, soon after,
had the satisfaction of seeing the Protestant reli-
gion securely established by the laws of the land,
and that of the Popish church utterly overthi'own by
the same authority. During these commotions our
refonner in 1564 had married his second wife, a
daughter of Lord Ochiltree, who sur^•ived him.

In the month of October, 1570, he was stnick
with apoplexy, and although it only interrupted his
preaching for a few days, he never recovered from
the debility which it produced.

The irritability of the times and the vindictive
spirit of the Popish faction, still animating its ex-
piring efforts, placed the life of the great reformer
once more in danger, and once more compelled him
to seek safety in flight. His enemies endeavoured
first to destroy his reputation by the most absurd and
unfounded calumnies ; and, failing utterly in these,
they made an attempt upon his life. A shot was
fired in at the window at which he usually sat; but,
happening to be seated at a different part of the
table from that which he generally occupied, the
bullet missed him, but stiiick the candlestick which
was before him, and then lodged in the roof of the
apartment.

Finding that it was no longer safe for him to re-
main in Edinburgh, he retired to St. Andrews, where
he continued till the end of August, 1572, when he
again returned to Edinburgh. His valuable and
active life was now drawing fast to a close. On the
nth of the November following he was seized with
a cough, which greatly affected his breathing, and
on the 24th of the same month he expired, after an
illness which called forth numerous instances of the
magnanimity of his character, and of the purity and
fervour of that r;;ligious zeal by \\hich he had been

45^

^VILLIA•M KNOX.

always inspired. He died in the sixty-seventh year
of his age, "not so much," says Dr. M'Crie, "op-
pressed with years as worn out and exhausted by his
extraordinary labours of body and anxieties of mind."
His body was interred in the churchyard of St. Giles',
on Wednesday the 26th of Xovcmljer, and was at-
tended to the grave by all the nobility who were
in the city, and an immense concourse of people.
"When his body was laid in the grave, the regent,
who was also at the funeral, exclaimed in %vords
which have made a strong impression from their
aptness and truth, "There lies he who never feared
the face of man. "

KNOX, Wii,i.i.\M. "It may not be impertinent
to notice that Knox, a young poet of considerable
talent, died here a week or two since. His father
was a respectable yeoman, and he himself, succeed-
ing to good farms under the Uuke of Buccleuch,
became loo soon his own master, and plunged into
dissipation and ruin. His talent then showed itself
in a fine strain of pensive poetry, called, I think,
The Lonely Hearth, far superior to that of Michael
Bruce, whose consumption, by the way, has been the
life of his verses. . . . For my part, I am a bad
promoter of subscriptions ; but 1 wished to do what
I could for this lad, whose talent I really admired;
and I am not addicted to admire heaven-born poets,
or poetry that is reckoned very good, considering.
I had him (Knox) at Abbotsford about ten years
ago, but found him unfit for that sort of society. I
tried to help him, but there were temptations he
could never resist. He scrambled on writing for
the booksellers and magazines, and living like the
Otways, and Savages, and Chattertons of former
days, though I do not know that he was in extreme
want. His connection with me terminated in beg-
ging a subscription, or a guinea, now and then. His
last works were spiritual hymns, and which he wrote
very well. In his own line of society he was said
to exhibit infinite humour ; but all his works are
grave and pensive — a style, perhaps, like Master
Stephen's melancholy, affected for the nonce."

In this extract from Sir Walter Scott's Diary, an
outline of the life, moral character, and literary pro-
ductions of an erring and unfortunate son of genius
is briefly sketched ; but with the great novelist's
wonted perspicuity, sharp intuitive sagacity, and
immeasurable good-nature, that never could see a
fault where there was a tolerable per contra to re-
commend.

William Knox was born upon the estate of Firth,
in the parish of Lilliesleaf, Roxburgh, on the 17th
August, 1789, and was the son of an extensive and
pastoral farmer in the shires of Roxburgh and Sel-
kirk. As his parents were in comfortable circum-
stances, he received a liberal education, first at the
parish school of Lilliesleaf, and afterwards at the
grammar-school of Musselburgh. After having be-
come a tolerable classical scholar, and acquired a
taste for reading, especially in poetry and romance,
he was sent, at little more than the age of sixteen,
to a lawyer's office, not, however, for the purpose
of studying the law as a future jnofession, but of
acquiring the general knowledge and practical habits
of business. This was necessary, as he was the
eldest son of a family of six children, and would
naturally succeed to his father's extensive farming;
but as a school of morals and virtuous habits, a
lawyer's office, at the beginning of the present cen-
tury, could scarcely be reckoned the ha])iiiest of
selections. After a few months' training at law, in
which he made little progress, he was called home
to assist his father; and in 1812 he commenced farm-

ing on his own account, by taking a lease of the
farm of Wrae, in the neighbourhood of Langholm.
But steady though he appears to have been at this
period, so that he soon acquired the reputation of a
diligent and skilful farmer, he was so unsuccessful
that he lost all interest in agriculture, threw up the
lease of Wrae in 1H17, ami commenced that pre-
carious literary life which he continued to the close.
Indeed, while he was ploughing and sowing, his
thoughts were otherwise occupied ; for even at the
schoolboy age, he had been infected, as half of the
human race generally are at that ardent season, with
the love of poetry; but instead of permitting himself,
like others, to be disenchanted by the solid realities
and prosaic cares of life, he cherished the passion
until he became irrecoverably a poet. Unhappy is
such a choice when it can lead no higher than half-
way up Parnassus I His boyish efforts were exhibited
chiefly in songs and satires written in the Scottish
dialect ; and although, when his mind was more
matured, he had the good sense to destroy them, it
was only for the purpose of producing better in their
season. In this way his first publication, The Lonely
Llearth, and other Poems, was nearly ready for the
press before he had quitted his farm.

It would be too much to follow each step of
Knox's progress after he had committed himself to
the uncertainties and mutations of authorship. His
life was henceforth occupied not only in writing
works which issued from the press, but others which
were not so fortunate. It was not merely to poetry
that he confined himself, in which case his stock, as
a source of daily subsistence, would soon have failed;
he also wrote largely in prose, and ^^ as happy when
he could find a publisher. Such a course, sufficiently
precarious in itself, was rendered tenfold worse by
those intemperate practices that had already com-
menced, and which such a kind of life tends not to
cure, but to aggravate. Still, amidst all his aberra-
tions, his acknowledged talents as a genuine poet,
combined with his amiable temperament and con-
versational powers, procured him many friends
among the most distinguished literary characters of
the day. We have already seen the estimate that
Sir Walter Scott had formed of him : to this it may
be added, that Sir Walter repeatedly supplied the
necessities of the unfortunate poet, by sending him
ten pounds at a time. Professor Wilson also thought
highly of the poetical genius of Knox, and was ever
ready to befriend him. Nor must Southey, a still
more fastidious critic than either Scott or Wilson,
be omitted. Writing to William Knox, who had
sent him a copy of one of his poetical works, he thus
expresses himself: "Your little volume has been
safely delivered to me by your friend Mr. G. Mac-
donald, and I thank you for it. It has given me
great pleasure. To paraphrase sacred poetry is the
most difficult of all tasks, and it appears to me that
you have been more successful in the attempt than
any of your predecessors. You may probably have
heard that the Bishop of Calcutta (before he was
appointed to that see) was engaged in forming a col-
lection of hymns and sacred pieces, with the hope
of having them introduced into our English churches.
Some of yours are so well adapted to that object
that I will send out a copy of your book to him."

The princijial works of Knox, bpsides the Lo7iely
Hearth, which we have already mentioned, were a
Christmas tale, entitled Alariamne or the IVido'wer's
Daughter, A I'isit to Dublin, Songs of Lsrael, and the
Harp of Zion. Much of his authorship, however,
was scattered over the periodicals of the day, and
especially the Literary Gazette. As a prose writer
his works are of little account, and have utterly dis-

WILLIAM KXOX

ALEXANDER GORDON LAING.

453

appeared; but the same cannot be said of his poetry,
which possesses a richness and originality that places
it on a higher intellectual scale, and insures it a more
lasting popularity. It is pleasing also to record,
that it is not only undcfaced by a single line which
a dying author would wish to blot, but elevated
throughout into the highest tone of pure devotional
feeling and religious instruction. In these cases,
Sir Walter Scott seems to think that poor Knox
was assuming a part — that he was speaking " accord-
ing to the trick," and nothing more. We would fain
charitably believe, however, that the pensivencss of
the erring bard was something else than affectation,
and his religious feeling than hypocrisy. Had he
not cause to write sadly when he yielded to his
better feelings, and sat down to give vent to them in
the language which he had learned in happier and
purer days ? Or was he singular under that

"video meliora proboque,

Deteriora sequor"

which converts so many an unfortunate genius into
a sign-post between time and eternity, where he can
do nothing more than direct others upon their
heavenward journey? In the following stanzas, by
which his Songs of Z ion are prefaced, we can both
recognize and understand his sincerity, notwithstand-
ing all those unhappy inconsistencies with which it
was contradicted: —

" Harp of Zion I pure and holy !

Pride of Judah's ea-stern land!
May .a child of guilt and folly

Strike thee with a fcehle hand?
May I to my bosom take thee,

Trembling from the prophet's touch,
And, with throbbing heart, awake thee

To the songs I love so much?

" I have loved thy thrilling numbers

Since the dawn of childhood's day,
When a mother sooth'd my slumbers

With the cadence of thy lay —
Since a little blooming sister

Clung with transport round my knee,
And my glowing spirit blessed her

With a blessing caught from thee.

"Mother — sister — both are sleeping

Where no heaving hearts respire,
While the eve of age is creeping

Round the widowed spouse and sire.
He and his, amid their sorrow,

Find enjoyment in thy strain —
Harp of Zion ! let me borrow

Comfort from thy chords again."

It is only necessary to add, that this life of literary
adventure to which William Knox committed him-
self, and in which he unwisely squandered his re-
sources of health and strength, was a brief one, for
he died at Edinburgh on the 1 2th of November,
1825, in his thirty-sixth year. The cause of his
death was a stroke of paralysis, which he survived
only three or four days.

L.

LAING, Alexander Gordon, whose name is
so mournfully connected with the history of African
discovery, was born in Edinburgh on the 27th of
December, 1793. His father, William Laing, A.M.,
was the first who opened an academy for classical
education in the new town of the Scottish capital;
where he laboured for thirty-two years, and was one
of the most popular teachers of his day. His mater-
nal grandfather, William Gordon, was also a teacher
of very considerable note, and is known as the author
of a system of geography, a treatise on arithmetic,
a translation of the first six books of Livy, &c.

With such a parentage it might naturally have
been supposed that the subject of this memoir was
more likely to have spent his days amid the quiet
pursuits of literature than in the bustle of the camp
and amid the din of arms: the aspect of his early
years seemed to favour the supposition. Under the
tuition of his father young Laing received the ele-
mentary education that was necessary to prepare him
for the university, and he was enrolled in the human-
ity class at the early age of thirteen years. Previous
to this he had acquired a very considerable. knowledge
of the Latin language, of which he was passionately
fond; and the appearances he made in the class then
taught by Professor Christison were of so 7narked a
kind as to secure him the very flattering notice of
his preceptor; he was held up as a model for the
imitation of his fellow-students, and there were but
few who could entertain any hope of excelling him.

At the age of fifteen Mr. Laing entered on the
business of active life, having engaged himself as
assistant to Mr. Bruce, a teacher in Newcastle. Here
he remained only six months, when he returned to
Edinburgh and entered into company with his father,
taking charge of the commercial department of the
academy, for which his beautiful penmanship and
other acquirements singularly qualified him.

But the time was fast approaching when the sub-
ject of our memoir was to exchange the ferula for
the s7vord. In 1809 volunteering was veiy general
in Edinburgh, and young Laing attached himself
to a corps then forming. In 1810 he was made
an ensign in the Prince of Wales' volunteers, and
from that period the academy had no more charms
for him. In his eighteenth year he abandoned the
irksome duties of teaching, and set off for Bar-
badoes to his maternal uncle. Colonel (afterwards
Lieutenant-general) Gordon, through whose kind
offices he looked forward to an introduction into
the army. At that time Colonel Gordon held the
office of deputy quartermaster-general in Barbadoes,
and on his nephew's arrival he gave him a situation
as clerk in his counting-house. In this situation
Mr. Laing repeatedly came in contact with Sir
George Beckwith, then at the head of the com-
mand of the military on the station, who was so
much pleased with the young clerk, and took so
deep an interest in his fortunes, as to secure for him
unsolicited an ensign's commission in the York
light infantry.

But v\e must huny over the first years of Laing's
service in the army, to detail the more important
passages in his history. Having obtained the en-
signcy in the York light infantrj', he immediately
joined his regiment in Antigua; in two years he was
made a lieutenant, and shortly after, on the reduc-
tion of the regiment, he was put on half-pay. Dis-
satisfied with the inactivity consequent on such a
measure, as soon as the neccssaiy arrangements could
be made, he exchanged into the 2d West India re-
giment, and proceeded to Jamaica. Here over-
exertion in consequence of his discharging the duties
of quartermaster-general caused him to suffer much
from disease of the liver. He retired to Honduras
for the recovery of his health, where Colonel Arthur,

454

ALEXANDER CORDON LAING.

appreciating his excellence as an ofiicer, detained him
with another division of the regiment, and appointed
him fort-major. His distemper, however, which at
first seemed to yield in Honduras, returned with
increasing violence, and compelled him to seek relief
in the air of his native land, and the sympathies of
his relations.

During the eighteen months he remained at home,
the division of the 2d West India regiment to which
he belonged was reduced, and he was again put on
half-pay. Restored, however, to health, he could
not remain inactive. Towards the end of 1S19 he
went to London, was sent for by the colonel of his
regiment .Sir Henry Torrence, received many flatter-
ing compliments for his former services, and having
been appointed lieutenant and adjutant, he proceeded
to .Sierra Leone.

From the beginning of the year 1822 his histoi^
as an African traveller may properly be dated. \\\
January of that year he was despatched by Sir
Charles M'Carthy, governor of Sierra Leone, on an
important embassy to Kambia and the Mandingo
country, where he collected much valuable informa-
tion regarding the political condition of these dis-
tricts, their dispositions as to commerce, and their
sentiments as' to slavery. Having so far achieved
the object for which he set out, he crossed to Mala-
couri, a Mandingo town situated on the banks of
the river Malageea. There he learned that .San-
nassee, the chief of the district of Malageea, and a
friend of the British government, had been captured
by Amara, the king of the -Soolimas, and was about
to be put to death. Well knowing the unrelenting
disposition of Amara, Laing, although labouring
under a severe attack of fever and ague, resolved to
go to the Soolima camp and intercede for the life
of the unfortunate Sannassee.

With this view he crossed the ALalageea near its
source, and after experiencing many difficulties in
meeting with Soolima guards, he at length reached
the camp. Having witnessed the feats of warlike
exercise, the dancing, and the music exhibited by
Soolimas, Bennas, Sangaras, and Tambaccas, he
was invited to a palaver with Yarradee, the general
of the Soolima army. This officer received him with
much kindness and with many protestations of friend-
ship. Subsequently he was introduced to and had
a conversation with Amara himself, and having ob-
tained an assurance that Sannassee would not be put
to death, he retired to Sierra Leone, where he ar-
rived on the sixth day, exhausted by the fatigues of
his journey and continued illness.

Scarcely had Laing recovered, when a report at
Sierra Leone that his mission had been of no avail,
induced the governor to send him on another em-
bassy for the same object. Having once more
visited the Soolima camp, he was assured indeed
that Sannassee had been set at liberty, but he also
learned that his town had been burned, and his pro-
perty plundered or destroyed. Of this conduct he
expressed in the name of his government the most
decided reprobation; and after a journey of six and
a half days, during which he had never for a single
hour been under shelter, he once more reached Sierra
Leone.

It was now that Lieutenant Laing assumed the
character of a volunteer traveller. Having been led
to l)elieve during the last embassy that the Soolimas
were in possession of considerable quantities of gold
and ivory, he suggested to the governor the pro-
priety and probable advantages of opening up a
commercial intercourse with them ; and the sugges-
tion having been approved of by the council at large,
he left Sierra Leone again on the 161I1 of April, 1822,

with the view of furthering such an object, accom-
panied by two soldiers of the 2d West India regi-
ment, a native of Foutah Jallow, eleven carriers,
natives of the Jolof district, and a boy a native of
.Sego. When he set out ujion this journey little was
known of the Soolimas exccjjt the name; they were
said to be distant from Sierra Leone 400 miles to
the eastward: it afterwards appeared that Falaba,
the capital, is only distant 200 miles. They Mere
represented as a powerful nation, rich in gold and
ivory; but this also turned out not to be I he fact.
On his arrival at Toina in the country of the Tim-
manees our traveller found that no wliite man had
ever been there before him, although the town is
situated only sixty miles from Sierra Leone. His
appearance, as was to be expected, excited no little
astonishment — one woman in particular stood fixed
like a statue gazing on the party as they entered the
town, and did not stir a muscle till the whole had
passed, when she gave a loud halloo of astonishment,
and then covered her mouth with both her hands.
Of the Timmanees he writes in his journal very un-
favourably; he found them depraved, indolent, avari-
cious, and so deeply sunk in the debasement of the
slave traffic, that the very mothers among them raised
a clamour against him for refusing to buy their child-
ren. He further accuses them of dishonesty and
gross indecency, and altogether wonders that a coun-
try so near Sierra Leone should have gained so
little by its proximity to a British settlement.

From the country of the Timmanees Lieutenant
Laing proceeded into that of Kooranko, the first
view of which was much more promising — he
found the first town into which he entered neat and
clean, and the inhabitants bearing all the marks
of active industiy. It was about sunset when he
approached it, and we give in his own language a
description of the scene. "Some of the people,"
says he, "had been engaged in preparing the fields
for the crops, others were penning up a few cattle,
whose sleek sides denoted the richness of their pas-
turages; the last clink of the blacksmith's hammer
was sounding, the weaver was measuring the cloth
he had woven during the day, and the guarange, a
worker in leather, was tying up his neatly-stained
pouches, shoes, and knife-sheaths; while the crier at
the mosques, with the melancholy call of 'Allah
Akbar,' summoned the decorous Sloslems to their
evening devotions." Such were our traveller's first
impressions of the Koorankoes; but their subsequent
conduct did not confirm the good opinion he had
formed of them.

On approaching the hilly country, Lieutenant
Laing informs us that nothing could be more beau-
tiful or animating than the scene presented to his
view — well-clothed rising grounds, cultivated valleys,
and meadows smiling with verdure; the people in the
different towns were contented and good-humoured,
and in general received the stranger with verj- great
kindness. In illustration of this he has given us the
burden of the song of one of their minstrels: — "The
wliite man lived on the waters and ate nothing but
fish, which made him so thin; but the black men
will give him cows and sheep to eat, and milk to
drink, and then he will grow fat." At Komato, the
last town of the Koorankoes on his route, our tra-
veller found a messenger from the King of Soolimana,
with horses and carriages to convey him to Falaba,
the capital of that nation. Crossing the Rokelle
river, aliout a hundred yards broad, by ropes of twigs
suspended from the branches of two immense trees
(a suspension bridge called by the natives nyankata),
he proceeded to tliat city; and, having been joined
by the king's sou at the last town upon this side of

Eu^arodW S. Biea

ALF^AJ^PEI^ ©®[!«0)®i^ !LADM€,

OP a-^^w

■REGIMnSNT,

ALEXANDER GORDON EAING.

455

it, he entered Falaba under a salute of musketry
from 2000 men, who were drawn up in tlie centre of
tlie town to receive liim. Not lony after reaching;
l'"alaba, Lieutenant (now Captain) L>aing (for about
this time lie was promoted), was seized with a fever,
which brought on delirium for several days. While
in this state he was cupped by one of the Soolima
doctors, and that so effectually as to satisfy him that
it was the means of saving his life. The operation
differed in no respect from ours, except that the skin
was scarified by a razor, and the cup was a small
calabash gourd.

Our traveller enters in his journal into a long
detail of tlie habits and manners of the Soolimas,
with which he had made himself fully acquainted
daring his three months' residence in Falaba. To
give even a short abstract of this would be incon-
sistent with our limits. Suffice it to say that the
main object of his mission failed. The king all along
promised to send back with him a company of
traders; but when the time of departure arrived,
these promises ended in nought. Although within
three days' journey of the source of the Niger, he
^\'as not permitted to visit that often-sought spot,
and deep was the grief which the loss of such an
opportunity cost him; by measuring, however, the
height of the source of the Rokelle, which he found
fo be 1441 feet, and by taking into account tlie
height of the mountains in the distance, which gave
rise to the Niger, he calculated (as he himself thought),
with a tolerable degree of accuracy, that that river,
which has had so much importance assigned to it,
has an elevation at its source of from 1500 to 1600
feet above the level of the Atlantic. We cannot
resist quoting here the testimony of an eminent
writer in the Ei/inbiirgh yoitnsal of Natural and
Geographical Science (June, 1830), more especially
as the measurements of Captain Laing have been
rather lightly spoken of in the Quarterly Reinevj (we
believe by Mr. Barrow): "Major Laing," says the
Edinburgh journalist, "assigned the position and
the elevation above the sea of Mount Loma, from
whence the Niger takes its origin: and 7/^; first traced
on the map the first part of its course towards the
north for an extent of about twenty-five leagues. "

On the 17th of September our traveller quitted
Falaba, accompanied by numbers of the natives,
who escorted him to a consideraljle distance; the
last to leave him was the king himself. Of his
"adieu" the captain speaks in the most affecting
terms. On returning the route of the party was
nearly the same as that by which they set out.

Before our traveller's return hostilities had com-
menced between the British government and the
king of the Ashantees — the consequence was, that
no sooner had he tasted the comforts of a British
settlement, than he was ordered to join his regiment
on the Gold Coast without delay. Having trans-
mitted details to his friend Captain Sabine in
London, of the geographical determinations of the
latitude, longitude, and elevation of the places he
had lately visited, he hastened to the Gold Coast,
where he was employed in the organization and
command of a very considerable native force, de-
signed to be auxiliary to a small British detachment
wdiich was then expected from Britain. During the
greater part of the year 1823 t'ds native force was
stationed on the frontier of the Fantce and Ashantee
countries, and was frequently engaged, and always
successfully, with detachments of the Ashantee army.
On one of these occasions the enemy was completely
beaten, and the fame of the victory spread over the
whole coasts, and so effectually, that Sir Charles
M'Carthy received the allegiance of most of the

Fantee tribes. On another occasion Captain Laing
made two gallant and successful attacks on a larger
division of the enemy; and entering into the terri-
tories of the King of Ajumacon, who was suspected
to be friendly to tlie Ashantees, he compelled that
prince to place his troops under the British command.
On the fall of Sir Charles M'Carthy, which took
place in 1824, Lieutenant-colonel Chisholm, on
whom the command of the Gold Coast devolved,
sent the suliject of our memoir to England, to ac-
quaint government more fully than could othcnvise
be done of the state of the countrj', and the circum-
stances of the war. He arrived in England in
August, and immediately afterwards obtained a leave
of absence to visit .Scotland for the recovery of his
health, which had been seriously affected by so many
months of constant and extreme exposure in Africa.
Li Scotland, however, he did not continue long. In
October he returned to London, and an opportunity
having unexpectedly presented itself of proceeding
under Lord Bathurst's auspices in the discovery of
the course and termination of the Niger, he gladly
embraced it. It being arranged that lie shouUl ac-
conqiany the caravan from Tripoli to Timbuctoo in
the ensuing summer, it became necessary that he
should depart early in the year from that fatherland,
which, alas! he was destined never to revisit.

Our traveller, now promoted to a majority, left
London for Tripoli in the month of Febniary, 1825.
While in the latter city he had occasion to have fre-
quent intercourse with the British consul, Mr. War-
rington; a close intimacy was formed between them,
and the bond was strengthened by the major's marrj--
ing Emma Maria, the daughter of the consul. This
event was celebrated on the 14th of July, 1825; and
two days after the marriage the major proceeded on
his pilgrimage to Timbuctoo. He left Tripoli in
company with the sheik Babani, whom he aftenvards
discovered to be no less a personage than the gover-
nor of Ghadamis. The sheik engaged to conduct
him to Timbuctoo in ten weeks; the wife and the
family of Babani resided there. The travellers pro-
ceeded with their koffila by the route of Benecleed,
the passage by the Gharan Mountains being rendered
unsafe in consequence of the turbulence of a rebel-
lious chief in that district. On the 21st of August
the party reached Shate, and on the 13th of Sep-
tember, after a tedious and circuitous journey of
nearly looo miles, they arrived at Ghadamis. Al-
ready had the major experienced much to vex and
annoy him ; his barometer had been broken ; his
hygrometers had been rendered useless by evapora-
tion; the tubes of most of his thermometers had been
snapped by the warping of the ivory; his glasses had
been dimmed by the friction of the sand; his chro-
nometer had stopped (in all likelihood from the
insinuation of sandy particles); and in addition to
this lengthened list of mishaps, his rifle-stock had
been broken by the tread of an elephant.

Our traveller left Ghadamis, where he was treated
with the utmost kindness and hospitality, on the 27th
of October; and on the 3d of December he arrived
at Ensala, a town on the eastern frontier of the pro-
vince of Tuat, belonging to the Tuaric, and said to
be thirty-five days' journey from Timbuctoo. Here
as in Ghadamis he experienced the kindest reception,
and he did all he could to repay it by administering
of his medicines to the diseased.

He quitted Ensala on the loth of Tannnrv iS^fi
and on tKo c6tii of uie same month entered on the
cheerless, flat, and sandy desert of Tenezaroff.
Hitherto neither his enthusiasm nor his health had
failed him; the people had all been friendly and kind
to him, the elements only had been his foes; but in

4S6

ALEXANDER GORDON LAING.

the desert he was to enter on a different course of
experience, and bitter assuredly it was. The Tuarics
attacked, and phindered, and most cruelly mangled
him. The follownig letter, written by himself and
addressed to his father-in-law, discloses the amount
of authentic information concerning this barbarous
outrage: —

" Blad Sidi Mahomed, May lot/i, 1S26.

"My dear Consul, — I drop you a line only by an
uncertain conveyance, to acquaint you that I am
recovering from my severe wounds far beyond any
calculation that the most sanguine expectation could
have formed; and that to-morrow, please God, I
leave this place for Timbuctoo, which I hope to
reach on the iStli. I have suffered much, but the
detail must be reserved till another period, when I
shall 'a tale unfold' of treachery and woe that will
surprise you. Some imputation is attachable to the
old sheik (Babani); but as he is now no more, I shall
not accuse him; he died very suddenly about a month
since.

"When I write from Timbuctoo I shall detail pre-
cisely how I was betrayed, and nearly murdered in
my sleep. In the meantime, I shall acquaint you
with the number and nature of my wounds, in all
amounting to twenty-four ; eighteen of which are
e.xceedingly severe. I have five sabre cuts on the
crown of the head, and three on the left temple; all
fractures, from which much bone has come away.
One on my left cheek, which fractured the jaw-bone,
and has divided the ear, forming a very unsightly
wound. One over the right temple, and a dreadful
gash on the back of the neck, which slightly scratched
the 7vindpipe,^ &c. I am nevertheless, as already I
have said, doing well, and hope yet to return to
England with much important geographical infor-
mation. The map indeed requires much correction,
and, please God, I shall yet do much in addition to
•what I have already done towards putting it right."

It would appear from this letter, that the major
intended on the day after he wrote it to set out for
Timbuctoo. The intention, however, was frustrated.
The illness and subsequent death of Sidi Mahomed
Mooktar, the marabout and sheik of the place, to-
gether with a severe attack of fever in his own person,
detained him for two months longer. By this dis-
temper he lost also his favourite servant Jack, to
whom he was much attached. We can easily enter
into his feelings when, writing again on the 1st of
July to his father-in-law, he concludes the epistle by
saying, "I am now the only surviving member of the
mission."

On the 1 8th of August he arrived at Timbuctoo,
and from the following letter, which he left behind
him there, which was afterwards forwarded to Tripoli
by the nephew of Babani, and is the last that any of
his relations ever received from him, we learn only
enough to deepen our regret that he should have
perished in the hour of success, and that his valuable
papers should have been lost to the world.

" Timhiidoo,- September 21, 1826.
"My dear Consul, — A very short epistle must
serve to apprise you, as well as my dearest Emma,
of my arrival at and departure from the great capital
of Central Africa; the former of which events took
place on the iSlh ultimo, the latter, please God, will
take place at an early hour to-morrow morning. I
have abandoned all thoughts of retracing my steps
to iripoli, ana caim; in-. v. wUK on intention of pro-
ceeding to Jenne by water; but this intention luis

'It should be the spine.

2 In this letter the major always spells the name of the capi-
tal Tinbuctu,

been entirely upset, and my situation in Timbuctoo
rendered exceedingly unsafe, by the unfriendly dispo-
sitions of the Foulahs of Massina, who have this year
upset the dominion of the Tuaric, and made them-
selves patrons of Timbuctoo, and whose sultan, Bello,
has expressed his hostility to me in no unequivocal
terms, in a letter which Al .Saidi Boubokar, the sheik
of this town, received from him a few days after my
arrival. He has now got intelligence of my arrival
in Timbuctoo, and as a party of Foulahs are hourly
expected, Al Saidi Boubokar, who is an excellent
good man, and who trembles for my safety, has
strongly urged my immediate departure. And I
am sorry to say, that the notice has been so short,
and I have so much to do previous to going away,
that this is the only communication I shall for the
present be able to make. My destination is Sego,
whither I hope to arrive in fifteen days; but I regret
to say that the road is a vile one, and my perils are
not yet at an end; but my trust is Gocl, who has
hitherto borne me up amidst the severest trials, and
protected me amidst the numerous dangers to which
I have been exposed.

"I have no time to give you any account of Tim-
buctoo, but shall briefly state, that in every respect,
except in size (which does not exceed four miles in
circumference), it has completely met my expecta-
tions. Kabra is only five miles distant, and is a
neat town situated on the margin of the river. I
have been busily employed during my stay, searching
the records in the town, which are abundant, and in
accjuiring information of every kind; nor is it with
any common degree of satisfaction that I say my
perseverance has been amply rewarded. I am now
convinced that my hypothesis concerning the termi-
nation of the Niger is correct.

"May God bless you all ! I shall write you fully
from Sego, as also my Lord Bathurst, and I rather
apprehend that both letters will reach you at one
time, as none of the Ghadamis merchants leave
Timbuctoo for two months to come. Again may
God bless you all ! My dear Emma must excuse
my writing. I have begun a hundred letters to her,
but have been unable to get through one. She is
ever uppermost in my thoughts, and I look forward
with delight to the hour of our meeting, which, please
God, is now at no great distance."

The following abstract of the testimony of Bungola,
the major's servant, when examined by the British
consul, gives the catastrophe of this melancholy story:

When asked if he had been with the major at
Mooktar's, he answered. Yes.

Did you accompany him from thence to Timbuc-
too? Yes.

How was he received at Timbuctoo ? Well.

How long did he remain at Timbuctoo? About
two months.

Did you leave Timbuctoo with Major Laing? Yes.

Who went with you? A koftle of Arabs.

In what direction did you go? The sun was on
my right cheek.

Did you know where you were going? To San-
sanding.

Did you see any water, and were you molested?
We saw no water, nor were we molested till the
third day, when the Arabs of the country attacked
and killed my master.

Was any one killed beside your master? I was
wounded, but cannot say if any were killed.

Were you sleeping near your master? Yes.

How many wounds had your master? I cannot
say, they were all with swords, and in the morning
I saw the head had been cut off.

ALEXANDER GORDON LAING MALCOLM LATNG.

457

Did the person who had charge of your master
commit the murder? Sheik Bouraboushi, who ac-
comjianied tlie reis, killed iiim.

What did the sheik then do? He went on to his
country; an Arab took me back to Timbuctoo.

What property had your master when he was
killed? Two camels; one carried the provision, the
other carried my master and his bags.

Where were your master's papers? In his bag.

Were the papers brought back to Timbuctoo? I
don't know.

Thus perished, a few days after the 2lst of Septem-
ber, 1826, by the hand of an assassin, one of the most
determined, enthusiastic, and thoroughly accom-
plished of those daring spirits who have perilled
their lives in the cause of African discovery. The
resolution of the unfortunate Laing was of no ordin-
ary kind; his mother has told the writer of this article,
that years before he entered on his last and fatal
expedition, in providing against hardships and con-
tingencies, he had accustomed himself to sleep on
the hard tloor, and to write with the left hand; yea
■ more, with the pen between the first and second toes
of the right foot. It is melancholy to think that he
should have perished unrequited by that fame for
which he sacrificed so much, and undelivered of that
tale of the capital of Central Africa, which he had
qualified himself so well to tell. In any circum-
stances the death of such a man had been lamentable;
but it seems the more so, inasmuch as the result of
his successful enterprise is likely for ever to be un-
availing for the benefit of the living. Many years
have elapsed since his melancholy murder, and there
seems not the shadow of a hope that his papers will
ever be recovered.

But we cannot conclude this memoir without
adding a few sentences regarding these important
documents. Facts which were established at Tripoli
during the year 1829, and established to the entire
satisfaction of the consuls of Britain, the Netherlands,
Denmark, Sweden, and Sardinia, develop a system
of treachery and plunder regarding the major and
his property, which almost amounts to the incredible.
It seems to have been fully made out that the very
giiide (Babani) who set out with the traveller from
Tripoli, was under the secret direction of Hassunah
p Ghies, soi^ of the prime minister of the Tripolitan
bashaw, and the conspirator ugainst the major's life
—that by his (D' Chits') instructions the ferocious
Bourabouschi, the eventual murderer, was appointed
to be the conductor of the major from Timixictoo
and that into his (D' Ghies') hands the major's papers
(fourteen inches long by seven thick) were put by
another of his emissaries shortly after the murder.
In short, it was afterwards fully ascertained that thi:
packet was secreted in Tripoli in the month of Tulv
or August, 1828. ■'

The most amazing part of the tale of treachery yet
remains to be told. It would further appear that
the documents referred to were given by D' Ghies to
the French consul at Tripoli, the Baron de Rosseau
and that during the greater part of the major's journey
this official from Fiance had been in secret corre-
spondence with the conspirators — that he exerted
himself in securing the flight of Has.>wiah D' Ghies
after the treachery had been discovered, and gave
protection to and tampered with his brother Mo-
hamed, who made the disclosure.

It were out of place, in this memoir, to detail the
strong chain of evidence by which these allegations
are supported. A masterly summary of it will be
found in the Quarterly Rrriau, No. 84. Suffice it
la say, that neither M. Rosseau nor the French

government did anything to acquit themselves of the
fearful charge there preferred against them. Till
removed, it must stand a foul blot upon their national
honour.

LAING, Malcolm, a lawyer and distinguished
constitutional historian, was bom in the year 1762,
at Stryn/.ia, his paternal estate, situated on the main-
land of CJrkncy. lie received the rudiments of his
education at the respectable grammar-school of Kirk-
wall ; a seminaiy which is generally attended by
about a hundred boys, the sons of the neighbouring
proprietors and farmers. When he had reached the
proper age, he was sent to the university of Edin-
burgh, then superintended and attended by men of
great talent. Along with many of the latter class,
he joined in the establishment of the Speculative
Society, an institution whose subjects of discussion
were perhaps to a certain extent guided by his
peculiar tastes, and certainly coincided remarkably
with those in which he afterwards distinguished
himself.

^In 1785 he passed as a Scottish advocate: we do
not know whether he had any predilection for the
practice of the law, or whether he made choice
of the profession for the mere respectability of the
title, and the opportunity it might afford of attract-
ing notice as a politician; but assuredly, notwith-
standing his very high talents in general, and his
peculiarly great powers as a reasoner or special
pleader, he never was much employed, or known as
a distinguished practising barrister. It will scarcely
account sufficiently for this circumstance, that the
manner in which he delivered his powerful arguments
was neither majestic nor pleasing, that "his speeches
were uttered with an almost preternatural rapidity,
and in harsh and disagreeable tones." If he could
speak and compose with facility — and in parliament
he was considered an able speaker — such arguments
as he might have used did not require the extraneous
assistance of manner, even for a jury; while almost
the whole pleading in Scotland at that period was
addressed to the judges, from whose well-practised
intellects reason and powerful argument only could
find attention. Laing has shown in his writings a
minute knowledge of all branches of Scottish law;
he voluntarily acted the part of a lawyer in historical
subjects, in a manner which has called forth the
highest praise to his merely forensic abilities; and
it may, on the whole, be safely concluded, that the
limited extent of his practice at the bar must be at-
tributed more to his choice than to his want of talent.
The first fruit of Mr. Laing's laborious constitutional
investigations was the preparing for the press the
last volume of Dr. Henry's History of Great Britain,
i''' 17935 after that author's death. The matter col-
lected by Henry did not extend to a period at which
the Work could be closed, and Laing was requested
by his executors to write two terminating chapters,
to which he annexed a dissertation on the alleged
crimes of Richard III. The labours of the two
authors cotdd not be very aptly united, and many
consider Laing as a fierce liberalist, whose doctrines
appeared harsh and prejudiced when compared to
the calm narrative of Henry. The authors were
indeed extremely dissimilar, but we must pause
betore we decide in favour of the former. Heni-y
was a man of tame mind and tolerable good sense;
but It he appeared calm and moderate in his historical
opinions he. was so in the very safe and reputable
cause of despotism, in which he ensconsed himself
Z^\. 'o '•!??'/% ^°r''^''' '^■^^"'■^ it did not require
wa.L. ^^>^'^^".''-, Laing, on the other hand,

was a man of strong judgment and profound specula!

45S

MALCOLM LAIXG.

tion; and if he was violently argumentative in support
of the opinions he had adopted, he was so not as a
man who is determined to maintain a ijiven point
because he has chosen it, and is personally interested
in its being shown to be true; but as one who had
considered the matter accurately, had submitted it
to the arbitration of his strong judgment, and was
resolved to crush those prejudices which prevented
others from seeing it as it appeared to himself It
is the height of all prejudice to blame a historian
for his opinions; but many have deserved to be cen-
sured severely for twisting facts to support opinions,
instead of bending opinions to accommodate them
to facts. It was the object of Laing to discover the
truth. Perhaps prepossession in favour of the line
of principles he had adopted may have therefore
prompted him to derive improper deductions from
the facts which he produced ; but his strongest
political opponents have never accused him of per-
verting facts. Laing is said likewise to have com-
posed the memoir of Henry which accompanied the
history; but it certainly does not display his usual
energy of style. Whatever defects some may have
discovered in the continuation of Henry's History,
the critical world in general saw its merit, and be-
stowed the countenance of its approbation. The
author, thus encouraged to new historical labours,
looked towards his native country, and in iSoo he
published " T/ie History of Scotland, from the Union
of the Crowns on the Accession of King James VI.
to the Throne of England, to the Union of the King-
doms in the Reign of Queen Anne. With Two
Dissertations, Historical and Critical, on the Gowry
Conspiracy, and on the supposed Authenticity of
Ossian's Poems." As in the previous case, his book
was very dissimilar to that of the person of whose
labours his were a continuation — Dr. Robertson.
Of the flowing academical ease of that author it is
very destitute. It cannot be called either inelegant
or harsh, but it is complicated ; and by being
laboured to contain much meaning, is occasionally
obscure. There is much in the profundity of the
remarks and reflections which Dr. Robertson could
not have reached; but the chief merit lies in the dis-
play of critical power on matters of evidence, in which
he displays all the acumen of the practised lawyer
and the close obsen'er of human nature. From this
peculiar merit the separate dissertations, containing
nothing but special pleadmgs, are the most useful
and admirable parts of the book. In all parts of the
work the author's ruling spirit has prompted him to
search for debated facts, few of which he has left
without some sort of settlement. He has treated in
this manner many points of English historj', among
which is the celebrated question of the author of
Eikoii Dasilike, concerning which he has fully proved,
that whatever share Charles may have had in the
suggestion or partial composition, Gauden was, the
person who prepared the work for the press. Mr.
Laing appears to have enjoyed a peculiar pleasure
in putting local and personal prejudices at deiiance;
and exulting in the exercise of strong rcasonmg
powers, he has not hesitated to attack all that
is peculiarly sacred to the feelings of his country-
men ; a characteristic stnknigly displayed m li>s
dissertation on the poems of Ossian, the authenticity
of which he attacked with great learning and in-
veterate rancour. , r
The author of such an attack on one of Ihe lor-

tre^o'th;nai;:;.;kr. ride of Scotland did not
perpetrate his work without suitable •■eprobaUon
the Highlanders were "loud in thc.r wa. , and .1-
public prints .warmed with ebullitions ol their ur
Mr Laing ^vas looked on as a man who had

all feelings of patriotism at defiance : to many it
seemed an anomaly in human nature, that a Scots-
man should thus voluntarily undermine the great
boast of his country; and unable otherwise to ac-
count for such an act, they sought to discover in the
author motives similar to those which made the
subject sacred to themselves. His dissertations on
the poems of Ossian had the merit of causing to be
procluced "The Report of the Committee of the
Highland Society appointed to Inquire into the
Nature and Authenticity of the Poems of Ossian,"
conducted under the superintendence of Henry Mac-
kenzie, published in 1805.

At the same period Mr. Laing brought the con-
troversy to a final issue by publishing a work which,
with a sneer, in its designation, he entitled "'The
Points of Ossian, &c., containing the Poetical Works
of James Macpherson, Esq., in Prose and Rhyme,
with Notes and Illustrations." The nature of the
"notes and illustrations" may easily be presumed;
the work indeed is a curiosity in literature. The
edition of Ossian is a very splendid one; and, like
an animal decked for sacrifice, the relentless editor
introduced it conspicuously to the world, with the
apparent purpose of making its demolition the more
signal. Within the same year Mr. Laing's line of
argument was answered by Mr. M 'Donald, and two
years afterwards a long and elaborate work, com-
placently termed a Confutation, was produced by
the Rev. Mr. Graham, who, however, made a some-
what unlucky development of his qualifications for
this task by quoting the De Moribiis Germanoriini
of Tacitus, referring entirely to the Teutonic nations
as authority concerning the Celts. Mr. Laing never
confuted his arguments, having never made the at-
tempt.

In the meantime Mr. Laing's controversial dis-
position had prompted him to discover another sub-
ject, in the treatment of which he excited a still
greater degree of wrath. In 1804 he published an
edition of his History of Scotland, to v.hich he pre-
fixed two volumes containing "A Preliminaiy Dis-
sertation on the Participation of Mary Queen oi
Scots in the Murder of Daniley." The purpose of
the treatise was, with the author's usual decision and
boldness, declared in the title, and through the whole
of the lengthy detail of two volumes on one historical
incident, he never wavers in the slightest degree
from the conclusion oi guilt. Having first formed
his opinion in the matter-on good grounds it is
charitably to be presumed— he lays down and ar-
ranges his documents and arguments with the pre-
cision and circumstantialitv of a lawyer, and no more
hints at the possibililv of the innocence of the queen
than the crown-lawver at that of his victim. Pew
who have ever read this extraordinary work can for-
cret the startling exactness wdth which the arguments
are suited to the facts, and to the guiding principles
of the whole narrative of the renowned event laid
before the reader. "Mr. Laing's merit," says a
writer in the Eiiinhurgh Rci'itio, who refers to this
work as to one peculiarly characteristic of his genius,
"as a critical inquirer into history, an enlightened
collector of materials, and a sagacious judge of evid-
ence, has never been surpassed. If any man believes
the innocence of Queen Mar)', after an impartial and
dispassionate perusal of Mr. Laing's examination of
her case, the state of such a man's mind would be a
subject worthy of much consideration by a philoso-
phical observer of human nature. In spite of his
ardent love of liberty, no man has yet presumed to
charge him with the slightest sacrifice of historical
integrity to his zeal. That he never perfectly at-
tained the art of full, clear, and easy narrative, was

WILLIAM LAIXG.

459

owiiijj to the peculiar style of those writers wlio were
popular in his youth, and may he mentioned as a
remarkable instance of the disproportion of parti-
cular talents to general vigour of mind.''

Laing was intimately accpiainted with Charles
Fox, with whom he conducted an ample correspond-
ence, the letters of which on both sides still, we
believe, exist unpublished, and would certainly form
a very interesting addition to our epistolary informa-
tion rcgartling great men. That eminent statesman
freipientiy (pioteil the historical works of Mr. Laing,
as containing matter which coukl be relied on for its
authenticity; and Laing became an active and zealous
supporter of the short administration of his friend,
during which he represented his native county in
parliament. It is said, that notwithstanding the
disailvantages of his manner, he was listened to and
much respected as a speaker; and he gave all the
assistance which so short a period admitted to the
plans of the ministry for improving the Scottish
courts of law. After his brief appearance as a legis-
lator, the state of his health prevented him from
interfering in public business. Whether from exces-
sive stutly and exertion, or his natural habit of body,
he suffered under a nervous disorder of excessive
seventy, which committed frightful ravages on his
constitution; and it is said that he was required to
be frequently supported in an artificial position to
prevent him from fainting. lie retired to his estate
in Orkney, and his health being to a certain extent
restored by a cessation from laborious intellectual
pursuits, his ever-active mind employed itself in
useful exercise within his narrow sphere of exertion :
he improved his own lands, introduced better methods
of cultivation than had been previously practised in
the district, and experimented in the breeding of
merino sheep. He died in the end of the year 1818,
having, notwithstanding the great celebrity of his
works, been so much personally forgotten by the
literary world, that it is with difficulty we have been
enabled to collect matter sufficient for an outline of
his life. Lie was married to Miss Carnegie, daughter
of a gentleman in Forfarshire, and sister-in-law to
Lord Gillies. His property was succeeded to by
Samuel Laing, his elder brother." Besides the works
we have discussed above, it may be mentioned that
he edited the L'fe of James VI., published in 1 804.

LAING, William. This well-known dealer in
rich and rare literary productions, whose shop was
a Herculaneum of the treasures of past ages, was
born in Edinburgh, on the 20th of July, 1764. After
having received his education at the grammar high-
school of the Canongate, he made choice of the trade
of a printer for his future occupation, and served to
it a six years' apprenticeship. This selection was
an unlucky one, owing to the weakness of his eyes;
and therefore, instead of following it out, he became
a bookseller, for which his apprenticeship had com-
pletely qualified him. In his case, too, it was not
the showy and ephemeral, yet money-making, books
of modern literature that constituted his stock in
trade; but the choicest British and foreign editions
of the old classical authors of every language — works
which only the learned could appreciate, in spite of
the dust and dingy vellum with which they were
covered. Llis shop for this species of unostenta-
tious, slow-going, and precarious traffic, was first
opened in the Canongate in 1785; afterwards he re-
moved lower down tlie street to Chessel's Buildings,
where he remained till 1S03, at which date he re-
moved to the South Bridge, where he permanently

1 Eli. Kcv. xliv. 37. 2 £j_ Aiiniial Register, 181S, p. 250.

established his emporium. During these changes
his reputation as a collector of valuable old books
continued to increase, until it was established among
the learned over the whole island, so that his shop
became a well-known repertory for those scarce
volumes which liis thriving brethren in the trade did
not possess, and probably had never even heard of.
All this, too, was tlie fruit of ardent disinterested
zeal and untiring diligence in his profession. From
the year 1786 he had continued to issue an almost
annual succession of catalogues. He knew all the
scarce works of antiquity, as to the best editions in
which they had been published, the places at which
they were to be found in Britain or upon the Con-
tinent, and the prices at which they were to be pur-
chased. And he was ready to communicate this
valuable information to the literary intpiirers who
frequented his sliop for intelligence that could not
well be obtained elsewhere. The labour of travel
was added to that of painstaking home research and
inquiry, and that too at a time when Edijiburgh
booksellers and traffickers in general limited their
journeys to the coast of Fife, or even the ranges of
the Pentlands. Thus, in 1793, when the French
revolution was at the wildest, he visited Paris, for
the purpose of making himself acquainted with such
knowledge of his vocation as his own country could
not supply, and ascertaining what were the best
editions of those authors that are most in request.
It was no ordinary zeal that made him pursue such
a task amidst the roar of the Parisian pikemen and
the clank of the guillotine — more especially when
every stranger there was at least "suspected of being
suspected." Another similar pilgrimage he made in
1799. Leai-ning that Christian VH., King of Den-
mark, had been advised to dispose of the numerous
duplicates contained in the royal library at Copen-
hagen, and being instigated by the advice of the cele-
brated Niebuhr, at that time a student in the univer-
sity of Edinburgh, Mr. Laing repaired to the Danish
capital, and there made such arrangements upon the
sale of the duplicates with the privy-councillor. Dr.
Moldenhawer, as was satisfactory to both parties.
When the peace of Amiens had introduced a breath-
ing interval in the wars of the revolution, Mr. Laing
repeatedly visited France and Holland, still for the
purpose of extending his professional knowledge,
which he readily imparted to the scholars of his own
country. The immense amount of information he
had thus acquired, was enhanced by his kind gener-
ous temper, and modest unassuming manners.

During the war that followed the delusive peace
of Amiens, by which the whole Continent was closed
against British visitors, Mr. Laing was worthily em-
ployed in raising the literary character of his native
country in the department of printing. And for this,
indeed, he saw that there was too much need. The
distinguished brothers, the Foulis of Glasgow, had
passed away, and left no successors in their room.
In Edinburgh, so soon to assume the name of "Mo-
dern Athens," the case was still worse; for except
Ruddiman's Livy and Cunningham's Virgil, no
classical work had issued from her press worth men-
tioning. In 1804 he commenced the attempt by
publishing the works of Thucydides in six volumes,
small 8vo, under the following title, Thucydides Greece
el Laline; accedii tiU Indices : ex Editione JVassii el
Diikeid. In printing this work Mr. Laing was for-
tunate in having for the superintendent of the press
the Rev. Peter Elmsley, who attained such a high
European distinction in Grecian literature. In 1806
the works of Thucydides were followed by those of
Herodotus, in seven volumes, small 8vo, under the
title of Ilerodolus Greece et Laline ; aecedunl Anno-

46o

DAVID LANDSBOROUGH SIR JOHN LAUDER.

tationes selxLt, tucnon Index Latinus: ex EJition-
ibus lyesselin^i et Reizii. For editing this work Mr.
Laing had secured the valuable services of Professor
Porson; but as the latter went no farther than the
second book, the rest was carried on and completed
under the superintendence of Professor Dunbar. The
next classical author whose writings Mr. Laing pub-
lished, in iSii, was Xenophon, in ten volumes, also
of small 8vo, under the title of Xcnophonlis qua
extant Opera Gru-ce et La tine; ex Editionibiu Schuei-
deri et Zeunii: acceJit Index Latinus. This impor-
tant publication was admirably edited by Mr. Adam
Dickinson, whose Greek scholarship was only
equalled by his retiring modesty, that prevented his
worth from being more widely known. Mr. Laing
would have followed these with similar editions of
the works of Plato and Demosthenes, but was pre-
vented, chiefly by the difficulty of obtaining com-
^jetent Greek scholars to superintend such important
publications. Still, however, he had done much :
the editions which he had pubhshed were standard
specimens of their class, and have given an impulse
to classical reprinting in Scotland which, we trust,
will neither be fruitless nor yet soon abandoned.

During the latter part of his life, when Mr. Laing
was in easy and comfortable circumstances, he was
able to devote himself to the more general interests
of merchandise, and to this puqxjse was one of the
original founders of the Commercial Bank of Scot-
land, and also a director. After having nearly com-
pleted his sixty-eighth year, and attended busmess
till within three days of his death, he died at his
house, Ramsay Lodge, Laurieston, Edinburgh, on
the loth of April, 1832, leaving a widow and family.
His name honourably survives in one of his sons,
whose valuable labours are well known in Scottish
history and antiquarianism.

LAXDSBOROTJGH, Rev. David, D.D. This
pious divine, zealous naturalist, and ix)et, was bom
in the parish of Dairy, Kirkcudbrightshire, in 1782.
After an early education, first at the school of his
native parish, and afterwards at Dumfries Academy,
he entered the university of Edinburgh, where he
passed through the usual course of study prescribed
by the church for the office of the ministry. While
a student, he was also for some time tutor in the
family of Sir William Miller, who was also a lord
of session, under the title of Lord Glenlee, and whose
influence was exerted in behalf of David Lands-
borough when he was licensed as a preacher. Da\-id
■was first an assistant in the old church of Ayr, and
in 181 1 was ordained as minister of the parish of
Stevenston. Belonging to what was called the
"evangelical" party in the Church of Scotland, he
naturally felt a deep interest in that theological con-
flict of which the chief subject was the right of the
people to elect their own minister; and when the
severance known as the "Disruption" occurred, he
was one of those self-denjing countrj' ministers who
abandoned the Established church for the sake of
those principles he had steadfastly advocated. On
relinquishing the clerical charge of the parish of
Stevenston, he became minister of a congregation at
Saltcoats in coimecUon with the Free Church of
Scotland.

It was not until 1847 — a late period in life for a
poet's first appearance in the press — that he published
^'.-Irran, a Poem in Sis Cantos." This production
was well received in its day, and is not without some
poetical merit, but still not enough to buoy up a
poem of six cantos, and save it from sinking into
oblivion. Happily, however, his memory will rest
on a sounder basis than his poetry. He had a stUl

stronger enthusiasm and better natural aptitude for
the study of natural historj-, and the hours that were
not occupied with the duties of his sacred calling
were si>ent in the study of the plants, flowering and
cryptogamic, with which the picturesque district in
which he dwelt abounds. He thus became to his
own particular locality what Gilbert White was to
his parish of Selboume. He also carried his re-
searches into the marine and land shells, and the
mysteries of fossil botany contained in the coal-fields.
But as old age came on, his principal and favourite
investigations were the algae of Ardrossan and Arran,
of which several of his discoveries are announced in
Dr. Harvey's Phycologia Britannica. These con-
tributions of the minister were so highly valued, that
Dr. Harvey in gratitude conferred his name upnan a
little alga or seaweed, by calling it Ectocarpus Lands-
burgii. In like manner his fnend Dr. Johnston of
Berwick named a zoophj-te after him, Lepralia Lands-
burovii. On a similar honour being conferred up>on
him by naming a shell as one of the Landsburgii, the
Free Church minister sportively asked, "Is it fK>ssi-
ble to sail far down the stream of life in a scallop?"
Thus passed the life of the Rev. David Lands-
borough in retirement, but with a growing reputa-
tion, which, had he been ambitious of distinction,
might well have compensated for the obscurity of his
position ; and his scientific friends, who were en-
lightened bj- his discoveries, were also charmed by
the amenity of his gentle manners, and improved by
his Christian example. His works connected with
his favourite science were also highly appreciated.
These, besides the various papers he communicated
to Harv-ey's Phycologia Britannica, were the follow-
ing: "Excursions to Arran, Ailsa Craig, and the
Two Cumbraes, with Reference to the Natural His-
tory of these Islands," Edinburgh, Svo, 1852; Fop'
ular Ilistor)' of British Zoophytes and Coralline,
London, Svo, 1852; and Popdar History of British
Seaweeds. He also contributed to the Christian
Herald the biographies of several of his parishioners,
and others distinguished for their excellence, which
he afterwards collected and published in a small
volume, under the title of Ayrshire Sketches. He
was an associate of the Linnaean Society, and had
the title of Doctor in Di\-inity conferred upon him
by an American collie. Dr. Landsborough was
cut oflF suddenly, and by cholera, on September 12,
1854.

LAUDER, Sir John, Lord Fountainhall, an
eminent lawyer and statesman, was bom at Edin-
burgh, on the 2d of August, 1646.* His father was
John (afterwards Sir John) Lauder, baronet, a mer-
chant and bailie of Edinburgh, a younger branch
and afterwards chief of the family of Lauder of Bass
and Lauder. The subject of our memoir was his
eldest son, by his second marriage, with Isabel Ellis,
daughter of Alexander EDis of Mortonhall. By this
wife he had fourteen sons and two daughters; by a
pre\"ious marriage he had three children, and by a
third wife, of whom mention will be made hereafter,
he had four sons and two daughters. Of the early
education of young Lauder we know nothing, with
the exception of a passing memorandum in his volu-
minous memorials of legal matters, which shows that
he had passed some time at the university of Leyden,
at that time the principal continental resort of stu-

' Register of baptisms in Edinburgh. For this and all the
other information relative to Lord Foimtainhall not to be foiind
in printed works, we are obliged to a very cuiious MS. collection
regarding him, made by his descendant, the late Sir Thomas
Dick L^der, of which that gentleman kindly permitted us
the use.

SIR JOHN LAUDER.

461

dents at law. "The university of St. Andrews," he '
savs, "claims to be freed from paying excise for all
dr'ink furnished to the scholars, and that upon the
general privilege competent to all universities by
custom. I remember we enjoyed that privilege at
Lcyden after our immatriculation." Having accom-
jilished his prejiaratory studies, he passed as an ad-
vocate on the 5lh of June, 1668, and commenced the
jMactical pursuit of his profession with vigour, after
liaving previously, as his early proficiency as a lawyer
shows us, prepared his mind by intense and accurate
study. "From my admission as an advocate," he
says, "in June, 166S, I began to mark the decisions
of the Court of Session;" and it is to his uninter-
rupted industry in this occupation that wc owe that
valuable mass of precedents known by the name of
FoiDitainhall's Decisions, published in two volumes
folio, and latterly more fully re-edited from theoriginal
manuscripts. In a case which he reports during his
earlier years at the bar, strong internal evidence —
arising from the use of the first person singular, the
unusual prolixity of the speech,^ and the absence of
the name of the counsel — shows himself to have acted
in that capacity. This action was at the instance of
the town of Stirling, against the unfreemen in Fal-
kirk and Kilsyth, bearing date January i8th, and
June 25th, 1672. Lauder's speech is a curious
siiecimen of the mixed logical and rhetorical elo-
quence of the forensic pleading of the age, when
the judges acted more as a deliberative assembly
than as a body of lawyers bound to the letter of
certain enactments; and the person who addressed
them, if he could not sway their passions as those
of a modern jury are affected, had a wide field
of influence in their reason or prejudices. Con-
trasted with the restricted legal pleadings of the
present day, the following commencement on the
part of "the learned gentleman for the prosecution,"
would appear" very singular: "My lord commissioner,
may it please your grace, what happiness and
cheerfulness the eminent and most eloquent of all the
apostles, St. Paul, expresses, when he is put to
plead his cause before Festus and Agrippa, because
the one had long been a judge in his nation, and the
other was expert in all the manners and customs of
the Jews, the same gladness possesses the town of
Stirling, and with them the whole royal burghs, that
they are to plead in behalf of their privileges this
day before your grace, the great patron and con-
servator of them." It is to be remarked that, in
this case, Lauder is pleading for the exclusive privi-
leges of burghs, and in favour of monopolies. He
opens his speech with a sketch of the arguments of
his adversary, on which, probably with a wish to
caricature them, he has bestowed an amiable liber-
ality of doctrine which Adam Smith could not have
excelled, and told many politico-economical truths
which few had then imagined. His own answers to
the principles he thus beautifully lays down, sound
harsh and jarring in comparison, although they were
far more accordant to the principles of the time.
"Do not," he says with considerable tact, "think it
a light matter to rob the royal burghs of their privi-
leges, which are become their property by as good
a title as any of you bruik your lands and estate.
i5y what hand ye shall communicate these liberties
(now called in question) to the defenders, by that
same shall ye lop off the royal burghs from being the
third estate in the kingdom. Remember that a
threefold cord ought not to be easily broken. Con-
sider that lamentable confusion may follow on loos-

1 Extending from p. 642 to 679 of Brown's Supplement,
where it is styled " Fountainhall's Speech for the Pursuers."'

ing one pin of the government; that the touching
such a fundamental sacred constitution may unhinge
the whole; that government is like a sheaf of arrows
fast bound: pull out one, all will follow and fall to
the ground; and how terribly dangerous such an
innovation may be." It will be held in mind, how-
ever, that each counsel was fee'd for the principles ho
maintained, and that the genuine opinions of both
may have almost united in "a happy medium." The
speech, on the whole, is full of classical learning
and statistical information, and cannot fail to convey
a pleasing idea of the intelligence and talent of a
forensic orator of the seventeenth century.

.Soon after this period we find the subject of our
memoir connected with one of those constitutional
acts of resistance for which the bar of Scotland has
only, in a veiy few instances, been celebrated. It
is well known to those acquainted with Scottish
history, that a private litigation betwixt the Earls of
Dunfermline and Callender interested the feelings
or cupidity of Lauderdale, who was determined to
influence the decision in favour of the former by
swaying the judges through his personal appearance
on the bench, in virtue of his honorary title of "an
extraordinary lord of session." The affair was man-
aged by having the cause prematurely called in court,
in defiance of statute; and, a decision being come to
in favour of the pursuer, Callender lodged an appeal
to parliament, a novel procedure, which it was the
interest of the king and of the judges to stifle at its
first appearance. There are few who will not ac-
knowledge that a final appeal of litigated cases to
the legislative tribunal of the country, is, if not a
preventive, at least a check to the consequences of
influence or prejudice in inferior judicatories. The
absence of such a principle, and the decay of jury
trial in Scotland, had both originated from the same
cause. Parliament was anciently the great jury of
the nation, and, with the king as its president, the
court of last resort in all litigations : but becoming,
from the nature of the inferior courts, overburdened
with judicial business, which a large body of men
could not easily accomplish, the full powers of par-
liament, in this respect, were bestowed on a judicial
committee called the lords auditors, from which,
through a gradation of changes, was formed the
Court of Session, which thus, by its origin, united
the duties of the jury, the law court, and the legis-
lative body of last resort. In these circumstances
it was not difficult for government to discover that
a measure so unpleasing to itself was a daring in-
novation of the "constitution." The counsel for the
appellants, Lockhart and Cunningham, were desired
to make oath regarding their share in this act of
insubordination, and not only refusing, but maintain-
ing the justice of appeals, were summarily prohibited
the exercise of their profession. The members of the
bar united to resent the insult and protect their
rights, and fifty advocates (probably very nearly the
whole number then at the bar), of whom Lauder
was one,= followed their distinguished brethren to
retirement, and at the instance of Lauderdale were
banished twelve miles from Edinburgh. After a
year's exile they were allowed to return, havipg
managed to effect a compromise with the court. In
another appeal, which was attempted not long after,
the appellant was persuaded to trust to the effect of
recalling his ajipeal ; but the judges, on \\hom the
mixture of intimidation and flattery appears to have

2 Mackenzie's Memoirs, 293, where Lauder, among others,
subscribes an address by the debarred advocates to the privy-
council. For a farther account of the affair, see the memoirs
of SiK G. LocKHAkT and SiK G. Mackenzie.

462

SIR JOHN LAUDER.

produced little effect, adhered, notwithstanding an
implied promise to the contrary, to their previous
interlocutor. "And so," remarks Lauder in refer-
ence to the case, "he was either ill or well served
for his complimenting them. But the times were
such that no rational man could expect a rectifica-
tion from them of what had once, even though un-
awares, escaped them. When their honour was
once engaged at the stake, they blushed to confess
what is incident to humanity itself, itani hiivtanum
est errariT." With regard to his own sufferings fjur
judicial integrity, he remarks, "I have few or no
observ'ations for the space of three sessions and a
half, viz. from June, 1674, till January, 1676, in
regard I was at that time debarred from any employ-
ment, with many other lawyers, on the account we
were unclear to serve under the strict and ser\-ile
ties which seemed to be imposed on us by the king's
letter, discharging any to quarrel the lords of session
their sentences of injustice, and w^as not restored till
January, 1676." After his restoration to his powers,
his collection of decisions shows that he was a well-
employed and active counsellor.

His next appearance in public life is at the cele-
brated trial of the Earl of Arg)'le, in 1681, for a
treasonable explanation of the test, for whom Lauder
acted as counsel, along with Lockhart and six others.
The vulgar prejudice against vindicating a person
accused of any crime, together with the cautious
vigilance of the crown, trammelled for a long time
the legitimate powers of counsel in Scotland, and,
especially in cases of treason, brought their duty so
much under the arbitration of the court, that a prac-
tice prevailed by which it was considered illegal to
defend a person accused of such a crime without
the permission of government ; and therefore every
prudent advocate declined interfering till he could
produce a royal warrant. In the present instance
Argj-le's counsel had prepared and signed, as lawyers,
an "opinion" that his explanation of the test was a
legal one. The consequence of this, as detailed in
Lauder's own words, was, that "The councell named
a committee to call my lord Argyle's eight advocates,
vizt., .Sir George Lockhart, Sir John Dalrymple,
Messieurs Walter Pringle, David Thoirs, Patrick
Home, John Stewart, James Graham, and myself,
for subscribing an opinion that his explanation con-
tained nothing treasonable in it. We were examined
upon oath ; and it was called a new practice to sign
opinions with us, especially in criminall cases im-
porting treason, and a bad preparative ; though
lawyers should not be prelimited nor overawed freely
to plead in defence of their clients; the privy-council
having authorized us to that purpose. Tho' some
aimed at imprisoning and depriving us, yet, after we
had spoke with his royal hynes, he was pleased to
pass it ; tho', he said, if any bad use were made of
our signed opinion, by spreading it abroad in Eng-
land to incense them, or reproach the duke or the
judges, he could not but blame us. It was afterwards
printed in lingland, and .\rgyle's triall, with another
piece, called a Scotch Mist to Wei aite Englishman
to the Skin: being sundry animadversions on Argyle's
process."

Although his political proceedings do not seem
to have been calculated to bring him within the
atmosphere of court favour, he early received the
dignity of knighthood; at what precise period is not
known, Init apparently previous to the year 1681.
Much about the same period, or some years after-
wards, he appears to have acted as one of the as-
sessors to the city of Edinburgh ; a circumstance
discoverable from his remarking, that on the 4th of
November, 1685, the other gentleman who held that

office was removed, from some cause connected with
burgh ])olitics, while he was retained.

Ill 1CS5 Sir John Lauder became a member of the
committee of estates; and for more than twenty
years,' until the treaty of union, he appears from
the journals of the house to have performed his
parliamentary duties with activity and zeal. He
was returned for the shire of Haddington on the 23d
of April, along with .Sir John Wedderburn of Gos-
ford. His election was disputed by .Sir James Hay
of Simplum ; and the committee on controverted
elections having reported that the votes were equally
divided, a new election was proposed, when one of
the voters for Sir James Hay being discovered to
have given his vote after the election had been
formally terminated. Sir John Lauder was declared
the sitting member by a majority of one. Lauder
was early discovered in his legislatorial, as he had
been in his professional capacity, not to be a docile
and obedient supporter of the measures of govern-
ment. In the first parliament which he attended
he refused to vote for the forfaulture of the Earl of
Melville, who had fled from the wrath of government
after the discovery of the Ryehouse Plot.-

lie was a zealous friend to the Protestant faith,
when there were few in .Scotland who risked an open
defence of the religion to which they were so ardently
attached. The government, who found it difficult
to make the protection of Protestantism a crime,
had nevertheless power enough to harass him. "On
May 1st, 1686," he says, "Mr. James Young, son.
to Andrew- Young, writer to the signet, is appre-
hended by Captain Graham, and kept in the court
of guard, being delated as a copier and dispenser of
a paper, containing reasons why the parliament
should not consent to the dispensing with the penal
laws against Papists, and reflecting in the end on
such Protestants as had apostatized ! and for having
verses against the Bishop of .St. Andrews and Bishop
of Edinburgh ; and he having in his examination
named John Wilson and John Nasmyth, my senants,'
as bringers of these papers to his chamber, the chan-
cellor signed an order to Captain Graham to arrest
them, apprehending possibly to reach myself for
libelling, as he termed it. But they having named
their authors from whom they had them, were liber-
ated, and their authors, viz. Mr. John Ellis, Robert
Keill, &c., were cited." — "My two servants," he
afterwards says, "being imprisoned, and I threat-
ened therewith, as also that they would seize upon
my papers and search if they contained anything
offensive to the party then prevailing, I was neces-
sitat to hide the manuscript, and many others, and
intermit my historick remarks till the Revolution in
the end of 1688, after which I began some observes
of our meeting of estates of parliament held in
1690-93 and 95, and other occurrents forreign and
domestick, briefly summed up, and drawin togither
yeirly (but not with such enlargements as I have
used heir), and are to be found up and downe in
several manuscripts besyde me, to be reviewed cum
dabit otiitm Dens. "

When James made his well-known recommenda-
tion to the parliament of Scotland to rescind the
penal statutes against Roman Catholics, Lauder joined
in the debate on the appropriate answer, in a spirit
of moderation, which, according to the amount of

' The record shows him to have been returned of the follow-
ing dates: 23d April, 1685; 29th April, 1686; 3d .September,
1690; 9th May, 1695; 8th September, 1696; 21st May, 1700;
6th May, 1703; 6th July, 1704; 28th June, 1705; 3d October,
1706. — Act. Pari. vols. viii. ix. x. xi.

2 Act Part. ix. Ap. 45.

' The term " ser\ant" is invariably used by Lauder and
other lawyers of the period for " clerk."

SIR JOIIX LAUDER.

4^3

his clmi-ity, tlie reader may attribute to prudence, or
]ii)erality, or both united. On the question, what
term the parHament sliould bestow on those who
professed the Romish faith, "I represented," says
he, "that there was no man witliin the house more
desirous to have these odious marks of division
buried, and that we might all be united under the
general name of Christian. It is true the names
uniler which they were known in our law were the
designations of the papistical kirk, heresy, error,
superstition, popish idolatry, and maintainers of the
cruel decrees of the council of Trent ; and though
it was not suitable to the wisdom and gravity of
parliament to give them a title implying as if they
were the true church, and we but a sect, yet I wished
some soft appellation, with the least offence, might
be fallen on, and therefore I proposed it might run
thus, those commoidy called Roman Catholics ; that
tlie most part of our divines calls us the catholics,
and so Chamier begins his Fanstrafia, 'Vertuntur
controversije, Catholicos inter et Fapistas.'' The
chancellor called this a nicknaming of the king,
and proposed it might I'un in general terms thus,
as to those subjects your majesty has recommended to
lis," &c. The motion of the Archbishop of Glasgow,
that they should be simply termed "Roman Catho-
lics"— a repetition of the king's own words — was
finally carried. IJut however he might be inclined
to be conciliatory about epithets, Lauder resisted
with firmness the strong attempt made by James
and his commissioner, the Earl of Moray, towards
the conclusion of the parliament, finally to abolish
tlie penalties against Roman Catholics. In his
manuscripts are preserved seventeen closely written
pages of matter on this subject, entitled "A Dis-
course in defence, whereof part was spoken in the
Parliament, of the Penal Laws against Popery, and
why the Toleration Act should not Pass ; and the
rest was intended, but was prevented by the sudden
rising of the Parliament." Frequent application,
often in the most contemptible of causes, has made
the arguments contained in this able document too
hackneyed to please a modern taste ; an impartial
posterity, however, will reflect, that though liberal
feeling has often been disgusted by a similar discus-
sion' of a question which to this day bearS the same
name, the supporters of the penal laws against
Roman Catholics in the reign of James VII. were
not striking against freedom of opinion ; that they
were a party which had just halted from a battle for
their own privileges and liberties, and once more
beheld them sternly menaced; that they did not wish
to dictate to the consciences of an oppressed body
of men, but were boldly preserving the purity of their
own, by using the only means in their power to pre-
vent the resuscitation of a church which sat in judg-
ment over the mind, and was armed with a sword
to compel obedience to its dictates. "It were,"
says Lauder, "a strange excess and transport of
Christian lenity and moderation, to abolish our laws
against Papists, who, by the principles and practice
of their church, may show no favour to us ; but will
turn the weapons we arm them with to the total
subversion of our religion:" words which had a
meaning when a bigoted papal monarcli sat on the
throne, and the horrors of a high-commission were
in too fresh recollection; but which have none when
used towards that body grown poor and powerless,
and only desiring to enjoy their own religion in
peace.

We must not omit to mention that at the trial of
the Duke of Monmouth in 1686, Sir John Lauder
and other two counsel were employed to protest for
the interest of the duchess, who was absolute pro-

prietrix of the estate enjoyed by her husband. The
criminal court would not condescend to receive a
protest in a matter purely civil ; but did condescend
to forfeit the property of the duchess for the crime
of her husbantl. It was afterwards, however, given
back by the king.

We [lause in the history of his political career
to record a few domestic events which characterized
the life of .Sir John Lauder. He had been married
on the 2 1 St January, 1669, to Janet Ramsay, daughter
of .Sir Andrew Ramsay, Lord Abbotshall, vhose
father was the celebrated Andrew Ramsay, minister
of the Grayfriars' Church. This lady, after bearing
him eleven children, died in 1686. Her husband
has thus affectionately noted the event, "27 Februarii,
1686, at night happened mors charissimce meit con-
jugis mihi amarissinui et litctuosissima ; so there is
little to the loth of March, I not having come abroad
till then." On the margin is written nota nan ob-
liviscenda. In the curious familiar memorials which
he has left behind him we find frequent instances
of that warm domestic feeling which is often the
private ornament of men illustrious for their public
and political intrepidity. To any disaster in his
numerous family — for he had seven children by a
second wife — we sometimes meet such simple allu-
sions as the following, buried among the legal notanda
or the political events of that feverish period: "17
Decembris, 1695, I entered on the bills; and my
dear child Robert dying this day, the observes are
the fewer, in respect of my absence for two days, and
my other affairs, which diverted my constant atten-
tion that week." Again, "21 July, 1696, Tuesday:
my dear son William dying this day, I was absent
till his burial was over." Sir John was a second
time married, on the 26th of March, 1687, to IMarion
Anderson, daughter of Anderson of Balram, who
survived him.

The domestic tranquillity of this excellent man
was long harassed by the machinations of a step-
mother— his father's third wife, of whose heteroclite
proceedings we must give a slight sketch. This
woman, Margaret Ramsay, daughter to George Ram-
say of Iddington, to whom .Sir John Lauder's father
was united in 1670, at the ripe age of eighty-six,
prevailed on her husband to procure a baronet's title,
which he obtained in July, 1688, and the lady, show-
ing that she had moi^e important designs than the
gratification of female vanity, managed, by an artifice
for which parental affection can scarcely form an
excuse, to get the patent directed to her own son
George, and the other heirs male of her body, with-
out any reference to the children of the previous
marriage.

A document among the papers of Sir John Lauder,
being a draft of an indictment, or criminal libel, at
the instance of the lord-advocate, before the privy-
council, against the lady and her relations, gives us
his own account of the transaction: it is dated 1690,
and commences "Memorandum for Sir John Lauder,
to raise ane libell at privy counsell at the instance
of Sir J. D. (Sir John Dalrymple), his majesty's
advocate, for his majesty's interest, and of Sir John
Lauder, Mr. William and Andrew Landers, his
brothers german, against Margaret Ramsay," &c.
Neither the Medea of Euripides, nor the old ballad
of Lord Randal my Son, gives a more heait ideal
picture of the proceedings of the "cruel step-dame,"
than this formidable document. It accuses her of
having "wearied her husband by her excessive im-
portunity and ambition to procure and accept ane
knight baronet's patent ;" that, having managed
through her relations to direct the destination in the
manner we have mentioned, the old gentleman im-

4^4

SIR JOHN LAUDER SIR THOMAS DICK LAUDER.

mediately sent the patent to Mr. Robert Lauder to
be altered, and Mr. Robert, certainly not having the
fear of what are awfully termed consequences before
his eyes, proceeded to his duty, when the enraged
lady, "with several others of her accomplices, in-
tending by force to have taken the patent from him,
threatened to see his heart's blood if he did not
deliver it presently." Farther, "to fright her hus-
band to comply with her unreasonable and unjust
demands, she threatened that she would star^•e her-
self if that patent was not taken to her son, and that
she would kill herself if she saw any of the com-
plainers come near the house, and if he did not
absolutely discharge them his presence;" and still
more emphatically, "she tore the clothes off her
body, and the hoods off her head, and sware fearful
oaths, that she would drown herself and her children,
and frequently cursed the complainers, and defamed
and traduced them in all places, and threatened that
she hoped to see them all rooted out, they and their
posterity, off the face of the earth, and her children
would succeed to alL"' A decree appears to have
been obtained against the defenders in the privy-
council ; and the patent being reduced in the ci^■il
court, a new destination was obtained, by which Sir
John Lauder succeeded to the family title and estates
on the death of his father, in 1692.

Meantime, the Revolution had brought him a
relief from the dangers and difficulties of opposition,
and the hope of preferment and influence. He was
appointed a lord of session, and took his seat with
the title of "Lord Fountainhall, " on the 1st Novem-
ber, 1689. On the 27th of January- following he
■was also nominated a lord of justiciar}-. In 1692
Sir John Lauder was offered the lucrative and influ-
ential situation of lord-advocate ; but the massacre
of Glencoe, an act characteristic of a darker age and
a bloodier people, had just taken place; the luke-
warmness, if not criminality, of the government
formed an impediment, and, to his honour be it
mentioned, he would not accept the proffered situa-
tion except on the condition of being allowed to
prosecute the murderers. At the time when the
Scottish parliament found it necessarj' to strike a
blow for the property of the nation invested in the
Darien scheme, it was proposed that the parliament
should vote an address to the king, calling on him
to vindicate the honour of Scotland, and protect the
company. The more determined spirits in that ex-
asperated assembly demanded an act as the legiti-
mate procedure of an independent body. Among
these was Lauder. The address was carried by 108
to 84, and a body of those who voted othenvise,
with Hamilton and Lauder at their head, recorded
their dissent.* He began at this period to show-
opposition to the measures of government. Along
with Hamilton he recorded a dissent from the mo-
tion of the high-commissioner, for continuing for
four months the forces over and above the 3000
which constituted the regular establishment.' He
attended parliament during the tedious discussion

' Notwithstanding her ferocitj-, this woman seems to have
managed to be regretted at her death. She is the only person
to whom, from the date April 18, 1713 , we can apply a piece
of doggreL " In obitum pi2 ac generosissimae Dominae D.A.
Fountainhall, Elegidium, ad usum et captum adolescentuli
ejusdem filii .-Vlexandri Lauder, ex industna accommodatum."
It thus elegantly commences: —

"An quia matrona es, generoso stemmate nata
Fatorum rigido numine, sancta cadis."
Or as it is Englished —

" Fallen by the dismal stroke of harsher fate.
Because by birth, but more by >-irtue, great."

PamphUts Ad. Lib. M. 4.4.
2 Act. Pari. X. 269. ' Act. Pari. x. 294.

of the several articles of the union, and we find his
protest frequently recorded, although to one or two
articles, which did not involve the principle of an
incorporating union, he gave his assent. In the
final vote his name is recorded among the noes.

Soon after the union, on the app>ointment of cir-
cuits, old age interfered with Lord Fountainhall's
p>erformance of all his laborious duties, and after
some unwillingness on the part of royalty to lose so
honest a servant, he resigned his justiciar)' gown,
and a short time before his death he gave up his
seat in the Court of Session. This good and useful
man died in September, 1 722, leaving to his numer-
ous family a considerable fortune, chiefly the fruit
of his own industry. On a character which has
already spoken for itself through all the actions of a
long life, w-e nee<i not dilate. His high authority
as a rational lawyer is well known to the profession.
His Lndustr)- w-as remarkable. His manuscripts, as
extant, fill ten folio and three quarto volumes ; and
there is reason to believe, from his references, that
several were lost.

In 1822 w-as published " Chronological Xotes of
Scottish Affairs from 1680 //// 1 701, being chiefly
taken from the Diar\- of Lord FountaLahall. " Un-
fortunately this volume is not taken from the original
manuscript, but from an abridged compilation by a
Mr. Milne, a writer in Edinburgh; a fierce Jacobite,
who has disturbed the tranquil obsen"ations of the
judge with his own fiery additions, apparently judg-
ing that his cause might be well supported by making
an honest adversary- tell falsehoods in its favour. A
genuine selection from the historical manuscripts
of Lord Fountainhall, however, was published by the
Bannatj-ne Club in 1840 and 1848, under the titles
of Historiiol Obscncs, and Historical Notices of Scot-
tish Affairs, by which much light is thrown upon the
political events and social condition of the period,

LAUDER, Sir Tho>l\s Dick, Bart This
multifarious and distinguished writer was the eldest
son of Sir Andrew Lauder, Bart., of Fountainhall,
Haddingtonshire, and was bom in 1 784. The family
was originally of Xorman extraction, its founder, De
Lavedre, ha\-ing come from England with Malcolm
Canmore, when the latter drove Macbeth from' the
Scottish throne; and from him descended a race
who took part in all the subsequent wars of Scottish
independence, and fought gallantly under the banners
of Wallace, Bruce, and the Douglases. It was
natural that these family recollections should influ-
ence the early studies of Sir Thomas, and inspire
him with that love of chivalry- and antiquarian re-
search which he after%vards turned to such good ac-
coimt. At an early period he entered the army, and
was an officer in the 79th regiment (Cameron High-
landers). Here he continued only a short period;
and on quitting the army he took up his residence
in Morayshire, where he married >Ii5S Cumming,
only child and heiress of George Cumming, Esq. of
Relugas, a beautiful property on the banks of the
Findhom. From this time till the close of life he
was fully occupied with the ci\-il appointments he
held, and with the pursuits of science and literature,
in which he sustained a high reputation to the end.

The first efforts of Sir Thomas in authorship, so
far as can be ascertained, were in the departments
of natural science; and his diligence in these studies
is well attested by his numerous contributions to the
scientific journals of the day, and especially to the
Annals of Philcsophy, edited by the late Thomas
Thomson, professor of chemistry in the university
of Glasgow. To this magazine we find him, in 1815
and the three following years, contributing papers oa

SIR THOMAS DICK LAUDER.

465

the following subjects, from which the nature of his
researches can best be understood: — "Account of a
Toad Found in the Trunk of a Beech;" "Account
of the Worm with which the Stickleback is infested;"
"Account of the Aluminous Chalybeate Si)ringwhich
has lately appeared on the I'roperty of Sir Andrew
I>auder Dick, Bart. , at Fountainhail, in East Lothian."
(To this he subsequently added a register of its diur-
nal alternations contrasted with the barometer, during
nineteen months, a daily list of which had been
made by his father, who was also a lover of natural
science.) "An Account of the Earthquake in Scot-
land;" "Account of Different Currents of Wind ob-
served at the same time." But the most important
of his philosophical investigations, upon which he had
spent much study, and mai.le more than one explora-
tory journey to the wilds of Lochaber, was contained
in his pa]K'r "On the Parallel Roads of Glenroy,"
which he read before the Royal Society of Edinburgh
in iSiS. These singular roads, it was generally sup-
posed, had been constructed either by the ancient
Celtic kings of Scotland when their royal abode was
the castle of Inverlochy, or by the Fingalian "car-
borne" chiefs who had tlourished at a still earlier
period. Sir Thomas, however, attempted to show,
by a careful induction, that these stupendous path-
ways, instead of being constructed by kings, heroes,
or primitive giants, had been formed by the action
of the waters of a lake that had stood at different
heights, corresponding with those of the shelves,
until it had finally burst through its latest barrier in
consequence of some great natural convulsion —
probably the same that formed the great glen of
Scotland through which the Caledonian Canal has
been carried. This simple theory, although it sorely
discomfited the lovers of the wonderful, and wor-
shippers of "superstitious eld," was greatly admired
by the sober and scientific, not only for its origi-
nality, but the powerful array of facts and argu-
ments adduced to support it, illustrated as it farther
was by eight drawings, with which Sir Thomas ac-
companied his dissertation. This essay, with en-
gravings of his sketches, was published in the Trans-
actions of the Society. He had thus not only the
merit of throwing new light upon the theory of
natural geological formations in opposition to the
artificial, but of directing particular attention to these
phenomena of Lochaber, which have been investi-
gated by subsequent geologists, among whom may
be mentioned Mr. Milne and Sir G. S. M'Kenzie.
Another subject of scarcely less importance, that
occupied the researches of Sir Thomas, was the
natural transport, by means of ice, of a large boulder
on the shore of the Moray Frith. His account of
this huge isolated stone, and his conjectures as to
the mode in which it had found its ultimate landing-
place, was published in the third volume of the
IVernerian Transactions; while his theoiy formed
the basis on which several scientific writers after-
wards endeavoured to account for still more impor-
tant revolutions by means of ice, which had been
effected over a large portion of the earth's surface.

The nature of these studies, extending over so
many fields, and the reputation which they had
already won for him, would have constituted a stock
in life upon which most of our comfortable country-
gentlemen would have contentedly reposed to the
end. But the mind of Sir Thomas Dick Lauder
possessed an amount of intellectual vigour that could
not be so easily satisfied; he had only thus com-
menced, not concluded, his career; and after having
begun with science, he turned, by way of relief, to the
lighter departments of literature, through which he
■was to be better known to the world at large, than

VOL. II.

by his more laborious investigations among migratory
rocks and water-chiselled highways. On the com-
mencement of Blackiuood^s Maj^azine, at the begin-
ning of 181 7, he became one of its earliest contribu-
tors; and his first tale which appeared in it, under
the title of "Simon Ray, Gardener at Dumphail,''
was written with such vigour and truthfulness, that,
for a time at least, it was supposed to have proceeded
from no other pen than that of Sir Walter Scott
himself. Some impression of this kind, indeed,
seems at first to have been made by the anonymous
contribution upon the conductors of tlie magazine
also, for they ap[)ended to the tale the flattering an-
nouncement of "Written, we have no doubt, by the
author of IVaz'erlcy." The great era of magazines
had now fully commenced, as well as that of steam,
in which the impatient mind, no longer booked for
the slow conveyance of folios and quartos, was to be
carried onward with railway speed; and to the most
important of these periodicals Sir Thomas became a
frequent and welcome contributor. Besides these
light but attractive sketches, he also became a writer
in the grave methodical pages of the Tdinburg/t
Encyclopicciia, for which he drew up' the statistical
account of the province of Moray. It was in the
midst of these and such other literary occupations
that he succeeded to the baronetcy of Fountainhail,
by the death of his father in 1820, and was the
seventh who had enjoyed that title.

After having preluded for some time in the depart-
ment of fiction, and as an anonymous contributor to
the periodicals. Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, having
now fully essayed his strength, adventured upon the
decisive three-volumed experiment, by publishing
his historical romances of Lochtndhn and the Wolf of
Baclenoch. The scenery of both of these works was
laid in Morayshire, a county with which he was so
well acquainted, while the time of action was that
which succeeded the days of Bruce, the period when
chivalrous warfare was at the hottest in Scotland,
while it had Froissart for the chronicler of some of
its best passages of arms. It was a right perilous
attempt to follow the sandalled steps of the warrior
monk; and Sir Thomas, stalwart though he was,
and a knight to boot, was scarcely able to keep pace
with his mighty leader. But who, indeed, would
read modern chivalrous romances in the hope of
finding newer and more stirring deeds of warlike
emprise, after what Froissart has written ? — or
search for keener ridicule of the fooleries of chivalry
than can be found in the pages of Cer\'antes? The
attempts of Sir Thomas, therefore, in these produc-
tions, partook somewhat of the inferiority of Smollet,
when the latter endeavoured, in his Sir Laimcelot
Greaves, to produce an English similitude of Don
Quixote de la Mancha. It happened unfortunately
also for Lochindhn and the Wolf of Badenoch,
that their author, not content with entering a field
so preoccupied, must needs accommodate himself to
the language of the period, by interlacing his phraseo-
logy with antique and consequently uncouth words;
and thus his style, which after all would have been
a patois unintelligible to the fourteenth century, of
which it purports to be the type, becomes utter bar-
barism to readers of the nineteenth, for whose grati-
fication it was written. This is generally the fate of
such literary compromises; and Sir Walter Scott was
guilty of the same blunder when, in his romance of
Iz'anhoe, he jumbled together the characters and
events of the early period of Richard Cceur de Lion
with the refinements of that of Richard IL, and
crowned the whole with the English phraseology of
the days of Queen Elizabeth. But, in spite of these
incongniities, Ivanhoe is a magnificent epic, and

65

466

SIR THOMAS DICK LAUDER-

WILLIAM LAUDER.

Lochindhii and the Wolf are heart-stirring captivat-
ing romances. In scenic description and delineation
of events Sir Thomas has approached the nearest to
Scott of all the ambitious imitators of the "Great
Unknown" of the period. But it is in individuality
of character that he chiefly fails, and his knights,
like the brave Gyas, and the brave Cloanthes, are
little more than facsimiles of each other. They
have all the same complement of thews and bones,
and are equally promj)! to use them; and they only
differ by virtue of the scenery with which they are
surrounded, and the historical actions of which they
form a part.

But of all the works which Sir Thomas Dick
Lauder has produced, that entitled The Moray Floods
in 1829, is perhaps the one by which he will continue
to be best appreciated. He had himself not only
been an eye-witness of these tremendous inundations,
but an active philanthropist in the relief of those
•who had been ruined by the havoc; and the account
Avhich he wrote of the event will long be prized by
the lovers of vigorous writing,- and vivid, poetical,
and truthful description. Another descriptive work
which he produced, commemorative of a great
national event, was the Qticot's Visit to Scotland in
1S42. But reverting during this long interval to
that kind of study which gave full scope to his ima-
gination, as well as brought the varied resources of
his experience and observation into complete act and
use, he published his ^'■Highland Rambles, with Long
Tales to Shorten the Way;" a work which, indepen-
dently of its attractive narratives, is an interesting
memorial of the Celtic character, manners, and super-
stitions, and the intimate knowledge which he had
acquired of them. Besides these original produc-
tions, he edited Gilpin^ s Forest Scenery, and Sir Uvc-
dale Price on the Picturesque. To the latest period
of his life, also, he continued to be a contributor to
our periodicals, in which his articles, chiefly consist-
ing of Highland and Lowland tales and sketches,
were always gladly welcomed by the reading public.
These, we doubt not, if collected and published in a
separate work, would soon become the most popular
of his literary productions.

From the foregoing account it might be supposed
that the life of Sir Thomas had been chiefly spent
in the study; and that when he emerged into society,
it was rather for the purpose of enjoying relief, than
taking an active part in its occupations. But, on
the contrary, he was an industrious, public-spirited
man, fully conscious of the duties of his position, and
indefatigable in promoting the best interests of his
countiy. In this way he bestirred himself in the
great political questions of the day, and was one of
the most active promoters in Scotland of the reform
bill. In 1839 he was appointed secretary to the
Board of Scottish Manufactures, which was soon
afterwards united by the lords of the treasuiy to
the Board of White Herring Fishery; and as secre-
tary of both his labours were sufficiently diversified,
as well as widely distinguished from each other. It
was a Janus-like office, that required a double and
opposite inspection — or rather, a planting of "one
foot on sea and one on shore," like the very personi-
fication of an inconstant man, which Shakspeare's
ditty so touchingly describes. But faithfully and
ably were these opposite functions discharged. In
his department of manufactures Sir Thomas quickly
perceived that, in consequence of the extension of
our commercial and manufacturing operations, the
original purpose for which the Scottish board had
been created was in a considerable degree superseded.
He therefore endeavoured to restore it to full effi-
ciency, by adapting it to the progress of modern im-

provement; and for this puipose he proposed that
its surplus funds should be employed in the exten-
sion of schools for teaching pattern-drawing. On
the proposal being sanctioned, he carried it into
execution so zealously, that artistic taste was diffused
anew throughout our maaufactories of fanciful design,
and a love of the fine arts promoted among those
classes that had hitherto been contented with humble
imitations of foreign excellence. His task as secre-
tary of the White Herring Fishery Board was ful-
filled with equal diligence; and as one of its duties
was an annual voyage round the British coast, and
an examination of its places of export, he turned the
experience he thus acquired to good account, by
aiding in the supply of materials for a narrative of
the voyage in 1842, which was written by Mr. Wilson,
the naturalist, who accompanied him. He also
wrote several books of directions for the taking and
curing of herring, cod, ling, tusk, and other fish,
which were translated into Gaelic for the instruction
of the Highlanders. While so much was accom-
plished in the course of his professional duties, he
was not neglectful of those public movements which
concerned the general weal, and from which he
might have excused himself under the plea of a
press of occupation elsewhere. Among these public-
spirited exertions we can only allude in passing to
the interest he took in the proceedings of the original
Scott Monument Committee, of which he was one
of the most active agents — and his efforts for the
construction of the Queen's Drive round Arthur's
Seat and Salisbury Crags, already become the fairest
ornament of the fairest of European cities.

.Such was the life of Sir Thomas Dick Lauder to
the close — a twofold life of diligent study and active
exertion, in each of which he was a benefactor to
society, and a distinguished ornament of his countr)-;
while several of his writings, translated into the
French and German languages, acquired for him a
European reputation. His private worth and amenity
of character had endeared him also to the learned
and talented, so that scholars, authors, and artists
sought his society, and were benefited by his counsel
and conversation. Even strangers were arrested, as
he passed along the streets of Edinburgh, by the
sight of his noble stately form, long white locks,
and remarkably handsome expressive countenance,
and felt convinced at once that this man must be some
one as much distinguished above his fellows by in-
tellectual as by personal superiority. This round
of activity was only interrupted by his last illness,
which was occasioned by a tumour on the spine, that
for fifteen months incapacitated him for attendance
at the Board of Trustees for Manufactures, &c., and
finally obliged him to lay aside a work descriptive
of the rivers of Scotland, of which part had already
appeared in a serial form in Tait^s Magazine. He
died at his residence called the Grange, near Edin-
burgh, on the 29th May, 1848, at the age of sixty-four.

Independently of the offices we have mentioned.
Sir Thomas held that of deputy-lieutenant of the
county of Haddington; he was also a fellow of the
Royal Society of Edinburgh. He was survived by
two sons and six daughters, and succeeded in the
baronetcy by his eldest son. Captain Dick, who, a
short time previously, had retired from the army after
fourteen years of military service as an officer in the
East India Company.

LAUDER, William, a man renowned in literary
history for having turned superior talents, and very
high classical acquirements, to an attempt to defraud
Milton of his fame. Of the period of his birth, which
has escaped the patient investigation of Chalmers,

WILLIAM LAUDER.

467

we are totally ignorant. The earlier part of his life
was passed in great obscurity, although it has been
ascertained from his own remarks — in after-life we
believe — that he was connected, and not very dis-
tantly, with the respectable family of Lauder of
Fountainhall. He received all his education in
Edinburgh, and passed through the university with
considerable credit. After leaving college he seems
to have immediately resorted to teaching, as a means
of gaining a livelihood; but his early career in this pro-
fession was for some time interrupted by an accident,
which must have materially affected his future course
of life. While standing near a party engaged in the
game of golf, on Brimtslield Links, near Edinburgh,
a ball struck him on the knee ; the wound, which
cannot have been very serious, festered from careless
treatment, and he was compelled to submit to the
amputation of his leg.* In 1734 he was employed
by Professor Watt, then in bad health, to teach for
him the class of humanity or Latin ; and on the
death of that gentleman he naturally exerted himself
to procure an appointment as successor ; but though
he had talents to teach, he had not sufficient influence
to be appointed a professor. We are, however, in-
formed that on this occasion the professors gratui-
tously honoured him with "a testimonial from the
heads of the university, certifying that he was a fit
person to teach humanity in any school or college
whatever."" After this disappointment his ambition
sunk to an application for the subordinate situation
of keeper to the university library, but this also was
denied him. He appears indeed to have been a
person whose disposition and character produced a
general dislike, which was orily to a small extent
balanced by his talent and high scholarship. "He
was," says Chalmers, with characteristic magnilo-
quence, "a person about five feet seven inches high,
who had a sallow complexion, large rolling fiery
eyes, a stentorian voice, and a sanguine temper;"
and Ruddiman has left, in a pamphlet connected
with the subject of our memoir, a manuscript note,
observing, "I was so sensible of the weakness and
folly of that man, that I shunned his company as
far as decently I could." Ruddiman's opinion, how-
ever, if early entertained, did not prevent him from
forming an intimate literary connection with its sub-
ject.

In 1738 Lauder printed a proposal to publish by
subscription A ColUction of Sacj-cd Poems, "with the
assistance of Professor Robert Stewart, Professor
John Ker (professor of Greek in Aberdeen, and
afterwards of Latin in Edinburgh), and Mr. Thomas
Ruddiman." The promised work was published by
Ruddiman in 1739, and forms the two well-known
volumes called Poetai-u/ti Scotomm jlfiiscz Sacnr. ^
What assistance Stewart and Ker may have given to
this work appears not to be known; Ruddiman pro-
vided several notes and three poems. This work
was creditable both to the scholar and typographer.
It contains a beautiful edition of the translation of
the Psalms and the Song of Solomon by Arthur
Johnston, and similar sacred poems of merit by Ker,
Adamson, and Hog: it contains likewise a reprint
of Eglisham's somewhat ludicrous attempt to excel
Buchanan's best translated psalm, the 104th, * with

' Chalmers' Rtiddiman, 146.

* Nichols' Anecdotes, ii. 136.

' Poeiarum Scotonitn Muss Sacm, sive quatiwr sacri
codicis scriptorum, Da-'idis et Soloinonis, Jobi et Jeroniip,
Poeiici libH, per tot idem Scotos, Arch, yohnstotnim, et y.
Kemiin P. Adamsoniim, et G. Hogatum, Latiito cartnine,
reddiii: giiibiis ob argutnejiti similitudinem, obnectantur alia
Scotonitn itidon opiisciila sacra. Edinbi Ritddiin: 1739.

* Certattien cutn Georgia Buclianaiw pro dignitate Para-
phraseos Psalmi civ.

the sarcastic "judicium" of Barclay on the respec-
tive merits of the competitors, ^ and several minor
sacred poems by Scottish authors are dispersed
through the collection. The classical merit of these
elegant poems has, we believe, never been disputed
by those who showed the greatest indignation at the
machinations of their editor ; nor is their merit less,
as furnishing us with much biographical and critical
information on the Latin literature of Scotland,
among which may be mentioned a well-written life
of Arthur Johnston, and the hyperbolical praises
which proved so detrimental to the fame of that
poet. To support the fame of the author he had
delighted to honour, Lauder afterwards engaged in
the literary controversy about the comparative merits
of Buchanan and Johnston, known by the name "Bel-
lum Grammaticale."''

In 1740 the General Assembly recommended the
Psalms of Johnston as a useful exercise in the lower
classes of the grammar-schools ; but Lauder never
realized from his publication the permanent annual
income which he appears to have expected, "because,"
says Chalmers, "he had allowed expectation to outnm ■
probability." In 1742 Lauder was recommended
by Mr. Patrick Gumming, professor of church history
in the university of Edinburgh, and the celebrated
Colin Maclaurin, as a person fitted to hold the rector-
ship of the grammar-school of Dundee, which had
been offered to his coadjutor Ruddiman in 1710; he
was again, however, doomed to suffer disappoint-
ment, and in bitterness of spirit, and despair of reach-
ing in his native place the status to which his talents
entitled him, he appears to have fled to London,
where he adopted the course which finally led to the
ruin of his literar}- reputation. His first attempts on
the fame of Milton were contained in letters ad-
dressed to the Gaitlcmaii's Magazine in 1 747, which
that publication, certainly without due caution re-
garding charges so suspicious, unreser\-edly admitted
for publication. The literary world indeed received
the attacks on the honesty of the great poet with
singular complacency, and the periodicals contained
praises of the acuteness and industry- of Lauder, some
of which he afterwards ostentatiously published.
The first person who attempted a discovery of the
true merit of the attack was the Rev. Mr. Richard-
son, author of Zoilomastix, who, on the 8th of
January, 1749, wrote a letter to the editor of the
Gentleviati s J\/agazi)ie, in which he maintained the
falsity of Lauder's quotations from some books not
very well known even to the learned world, particu-
larly insisting that the passage "non me judice,"
which Lauder had "extracted" from Grotius, was
not to be found in that author, and that passages
said to be from Masenius and Staphorstius belonged
to a partial translation of Milton's Paradise Lost by
Hog, who had written twenty years subsequently to
the death of Milton. ' Although the editor of the
Gentleviaji's Magazine arrogated to himself the praise
of candour for admitting the strictures of Lauder, yet
this communication was not published until the for-
geries had been detected in another quarter, on the
ground of unwillingness to give currency to so grave
and unexpected a charge, without full examination.

In 1 750 Lauder, having brought his design to ma-

5 Barclai yudicinni de Certainine Eglisemntii cum G,
Biiclianano pro dignitate Parap/iraseos Psalvii civ.

^ For farther information on this matter see the memoir of
Arthir Johnston in this Collection. The reader may remark
that we have there praised the classical acquirements of Auditor
Benson if he was the author of the life of Johnston prefixed
to the edition of his Psalms. The circumstance that the life'
in the Musie Sacrce is exactly the same leads to the conclusion
that it is by Lauder.

" Gent. Jilag. xx. 535.

463

WILLIAM LAUDER.

turity, published his Essay on Miltotis Use ami Imi-
tation of the Moderns in his '^ Paradise Lost," to which
he prefixed as a motto the verj- appropriate line from
the author he traduced, "Things unattempted yet in
prose or rhyme." The reader is aware that this
book consists of a tissue of passages from obscure
authors, from which it is maintained that Milton sur-
reptitiously filched the materials of Paradise Lost.
In tlie list are two of the critic's own countrj-men,
Andrew Ramsay and Alexander Ross, both respec-
table Latin versifiers and good scholars, but neither
likely to have been suspected of giving much aid to
Milton ; in the introduction of the former of these
the critic may have gratified a little family pride-
he was father-in-law to Lord Fountainhall, and con-
sequently a connection or relation of the author.
Had the author confined his book to the tracing of
such passages of Milton as accident has paralleled
in far inferior poems, he might have produced a
curious though not very edifying book : and, indeed,
he has given us a sufficient number of such genuine
passages to make us wonder at his industry, and ad-
mire the ingenuity with which he has adapted them
to the words of Milton ; but when he produces
masses of matter, the literal translations of which ex-
actly coincide with the poem unequalled in the eyes
of all mankind, we express that astonishment at the
audacity of the author wliich we would have felt re-
garding the conduct of Milton had the attempt re-
mained undetected. As he spreads a deeper train
of forger)- and fraud round the memory of his victim,
the author's indignation and passion increase, and
from the simple accusation of copying a few ideas
and sentences from others, passion and prejudice
rouse him to accuse Milton of the most black and
despicable designs in such terms as these: "I can-
not omit observing here that Milton's contrivance of
teaching his daughters to read, but to read only,
several learned languages, plainly points the same
way as Mr. Philips' secreting and suppressing the
books to which his uncle was most obliged. Milton
well knew the loquacious and incontinent spirit of
the sex, and the danger, on that account, of intrust-
ing them with so important a secret as his unbounded
plagiarism : he therefore wisely confined them to the
knowledge of the words and pronunciation only, but
kept the sense and meaning to himself." It is gene-
rally believed that a character for probity is so dear
to every man, that nothing but the temptation of
gain, mingled generally with a prospect of conceal-
ment, will prompt a man to dishonesty. Here,
however, was a man whose object could not be gain,
courting that which depends more than any other
acquisition upon probity of mind — real or assumed
fame ; and doing so by a bold act of dishonesty,
which could not escape discovery, and which, in
proportion as he had traduced others, would be
revisited upon himself. "As I am sensible," he
solemnly says at the conclusion, "this will be deemed
most outrageous usage of the divine, the immortal
Milton, the prince of English poets, and the incom-
parable author of Paradise Lost, I take this opportu-
nity to declare, in the most solemn manner, that a
strict regard to TRUTFf alone, and to do justice to
those authors whom Milton has so liberally gleaned,
without making the least distant acknowledgment to
whom he stood indebted : I declare, I say, that these
motives, and these only, have induced me to make
this attack upon the reputation and memorj* of a per-
son hitherto universally applauded and admired for
his uncommon poetical genius : and not any differ-
ence of country, or of sentiments in political or reli-
gious matters, as some weak and ignorant minds may
imagine, or some malicious persons may be disposed

to suggest." The violence of party spirit to which
Lauder here alludes has been alleged as a partial
excuse, or rather motive, for his audacious act : but
it may be more charitably, if not more naturally, pre-
sumed, that the accidental discover)- of a few of the
parallel passages we have alluded to above had
prompted him to form a theor)- of universal plagi-
arism on the part of Milton, which a more than or-
dinary perverseness in favour of the creation of his
own mind prompted him rather to support by false-
hood than resign ; while, as he afterwards partially
admitted, spleen and disappointment may have suffi-
ciently blackened his heart to make him scruple at
no means of gaining celebrity, and triumphing over
the w-orld that had oppressed him. Add to this the
angry feelings which may have been roused, and the
real injury done to his interest, by a ludicrous con-
trast of his favourite author Johnston with Milton,
in that passage of the Dunciad which is levelled at
the literar)- predilections of Benson : —

'■ On two unequal crutches propp'd he came;
Milton's on this, on that one Johnston's name."

There is no crime so severely punished by the world
as injustice, which is always repaid by a repetition
of itself; hence the learned world which applauded
the courage and ingenuity of Lauder, on the appear-
ance of a full and explicit detection of his crimes, by
his countryman Dr. Douglas,^ were seized with a
confirmed hatred against the person who had duped
them, and would not admit to his degraded name the
talents and information he undoubtedly possessed and
displayed. Lauder subscribed a confession, addressed
to Dr. Douglas, explaining his whole conduct to have
been caused by the neglect ■with which the world had
looked on his pre\ious labours. This confession is
said to have been dictated by Dr. Johnson, who was
one of those on whom Lauder had imposed, or rather
of those who chose to submit to be imposed on,
which we may safely trace, in his case, to the grudge
he never ceased to bear towards the republican
poet. The connection of Johnson with Lauder's work
is indeed somewhat mysterious. In a manuscript
note on the margin of Archdeacon Blackbume's
remarks on the life of Milton, Johnson has said,
"In the business of Lauder I was deceived, partly by
thinking the man too frantic to be fraudulent."^
But others have alleged, that he did more than
believe the statements of Lauder, and even gave
assistance to the work. Dr. Lort had a volume of
tracts on the controversy, in which he wrote, "Dr.
Samuel Johnson has been heard to confess, that he
encouraged Lauder to this attack upon Milton, and
revised his pamphlet, to which he wrote a preface
and postscript." On the same subject Dr. Douglas
remarks, "It is to be hoped, nay, it is expected,
that the elegant and nei"vous w-riter whose judicious
sentiments and inimitable style point out the author
of Lauder's preface and postscript, will no longer
allow one to plume himself with his feathers who
appeareth so little to deserve assistance; an assistance
which, I am persuaded, would never have been
communicated, had there been the least suspicion
of those facts which I have been the instrument of
conveying to the world in these sheets."' Boswell
repels the insinuation that Johnson assisted in the
preparation of the body of the work, assuring us
that Douglas did not wish to create such a suspicion;
while he acknowledges the preface and postscript to

' Milton Vindicated from the charge of Plagiarism brought
against him by Lauder ; and Lauder himself convicted of
se\eral forgeries and gross impositions on the public, in a
letter addressed to the Right Hon. the Earl of Bath, 1751 ^by
Dr. Douglas, afterwards Bishop of Sallsburj-J.

- Nichols' A'li'cdptcs, ii. 551.

^ Second edition, 78.

JOHN LAW.

469

have been the work- of his hands.* On a first per-
usal of the book we were indeed struck with the
sonorous eloquence and majesty of the commence-
ment and termination, when compared to the bare-
ness of the other portions of the work, and a slight
hint is quite sufficient to convince us of the author-
ship. The postscript contains matter much at
variance with the other contents of the book, and
had it been the work of Lauder, it might have gone
far to redeem at least the soundness of his heart
from the opproliriuni which has been heaped upon
him. It called for the admirers of Milton's works
to join in a subscription to the grand-daughter of
Milton, who then lived in an obscure corner of
London, in age, indigence, and sickness.

Notwithstanding his penitence, a desire to traduce
the fame of Milton seems to have haunted this un-
happy man like an evil spirit. In 1754 he published
The Grand Impostor Detected, or Milton detected of
Forgery against King Charles I. An answer to
this pamphlet appeared in the Gentleman^s Magazine
for 1754, supposed to be from the hand of Johnson.
After this period Lauder quitted England, and for
some tinie taught a school in Barbadoes. "Ilis
behaviour there," says Nichols, "was mean and
despicable; and he passed the remainder of his life
in universal contempt. He died some time about
the year 1 771, as my late friend Isaac Reed was in-
formed by the gentleman who read the funeral service
over him."- Chalmers mentions that there was
jniblished in 1754 (probably just after his retreat from
London), a pamphlet entitled ^^ Fiirins: or a Modest
Attempt towards a Histoiy of the Life and Surprising
Exploits of the Famous \V. L., Critic and Thief-
catcher,^'' a somewhat inappropriate name for the
traducer of Milton.

LAW, John, of Launston, comptroller-general
of the finances of France under the regency of
Orleans, was born at Edinburgh, in the month of
April, 1671. . His mother, Jean Campbell, was
descended from one of the numerous branches of
the ducal house of Argyle. His father, William Law,
was great-grandson of James Law, Archbishop of
Glasgow, and second son of James Law of Brunton
in Fife. William Law acquired a considerable for-
tune by his profession as a goldsmith in the Scottish
metropolis, and purchased the two estates of Laur-
iston and Randleston, a property of about 180 acres
in the parish of Cramond and county of Edinburgh.
He died shortly after making this purchase leaving
an only son, the subject of the present memoir, then
fourteen years of age.

John received his education at Edinburgh, and
early evinced an uncommon aptitude for the more
abstruse branches of study. He likewise became
skilled in games of dexterity and hazard, and acquired
an enviable reputation in the tennis-court, a place of
amusement then much frequented by young men of
fashion in Scotland. But the early death of his
father had relieved him from many salutary restraints,
and Beau Law — as he was commonly called by his
companions — shortly after reaching majority, found
his affairs in a state of embarrassment, from which
they were only extricated by the kindness and excel-
lent management of his mother, who having obtained
a disposition of the fee of Lauriston from her son,
paid his debts, relieved the estate of its encumbrances,
and executed an entail of the property.

Law was now in London, where his personal ac-
complishments, fascinating manners, and devotion

' Boswell's yohnson [Croker's ed. ) i. 191.
^ A necdoies, ii. 137,

to gambling, procured him admittance into some of
the first circles. An affair of gallantry, however,
with another dissolute young man, led to a hostile
meeting, in which Law killed his antagonist on the
spot. After a trial before the king and queen's com-
missioners in the Old Bailey, which lasted three
days, the jury found the survivor in this duel guilty
of murder, and sentence of death was accordingly
passed uyion him, 20th April, 1694. On a represen-
tation of the case to the crown. Law obtained a
pardon; but was detained in the King's Bench in
consequence of an appeal against this extension of
royal clemency towards him having been lodged by
a brother of the deceased. He found means, how-
ever, to make his escape, and got clear off to the
Continent.^

Law was at this critical period of his life in the
twenty-sixth year of his age. I lis dissipation had not
destroyed the tone of his mind, nor enfeebled those
peculiar powers which had so early developed them-
selves in him. He visited France, then under the
brilliant administration of Colbert, where his in-
quiries were particularly directed to the state of the
public finances, and the mode of conducting Ijanking
establishments. From France he proceeded to
Holland, where the mercantile system of those
wealthy republicans who had succeeded the mer-
chant princes of Venice in conducting the commerce
of Europe, presented to his mind a vast and most
interesting subject of investigation. Amsterdam was
at this period the most important commercial city in
Europe, and possessed a celebrated banking estab-
lishment, on the credit of which her citizens had
been enabled to baffle the efforts of Louis XIV. to
enslave the liberties of their country; a treasury,
whose coffers seemed inexhaustible, and tlie whole
system of which was an enigma to the political econ-
omists of other countries. Law, with the view of
penetrating into the secret springs and mechanism
of this wonderful establishment, took up his residence
for some time at Amsterdam, where he ostensibly
officiated as secretary to the British resident.

About the year 1700 he returned to Scotland. He
was now nearly thirty years of age, and had acquired
a more accurate acquaintance with the theory of com-
mercial and national finances, as well as with their
practical details, than perhaps any single individual
in Europe possessed at this time. The contrast which
Scotland presented to those commercial countries
which he had visited during his exile now stmck
him forcibly, and he immediately conceived the de-
sign of creating that capital to the want of which he
attributed the depressed state of Scottish agriculture,
manufacture, and commerce. Law's views were not
without foundation; but unfortunately, he stumbled
at the outset, by mistaking the true nature of capital.
The radical delusion under which he laboured froni
the outset to the close of his financial career, origin-
ated in the idea which had got possession of his
mind, that by augmenting the circulating medium
of a country we proportionally augment its capital
and productive energies. Now, money is not always
convertible into capital, that is, into something which

2 On this occasion the following advertisement was published
in the London Gazette of Monday, 7th January-, 1695: " Cap-
tain John Law, a Scotchman, lately a prisoner in the King's
Bench for murther, aged 26, a very tall, black, lean man, well
shaped, above six feet high, l.irge pock-holes in his face, big
high nosed, speaks broad and loud, made his escape from the
said prison. Whoever secures him, so as he may be delivered
at the said prison, shall have fifty pounds paid immediately by
the marshall of the King's Bench." We may here observe,
that this description was upon the whole inaccurate, and
leaves room to believe that it was designed rather with the
view of facilitating than impeding his escape.

470

JOHN LAW.

may be employed towards further production; for
the creation of exchangeable products must, in the
nature of things, precede the creation of a general
medium of commerce, and it is quite e\ident, that if
we double the amount of the circulating medium
without doubling the products of industn.-, we just
depreciate the currency in the degree of the excess,
and do not increase the resources or industry of a
countr)- in the least But Law conceived that to her
overflow of money alone Holland owed her national
prosperity; and he calculated that the increase of the
circulating medium in Scotland would be absorbed
by the increase of industr)-, and have no other effect
than to lower the rate of interest. This view he
develofMjd in a publication entitled Proposals and
Reasons for Constituting a Council of Trade, dated at
Edinburgh, 31st December, 1700, and published at
Glasgow in the following year; and in a second and
more important work, entitled "J/t»//^' a/td Trade
Considered, with a Proposal for Supplying the Nation
with Money," printed at Edinburgh in 1705.

In the latter work Law developed his views of
banking and the credit system. He proposed to
supply Scotland with money by means of notes to be
issued by certain commissioners appointed by parlia-
ment; which notes were to be given out to all who
demanded them, upon the security of land. In
answer to the supposition, that they might be depre-
ciated by excess or quantity, he observed, that "the
commissioners giving out what sums are demanded,
and taking back what sums are offered to be returned,
this paper-pioney wUl keep the value, and there will
always be as much money as there is occasion or
emplo\-ment for, and no more." Here his project
evidently confounds the quantity of good security in
the countr)', and the quantity of money which people
may wish to borrow at interest, with the quantity
necessarj- for the circulation, so as to keep paper-
money on a level with the precious metals and the
currency of surroimding countries — a mistake which
has prevailed to a ver\- considerable extent in our
own times. But notwithstanding of this capital
error. Law has in the latter publication developed
the principles and mechanism of banking in an aston-
ishingly able and luminous manner for the period at
which he wrote. The court party, and the squadi-one,
headed by the Duke of Argjle and the Marquis of
Tweeddale, entered warmly into Law's views; but
parliament passed a resolution "that to establish any
kind of paper-credit, so as to oblige it to pass, were
an improper expedient for the nation."

Law now resolved to offer his system to some of
those continental states whose finances had been ex-
hausted by the wars of Louis XIV., and in which
the principles of credit were imperfectly under-
stood. With this view he went to Brussels, and
from that city proceeded to Paris, where he won
immense sums at play, and introduced himself into
the good graces of the young Duke of Orleans. The
Succession war was at this moment occupying the
attention of the French court; Chamillart, unable to
extricate himself from the difhculties of his situation
in any other manner, was about to resign his functions
as minister of finance; the moment appeared favour-
able to our projector, and he made offer of his ser-
vices to the French monarch. But thp leading men
of the day were totally unable to comprehend the plans
of the new financier, and the name of Huguenot was
no passport to the royal favour: so that the unex-
pected result of this negotiation was an order from the
intendant of police to quit Paris in twenty-four hours
as a state-enemy. Law found himself in a similar
predicament at Genoa and Turin, but not before he
had pursued his usual run of luck at the gaming-

tables in these cities. After visiting several other
continental cities, in all of which his fascinating
manner procured him admission to the first circles,
our adventurer found himself possessed of a tangible
fortune of considerably more than ;^icxd,coo — the
fruits of his skill and success at play. The death of
Louis XIV., the succession of the Duke of Orleans
to the regency, and the deplorable state of the
French finances, prompted Law to present himself
once more to the attention of the French ministry.

During the war of Succession — now brought to a
close — Demarest, who had succeeded Chamillart as
comptroller-general, had e.xhausted every possible
means of raising money; he had issued promissory
notes under every conceivable name and form —
promesses de la caisse des etnfrrunts, billets de Legendre,
billets de fextraordinaire des guerres — but all without
success; the credit of the government was gone, and
its effets of ever)' description had sunk from seventy
to eighty per cent, in value. In this extremity the
expedient of a national bankruptcy was proposed to
and rejected by the regent, who also refused to give
a forced circulation to the royal billets, but appointed
a commission to inquire into the claims of the state-
creditors. The commission executed its duties with
great ability; but after reducing the national debt to
its lowest possible form, and pro^^ding for the pay-
ment of the interest, amounting to So, 000, ooooflivTes,
or about one-half of the revenue, there hardly re-
mained a sum sufficient to defray the ordinarv- ex-
penses of the civil government, and that too, after
having had recourse to a measure tantamount, in its
effects at least, to a breach of faith, namely, a change
in the nominal value of the currency. By the latter
scheme the government foolishly imagined that they
would pocket 200,000,000 of livres, but the sum on
which they had calculated only went into the pockets
of the Dutch and the clandestine money-dealers.
At this critical juncture Law stepped forward, in the
full confidence of being yet able to rescue the govern-
ment from bankruptcy, by the establishment of a
well-regulated paper-credit. His first proposal was
to establish a national bank, into which was to be
transferred all the metallic currency of the nation,
which was to be replaced by bank-notes. Law re-
garded the whole nation as one grand banking com-
pany, and his reasoning was this: — If a bank may
increase the issue of its notes beyond the amount of
its funds in bullion without risking its solvency, a
nation may also do the same. But the private for-
tunes of the individuals of a nation, it is quite e^'i-
dent, can never be held as security for the notes
which the sovereign authority may choose to issue;
and unless such security is to be found in the re-
sources of the government itself, it is equally clear
that a paper-currency might sink in the course of a
few months fifty or a hundred per cent, below the
value of the precious metals, and deprive individuals
of half or the whole of their fortunes. Law seems
to have regarded credit as ever)thing— as intrinsic
worth — as specie itself. Still, notwithstanding this
capital delusion, the memoirs which he addressed to
the regent on the subject contain many just ob-
servations on the peculiar facilities afforded to trade
by the existence of a paper-currency; though they
failed to remove the doubts of one sapient objector,
who thought a paper-currency highly dangerous, on
account of its liability to being cut or violently
destroyed ! The council of finance, however, re-
jected this scheme. The present conjuncture, they
thought, was not favourable for the undertaking;
and this reason, added to some particular clauses of
the project, determined them to refuse it.

Law next proposed a private bank for the issue of

JOHN LAW,

471

notes, the funds of which should be furnished en-
tirely from his own fortune and that of others who
miyht l)e willing to engage with him in the specula-
tion. He represented the disastrous consecpiences
which had resulted from a fluctuating currency, the
enormous rate at which discounts were effected, the
difficulties in the exchange between Paris and the
provinces, and the general want of an increased cur-
rency; and succeeded in convincing the regent that
these evils might be obviated by the adoption of his
plans even in their limiteil modification. The bank
was accortlingly established by letters-patent, bearing
date the 2d of May, 17 16. Its capital was fixed at
1200 shares of 5000 livres each, or about ;^300,ooo
sterling, The notes were payable at sight in specie
of the same weight and fineness as the money in
circulation at the period of their issue; and hence
they soon bore a premium above the metallic cur-
rency itself, which had been subjected to many vio-
lent alterations since 1689. The good faith which
the bank observed in its proceedings, the patronage
which it received from the regent, and the want of
private credit, soon procured for it a vast run of
business. Had Law confined his attention to this
single establishment, he would justly have been con-
sidered as one of the greatest benefactors of the
country, and the creator of a beautiful system of
commercial finance; but the vastness of his own
conceptions, his boundless ambition, and the un-
limited confidence which the public now reposed in
him, suggested more gigantic enterprises, and led the
way to that highly forced and unnatural system of
things which eventually entailed ruin upon all con-
nected with it.

Law had always entertained the idea of uniting
the operations of banking with those of commerce.
Every one knows that nothing can be more hazard-
ous than such an attempt; for the credit of the banker
cannot be made to rest upon the uncertain guarantee
of commercial speculations. But the French had
yet no accurate ideas on this subject. Law's con-
fidence in the resources of his own financial genius
was unbounded, and the world at this moment ex-
hibited a theatre of tempting enterprise to a compre-
hensive mind. The Spaniards had established colo-
nies around the Gulf of Mexico — the English were
in possession of Carolina and Virginia — and the
French held the vast province of Canada. Although
the coast lands of North America were already colo-
nized, European enterprise had not yet penetrated
into the interior of this fertile country ; but the
Chevalier de Lasalle had descended the Mississippi
to the Gulf of Mexico, and taking possession of the
country through which he passed in the name of the
French monarch, gave it the appellation of Louisiana.
A celebrated merchant of the name of Crozat had
obtained the privilege of trading with this newly dis-
covered country, and had attempted, but without
success, to establish a colony within it. Law's
imagination, however, was fired at the boundless
field of enterprise which he conceived was here
presented; he talked of its beauty, of its fertility, of
the abundance and rarity of its produce, of the rich-
ness of its mines, outrivalling those of Mexico or
Peru — and in the month of August, 171 7, within
five months after his embarkation in the scheme of
the bank, our projector had placed himself, under
the auspices of the regent, at the head of the famous
Mississippi scheme, or West Indian Company. This
company was invested with the full sovereignty of
Louisiana, on condition of doing homage for the
investiture to the King of France, and jiresenting a
crown of gold, of thirty marcs, to each new monarch
of the French empire on his accession to the throne.

It was authorized to raise troops, to fit out ships of
war, to construct forts, institute tribunals, explore
mines, and exercise all other acts of sovereignty.
The king made a present to the company of the
vessels, forts, and settlements which had been con-
structed by Crozat, and gave it the monopoly of the
beaver trade with Canada for twenty-five years. In
December following the capital of the West Indian
Company was fixed at 100,000,000 livres, divided
into 200,000 shares ; and the billets cVctat, were
taken at their full value from those wishing to pur-
chase shares. (Jovennnent paper was at this moment
vastly depreciated on account of the irregular pay-
ment of the interest; but although 500 livres nominal
value in the public funds could not have been sold
for more than 150 or 160 livres, the billets iVctat, by
this contrivance, soon rose to par. It was evident
that these fictitious funds could not form stock for
commercial enterprise; nevertheless, the advance of
the government debts to a rate so advantageous to
the holders, increased the value of the government
securities that remained in circulation, and the de-
preciated paper rose to full credit with the aston-
ished public, who now began to place implicit con-
fidence in I^aw's schemes. The council of finance,
however, looked with mistnist on these proceedings;
and its president, the Duke de Noailles, gave in his
resignation, and was replaced by D'Argenson, a man
far less skilled in matters of finance. The jealousy
of the parliament, too, was excited by the increasing
influence of the Scottish financier, who had been
heard imprudently to boast that he would render the
court independent of parliamentary supplies. By
an aret of the 18th of August, 1717, the parliament
attempted to destroy the credit of the notes of the
bank, by prohibiting the officers of the revenue from
taking them in payment of the taxes; but the regent
interposed, and Law was allowed to continue his
operations. He, however, encountered another for-
midable rival in D'Argenson, who now proposed,
with the assistance of the four brothers Paris, men
of great wealth and influence in the commercial
world, to form u company, which, with a capital as
large as that of the West Indian Company, should
advance large sums of money secured on the farms,
posts, and other branches of the public revenue. This
anti-system, as it was called, soon fell to pieces for
want of the same energetic and fearless direction
which characterized the schemes of its rival.

Law now prevailed on the regent to take the bank
under royal guarantee, persuading him that it was
quite possible to draw into it the whole circulating
specie of the kingdom, and to replace it by the
same amount of paper-money. The notes issued
by the royal bank, however, did not promise, as
those of Law's private establishment had done, to
pay in specie of the same weight and fineness as the
specie then in circulation, but merely to pay in silver
coin. This opened a door for all the fluctuations
which might occur in the real value of the coin called
a livre, affecting the value of the paper-money. Law
was made director-general of the royal bank, which,
in a few months, issued 1,000,000,000 of livres in
new notes; "less," says the royal aret, "not being
sufficient for its various operations:" although this
sum was more than all the banks of Lurope could
circulate, keeping good faith with their creditors.
The director-general found it extremely difficult to
support the credit of such an enormous issue, and for
a while hesitated between the plan of insensibly
transforming bank-notes into a real paper-money, by
giving the latter a decided advantage over specie,
which should be kept constantly fluctuating, and by
receiving it in payment of the taxes; or of creating a

472

JOHN LAW,

new and apparently lucrative investment for this
paper, so as to prevent its returning upon the bank
to be exchanged for specie. The latter plan ap-
peared at last the preferable one. A colossal estab-
lishment was projected with a capital equal in
amount to the public debt. This capital was to be
divided into shares, wliich the regent was to buy
with the paper-money that he was to manufacture;
lie was then to borrow this paper anew to pay the
creditors of the state; and then by selling the shares,
to retire the paper-money, and thus transfer the
creditors of the state to the company.

Accordingly in May, 1 719, the East India Com-
pany, established by Richelieu in 1664, the affairs of
which were then at a very low ebb, was incorporated
with that of the West Indies; and the conjoined
companies received the name of the Company of the
Indies, "with the four quarters of the world to trade
in." "Moreover," says the edict issued on this
occasion, "beside the 100,000,000 of pulilic debts
already subscribed into the Western Company's
capital, there shall be a new subscription of 50,000
shares of 550 livres each, payable in specie." In a
short time the newly created company engaged, by
extending its capital to 624,000 shares, to lend the
king the immense sum of 1,600,000,000, at three
per cent, interest, and declared itself in a condition
to pay a dividend of 200 livres upon each share.
The public faith being yet unshaken, the shares here-
upon rose to 5000 livres; and when the king began
to pay off the state-creditors with the loan now pro-
cured, many not knowing liow to employ their capi-
tal, a new competition for shares in the great com-
pany arose, and shares actually rose in consequence
to 10,000 livres. The slightest consideration might
have served to convince any cool speculator that the
company had come under engagements which, in no
circumstances however prosperous, it could fulfd.
How was it possible that the company could raise
annually 124,800,000 livres for the dividend upon
624,000 shares? Or supposing it able to make an
annual dividend of 200 livres a share, still the rate
of interest being at this time about four per cent.,
the shareholder who had bought in at 10,000 thus
lost one-half of the revenue he might otherwise have
drawn from the employment of his capital. The
truth is, the whole scheme was designed for the sole
purpose of relieving the state from its debts by the
ruin of its creditors; but tlie immense fortunes which
were realized by stock -jobbing at the very outset of
the scheme led on others to engage in the same
speculation; splendid fortunes were realized in the
course of a single day; men found themselves sud-
denly exalted, as if by the wand of an enchanter, from
the lowest station in life to the command of princely
fortunes; 1200 new equipages appeared on the streets
of Paris in the course of six weeks, half a million of
people hastened from the country, and even from
distant kingdoms, to procure shares in the Indian
Company; and happy was he who held the greatest
number of these l>ui)i;les. The negotiations for the
sale and purchase of shares were at first carried on
in the Rue Quincampoix, where fortunes were made
by letting lodgings to the crowds who hastened
thither for the purpose of speculating in the stocks.
The murder of a rich stock-jobber, committed here
on the 22d of March, 1720, by a young Flemish
nobleman, occasioned the proscription of that street
as a place of business, and the transference of the
stock-jobbing to the Place Vendome, and finally to
the Hotel de Soissons, which Law is said to have
purchased from the Prince of Carignan for the enor-
mous sum of 1,400,000 livres.

Innumerable anecdotes are on record of the extra-

ordinary vicissitudes of fortune which took place
during this season of mar\'ellous excitement; footmen
stepped from the back to the inside of carriages;
cooks appeared at the public places with diamond
necklaces; butlers started their berlins; and men
educated in poverty and of the lowest rank suddenly
exchanged the furniture and utensils of their ai)art-
ments for the richest articles which the upholsterer
and silversmith could furnish. Law himself, now
arrived suiitina ad vcstii^ia 7-enim, shone super-emi-
nent above all the other attractions of the day;
princes, dukes, marshals, prelates, flocked to his
levees, and counted themselves fortunate if they
could obtain a smile from the great dispenser of for-
tune's favours; peeresses of France, in the excess of
their adulations, lavished compliments upon the
Scottish adventurer which set even decency at defi-
ance; his daughter's hand was solicited by princes;
and his lady bore herself with hauteur towards the
duchesses of the kingdom. Land in the neighbour-
hood of Paris rose to eighty or a hundred years' pur-
chase; the ell of cloth of fifteen livres sold for fifty;
coffee rose from fifty sous to eighteen livres; stock-
jobbers were known to treat their guests to green
pease at a hundred pistoles the pint; eveiy yard of
rich cloth or velvet was bought up for the clothing
of the new ellfes of fortune; and the value of the
silver-plate manufactured in the course of three
months for supplying the demands of the French
capital amounted t0;^7,200,ooo! The regent, sharing
in the general delusion, wished to place the wonder-
ful foreigner at the head of the finances of the king-
dom; but then, in addition to his being an alien, he
was a Protestant also; so I'Abbe de Tencin was
charged with the important duty of his conversion,
and this ecclesiastic succeeded so well in the task
assigned to him, that on the 5th of January, 1720,
all obstacles being removed. Law was elevated to
the comptroller-generalship of the finances of France,
and for some time after his elevation to the premier-
ship governed France with almost absolute power.
Law's fame had now reached its acme; his native
city of Edinburgh hastened to transmit to her illus-
trious son the freedom of citizenship in a gold box
of the value of ;^300; the Earl of Ilay republished
some of his works with an adulatory preface; British
noblemen disdained not to pay their court to so suc-
cessful an adventurer; even the Earl of Stair, then
the British ambassador at Paris, trembled at the
idea of Law's overweening influence in the affairs of
France, and viewed his boastful speeches in so seri-
ous a light, as to deem them matter of grave com-
munication and advice to his government — a piece
of good faith for which the meritorious and discern-
ing minister met with small thanks.

Tlie great drama, however, which Law was now
enacting before the astonished eyes of all Europe
was soon to shift; the glittering bubble on which he
had fixed the eyes and expectations of all France was
rapidly attenuating to its explosion; the charm by
which he had swayed the mind of the million lay not
in the rod of the magician, but in the implicit faith
which people reposed in the skill and the power of
its master — and, that faith once shaken, the game of
delusion was over.

We have said that the shares of the India Com-
pany had risen to 10,000 livres each in the month of
November, 1 7 19. .So long as they kept at this ele-
vation the credit of the bank remained unshaken.
Its notes were found so very convenient in conduct-
ing the rapid negotiations of the Rue Quincampoix,
that they were sought after with avidity, and even
bore a jn-emium of ten per cent, in exchange for
specie! Notwithstanding, however, of the bound-

JOHN LAW.

473

less delusion under which men acted at this moment,
it could not escape the eyes of the vigilant financier,
that a constant and enormous drain of specie was
going on, either in the way of exportation to foreign
countries, or for the consumption of the jewellers
and goldsmiths. To answer the large orders of the
wealthy Mississippians, and to guard against a run
upon the bank in these circumstances, tlie master-
]irojector had again recourse to forced measures.
Edicts were issued declaring the value of hank-notes
to be five per cent, above that of specie, and forbid-
ding the use of silver for the payment of any sum
exceeding lOO livres, or of gold in payments exceed-
ing 300 livres. Law thought by these expedients to
confine the use of specie to small transactions alone,
while those of any magnitude could still be conducted
by the fictitious currency which he had called into
existence. At the same time, to give a fresh impulse
to the stock-jobbing transactions, wliich had expe-
rienced a perceptible decline, he presented himself
personally in his ministerial robes, and surrounded
by a number of the nobility, in the Rue Quincampoix,
where his presence instantly excited a lively sensa-
tion; and the report being industriously propagated
that new edicts were about to be issued, conferring
additional privileges on the great company, the
actions which had fallen to 12,000 livres rose to
15,000. Still the public creditors hesitated to em-
ploy the notes now issuing in extinction of their
debts in purchasing India stock; and the enormous
sum of 1,000,000,000 remained floating in the form
of bank-notes, for which no species of investment
could be found.

A publication issued at this juncture by Law, under
the title of Lettre A iin Crcaiicier, failed to satisfy
their scruples, and actions again fell to 12,000 livres.
Meanwhile specie, in spite of successive deprecia-
tions effected upon it at the suggestion of the minister
of finance, entirely disappeared; still the government
kept issuing notes to the immense amount of
1,925,000,000, between the 1st of Januaiy and the
20th of May, 1720, and the price of everything ad-
vanced in almost hourly progression. On the iith
of March a second letter from the minister of finance
appeared, in which he employed the most ingenious
sophistry in defence of the exaggerated value at
which the paper-currency was attempted to be main-
tained. The choice of a standard value, the great
financier contended, was wholly a matter of opinion.
To support the value of any article in the opinion of
the community, it is only necessary to decline selling
it under a certain price. Houses, lands, and other
articles of property, have a certain value in the
opinion of mankind, just because some people desire
to purchase them, and others will not part with them;
but if all the proprietors of houses and land were
willing to get rid of their property at one and the
same time, what value would it have in the market?
It is easy to answer such palpable sophistry as this.
Houses and lands are possessions fit for certain
purposes which men require; it is their fitness which
constitutes their value; but in the case of those shares,
whose value. Law contended, ought to be quite as
real as that of any other article of property, it is most
evident that they have no value, unless the profit to
be derived from commerce in them be not propor-
tioned to the price at which the stock was purchased;
from the moment, in fact, that they cease to become
marketable they are stripped of their value. A
system supported by such desperate reasoning as
Law had here recourse to must have appeared tot-
tering to its fall in the eyes of every rational man;
the public credit of France was about to give way;
the Atlantean shoidders on which it had been hitherto

supported could no longer prop the mighty burden.
Government at last perceived that too great an ex-
tension had been given to what Law called ci-cdit,
and that to re-establish the value of paper, it would
be necessary to diminish its amount. On the 2 1st
of May the death-blow was given to the whole
gigantic system of our Scottish projector, by an edict
which announced that a progressive reduction of the
India Company's actions, and of bank-notes, was to
take place from that day till the 1st of December,
when it was declared that the bank-notes should re-
main fixed at one-half of their present value, and the
actions at four-ninths. Law, whose influence with
the government was now rapidly sinking, or rather
was annihilated, felt himself too weak to resist this
measure, and actually consented to announce it him-
self. The j)ul)Iic eye was now opened in one instant
to the delusion which had been practised upon it,
and the next day every one was anxious to get rid' of
his paper-money at any sacrifice. The catastrophe,
though inevitable in the nature of things, was has-
tened by the artifices of the Cardinal Dubois, who
used eveiy means to injure Law in the opinion of the
regent; and by the irritation of the finance-general
and the parliament of Paris, who regarded the foreign
projector as their bitter enemy. The united efforts
of such a powerful party a]ii)ear to have made a deep
impression on the mind of the regent, who, in a letter
of Lord Stair's, dated I2th March, 1720, is repre-
sented as abusing the comptroller cruelly to his face,
and even threatening him with the Bastile. The
same authority informs us that the minister himself
was at this period reeling under the weight of that
complicated and stupendous system of which he now
found himself the prime support and mover. "Law's
head is so heated," he writes, "that he does not
sleep at nights, and has formal fits of frenzy. He
gets out of bed almost every night, and runs stark-
staring mad about the room making a terrible noise
— sometimes singing and dancing, at other times
swearing, staring, and stamping, quite out of him-
self. Some nights ago his wife, who had come into
the room upon the noise he made, was forced to ring
the bell for people to come to her assistance. The
officer of Law's guard was the first that came, and
found Law in his shirt, who had set two chairs in the
middle of the room, and was dancing round ther.i
quite out of his wits."

The consequences of this rash edict were frightful ;
the government was upbraided for having been the
first to impeach that credit to which it had itself
given original existence, and charged with the design
to ruin the fortunes of the citizens; seditious and in-
flammatoiy libels were posted throughout the streets;
the mob assailed the hotels of Law and other mem-
bers of the cabinet; and even the life of the regent
himself was threatened. In this emergency the par-
liament assembled on the 27th of May, and terrified
at the consequences of their own measures, were about
to petition the regent to revoke the unfortunate edict;
but while yet deliberating with this purpose, an
ofiicer announced to them that the paper had been
restored to its former value by a new proclamation.
However, if the first step had been bad, the second
was little less weak and unwaiy. To declare that
the actions and billets had resumed their full value,
was doing nothing of real consequence to allay the
ferment of the public mind; for such a measure was
founded on no principle which could operate in the
slightest degree to restore to paper-money the con-
fidence it had lost; it was doing nothing to recom-
pense those who had already suffered injur}-, and it
was effectually securing the ruin of all others on
whom the valueless paper could now be fixed as a

474

JOHN LAW.

legal tender. And to add to all this confusion and
distress, the repositories of the bank were sealed up
the same day, under pretence of examining the books,
but in reality to prevent the specie from being paid
away in exchange for notes. At last, after the first
moments of alarm and outrage were over, the regent
ventured to resume those expressions of confidence
towards Law which he had been compelled to with-
hold from him for a time; he received him in his own
box at the opera, and gave him a guard to protect
his hotel from the insult of the exasperated populace.
The infamous Dubois, who had enriched himself by
his speculations during the height of the Mississippi
madness, now united with Law to expel Argenson
from the cabinet; and the regent, whose character,
though intrepid, was not without its weak points,
was persuaded at their instigation to take the seals
from his faithful minister, and bestow them upon
Agnesseau, who tamely resumed the high office,
from which he had been expelled by the very men
to whose influence he now beheld himself indebted
for his second elevation.

Nothing could now save the system of the great
financier ; his billets and actions were for ever
stripped of their value in the eye of the public; and
the most expedient measure tliat could now be
adopted with regard to them, was to withdraw them
as promptly as possible from circulation. To de-
molish in the most prudent manner the vast structure
reared by his own labour was now the highest praise
to which Law could aspire. By a series of arbitrarj'
financial operations, which it would be tedious here
to relate, the public creditors were reduced to the
utmost distress, the national debt annihilated, and
the whole affairs of the kingdom thrown into the
utmost perplexity. " Thus ended," to use the words
of Voltaire, "that astonishing game of chance played
by an unknown foreigner against a whole nation."
Its original success stimulated various individuals
to attempt imitations of it— among which the most
famous was the South Sea bubble of England, which
entailed disgrace and ruin on many thousands of
families. It would be doing injustice to Law's
character were we to view him as the sole author of
these misfortunes: his views were liberal beyond the
spirit of the times in which he lived; he had unques-
tionably the real commercial interests of his adopted
foster-country at heart; he did not proceed on specu-
lation alone; on the contrary, his principles were to
a certain degree the very same as those the adoption
of which has raised Britain to her present commercial
greatness, and given an impulse to trade throughout
the world, such as was never witnessed in the trans-
actions of ancient nations. His error lay in over-
estimating the strength and breadth of the foundation
on which his gigantic superstructure rested. Un-
questionably in his cooler moments he never contem-
plated carrying the principle of public credit to the
enormous and fatal length to which he was afterwards
driven by circumstances; it was the unbounded con-
fidence of the public mind, prompted by the desire
of gain and the miraculous effects of the system in its
earliest development — the enthusiasm of that mind,
transported beyond all bounds of moderation and
forbearance by a first success eclipsing its most san-
guine expectations, realizing to thousands of indivi-
duals the possession of wealth to an amount beyond
all that they had ever conceived in imagination — the
contagious example of the first fortunate speculators
intoxicated with success, and fired to the most ex-
travagant and presumptuous anticipations, by which
men can be lured into acts of blinded infatuation or
thoughtless folly — it was these circumstances, we say,
over which Law had necessarily little control, that

converted his projects into the bane of those for
whom they were at first calculated to serve as a
wholesome antidote.

Law was in fact more intent on following out his
idea than aggrandizing his fortunes. Riches, in-
fluence, honours, were showered upon him in the
necessity of things; the man who had given birth to
the wealth of a whole kingdom, whose schemes had
for a while invested all who entered into them with
imaginary treasures — by whose single mind the work-
ings of that complicated engine which had already
produced such dazzling results as seemed to justify
the most extravagant anticipations of the future, were
comprehended and directed — must have risen during
the existence of that national delusion to the highest
pinnacle of personal wealth and influence, and might,
though only endowed with a mere tithe of the fore-
casting sagacity of Law, have provided for his retreat,
and secured a suflficient competency at least beyond
the possibility of loss or hazard, as thousands in fact
did upon the strength of his measure. But Law, in
deluding others, laboured under still stronger delu-
sion himself; like the fabled Frankenstein, he had
created a monster whose power he had not at first
calculated, and the measure of which he now found
he could not prescribe, and he awaited the result
with mingled feelings of hope, fear, and distrust.
It was the ignorant interference of others with his
own mysterious processes which finally determined
the fatal direction of those energies which he had
called into being, and which he might have been able,
if not to restrain, at least to direct in another and less
ruinous manner. We are far from professing our-
selves the unqualified apologists of our enterprising
countrv'man. It was criminal in him to make use
of remedies of such a desperate kind as those to
which he had recourse when his system began to
stagger under its first revulsions ; doubtless his
temptations were strong, but, invested as he was
with authority, it was in his power to have resisted
them, and adopted a less empirical mode of treat-
ment. In estimating his moral character, it does
not appear to us that his renouncing Protestantism,
under the circumstances in which he was placed,
ought to weigh much against the uprightness of his
intentions. Religion was with him a matter of in-
ferior moment. In his previous life he had mani-
fested no s)-mptoms of piety; an utter stranger to the
faith and power of the gospel, Protestantism was
superior to any other istn with him, just in as far as
it favoured his worldly policy. He believed himself
possessed of means to elevate a whole nation in the
scale of wealth and power, with all their attendant
benign influences, and to give an impulse by means
of the fortunes of France to the destinies of the human
species: and is it to be supposed that this considera-
tion, thrown into the balance, should not have caused
that scale jn which was placed a mere nominal pro-
fession of a religion — the truth of which he neither
knew nor respected — to kick the beam?

Before resuming the thread of our biography, let
us for a moment compare the financial catastrophe
we have now been considering with that of the as-
signats of revolutionar}' France, and the celebrated
crisis of the Bank of England in 1797: we shall dis-
cover striking points of resemblance in the circum-
stances which led to these events, and draw from
their comparison a few important truths. Credit is
founded on the supposition of future value; it is this
prospective value which is made to circulate as if it
were existing value, in the form of a bank-note.
Law founded his schemes upon the great basis of
credit, which again he proposed to create by the
profits arising from speculation in the shares of his

JOHN LAW.

475

India Company. The financiers of revolutionary
France wished to pay the national debt and the ex-
penses of a universal war with the national funds;
but, finding it impossible from the want of public
confidence or credit to sell these funtls, they antici-
l^iated their sale, and represented their supposed
future value by paper-money called assignats. The
Bank of England, in return for its loans to the gov-
ernment, supposed the existence of two species of
value, and accepted of these species in j^ayment: the
effects themselves, namely, of commerce and the
securities of the state; the former a certain value, and
the latter necessarily fluctuating with the political
aspect of the times. In these three cases we per-
ceive three species of doubtful value; Law's share
represented a future, but speculative and very un-
certain, value; the assignats represented certain funds
which might ere long pass from un'der the hands of
their present administrators; and the notes of the
Bank of England represented a value depending upon
engagements regarding the ability of the state to
fulfil which there existed no absolute certainty.
Now the crisis produced by the fluctuation of these
three species of credit corresponded to the difference
of circumstances in the three cases. The sudden
displacement of an enormous sum raised the shares
of the East India Company to an enormous premium;
but a rapidly established credit is exposed to an
equally or still more precipitous decline ; for that
true credit which is founded on the solid basis of
real success must necessarily be as slow in its growth
as the success itself The assignats again could not
experience such a sudden rise in value, for they re-
presented a certain portion of land, a species of value
least of all exposed, in the nature of things, to rapid
fluctuation. In proportion, however, as the public
confidence in the permanence of the administration
declined, the assignats declined in value; and in pro-
portion as they declined in value, the existing govern-
ment was compelled to supply the loss of funds by
increasing the issue, which again operated to depre-
ciate its paper-money. The notes of the Bank of
England, depending on mercantile credit or the real
security of responsible funds, as well as on govern-
ment security, were only slightly affected in credit
by the political aspect of the times. In all the three
cases public credit was attempted to be supported
by forcible measures, the injustice of which was
just in proportion to the degree of suspicion at-
tached to that false system of credit which they were
designed to support. Law fixed the value of shares
in notes, and thus forced a circulation for the latter.
The French revolutionary government punished the
refusal of its assignats at their nominal value with
death. In England the bank was relieved of the
obligation to cash its notes at sight. Law again
endeavours to drive specie altogether out of the
market, and render paper the only legal tender; the
revolutionists fix the maximum of all exchange; and
the Bank of England, whose security was less ques-
tionable, threw itself on the patriotism of the London
merchants, who relieved it from its embarrassment
by agreeing to accept of its notes in payment from
their debtors. Thus we see, 1st, that every system
of public credit ought to represent a certain real
value, and not to be founded on mere anticipation
of a value yet to be created ; 2dly, that it is impos-
sible by fixed measures to sustain an arbitrary value;
and, jdly, that where forced values are resorted to,
they are rejected by all who are at liberty to reject
them, and are followed by the ruin of those who are
not in a condition to refuse them.

Law, at his last interview with the Duke of
Orleans, is reported to have said: — "My lord, I

acknowledge that I have committed great faults; I
did so Ijecause I am a man, and all men arc liable
to err; but 1 declare to your royal highness that none
of them proceeded from knavery, and that nothing
of that kind will be found in the whole course of my
conduct;" a declaration which the regent and the
Duke of Bourbon bore frank testimony to, at the
same time that they suggested the expediency of his
leaving the kingdom, for which purjiose they offered
to su])ply him with money, his whole property hav-
ing been confiscated ; but Mr. Law, though in pos-
session of only 800 louis d'ors, the wreck of a fortune
of 10,000,000 of livres, refused to receive any assist-
ance from other funds than his own, and on the 22d
of December, 1720, arrived at Brussels, where he
was received witli tlie greatest respect by the governor
and resident nobility. Early in January, 172 1, he
appeared at Venice, under the name of M. du Jardin,
where he is said to have had a conference with the
Chevalier de St. George, and the famous Cardinal
Alberoni, minister of Spain. From Venice he tra-
velled through (lermany to Copenhagen, wdiere he
had the honour of an audience with Prince Frederick.
During his residence at the Danish capital he re-
ceived an invitation from the British ministry to
return to his native country, with which he com-
plied, and was presented on his arrival to George I.
by Sir John Norris, the admiral of the Baltic
squadron. On the 28th of November he pleaded
at the bar of the King's Bench his majesty's pardon
for the murder of Edward Wilson, and was attended
on this occasion by the Duke of Argyle, the Earl of
Hay, and several other friends.

Mr. Law's reappearance in Britain excited some
uneasy feelings on the part of various senators. The
Earl of Coningsby, in particular, moved the House
of Lords for an inquiry whether Sir John Norris had
orders to bring over a person of his dangerous char-
acter. The affair, however, was hushed, and it is
thought that he at first received some kind of pen-
sion or allowance from the British government.
Meanwhile, he maintained a constant correspond-
ence with the regent of France, who caused his
official salary of 20,000 livres per annum to be re-
gularly remitted to him, and held several consulta-
tions with the council respecting the propriety of
recalling him. The sudden death, however, of the
regent, on the 2d of December, 1723, was a fatal
blow to the reviving hopes of the ci-devant minister
of finance. His pension ceased to be remitted, his
prospect of a reversion from the sale of his property
in France was annihilated, his embaiTassments at
home increased, and demands were made upon him
by the India Company to the enormous amount of
20,236,375 livres. On the 25th of August, 1724,
we find him addressing a letter to the Duke of
Bourbon from London, in which he writes: —

"Notwithstanding the confusion in which my
affairs have become involved, one hour will suffice
to put your highness in full acquaintance with them.
The subjoined memoir explains by what means I
purpose to fulfil my engagements and obtain a live-
lihood for myself The means which I suggest are
of the very simplest nature. It is likewise the in-
terest of the state that my affairs should be wound
up; for although the number of those who desire my
return is not great, their confidence in me is con-
siderable, and must either destroy or retard the suc-
cess of those measures which have been adopted by
those persons to whom the king has been pleased to
intrust the management of the finances. If my
matters were arranged, Madame Law, my daughter,
my brother, and his family, would return to England,
and I would fix myself here in such a manner as

476

JOHN LAW.

should convince the public that I entertained no
intention of ever again setting foot in France.

"Those who have set themselves to oppose me by
retarding the decision in my case have acted thus
upon a mistaken principle altogether, and against
their own view of things; they accuse me of having
done the tiling which tiiey would have done them-
selves if they had been in my place; and in examin-
ing into mj conduct they are unintentionally doing
me a great honour. There are few, perhaps no
instances, of a stranger having acquired the un-
limited confidence of a prince, and realized a real
fortune by means perfectly honourable, and who yet
on leaving France reserved notliing for himself and
his family, not even the fortune which he had brought
into the country with him.

"Your highness knows that I never entertained
the idea of making my escape from France. I had
made no provision for this purpose when it was
announced to me that the regent had ordered me to
be provided with passports; for I had indeed at one
time thought of quilting the kingdom, when I re-
quested his royal highness' permission to resign my
office; but after that I had deliberated upon the rea-
sons which the prince then urged against my taking
this step, I renounced the idea altogether, although
fully aware of the personal danger to which I would
expose myself by remaining in France after having
ceased to hold office in the administration.

"I have said that my enemies have advised
measures opposed even to their own principles; for
if what they allege had been true — if I had carried a
great sum of money with me out of the kingdom — it
would surely have been their truest policy to have
induced me to return with my son. If they had
acted dispassionately in this matter they would have
afforded me every facility in arranging my affairs;
and it is my belief that, had his highness the Duke
of Orleans lived, I would have been invited back to
France. A short time before the prince's death he
was pleased to express his approbation of my con-
duct; to give me certain marks of his esteem; he was
satisfied that my plans would have completely suc-
ceeded if the juncture of extraordinary circumstances
liad not compelled others to interfere with them; he
felt that he yet required my assistance; he asked my
opinion regarding the present situation of the king-
dom; and he was pleased to say that he yet counted
on my aid in raising France to her proper elevation
and weight in Europe. These are facts with which
I am persuaded your highness was made acquainted
by the prince himself"

The late M. Law de Lauriston transmitted to Mr.
Wood, the biographer of the comptroller-general,
a complete copy of the memorial which accompanied
this letter, and of which only some detached frag-
ments are published in the GiHvres dc y. Liuc, Paris,
1790. Mr. Wood supplies us with the following
passage from this document: — "When I retired to
Guermande," says the memorialist, "I had no hopes
that the regent would have permitted me to leave
the kingdom; I had given over all thoughts thereof
when your highness sent to inform me of his inten-
tion to accord that permission; and the next day,
immediately on receiving the passports, I set off
Consider, my lord, if being in the country, removed
from any paper and books, it were in my power to
put in order affairs that ret[uired not only leisure,
but also my presence in Paris, to arrange properly;
and if it is not a piece of great injustice for the India
Company to wish to take advantage of the condition
to which I was reduced ; and of the dishonest conduct
of clerks in requiring from me payment of sums I do
not in fact owe, and which, even tliough I had been

owing, were, as I have shown, expended for their
service, and payable in actions or notes, of which
effects belonging to me they at that time had, and
still have, on their books to the amount of double or
treble the .sum they demand. No, my lord, I cannot
bring myself to accuse the company of so much as
the intention to injure me. That company owes its
birth to me. For them I have sacrificed everything,
even my property and my credit, being now bank-
rupt, not only in France, but also in all other coun-
tries. For them I have sacrificed the interests of my
children, whom I tenderly love, and who are de-
serving of all my affections; these children, courted
by the most considerable families in France, are now
destitute of fortune and of establishments. I had it
in my power to have settled my daughters in mar-
riage in the first houses of Italy, Germany, and Eng-
land; but I refused all offers of that nature, thinking
it inconsistent with my duty to, and my affection
for, the state in whose service I had the honour to
be engaged. I do not assume to myself any merit
from this conduct, and I never so much as spoke
upon the subject to the regent. But I cannot help
oljserving that this mode of behaviour is diametri-
cally opjKjsite to the idea my enemies wish to impute
to me; and surely all Europe ought to have a good
opinion of my disinterestedness, and of the condition
to which I am reduced, since I no longer receive
any proposals of marriage for my children.

"My lord, I conducted myself with a still greater
degree of delicacy : for I took care not to have my
son or my daughter married even in France, althougli
I had the most splendid and advantageous offers of
that kind. I did not choose that any part of my
protection should be owing to alliances; but that it
should depend solely upon the intrinsic merits of my
project."

These representations failed to produce the de-
sired effect; the India Company refused to allow him
credit for the notes and actions in their hands be-
longing to him, while they at the same time insisted
on his making payment in specie of the sums owing
to them; the government with equal injustice confis-
cated his whole property in France. In 1725 -Mr-
Law bade a final adieu to Britain, and retired to
Venice, where he died in a state little removed from
indigence, on the 21st of March, 1729, in the fifty-
eighth year of his age. He lies buried in one of
the churches of the city, where a monument to his
memory is still to be seen.

Such is a brief outline of the history of one of the
most extraordinary projectors of modern times.
That he deceived himself is, we think, quite evident
from the whole tenor of his conduct; that he should
have deceived others is not wonderful, if we consider
the spirit and circumstances of the times in which
he lived, the ignorance of the public mind respect-
ing the great jirinciples of credit and currency, and
the personal advantages and experience which the
master-projector possessed. He is said to have pre-
sented an uncommonly engaging external appearance.
"6>«/tv//," says the French historian of his system,
"satis flattcric, U viettre mi rang des homnics Ics
viicii.x fails." In Brunley's Catalogue of British Por-
traits four engravings of Law are noticed, by Anglois,
Hubert, Des Rochers, and Schmidt. The best por-
trait of him was a crayon portrait by Rosalba in the
Earl of Oxfonl's gallery. Of his moral character we
have already spoken. Lockhart of Carnwath relates
that, even before he left Scotland, he was "nicely
expert in all manner of debaucheries."

Law never composed any treatise ; his works are
confined to memorials and justificatoiy statements,
or explanations of his views and plans. Towards

1

JOHN LEE.

477

the end of the year 1790, the epoch of tlie creation
of the assignats, there appeared at Paris an octavo
vohnne, entitled GLuvres de y. La'ui, Cottrollair-
general dcs Finances de France sous le Regent. This
work was ably edited by M. Senour, and is in high
estimation in Erance. The writings relating to
Law's system are very numerous ; Stewart, Ganilh,
and Storch have all commented witli ability upon
his measures; and Duclos and Marmontel have com-
posed very interesting memoirs of the projector and
liis system. In general, however, all the French
writers of the eighteenth century have commented
with great severity upon Law and his proceedings.
Fourbonais was the first to do justice to this great
but unfortunate man. Dutot, in his Rtjlexions PoU-
tL]nes sur le Commerce ct les Finances, printed at the
Hague in 1738, has discussed the state of affairs at
the giving way of the syston, and the effect of the
famous edicts of the 5th March and 2 1st May, with
great sagacity; Duverney's Ilistoire du SysAme des
Finances sons la Minorite de Louis XV., pendant les
Annees 1719 et I "20, is a most valuable collection
of edicts and state-papers relative to French finances,
in two volumes. Mr. John Philip Wood's Memoir
of tlie Life of yo/in Law of Lauriston^ Is the best
account which has yet been given to the British pub-
lic of this extraordinary man, and the rise and fall
of his fortunes.

Law married Lady Catharine Knollys, third
daughter of Nicholas, third Earl of Banbury, by
whom he had one son, John Law of Lauriston, and
one daughter, Mary Catharine, who married her
first cousin, William Viscount Wallingford, who
was afterwards called to the House of Peers by the
title of Baron Althorp. Lady Wallingford survived
her husband more than half a century, and died in
London on the 14th of October, 1790, leaving no
issue. Her brother succeeded his father in 1729,
and died a cornet of the regiment of Nassau Fries-
land, at Maestricht, in 1734- William Law, third
son of Jean Campbell of Lauriston, succeeded to the
entail on the extinction of the issue male of her eldest
son. His eldest son John rose to the rank of com-
mandant-general and president of council of the
French settlement in India, and died at Paris about
1796; and on the 2ist of May, 1808, Francis John
William Law, a merchant in London, of the reformed
religion, was served nearest and legitimate heir of
entail and provision of his father John Law, and
entered into the possession of the estate of Lauriston,
to the exclusion of his elder brothers, who were
Roman Catholics. Law's grandson, Count de Lauri-
ston, was one of the generals of Napoleon Bona-
parte. '

LEE, Rev. Dr. John. This venerable clergy-
man, who filled so many high offices in our literary
institutions and the church, and left behind him so
high a reputation in ecclesiastical antiquarianism,
was the son of parents in humble life, and born at
Torwoodlee jNIains, parish of Stow, on the Gala
Water. Being intended for the medical profession,
he was some time under the celebrated Dr. Leyden,
and afterwards studied in the university of Edinburgh,
where he took the degree of M.A. The Czar of
Russia having resolved to establish a university at
Wilna, in Russian Poland, its chair of moral philo-
sophy was offered to Mr. Lee; but, perhaps fortu-
nately for him, a change of the political relations
between Russia and Great Britain prevented his ap-
pointment. Having finished his medical studies at
Edinburgh, and graduated as M.D., he obtained an

' Edinburgh, 1824, i2mo, pp. 234.

appointment in the hospital department of the army,
but did not hold it long, as he had now directed hi;;
views to the clerical profession; in consequence of
which he returned to college, attended the usual
courses of theology, and was licensed to preach by
the presbytery of Edinburgh in 1807. His first
clerical charge was one of the Scottish chapels in
London in connection with the Church of Scotland;
but in iSoS he was presented to the parish of Peebles,
of which he became minister, and where, during a
stay of four years, his rising talents began to bring
him into notice. In 1812 he was appointed professor
of church-histor)' in the university of St. Andrews,
by the crown, to which the patronage of the chair
belongs, and from this he was transferred to the pro-
fessorship of moral philosophy in King's College,
Old Aberdeen, which charge he fdled during the
session of 1 820-1. After this short stay in Aberdeen
he was presented by the crown to the first charge of
the Canongate Church, Edinburgh, where he had for
his colleague the venerable Dr. Buchanan.

While he held this charge in the Canongate, Dr.
Lee engaged in a bold and difficult enterprise, which
will endear his memory to Scotland and the Chris-
tian world at large. It was the emancipation of the
Scriptures from the monopoly of the royal printers.
A single company enjoyed this privilege in Scotland,
and the consequence of such restriction was that the
price at which Bibles were sold weighed heavily
upon the poor. Aware of this evil. Dr. Lee com-
menced an agitation for a free and cheap circulation
of the Scriptures; and he was leader of the party
who held that no British sovereign had the right to
trammel the publication of the Bible, or confine its
printing to any privileged company whatever. He
also, with much trouble and expense, collected mate-
rials for several treatises which he wrote upon the
subject — and the result was, that after a litigation of
several years, this exclusive right of printing the
Bible was abrogated. Having now become a person
of some note and influence, he was hi 1824 appointed
one of the commissioners for inquiring into the state
of the universities of Scotland, on which occasion he
drew up the report on the university of Glasgow;
and in the same year he was presented to the church
and parish of Lady Yester's, Edinburgh. An ap-
pointment still more important to the Church of
Scotland followed in 1827, when he was elected
clerk of the General Assembly. It may be averred,
that from his profound knowledge of the history of
the church and its forms, no one was so well qualified
for such a responsible situation; and in every doubt-
ful question, \\\\q\\ such subjects were at issue, his
memory could readily produce those precedents
by which all cavil or uncertainty was terminated.
Another office which he admirably discharged, as
clerk of the assembly, was to draw up the pastoral
addresses in the name of the church to its several
congregations; and these were pervaded with such
apostolic simplicity and unction, that they continued
to be remembered after the living voice of their
writer had ceased to be heard. In the meantime,
the various promotions of Dr. Lee were still going
on, and with almost unexampled rapidity. In 1830
he was appointed one of the royal chaplains for
Scotland. In 1835 '^^ '^^'^^ inducted to the collegiate
charge of the Old Church, Edinburgh, as successor
to Dr. Brown, and colleague of Dr. Macknight; and
in 1837 he received from the crown the appointment
of principal of the united colleges of St. Salvador
and St. Leonard, St. Andrews, which charge, how-
ever, he held only for a single session. In 1839 he
was appointed principal of the university of St.
Andrews, and in 1S40 he was elected principal of

478

ROBERT LEIGIITOX.

the university of Edinburgh by the town-council,
•who were its patrons. As an ecclesiastic he could
rise no higher; and, resigning his charge in the Old
Church, he continued in the principalsliip to the end
of his days. Several offices, however, chiefly hono-
rary, were added to it. In 1841 he was appointed
one of the deans of the chajiel roya! ; in 1843, ''>^'
memorable year of the disruption, in consequence of
the retirement of l)r. Chalmers from the Establish-
ment, he was api^ointed professor of divinity in the
university of Edinburgh, which charge he held
along with that of principal; and in 1844 he was
chosen moderator of the General Assembly, lie
was doctor of every faculty except that of music,
being .M.D., D.D., and LL.U., but of the three last
titles he had shown himself everyway worthy, by
his profound erudition, his varied attainments, and
his manifold services as minister, clerk of assembly,
professor, and principal.

From the extensive scholarship of Dr. Lee, and
especially his profound and accurate knowledge in
Scottish antiquarianism, it was expected that some
great work commensurate with such attainments
would have proceeded from his j^en to endure as an
evidence of his worth. Such was the yearly expec-
tation of his friends, and it was encouraged by his
avowed purpose to attempt such an undertaking.
But it was never fulfilled. It may be that the nervous
irresolution to make a beginning which sometimes
besets even the highly intellectual, and persuades
them to pause until the opportunity has gone for ever
— or the rapid series of changes through which he
passed, that kept his sandals continually girt and the
pilgrim's staff in his hand — disinclined him to such
an attempt, even when the season was favourable.
As it was, his productions were chiefly pamphlets
for the hour and the occasion, and his Lectures on
the History of the Church of Scotland from the Re-
formation to the Revolution, which were published
after his death by his son, the Rev. William Lee.
After a short illness the principal died at his resid-
ence in the college of Edinburgh, on the 2d of May,
1S59, having reached the seventy-ninth year of his
age.

LEIGHTON, Robert, an ecclesiastic of singular
learning, integrity, and benevolence, was born in
1611, and descended from an ancient and respectable
family, who were long in possession of the estate
called Ulyshaven, in Forfarshire. Their names are
mentioned in several parts of history, and even so
far back as Doomsday Book. In 1424 Dr. Henry
Leighton, Bishop of Moray, and afterwards of Aber-
deen, was deputed as one of the commissioners to
negotiate for the release of James I., at that time a
prisoner in England. The family estate of Ulyshaven
was lost to the house of Leighton in the seventeenth
century, as they had by that time decayed in wealth
and interest.

Dr. Alexander Leighton, father of the subject of
this memoir, was educated at St. Andrews, where
he obtained the degree of Doctor of Divinity. He
afterwards went to Leyden, and applied himself to
the study of physic, and so far succeeded as to gradu-
ate there. The Scottish church at Utrecht being
in want of a minister, and he being, according to
all accounts, a man of great piety and learning, the
charge was offered to him, which he accepted, and
he continued to officiate there for some time ; but
not approving of the holidays observed by the Dutch
church, and having some difference on the subject,
he finally resigned, lie was there styled Doctor
of Medicine and Scottish minister. AVe shall com-
press, in the shortest limits possible, the most pro-

minent actions of this man's eventful life, as his name
is conspicuous in history from the cmel persecution
which lie suffered.

On his arrival in London from Holland he saw
with grief and indignation that the Presbyterian
church, of which he was a stern defender, was likely
to be subverted in Scotland, through the policy of
Charles I. and his ministers — and being a man, ac-
cording to Burnet, "of much untempered zeal," and
fond of polemics, he published several tracts against
Episcopacy, which gave great offence to the members
of that jK'rsuasion. He at this time intended to
commence the medical profession in London ; but
the College of Physicians interdicted him from prac-
tice within seven miles of the city, as a person they
considered disgraceful to their profession; an allega-
tion he disputed and disproved, by claiming a right,
in virtue of his having graduated in the college of
Leyden. They did not deny his being a clergyman;
but at that time he had no living. He soon after
this drew down upon himself the vengeance of that
tyrannical and unconstitutional court, the Star-cham-
ber. The work for which he was prosecuted, ac-
cording to Burnet, is entitled Zion's Plea against
Prelates ; the name of the author and printer were
omitted, and instead of the date of publication, the
following words were added — "Printed the year and
moneth wherein Rochelle was lost," — evidently in-
tended as a stigma for that city being allowed to be
taken by the P'rench Catholics from the Protestants
in 1628; an event \\hich it was well known Charles
might have prevented, if he had had the interests of
Protestantism really at heart. There was also pre-
fixed to this work — which it appears was printed in.
Holland — a hieroglyphical vignette, seemingly de-
signed to recommend the subversion of Prelacy.
This is described in the infoiTnations by Rushworth,
"as a most seditious scandal upon the king, state,
and kingdom, wickedly affirming that all that pass
us spoil us, and we spoil all that rely upon us, and
amongst the rest the black pining death of the
famished Rochelles, to the number of 15,000 in four
months ; by which passages he did, so much as in
him lay, scandal his majesty's person, his religious
wife, and just government, especially the reverend
bishops." Soon after this offensive work was put
into circulation Dr Leighton was arrested by a war-
rant from the high-commission court, and committed
to Newgate, where he was confined for fifteen weeks
in a loathsome cell full of vermin, without a bed to
rest upon, and openly exposed to the inclemency of
the weather : none of his family or friends were per-
mitted to see him ; »nd in the meantime his house
was forcibly entered, and not only his books and
papers, but every article of furniture, carried away.

The cause was tried on the 4th of June, 1 630.
The defendant, in his answer, owned the writing of
the book, but denied all intention of evil, his end
being only to remonstrate against certain grievances
in church and state, under which the people suffered,
to the end that parliament might take them into
consideration, and give such redress as might be for
the honour of the king, the quiet of the people, and
the peace of the church. Nevertheless, the court
adjudged unanimously, that for this offence the doc-
tor " should be committed to the prison of the Fleet
for life, and ]iay a fine of _;,^lo,ooo; that the high-
commission should degrade him from his ministry,
and that then he should be brought to the pillory
at Westminster, while the court was sitting, and be
whipped; after whipping, be set in the pillory a con-
venient time, and have one of his ears cut off, and
one side of his nose slit, and be branded in the face
with a double S. S., iox sozver of sedition ; that then

i!ii&Kre3."b7 S. Fivi-

,Ai-iMi-; '■■ Kd'i r,jjAf:(iOW,roTmroi«3.H.)i- I.OMlirw.

vV-'

V'V^'^'

ROBERT LEIGHTON".

479

he should be carried back to prison, and after a few
days be pilloried a second time in Cheapside, and
be there likewise whipped, and have the other side
of his nose slit, and his other ear cut off, and then
be shut up in close prison for the remainder of his
life;" a sentence only to be compared with the worst
acts of the infernal inquisition of Spain. Archbisliop
Laud, on hearing the unfortunate man condemned,
pulled off his hat, and hokling up his hands, gave
thanks to God who had given him the victory over
his enemies. This barbarous sentence being given
towards the end of Trinity term, and the court not
usually sitting after the term unless upon emergent
occasions, and it requiring some time in the eccle-
siastical court in order to the degradation of the
defendant, it was Michaelmas following before any
part of the sentence could be put in execution. On
the loth of November he was to have undergone
the punishment awarded to him; however, the night
before he contrived, with the assistance of one Liv-
ingston and Anderson, to effect his escape. A hue
and cry was immediately issued by order of the
privy-council, ordering his apprehension, which de-
scribed him as a man of low stature, fair complexion,
high forehead, and yellowish beard, about forty or
fifty years of age. He scarcely was at large one
week when he was seized in Bedfordshire, and
brought back to the Fleet. Rushworth, in his His-
torical Collections, says, "On Friday, the i6th of
November, part of the sentence on Dr. Leighton
was executed upon him in this manner, in the new
palace at Westminster. He was severely whipped
before he was put in the pillory. Being set in the
pillory, he had one of his ears cut off, one side of
his nose slit, was branded on the cheek with a red-
hot iron with the letters S. S., sotvcr of sedition, and
afterwards carried back again prisoner to the Fleet,
to be kept in close custody. And on that day seven-
night, his sores upon his back, ear, nose, and face
not being cured, he was whipped again at the pillory
in Cheapside, and there had the remainder of his
sentence executed upon him, by cutting off the other
ear, slitting the other side of the nose, and branding
the other cheek." His unfortunate companions who
aided him to escape were also brought before the
Star-chamber, and out of respect to their "penitency"
they were only fined ;^5oo each, and committed to
the Fleet during the king's pleasure.

In that vile prison, in a filthy, dark, and unwhole-
some dungeon, the unhappy Leighton was incarcer-
ated for upwards of eleven years, without once being
suffered to breathe in the open air; and when at
length released from his miserable confinement, he
could neither walk, see, nor hear. His release was
only effected when the sitting of the long parliament
had changed the state of things in England. "At
the reading of his petition in the House of Commons,"
says Brook, "giving an account of the dreadful bar-
barity with which he had been treated, the members
were so deeply moved and affected, that they could
not bear to hear it without several interniptions with
floods of tears." A committee was appointed to
investigate his case, and the result was, as might
be expected, the exposure of one of the most uncon-
stitutional and horrible pieces of barbarity that ever
stained a nation's annals. The whole proceedings
were declared illegal, and reversed, and "good
satisfaction and reparation were ordered to be made
to him for his great sufferings and damages." Six
thousand pounds were voted on his account ; but it
is veiy uncertain in those distracted times if he ever
received it.

In 1642 Lambeth House was converted into a
prison, and he was made keeper of it, on account,

it is said, of liis knowledge of the medical profession.
He did not survive this unworthy ajipointment long,
and the wonder only is, how human nature could
have borne up against such dreadful inflictions as he
had endured.

Roiu'.RT Leighton, some time Bishop of Duni-
blane, and afterwards Archbishop of Glasgow, son
to Alexander, and the proper subject of this memoir,
was, according to Pearson in a late edition of his
works, born in Edinburgh, and received his educa-
tion at that university, which he entered as a student
in 1627. From his earliest years he was conspicu-
ous for exemj)lai-y piety and a humble disposition ;
with talents of the rarest description, and a happy
facility of acquiring a knowledge of languages. He
was, above all, fond of studying the Scrijitures, and
was profoundly skilled in every branch of theological
learning. Two of the masters at that time in the
university whose classes he attended, namely Robert
Rankin, professor of philosophy, and James Fairley,
professor of divinity, were strongly in favour of Epis-
copacy; the latter having afterwards become Bishop
of Argyle. It is more than probable that their
opinions, being early imbibed by Leighton, continued
in after-life to exercise a considerable influence over
him. This may in a great degree serve to explain
why he seceded from the I'resbyterian church. He
became Master of Arts in 1631, and having by that
time completed his course of academical studies, he
was sent abroad for further improvement, and took
up his residence at Douay in France, where some of
his relations lived. There he formed an intimacy
with many of the best educated of the Roman Catho-
lic gentlemen who were attending the college, and
being naturally fond of exploring every system of
ecclesiastical polity, where he found men of worth
adhering to forms of religion even at variance with
his own, he loved them in Christian charity for the
virtue they possessed, and thought less rigidly of
their doctrine. While in France he acquired a per-
fect knowledge of the language, which he spoke
with all the fluency of the most polished native. It
is impossible to ascertain how he passed the inter-
mediate ten years from the time he went to Douay.
All we can gather with certainty is, that in 1641, on
his return from the Continent, and immediately after
the triumph of Presbytery in Scotland, he was, at
the age of thirty, and in the veiy year of his father's
liberation from his cruel confinement, settled as
Presbyterian minister in the parish of Newbattle, in
the county of Edinburgh. There he was most un-
remitting in the sacred duties of his office, preaching
peace and good-will amongst all men, carefully
avoiding to mix or interfere with the distractions of
that stormy period, when the pulpit was made the
vehicle of political disputes. It being the custom
of the presbytery to inquire of the brethren twice
a year, whether they had preached to the times:
"For God's sake," answered Leighton, "when all
my brethren preach to the times, suffer one poor
priest to preach for eternity.'''' This moderation
could not fail to give offence; — the fact is, he seems
to have regarded their disputes as trivial in compari-
son with the high and sacred duties he felt himself
called upon to perform in his holy office. He seldom
or never attended the meetings of the presbyter}',
which was undoubtedly part of his duty as a Presby-
terian minister, but chose rather to live in strict
retirement, alive only to the care of his own parish,
in which he proved himself a faithful and zealous
pastor. Of all the accounts of this eminent divine
there is none so strictly correct as that left on record
by his friend and illustrious contemporary, Bishop
Bumet, which we shall here quote in full, as we are

48o

ROBERT LEIGHTOX.

persuaded that nothing could be given either so
entertaining or so full of information.

"Robert, eldest son of Dr. Leighton, was bred in
Scotland, and was accounted a saint from his youth
up. He had great quickness of parts, a lively ap-
prehension, with a charming vivacity of thought and
expression. He had the greatest command of the
purest Latin I ever knew in any man; he was master
of both Greek and Hebrew, and of the whole com-
pass of theological learning, chiefly in the study of
the Scriptures. But tiiat wliicii excelled all the rest
was, he was possessed with the highest and boklest
sense of divine things that I ever saw in any man ;
he had no regard for his person, unless it was to
mortify it by a constant low diet, that was like a
perpetual fast. He had both a contempt of wealth
and reputation: he seemed to have the lowest thoughts
of himself possible, and to desire that all other per-
sons should think as meanly of him as he did him-
self. Pie bore all sorts of ill usage and reproach
like a man that took pleasure in it. He had so
subdued the natural heat of his temper that in a great
variety of accidents, and in the course of twenty years
of intimate conversation with him, I never observed
the least sign of passion but upon one single occa-
sion. He brought himself into so composed a gravity
that I never saw him laugh, and but seldom smile ;
and he kept himself in such a constant recollection,
that I do not remember that I ever heard him say
one idle word. There was a visible tendency in all
he said to raise his own mind, and those he conversed
with, to serious reflections. He seemed to be in a
perpetual meditation; and, though the whole course
of his life was strict and ascetical, yet he had no-
thing of the sourness of temper that generally pos-
sesses men of that sort. He was the freest from
superstition, of censuring others, or of imposing his
own methods on them, jjossible ; so that he did not
so much as recommend them to others. He said
there was a diversity of tempers, and every man was
to watch over his own, and to turn it in the best
manner he could. His thoughts were lively, oft out
of the way and surprising, yet just and genuine.
And he had laid together, in his memory, the great-
est treasure of the best and wisest of all the ancient
sayings of the heathens as well as Christians, that I
have ever known any man master of, and he used
them in the adeptest manner possible. He had been
bred up with the greatest aversion possible to the
whole frame of the Church of England. From
Scotland his father sent him to travel. He spent
some years in France, and spoke the language like
one born there. He came afterwards and settled
in Scotland, and had the Presbyterian ordination ;
but he quickly bore through the prejudices of his
education. His preaching had a sublimity both of
thought and expression in it. The grace and gravity
of his pronunciation was such, that few heard him
without a very sensible emotion ; 1 am sure I never
did. His style was rather too fine ; but there was a
majesty and beauty in it that left so deep an impres-
sion, that I cannot yet forget the sermons I heard
him preach thirty years ago ; and yet with this he
seemed to look on himself as so ordinary a preacher,
that while he had the cure, he was ready to employ
all others, and wlien he was a bishop he chose to
preach to small auditories, and would never give
notice beforehand. He had indeed a very low voice,
and so could not be heard by a great crowd. He
soon came to see into the follies of the Presbyterians,
and to dislike their covenant, particularly their im-
posing it, and their fury against all who differed from
them. He found they were not capable of large
thouglits; theirs were narrow as their tempers were

sour; so he grew weary of mixing with them. He
scarce ever went to tlieir meetings, and lived in great
retirement, minding only the care of his own parish
at Newbattle, near Edinburgh. Yet all the opposi-
tion that he made to them was, that he preached
up a more exact rule of life than seemed to them
consistent with human nature ; but his o\\n jjractice
did outshine his doctrine.

"In the year 1648 he declared himself for the
engagement for the king. But the Earl of I.othian,
wlio lived in his parish, had so high an esteem for
him, tjiat he jiersuaded the violent men not to meddle
with him, though he gave occasion to great excep-
tion ; for when some of his parish who had been in
the engagement were ordered to make public pro-
fession of their repentance for it, he told them they
had been in an expedition in which he believed they
had neglected their duty to God, and had been guilty
of injustice and violence, of drunkenness, and other
immoralities, and he charged them to repent of these
seriously, without meddling with the quarrel or the
grounds of that war. He entered into a great cor-
respondence with many of the Episcopal party, and
with my own father in particular, and did wholly
separate himself from the Presbyterians. At last he
left them and withdrew from his cure, for he could
not do the things imposed on him any longer. And
yet he hated all contention so much that he chose
rather to leave them in a silent manner, than to en-
gage in any disputes with them. But he had gene-
rally the reputation of a saint and of something above
human nature in him; so the mastership of the Edin-
burgh College falling vacant some time after, and it
being in the gift of the city, he was prevailed on to
accept it, because in it he \\as wholly separated from
all church matters. He continued ten years in that
post, and was a great blessing in it ; for he talked
so to all the youth of any capacity or distinction, that
it had a great effect upon them. He preached often
to them, and if crowds broke in, which they were
apt to do, he would have gone on in his sermon in
Latin, with a purity and life that charmed all who
understood it. Thus he had lived above twenty
years in Scotland, in the highest reputation that any
man in my time ever had in the kingdom. He had
a brother well known at court. Sir Elisha, who was
very like him in face and in the vivacity of his parts;
but the most unlike him in all other things that can
be imagined. For though he loved to talk of great
sublimities in religion, yet he was a very immoral
man. He was a Papist of a form of his own ; but
he had changed his religion to raise himself at court,
for he was at that time secretary to the Duke of
York, and was very intimate with Lord Aubigny,
a brother of the Duke of Richmond's, who had
changed his religion, and was a priest, and had
probably been a cardinal if he had lived longer.
He maintained an outward decency, and had more
learning and better notions than men of quality who
enter into the church generally have. Yet he was
a very vicious man ; and that perhaps made him the
more considered by the king [Charles H.], who loved
and trusted him to a higli degree. No man had
more credit with the king ; for he was in the secret
as to his religion, and was more trusted with the
whole designs that were then managed in order to
establish it, than any man whatsoever. Sir Elisha
brought his brother and him acquainted; for Leightoa
loved to know men in all the varieties of religion.
In the vacation time he made excursions and came
often to London, where he observed all the eminent
men in Cromwell's court, and in the several parties
then about the city of London ; but he told me that
they were men of unquiet and meddling tempers;

ROBERT LEIGHTON.

481

and that their discourses were verj' dry and un-
savoury, full of airy cant or of bombast swellings.
Sometimes he went over to Elanders to see what lie
could find in the several orders of the Church of
Rome. There he found some of Jansenius' fol-
lowers, who seemed to be men of extraordinary
tempers, and studied to bring things, if possible, to
the purity and simplicity of the primitive ages ; on
wliich all his thoughts were much set. He thought
controversies had been too much insisted upon, and
had been carried too far. His brother, who thought
of nothing but the raising himself at court, fancied
that his being made a bishop might render himself
more consideraljle ; so he possessed Lord Aubigny
with such an opinion of him, that he made the king
apprehend that a man of his piety and his notions
(and his not being married was not forgot) might
contribute to carry on their designs. He fancied
such a monastic man, who had a great stretch of
thought and so many other eminent qualities, would
be a mean at least to prepare the nation for Popery,
if he did not directly come over to them, for his
brother did not stick to say he was sure that lay at
tlie root with him. So the king named him of his
own proper motion, which gave all those who began
to suspect the king himself great jealousies of him.
Leighton was averse to this promotion as much as
possible. His brother had great power over him,
for he took care to hide his vices from him, and to
make before him a show of piety. He seemed to
be a Papist rather in name and show than in reality,
of which I will set down one instance that was then
much talked of. Some of the Church of England
loved to magnify the sacrament in an extraordinary
manner, affirming the real presence, only blaming
the Church of Rome for defining the manner of it,
saying Christ was present in the most inconceivable
manner. This was so much the mode that the king
and all the court went into it; so the king, upon some
raillery about transubstantiation, asked Sir Elisha if
he believed it. He answered he could not well tell,
but he was sure the Church of England believed it ;
and when the king seemed amazed at that, he re-
plied. Do you not believe that Christ is present in
the most inconceivable manner — which the king
granted. Then said he, That is just transubstantia-
tion, the most inconceivable thing that was ever yet
invented. When Leighton was prevailed upon to
accept a bishopric, he chose Dumblane, a small
diocese as well as a little revenue. But the deanery
of the chapel-royal was annexed to that see. So he
was willing to engage in that, that he might set up
the common prayer in the king's cha]3el, for the
rebuilding of which orders were given. The English
clergy were well pleased with him, finding him both
more learned and more thoroughly versed in the
other points of uniformity than the rest of the Scot-
tish clergy, whom they could not much value ; and
though Sheldon did not much like his great strictness,
in which he had no mind to imitate him, yet he
thought such a man as he was might give credit to
Episcopacy, in its first introduction to a nation much
prejudiced against it. Sharpe did not know what
to make of all this. He neither liked his strictness
of life nor his notions. He believed they would not
take the same methods, and fancied he might be
much obscured by him, for he saw he would be well
supported. He saw the Earl of Lauderdale began
to magnify him, and so Sharpe did all he could to
discourage him, but without any effect, for he had
no regard to him. I bear still the greatest venera-
tion for the memory of that man that I do for any
person, and reckon my early knowledge of him,
which happened the year after this, and my long
VOL. II.

and intimate conversation with him, that continued
to his death, for twenty-three years, among the
greatest blessings of my life, and for which I know
I must give an account to God in the great day, in
a most particular manner; and yet, though I know
this account of his promotion may seem a blemish
upon him, I would not conceal it, Ijeing resolved
to write of all persons and things with all possible
candour. I had tlie relation of it from himself, and
more particularly from his brother. But what hopes
soever the Papists had of him at this time, when
he knew nothing of the design of bringing in Poper}',
and had therefore talked of some points of Popery
with the freedom of an abstracted or speculative
man ; yet he expressed another sense of the matter
when he came to see it was really to be brought in
amongst us. He then spoke of Popery in the com-
plex at much another rate ; and he seemed to have
more zeal against it than I thought was in his nature
with relation to any points in controversy, for his
abstraction made him seem cold in all these matters.
But he gave all who conversed with him a very dif-
ferent view of Poper)', when he saw we were really
in danger of coming under the power of a religion
that had, as he used to say, much of the wisdom that
was earthly, sensual, and devilish ; but had nothing
in it of the wisdom that is from above, and is pure
and peaceable. He did indeed think the corruptions
and cruelties of Popery were such gross and odious
things, that nothing could have maintained that
church under those just and visible prejudices but
the several orders among them, which had an ap-
pearance of mortification and contempt of the world,
and with all the work that was among them, main-
tained a face of piety and devotion. He also thought
the great and fatal error of the Reformation was,
that more of those houses, and that course of life
free from the entanglements of vows and other mix-
tures, was not preserved ; so that the Protestant
churches had neither places of education, nor retreat
for men of mortified tempers. I have dwelt long
upon this man's character, but it was so singular that
it seemed to deserve it ; and I was so singidarly
blessed by knowing him as I did, that I am sure he
deserved it of me, that I should give so full a view
of him, M'hich I hope may be of some use to the
world."

Leighton remained ten years principal of the col-
lege of Edinburgh, where he conducted himself with
a degree of diligence, wisdom, and prudence, that
engaged universal respect and esteem, and proved of
essential benefit to the students. The funds of that
seriiinary were then very low, and Leighton did not
scruple to go to London to appeal to the generosity
of Cromwell in favour of his object. That extra-
ordinary man ordered an annuity of ;[^200 a year to
be granted in 165S, a sum that at the time was of
considerable use; but on the death of the Protector,
which took place shortly after, it fell to the ground,
as all his acts were rescinded at the Restoration.
The state of the Presbyterian church in Scotland
when Charles H. ascended the throne was extremely
critical — betrayed by its own ministers, and secretly
hated by the king, who had sworn to defend its
rights. James Sharpe, who was commissioned to
go to London to defend the rights of the Scottish
church, was a man capable of any duplicity or base-
ness that would in the main advance his own in-
terests, while his communications with his brethren
at home were lying and deceitful. He had the
effrontery to impress on the minds of the court that
the people of Scotland were at heart unfriendly to
Presbytery, and secretly attached to Episcopacy.
However Charles may have doubted the truth of

66

482

ROBERT LEIGHTOX.

such an account, he was glad to avail himself of
Sharpe's duplicity to give ascendency to Prelacy; and
notwithstanding the memorials and remonstrances
from the Scottish church, and the interference of men
of rank and importance, he determined on the re-
establishment of a hierarchy in Scotland.

Sharpe, as a reward for his perfidious apostasy, was
to be elevated to the primacy. He had the recom-
mendation also of other persons to fill the different
vacant sees; but Leighton was the last man he would
ever have thought of pointing out, as he shrunk from
approaching a character so upright and virtuous, in
every way superior to himself But Sir Elisha Leigh-
ton, already referred to by Burnet, having aneye to
his own interests, considered that by having a brother,
over whom he had already gained some ascendency,
high in the church, much might be expected. As
he affected to be strongly attached to Popery to
please the Duke of York, whose secretarj' he was,
he vainly thought, as his relative was on many occa-
sions known to evince a great respect for some good
men connected with the Church of Rome, that in
time he might be gained over to promote and adopt
that faith. Blinded by selfish ambition, he was in-
capable of perceiving, like the illustrious Bumet, that
of all men Leighton was the least likely to favour a
religion which he characterized as "earthly, sensual,
and dcNnlish, with nothing in it of the wisdom that
was from above, and was pure and peaceable." In-
deed it was a matter of considerable difficulty, as it
will appear, to prevail upon him to join the Episco-
palians. The king, though pleased at finding Sharpe
and others subser%uent in all points to his wishes, still
knew that their characters must stand degraded in
the eyes of the people, as they were men neither of
piety nor moderation, and that it would be, above
all, necessary to strengthen their ranks by those who
stood high and worthy in the eyes of the world; for
this reason he personally solicited Leighton to accept
of a mitre. The Earl of Lauderdale and his brother,
and some of the most moderate and respectable of his
countrymen, exerted themselves to gain the same re-
sult, but all seemed of no avail. Leighton still refused,
as he evidently mistrusted the men to whom the go-
vernment of the new church was to be confided, and
he could not but see that the methods they resorted to
were violent and repugnant to the principles and
desires of the people of Scotland. "It was at last
mentioned to him that the king had issued positive
orders for him to yield, unless in fact he regarded
the episcopal office as unwarrantable." To that ex-
treme he would not go, as he all along was favour-
able to that order, if divested of its useless pomp.

He was at length persuaded that a regard to the
interests of the church rendered it his duty to accept
it; but in order to demonstrate to the world that
avarice was not his principle, he made choice of
Dumblane, as of small extent and little revenue.
He was consecrated, along with Sharpe and two
other Scottish bishops, at the Abbey Church of
Westminster, which occasion was celebrated with
great feasting and pomp. Leighton could not help
remarking, "that it had not such an appearance of
seriousness or piety as became the new modelling of
a church." It is with considerable hesitation we
are obliged to remark, that in this instance the con-
duct of Leighton e.xhibits a want of the Christian
consistency and simplicity generally displayed in his
character. Admitting that his reason for joining
the Episcopal church was the virtuous intention of
softening down the asperities of two rival systems
which had long struggled for ascendency, yet the
time was unseasonable, when selfish and bad men
were endeavouring by all crooked means to build

their fortunes on the ruin of their country and their
shameful apostasy. He was induced, too, to lend
the weight of his virtuous name in countenancing the
acts of a reckless and unprincipled tyrant, bent on
the total subversion of those forms of religion con-
nected with his earliest associations, and in whose
defence his father had almost suffered mart)Tdom.
That he was free from all interested motives every
one must admit; and in justice to his character we
shall quote from Pearson (p. 43) the following
extract of a letter written by him in reference to his
appointment: — "There is in this preferment some-
thing that would allow of reconciling the devout on
different sides, and of enlarging those good souls you
meet with from their little fetters, though possibly
with little success. Yet the design is commendable
— pardonable at least. However, one comfort I
have, that in what is pressed on me there is the
least of my own choice; yea, on the contrary, the
strongest aversion that I ever had to anything in all
my life; the difficulty, in short, lies in a necessity of
either owning a scruple which I have not, or the
rudest disobedience to the authority that may be.
The truth is, I am yet importuning and struggling
for a liberation, and look upward for it; but whatever
be the issue, I look beyond it and this weary, weary,
wretched world, through which the hand I have re-
signed to, I trust, will lead me into the path of his
own choosing: and, so I may please him, I am satis-
fied. I hope if ever we meet, you shall find me in
the love of solitude and a devout life."

He lost no time in endeavouring to persuade
Sharpe to join with him in some moderate plan,
founded on Archbishop Usher's scheme for uniting
the Presbyterians and Episcopalians, but to his aston-
ishment he found him unwilling even to talk on the
subject. He and the other newly made bishops
seemed only anxious to get possession of their sees.
This circumstance was discouraging to Leighton,
who soon perceived that such men were not designed
by Providence to build up the church. Soon after
their consecration the Scottish bishops went down to
Scotland in one coach; but when they came to Mor-
peth, finding that they intended to be received at
Edinburgh with pomp and ostentation, Leighton
parted company from them, and arrived at the capi-
tal some days before them. He would not even
have the title of lord given to him by his friends,
and was not easy when others used it in addressing
him. Leighton soon perceived with deep regret that
the government was resolved to enforce conformity
on the Presbyterians by severe means. He laboured
all in his power to show the impolicy of such pro-
ceedings, and in the session of parliament in April,
1662, when the ministers to whom the oath of alle-
giance and supremacy was tendered, consented to
take it with an explanation, which they presented to
the house, he pleaded strenuously that it might be
accepted, and insisted that the conditions asked by
the Presbyterians were just, and should in reason be
granted. Sharpe with his usual vehemence answered
that it was below the dignity of government to make
acts to satisfy the scruples of peevish men, and "that
it ill became those who had imposed their covenant
on all people, without any explication, and had
forced all to take it, now to expect such extraordinary
favours." "For that verj- reason," replied Leighton,
"it ought to be done, that all people may see the
difference between the mild proceedings of the
government and their rivals; and that it ill became
the very same persons who had complained of that,
now to practise it themselves, for thus, it may be
said, the world goes mad at times." But the voice
of violence prevailed. The Scottish bishops were

ROBERT LEIGHTOX.

483

entitled to a seat in parliament on their consecration,
and were one and all invited to avail themselves of
the privilege. Leighton was the only one that de-
clined the honour. lie retired to his see, and re-
solved never to appear in parliament unless the in-
terests of religion were called in question, or by his
presence he might assist it. In his own diocese he
set a bright example to his brethren by ]>ractising the
moderation which he recommended, lie studied to
make his clergymen a well-informed, serious, and
useful body of men; and he even tolerated the preach-
ing of non-conforming ministers in districts where the
people were particularly attached to them. He con-
tinued a private and ascetic course of life, and gave
all his income, except the little he expended on his
own person, to the poor. By these means he became
generally beloved through his diocese, and even
softened down the feelings of those who were most
adverse to Episcopacy. .

In the year 1665 the proceedings in Scotland by
the ecclesiastical high-commission were so severe and
illegal, that Leighton was prevailed on to go to
court and lay before the king a true account of them.
On this occasion he assured his majesty that the
measures which Sharpe and other members of the
court pursued were so violent, "that he could not
concur in planting of the Christian religion itself in
such a manner, much less a form of government.
He therefore entreated leave to quit his bishopric,
and to retire, for he thought he was in some sort
accessory to the violence of others." The king
seemed to be deeply affected with the complaints of
the worthy prelate, and issued an order in council
for discontinuing the ecclesiastical commission, and
less rigorous measures were promised to be pursued
with respect to Scotland; but the king would not
hear of Leighton's resigning his see. Deceived by
the specious conduct of Charles on this interview,
and perhaps aware that if he retired he would lose
all authority or chance of standing between the
people of Scotland and persecution, he returned to
his see, and resumed the charge of his sacred func-
tions. It is almost needless to add that no reliance
could be placed on the promise of protection from so
deceitful a monarch. Matters in Scotland were
driven to such dreadful extremities by the base and
tyrannical authorities, that it was impossible to bear
up much longer against them.

In 1667 Leighton was once more prevailed on to
go to London, where he laid before the king the
outrageous conduct of the former administrations of
church affairs, and implored him to adopt more
moderate counsels; in particular he proposed a com-
prehension of the Presbyterian party, by altering the
terms of the laws a little, and by such abatements as
might preserve the whole for the future by giving a
little for the present. This audience had the good
effect of inducing the king to write a letter to the
privy-council, ordering them to indulge such of the
Presbyterians as were moderate and loyal, so far as
to suffer them to sei-ve in vacant churches, though
they did not submit to the ecclesiastical establish-
ment. This small indulgence enraged the Episcopal
party in Scotland; they thought it illegal and fatal
to the interests of the church, and directed an ad-
dress to be drawn up expressive of their sentiments,
tliough they did not venture to present it. A copy,
however, was privately sent up to the court, and
drew down the king's resentment on the head of the
Archbishop of Glasgow. When parliament assem-
bled an act was obtained, a clause of which declared
the settling of all things relating to the external
government of the church to be the right of the
crown. This clause, Leighton informed Burnet,

was surreptitiously inserted after the drauglit and
form of the act was agreed upon, and was generally
thought to be the work of Lauderdale. Such a fear-
ful stretch of the prerogative alarmed both Episco-
palians and Presbyterians; the former said it assimi-
lated the king to a pope; the latter that it placed him
in Christ's stead. The Archbishop of Glasgow
thought it pnident immediately to resign his see, as
he dreaded the coming storm, and knew he had no
other chance of escaping its vengeance. Lauderdale
and Lord Tweeddale fixed upon Leighton, and im-
mediately offered to have him promoted to that high
dignity; but though eagerly solicited by these noble
lords, he respectfully declined the appointment. The
king at last sent for him, and promised that he should
be backed by the assistance of the court in his en-
deavours to accomplish his long-meditated and
favourite scheme of a comprehension of the Presby-
terians. He was at length persuaded to comply, and
in 1670 he, without removing from Dumblane, under-
took the administration of the see of Glasgow; nor
was he at all willing to be consecrated archbishop
until a year after. The plan of accommodation
between the Episcopalians and Presbyterians, the
particulars of which may be seen in Burnet's History,
was, by the king's direction, limited to certain in-
stractions, by which Lauderdale was empowered to
embody the concessions that were to be offered into
laws. Encouraged even by this support, Leighton
had frequent conferences with some of ihe most
eminent Presbyterian ministers, but in vain; he found
it impossible to gain them over even to the most
moderate form of Episcopacy. It is evident the
Presbyterians mistrusted the overture in question,
and looked upon it as a snare to lull their vigilance;
and they had already too many deceitful examples in
a former reign to think that the friends of Prelacy
were now either more humane or honourable. The
result of these negotiations grieved Leighton very
much, while they delighted Sharpe and all of the
same party, to whom ever)-thing like liberality or
concession in favour of peace and religion was alike
unknown or despised. They even went so far as to
hint, in very intelligible tenris, that under the mask of
moderation he was secretly undermining their cause.
Being thus unhappily situated, and despairing of
being able to carry his great designs of healing the
divisions and reforming the abuses in the church, he
resolved to relinquish his see and retire into seclu-
sion. He said "that his work seemed to be at an
end, and that he had no more to do, imless he had
a mind to please himself with the lazy enjoying of a
good revenue." His friend Dr. Burnet endeavoured
all in his power to make him give up this idea, but
all to no purpose; the good man was resolute. He
repaired to London, and after much difficulty ob-
tained the king's reluctant consent to his resignation
on condition that he would remain in office for
another year. The court thought it possible in the
intei-val that he might be gained over to remain and
assist a cause fast falling into hatred and contempt
by his pious and venerable name. He returned
"much pleased with what he had obtained, and said
to Dr. Burnet upon it, that there was now but one
uneasy stage between him and rest, and he ^\■ould
wrestle through it the best he could." He continued
to perform his duties with the same zeal as before,
and at the end of the year 1673 he hastened to
London and tendered his resignation, and was suc-
ceeded by the former possessor of the see. Dr. Alex-
ander Burnet.^ After residing for some time in tlie

' The following paper was left by Leighton for the purpose
of explaining his reasons for resigning the see of Glasgow. It

484

ROBERT LEIGIITOX

SIR JAMES LEITII.

college of Edinburgh, where he had long been prin-
cipal, amongst a set of select friends, equally distin-
guished for their learning and piety, he removed to
Broadhurst, an estate in Sussex belonging to his
sister, Mrs. Lightwater, for whom he entertained the
strongest affection. Here he lived ten years, occu-
pied in study, meditation, and prayer, and doing all
the good in his power. He distributed through the
hands of other persons whatever he possessed beyond
the means of subsistence — so unostentatious was he
in his charity. He was in every instance through
life most generous in pecuniary matters. When
principal of the college of Edinburgh he presented
the city with ;C^5'^> ^^'^ income of which was des-
tined for the support of a student in philosophy.
The college of Glasgow is also indebted to him for
two bursaries, or for a sum the interest of which is
to be appropriated to support two students. On the
hospital of St. Nicholas, Glasgow, he bestowed;/^ 150,
the proceeds of which were to be given to two poor
men of good character. Three such persons are now
enjoying the benefit of that sum, which yields ^^4.,
los. annually to each of them. Tiiis forms but a
small specimen of the good works he performed
during his long and valuable life.

Five years after he had retired from the business
of active life, he was surprised and alarmed at receiv-
ing from his sovereign the following epistle :

" IVindso}-, July 16, 1679.

"My Lord, — I am now resolved to try what
clemency can prevail upon such in Scotland as will
not conform to the government of the church there ;
for effecting of which design I desire you may go
down to Scotland with your first conveniency, and
take all possible pains for persuading all you can of
both opinions to as much mutual correspondence
and concord as may be; and send me from time to
time characters of both men and things. In order
to this design I shall send you a preceipt for two
hundred pounds sterling upon my exchequer till you
resolve how to serve me in a stated employment.
Your loving friend,

"CHARLES R."

"Par the Bishop 0/ Dttniblane."

has been presen-ed in the university of Edinburgh, over which
he so long and ably presided.

"Whatsoever others may judge, they that know what past
before my engaging in this charge, will not I believe', impute
my retreat from it from levitie or unfixedness of mind, con-
sidering how often I declared before hand, baith by word and
write, the great suspicion I had that my continuance in it
would be very short; neither is it from any sudden passion or
sullen discontent that I have now resigned it; nor do I know
any cause imaginab'e for any such thing, but the true reasons
of my retiring are plainly and briefly these :

"i. The sense I have of the dreadful weight of whatsoever
charge of souls, and all kinds of spiritual inspection over people;
hut much more over ministers; and withall of my own extreme
un worthiness and unfitness for so high a station in the church;
and there is an episcopal act that is above all the rest most for-
midable to me — the ordaining of ministers.

"2. The continuing and deeply increasing divisions and
contentions .and many other disorders of the church, and the
little or no appearance of their cure for our time; and the little
hope, amidst those contentions and disorders, of doing anything
in this station to promote the great design of religion in the
hearts and lives of men, which were the only worthy reasons
of continuing in it, though it were with much pains and reluct-
ance.

"3. The earnest desire I have long had of a retired and
private life, which is now much increased by sicklyness and
old age drawing on, and the sufficient experience I have of
the folly and vanity of the world.

"To add any farther discourse, a large apologie in this
matter were to no purpose; but, instead of removing other mis-
takes and misconstructions, would be apt to expose me to one
more, for it would look like too much valuing either of myself
or of the world's opinion, both of which I think I have so much
reason to despise." — Bower's History of tlie University 0/
Edittburgh, vol. i. App. No. 6.

Leighton was now in his sixty-eighth year; and
however flattering such a notice might be to a mind
of an inferior grade, to his, which was exclusively
bent on preparing for a heavenly kingdom, it gave
only pain and apprehension. AVhat were the vain
disputes of angry men to him? besides, he could
have little or no hopes in succeeding in the mission.
He was saved however the trouble of trying the ex-
periment, as the Duke of Monmouth, with whom
the humane plan originated, fell into discredit, and
the offer made to Leighton was never again renewed.
This was the only serious interruption he met with
in his retirement. Burnet saw him two years after,
and says, "I was amazed to see him at above seventy
look so fresh and well, that age seemed as it were to
stand still with him. His hair was still black, and
all his motions were lively ; he had the same quick-
ness of thought and strength of memory; but above
all, the same heat and life of devotion that I had
ever seen him in." "When I took notice to him,"
continues this celebrated writer, "upon my first see-
ing him how well he looked, he told me he was very
near his end for all that, and his work and journey
were now almost done. This at the time made no
great impression on me. He was next day taken
with an oppression, and it seemed with cold and
with stitches, which was indeed a pleurisy." This
disease he foretold was doomed to be his last ; lie
grew so suddenly ill, that speech and sense almost
immediately left him ; and in twelve hours after the
first attack he breathed his last, without a struggle,
in the arms of his long-revered and faithful friend
Dr. Burnet, on the 26th June, 16S4, at the ad-
vanced age of seventy-four. The place in which his
pure spirit departed from its earthly tenement was an
inn in Warwick Lane, London ; and it is somewhat
singular that he often used to say, that if he had the
power to choose a place to breathe his last in, it
would be an inn. "It looked," he said, "like a pil-
grim's going home, to whom this world was all an
inn, and who was weary of the noise and confusion
of it." He thought, too, that the distress of friends
and relations at the time of death was apt to with-
draw the mind from serious thoughts; to keep it from
being wholly directed to God. He bequeathed his
books to the cathedral of Dumblane, and the residue
of his limited fortune to his sister, Mrs. Lightwater,
and her son, to be distributed as they thought fit to
charitable purposes. After the character already
given of him by his friend Burnet, it would be
superfluous to add anything here.'

His body was interred in the burial-ground of
Horstead Heynes, in the parish which for ten years
had been honoured by his residence. A simple in-
scription marks the spot where his remains are laid."
The family of his sister is now extinct, and the estate
is in the hands of another. His brother Sir Elisha,
it may be here stated, died a few months before him,
and was interred in the same place.

LEITH, Gfner.^l Sir J.wif.s, G.C.B., a hero
of the Peninsular war, was the third son of John
Leith, Esq. of Leithhall, Aberdeenshire, where he

' The writings of Archbishop Leighton are thus enumerated
in Watt's Bibliotlieca Britan7iica: — "Sermons, London, 1692,
4to. Prelectiones Theologiae, 1693, 4to. A Practical Com-
mentary on the T1V0 First Chapters of tlie First Epistle of
St. Peter, York, 1693, 2 vols. 4to; also in 2 vols. 8vo— an
admirable commentary, which has been often reprinted. Three
posthumous tracts; viz. Rules for a Holy Life; a Sermon; and
a Catechism, London, 1708, i2mo." The best edition of
Leighton's whole works is that by Jarment, in 6 vols. 8vo,
1806.

2 Depositum Robert! Leightounii, Archiepiscopi Glasguensis,
apud Scotus, qui obiit .xxv. die Junii anno Dni, 1684, Ktatis
sux 74.

SIR JAMES LEITH.

48s

was born, on the 8th of August, 1763. He was
educated first under a private tutor, and afterwards
at the university of Aberdeen; and even in his boyish
years was noted for an intrepidity and generosity of
nature which gave promise of no common career.
At Lisle he perfected himself in the studies suitable
for a military life, and in 17S0 entered the army,
having been appointed to a second lieutenant's com-
mand in the 21st regiment, from which he was soon
after raised to the rank of lieutenant and captain in
the Sist Highland regiment. At the peace in 17S3
he removed to the 5th regiment, then at Gibraltar,
and was appointed aid-de-camp to Sir Robert lioyd,
governor of the fort. Upon the ai>pointment of Gene-
ral O'Hara to serve at Toulon, he was engaged in
the defence of that station against the French re-
publican army, as his aid-de-camp. He served
Major-general David Dundas in a similar capacity,
and upon the British forces being withdrawn from
Toulon, he returned to England, being appointed
major by brevet in 1794.

Alajor Leith raised a regiment of fencibles in Aber-
deenshire, at the head of which he served in Ireland
daring the rebellion. He was there successively
raised to the rank of colonel, brigadier-general, and
major-general. He was next ordered to active ser-
vice in the Peninsula. He joined the British army
under Sir John Moore, being at first appointed to
the command of the 26th and Sist regiments, which
he afterwards exchanged for the brigade of the 51st,
59th, and 76111. Napoleon had now taken possession
of Madrid, defeated the army of the Estremadura,
and retiring to the north of Europe, left Marshals
Soult and Ney to follow up the British army, which
at this late season of the year, and under many dis-
advantages, had made good their retreat to Corunna.
Sir John Hope's division had been ordered to keep
in check the French corps, which had bivouacked
on the heights opposite Lugo; and on 7th January,
1809, they attacked Major-general Leith's brigade,
with four pieces of cannon, on the side of a ravine
which separated the two armies; but were gallantly
repulsed by General Leith, who, at the head of his
light companies, drove them into the ravine, and
dispersed them. When the British had reached
Corunna, after one of the most arduous retreats ever
undertaken, in the depth of winter, and the minds
both of men and officers were cast down with the
hardships of their situation, they encamped in front
of the town, that they might afford protection to
the harbour and the commissariat; the fleet not having
yet arrived from Vigo. The French army, having
])assed the river on the 1 6th January, 1809, occupied
the rising ground above the village of Burgos: their
left was protected by the wood above the village of
Elvina, and their right rested on the great road from
Betanzos, under the command of Marshal Soult.
The third column of the enemy, directing from its
centre an attack against the left of the guards and
the 8 1 St regiment. General Leith being ordered to
place himself at the head of the 59th, made a charge,
principally with the grenadiers of the regiment, and
f )rced the enemy to retreat upon his position; while
Major-general Paget, with part of the reserve, bravely
sustained anattackon the British right, and threatened
to outflank the enemy. The heavy cannonade kept
up by the French, in which they had a decided
advantage, did fatal execution; but the village on
the El Burgo road, that had been occupied by a
column which prevented the British from sending
succours to the chief points of attack, being carried
by part of the 14th regiment, under the command of
Lieutenant-colonel Nicolls, at the point of the bayo-
net, the enemy retired to his commanding position.

The advanced posts of the British took possession of
their original station, and the darkness of the night
put a stop to a battle in which the chief by his
bravery, and the sacrifice of his own life, redeemed
the honour of the British army from a retreat allowed
to have been somewhat precipitate.

Having been in September, iSio, appointed to
the command of a corps of 10,000 men. General
Leith was next engaged in the affair of Busaco in
Spain, where the whole French army, under Marshal
Massena, was assembled. This corps was stationed
between thedivision of Sir Rowland Hill on hisright,
flanked by the Mondego river and the third division
on his left. At break of day the guns at the con-
vent of Busaco opened a heavy fire, and a serious
attack was made on the third division posted on that
part of the sierra near the great road to St. Antonio
de Cantara. General Leith moved to the support
of this division, but meeting with a strong column of
the enemy on their way to this point, he quickly
brought up Colonel Barnes' brigade, the 9th and
38th regiments, to the head of the column, and after
a well-managed fire, drove them, at the head of the
9th regiment, from their position. The light troops
of the third division were already driven back from
the heights, with loss, by the enemy; but with that
promptitude and firmness for which he was distin-
guished, General Leith attacked them by a rapid
movement, and, after a brilliant charge at the head
of the 9th or 88th regiment, before they had time to
form or collect in numbers. General Regnier was
obliged to desist, while the column which attacked
the left was driven into the valley of Mondego. In
this engagement 7000 of the enemy were either slain
or taken prisoners, and, in consequence of it, Mas-
sena's direct communication with Lisbon was ob-
structed. Had General Trant arrived in time at the
position of Sardao, as Lord Wellington had ex-
pected, the French army would have been placed in
a very critical situation, and with difficulty have
escaped.

Lord Wellington was now reinforced by two divi-
sions, the fifth, which was committed to the charge of
Major-general Leith, consisting of Major-general
Hay's, Major-general Dunlop's, and Brigadier-gen-
eral Spry's brigades; and the sixth, commanded by
Major-general Campbell. The British army was
now encamped in the strongholds of the Torres-
Vedras, covering the town of Lisbon, to take which
the enemy found impracticable, and soon retreated.
But General Leith, suffering a severe attack from the
Walcheren fever, was under the necessity of leaving
Lisbon and returning to England. The French now
made a rapid retreat, and being pursued by \\"elling-
ton, were speedily driven from Portugal, with the
exception of one garrison at Almeida. Having re-
joined the army which had taken possession of Ciudad
Rodrigo, General Leith sat down before the fortress
of Badajos. The siege of this fortified place had
been commenced on the i6th March, and a fire being
opened on the 25th, with 28 pieces of ordnance, the
outwork called La Picurina was stormed by 5C0
men of the third division ; the second parallel was
opened, and 26 pieces of cannon were directed against
the bastion of the south-east angle of the fort called
La Trinidad, the flank of Santa Maria, and the cur-
tain of La Trinidad, where three breaches were
effected. The fourth and light divisions, which dur-
ing the siege had occupied the ground that was now
assigned to the fifth, under Major-general Leith, were
appointed to attack the trenches on the bastions of
La Trinidad and Santa Maria. The Honourable
Major-general Colville, with the fourth and light
divisions under Colonel Barnard, proceeded by the

486

SIR JAMES LEITH.

river Rivellas, descended without difficulty into the
ditch, and advanced to the assault of the trenches
with great bravery ; but from the numerous explo-
sions which took place at the top of the breaches,
the whole place appearing to be one mine, and throw-
ing out bullets, they were unable to enter. The
governor, Philippon, allowed to be one of the be>t
engineers in the French ser\'ice, had provided for the
defence of the breaches by placing a chevaux-de-
frise, its beam a foot square, with points projecting
a yard in every- direction, across the gorge, and by
fastening to the ground, around the mouth of the
breach, pieces of wood with sword-blades and bayo-
nets, besides placing a column of sokliers behind,
eight deep. An incessant fire was kept up by the
front ranks, which were supplied with loaded pieces
bv those who stood behind. Major Wilson, of the
4Sth regiment, which had been sent against the
ravelin of San Roque, had carried it by the gorge,
and with the assistance of Major Squire established
himself in the place.

In the meantime Lieutenant-general Leith, who
had been directed to make a false attack on the
Pardaleras, and, if possible, escalade the bastion of
San Vicente, had executed the former part of his
order with the 8th cacadores under Major Hill. He
now pushed forward Major-general Walker's brigade
on the left, supported by the 3Sth regiment, under
Lieutenant-colonel Xugent, with which he proceeded
about eleven o'clock to the attack of this almost im-
pregnable fortress. He forced the barrier on the
road to Olivenza, and entering the covered way at
the bastion of San Vicente, descended into the ditch,
and was already at the foot of the scarp of the bottom,
which was thirty-one feet six inches high, defended
by a flank with four guns, with a counterscarp wall
eleven feet nine inches deep, and a ditch. Of all
the other divisions engaged in the reduction of this
fortress, the third or fighting division alone had been
able to execute their orders; this, under the gallant
Lieutenant-general Picton, had forced the palisadoes,
passed the ditches, surmounted the wall (twenty-six
feet high) with ladders, and, exposed to a heavy fire
and severe loss, fought its way to the castle, which
eventually was taken. The fourth division, in en-
deavouring to mount the breach of La Trinidad and
Santa Maria, was obliged to retire on its reser\'es in
the quarries by means of a strong concentrated and
cross fire. But General Leith, who set all calcula-
tion at defiance, and was exposed to a most destruc-
tive fire while yet on the glacis, neglecting entirely
the flanks, escaladed the bastion of San Vicente with
less than twelve ladders, and in the face of the enemy,
who lined the works, mounted the ramparts, thirty-
one and a half feet high, drove the defenders before
him, and thus gave the signal of victory, by taking
possession of the town. He now silenced the bat-
teries near the breach, which had greatly annoyed
the third division, opened a communication at the
breaches for the light and fourth divisions to enter,
and the sound of the trumpets giving the signal of
advance was now heard in every tlirection, -while the
enemy, distracted on all hands, were able to make
but a feeble resistance. This escalade, which has
been considered by the historians of the Peninsular
war as an extraordinary instance of British valour
and intrepidity, was decisive as to the fate of Badajos.
The fortress quickly yielded to the allied troops, and
the British flag was quickly seen waving over its
battlements, the French eagle being trampled in the
dust, but not before 700 alone of the fifth division
were either killed or wounded.

Lord Wellington now pushed forward to Sala-
manca, the deput for the army of Portugal, where

the Duke of Ragusa had left a garrison of Soo men,
and encamped his army on the plain of \'illares, a
position at no great distance. The convent of San
Vicente was reduced by means of hot shot, Gaye-
tano carried, and these, together with another fort,
entirely destroyed. The French and British armies
— the former of which was vastly superior — after
several unsuccessful attempts to bring each the other
into action, marched in column simultaneously along
the heights, by parallel movements, in the direction
of Salamanca, frequently cannonading and skirmish-
ing. The Duke of Ragusa, on the left bank of the
river Douro, occupied one of the Arapiles, his left
resting upon an extensive forest; an important station,
where he could readily annoy the communication
with Ciudad Rodrigo, and otherwise embarrass the
British army in its movements. In making a feint
opposite the fifth division, however, and bringing
forward his left wing in a direction parallel almost
with the right of the British, and apparently to force
their post on the Arapiles and annoy them on the
right, he extended his army too far; and Lord
Wellington, who had determined to retire into his
stronghold at Ciudad Rodrigo, observing this favour-
able opportunity, resolved to give battle, and for
this purpose rapidly moved the third division across
the valley to the left of the enemy, from the extreme
right on the Ciudad Rodrigo road, where it had
commenced its retreat, and attacked them by surprise
on the flank. The main body of Marmont's army
had crossed the Tonnes by the fords of Huerta. To
the left of the British cavalry' stood the fourth and
fifth divisions, which extended in two lines to the
foot of the Arapiles, near the Portuguese regiments;
the first and light divisions being drawn up to the
left of the Arapiles, and the sixth and seventh kept
in reserve. Lieutenant-general Leith, having opened
himself upon Brigadier-general Bradford's Portuguese
brigade, when it came parallel with his front-line,
was ordered to direct his march to the heights, and
dislodge the enemy. In conjunction with the fourth
and fifth divisions the front was attacked by Briga-
dier-general Bradford's brigade and the cavalrj- under
the command of Sir Stapleton Cotton. This order
was the more welcome as the fifth division had been
for an hour exposed to a galling and murderous fire;
and having equalized the two lines into which it had
been divided, and regulated the advance, the gallant
captain, aftenvards Colonel Leith Hay, M.P., who
had at this time a horse killed under him, was de-
spatched as aid-de-camp with an order for the light
infantry in front to clear the line of march of the
enemy's voltigeurs, and secure, if practicable, some
of the most advanced of their guns, which amounted
to 20 opposite the fifth division alone. General
Bradford's brigade, and the hea^y cavalry' of General
Le Merchant, which had been on the right of the
fifth, moved in unison with that division. The second
line of the division was about a hundred yards in the
rear of the first, and between these at one time Lord
Wellington was stationed, while watching the pro-
gress of the attack. In front rode General Leith,
directing its movements and regulating the approach
of the troops, who had formed into squares; and
when with his staff" he reached the summit of the
eminence where the artillery which had so annoyed
them had been placed, about a mile from his former
station, he found the enemy drawn up in contiguous
squares, the front rank kneeling, and ready to pour
their murderous shot into the British line. A heavy
fire commenced as soon as they broke over the
heights, and discharging their musketry when about
thirty yards from the enemy, the fifth raised a shout
of triumph, advanced to the charge, and at the point

SIR JAMES LEITH.

487

of the bayonet pierced the enemy's squares, which
were soon put into disorder and broken, the cavalry
liaving cut in pieces a body of their infantry. The
victorious fifth pressed for\vard, supported on the
right flank by the heavy cavalry of Le Merchant,
while Oeneral Pakenham, brother-in-law to Lord
Wellington, at the head of the third division and
the Portuguese cavalry of D'Urban, turned the
enemy's left in four columns, and attacking them
in flank overthrew everything that opposed them.
For a time the fourth division were unable to drive
back Bonnet's column, which outflanked it; but on
the approach of the fifth and sixth divisions, which
came to their assistance, the other parts of the French
army being already in disorder, they were driven
back in confusion on their own centre, and the
third and fifth pressing forward, had the honour
of deciding the battle of Salamanca, although the
other parts of the British army fought bravely, and
upheld the glory of the British name. General
Leith, who had stationed himself in front of the
colours of the 38th regiment, still maintained his
position between the two hostile fires, and drove the
enemy before him ; but during this tremendous
charge, while in the act of breaking the French
squares, he received a severe wound which eventually
caused him to quit the field. The right wing of the
enemy's army was the last to give way, but being
charged by the sixth, third, and fifth divisions in
front, and pressed on the right by the fourth, light,
and Portuguese divisions, it at length fled through
the woods towards the Tormes, and was pursued by a
brigade of the fourth, and some squadrons of cavalr)',
until night put a stop to the chase. The loss of the
fifth division alone was Soo killed and wounded.
The loss of the other divisions of the British army
was equally severe, amounting in all to 840 killed,
and 4723 wounded; but that of the enemy under
Marmont, who was himself wounded by a howitzer
shell, was 22,000 killed, and 7000 prisoners, out of
an army amounting to between 46,000 and 50,000
men.

General Leith and his aid-de-camp, Captain Leith
Hay, wiio was also severely wounded, were carried
to the village of Las Torres, and from thence to the
house of the Marquis Escalla in Salamanca, where
the victory was celebrated by song and sequidillas,
and every demonstration of joy. The distinguished
merit of Lieutenant-general Leith during the Penin-
sular war was rewarded by the insignia of the Bath,
as a special mark of the prince-regent's favour "for
his distinguished conduct in the action fought near
Corunna and in the battle of Busaco; for his noble
daring at the assault and capture of Badajos by storm;
and for his heroic conduct in the ever-memorable
action fought on the plains of Salamanca, where, in
personally leading the fifth division to a most gallant
and successful charge upon a part of the enemy's line,
which it completely overthrew at the point of the
bayonet, he and the whole of his personal staff were
severely wounded." Several other marks of royal
favour, in the spirit of ancient chivalr)', were con-
ferred upon him. His majesty gave his royal license
and command "that to the armorial ensigns of his
family, being a cross crosslet fitchee between three
crescents in chief, and as many fusils in base, he
may bear the following honourable augmentation,
viz. on a chief, a bastion of a fortification intended
to represent San Vicente, the British ensign hoisted
on the angle, and the two faces near the salient angle
surmounted each by two scaling ladders; and the
following crest of honourable augmentation, viz.
out of a mural crown inscribed with the word 'Sala-
manca,' a demi-lion, regardant quitte de sang, in

the mouth and sinister paw an eagle, or standard
reversed, the staff broken, intended to represent the
French standard taken by the said fifth division of
his majesty's army in the said ever-memorable battle
of Salamanca, to be borne and used with the motto
'Badajos,' by the said Sir James Leith, and by his
descendants, as a memorial to them and to his
majesty's beloved subjects in general, of the sense
which his royal highness entertains of his loyalty,
ability, and valour; provided the said armorial dis-
tinction be first duly exemplified, according to the
law of arms." The hero of Badajos and Salamanca,
for so he is virtually acknowledged to be by this mark
of royal favour, was also permitted to wear the
insignia of an honorary knight-commander of the
Portuguese royal military order of the Tower and
Sword, conferred upon him as a mark of distinction
for his bravery by the government of that countr}'.

In April, 1S13, the subject of our memoir, from
the effects of the Wakheren fever, which he still felt,
and the severe wound which he had received, was
obliged to retire to England. Subsequently to this
period the British army, under its renowned leader
the Marquis of Wellington, took the offensive, and
defeated the army of the south, the army of Portugal,
and the army of the centre, under Marshal Jourdan
in the battle of Vittoria, and compelled Joseph
Bonaparte, who had been crowned King of Spain,
to retire and quit that countr)^ The marquis was
successful in the battles of the Pyrenees, and resumed
the siege of San Sebastian, which had been inter-
rupted by the advance of the enemy. San Sebastian
is situated in a peninsula, on the extremity of which
rises a conical rock, of remarkable appearance, called
Monte Orgullo, where the castle stands, distinctly
separated from the town by an outer line of defence.
The town, previously to the siege, contained a large
population; its northern wall being washed by the
river Unmiea, the southern by the sea; and the
western defences consist of a double line of works.
It was a place of great strength, and possessed a
garrison of 4000 troops. The siege had been com-
menced by the fifth division of the army and two
Portuguese brigades, under Lieutenant-general Sir
Thomas Graham; but it Mas not till the 23d of July
that two breaches, one of them loo feet in length,
had been effected, when an attempt was made to
take the citadel, and the British were driven back,
after they had penetrated into the town, with the
loss of 900 men. Lord Wellington ordered another
assault, after reconnoitring the breaches on the 31st
of August, and as Sir James Leith had now joined
the army, the immediate conimand of the storm was
intrusted to this brave officer. The sea-wall having
been levelled to the ground, the storming commenced
at the two breaches, which were in the same curtain,
at eleven in the forenoon, when the frdl of the tide
had left the wall dr\'; and in approaching, there was
but one point where it was possible to enter, as the
inside of the wall to the right of the curtain formed
a perpendicular scarp of at least twenty feet to the
level of the streets, and every point which bore upon
the narrow passage was covered with men protected
by intrenchments and traverses, who poured their
destructive and successful fire upon the assailants as
they approached. Many volunteers from the other
divisions of the army had joined the fifth division,
and notwithstanding the bravery of the troops, and
the judicious arrangements of Sir James Leith, as
they advanced they were mowed down like grass by
the musketr)' of the defenders, particularly from the
hornwork, and the shell and grape-shot from the
batteries of the castle. The storm had now become
a desperate one; but the presence of their commander,

488

SIR JAMES LEITir.

who stood in a commanding and most exposed situa-
tion, about thirty yards in advance of the debouche
from the trenches, and who conducted the attack
in a tndy heroic style, inspired them with unshaken
confidence as they threaded their way through the
large masses of the wall thrown down by the explo-
sion of two mines; and tiencral Kobinson's brigade
advanced to the breach, alth(jugh for a long time no
one outlived the attempt to gain the ridge of the
wall. As they filed onwards they stumbled over
their prostrate companions; and so great was the
slaughter, that Sir James was obligeil to send a staff
ofticer with directions to remove the dead and the
dying for the passage of the troops. About the same
time Sir James Leith was thrown to the earth in an
insensible state by the rebound of a plunging shot
which had struck the ground; but refusing to quit
the field, he continued to issue his orders in his
usual precise and energetic manner, and while he was
himself stooping to the ground cheered forward his
troops.

Major-general Hay's division, consisting of the
royals, 9th and 38th regiments, and a column of
Portuguese infantry, forded the Urumea, and reached
the lesser breach, under a very heavy and destructive
fire. The British had persevered under a most mur-
derous shower of round shot, grape, and musketry,
to force an entrance into the town for two hours;
and General Robinson's brigade had ascended to
the crest, where he was severely wounded, whilst
a fire of artillery had been directed against the
curtain, passing only a few feet over their heads
on the breach, which produced an immediate and
advantageous effect. But although the exterior wall
was completely beaten down, together with the houses
fronting the interior, the inner retaining wall, which
added greatly to the strength of the curtain, was as
perfect and perpendicular as at first, varying from
sixteen to thirty-five feet of altitude from the level of
the town. Forty-seven pieces of heavy ordnance
playing from the choffres and hills over the heads
of the British troops, a mode of attack which evinced
the resolution and self-confidence of Colonel Dickson
and Sir Thomas Graham, who had recourse to it, as
well as the skill of the British artillery, dispersed
the fire of musketry, soon dismounted all the guns
but two, and had the effect of driving the enemy
hack. To descend into the town by the breaches
was yet found impracticable, for the enemy had
constructed traverses, behind which were stationed
French grenadiers, who put to death in safety the
gallant soldiers as they attempted the passage, cap-
able of admitting only one at a time ; and yet
their commander was convinced, and by his personal
courage had shown that he was so, that British
troops were invincible, and would do what human
power could accomplish. A great explosion had
taken place along the line of the wall, of fire-barrels,
live shells, and hand-grenades, which had been
placed in rear of the traverses by the besieged, and
cleared it of the enemy. Under the panic occasioned
by this catastrophe, the soldiers of General Hay's
brigade, now commanded by Colonel Greville, the
Royal Scots, and 9th regiment, under Colonel
Cameron, entered by the passage along the curtain,
close to the exterior wall, which was capable of
admitting only one at a time; and charging the enemy
at the point of the bayonet, down the flight of steps
which led from the cavalier bastion, entered the town,
and maintained their ground. Sir James Leith, who
had long directed the progress of the assault from
the strand at no great distance from the great breach,
and who was completely exposed to the fire of the
enemy, while in the act of directing additional sup-

port from the trenches, had before this time been
wounded by the bursting of a shell near him, which
broke his arm in two places, tearing the flesh from
his left hand, and was reluctantly carried from the
field, after fainting from loss of blood. In passing
through the trenches he was recognized by the 9th
regiment, whose ilangers he had so often shared, who
spontaneously cried out, that they should not return
until the fifth division was crowned with victory, and
the citadel of San Sebastian was taken. Soon after-
wards Sir Richard Fletcher, the chief engineer, who
had continued with Sir James during the siege, was
killed by a musket-ball, which pierced his heart.

The command was now taken by Major-general
Hay, who conducted with ability the attack to the
last; and the issue was no longer doubtful, for the
troops easily rushing forward, the hornwork was
carried; the ruined fragments of the houses poured
forth the assailants ; the Portuguese detachments
carried the lesser breach; and although the com-
mander of the brave garrison, General Roy, had
raised traverses across the streets, which were de-
fended by cannon, one street was taken after another,
till the allies gradually gained possession of the town,
and at three o'clock this awful and murderous
struggle terminated, which had raged with unabated
fury during a period of four hours, and was main-
tained by both parties with desperate gallantly and
resolution.

A barbarous scene of pillage and plunder now
took place, unworthy of the British name and the
high character of her soldiers; while on the 1 8th of
September the castle surrendered, and thus the allies
obtained possession of this northern Gibraltar of
Spain, as it has been termed, with the loss of 500
killed and 1500 wounded.

Sir James Leith remained for two months in the
country, trusting that an early recovery would per-
mit him to resume his command; but it was at length
found more advisable to return to England, which
he did in November. He was now appointed com-
mander of the forces in the West Indies and cap-
tain-general of the Leeward Islands, and, sailing to
assume his important duties, arrived at Barbadoes
on the 15th of June, 1814. The revolutionary spirit
which broke out in France on the restoration of
Napoleon soon extended itself to the French islands
in the West Indies, and Martinique and Guadaloupe,
which Sir James had restored to the crown of France,
now at peace with Britain, soon manifested symptoms
of revolt. The former, agreeably to instructions,
was kept in awe by the presence of 2000 British
troops, which were landed at Fort Royal; but at
Guadaloupe the tricoloured flag was soon displayed,
and the entire colony declared for the emperor.
Transports, conveying troops, ammunition, and stores,
immediately sailed from Barbadoes, and landed at
Saintes, in the neighbourhood of Guadaloupe, which
is upwards of 200 miles in circumference, and con-
tains a population of 110,000 people. Preparations
for war were then made, and RIarie-galante was
secured by a detachment of troops. The Comte de
Linois, the French governor, who had organized a
large body of militia, and never believed that the
French army could be ready for action before the
commencement of the hurricane months, was some-
what taken by surprise; and the commander of the
forces having despatched 800 of the York rangers
near Pautrizel, and an additional reinforcement, they
drove the enemy from Dolet. Captain Leith Hay,
aid-de-camp to Sir James Leith, obtained possession
of Mome Boucannier, a height which commanded
their position at Palmiste, from which they were dis-
lodged, rapidly pressed their rear near Mome Honel,

ALEXANDER LESLIE.

489

and the heavy rains being now set in, on the lOth of
August Sir James Leith was prepared to give battle,
wiiea they agreed to capitulate and surrender tiie
island.

As a reward for these important services, the
privy-council voted ;^2000 for the purchase of a
sword, antl the King of France, as a mark of the
sense which he entertained of his great zeal, ability,
and bravery, conferred upon him the grand cordon
of the order of Military Merit. The object of these
honours was soon, however, to be insensible to the
pleasure which they were calculated to bestow. His
constitution, shaken by the wounds which he had
received, sank under the sultry climate of the West
Indies; and he died of fever, after six days' illness,
on the i6th of October, 1816.

Sir James Leith is invariably allowed to rankamong
the very highest of the excellent officers who seconded
the efforts of Wellington during the Peninsular con-
test, and to whom that illustrious commander, who
has now followed so many of his companions in arms
to the grave, was himself the readiest to attribute
the better share of the success which attended him
in those memorable campaigns. He possessed all
the qualities which form a great military character
— intrepidity unbounded, or bounded only by the
soundness of his judgment; skill in taking advantage
of every contingency; and a genius for contriving,
as well as perseverance and dexterity in executing,
the most brilliant enterprises. To all these charac-
teristics Sir James added that spirit of humanity
which forms the crowning grace of this, even more
peculiarly than any other, profession.

LESLIE, Alexander, the celebrated military
leader of the Covenanters during the civil wars of
Charles I., created Lord Balgonie, and afterwards
Earl of Leven, was the son of Captain George Leslie
of Balgonie, by his wife Anne, a daughter of Stewart
of Ballechin. Of the place of his birth, or the ex-
tent of his education, little can be said with certainty.
Spalding says he was born in Balveny, which Gordon
of Straloch affirms was never possessed by the Leslies,
and of course, according to him, could not be the
place of his birth. This he supposes to have been
Tullich, which lies over against Balveny, on the east
side of the water of Fiddich; or perhaps Kininvie,
which lies a mile to the north of Tullich, on the same
water of Fiddich. Gordon adds, that he "was a
natural son of Kininvie's, and that his mother, during
her pregnancy, could eat nothing but wheat bread,
and drink nothing but wine, which Kininvie allowed
her to be provided with, although she was nothing
but a common servant." There is, however, much
reason to suppose that this account of his birth is
only a cavalier fiction.

Educated fer the military profession, Leslie very
early in life obtained a captain's commission in the
regiment of Horatio Lord de Vere, then employed
in Holland as auxiliaries to the Dutch in fighting
for their liberties against the overwhelming power of
Spain. In this service he acc^uitted himself with
singular bravery, and obtained the reputation of a
skilful officer. Lie afterwards, along with many
thousands of his countrymen, passed into the service
of Sweden, under Gustavus Adolphus, by whom,
after many heroic achievements, he was promoted to
the rank of field-marshal, with the approbation of
the whole army.

In the year 1628 he defended Stralsund, which
was besieged by the whole force of the Imperialists,
at that time masters of all Germany, that fortress
excepted. Here he acquitted himself with the
utmost bravery and skill. The plague had already

broken out in the city, and the outworks were in a
most deplorable condition; yet he compelled Count
Wallenstein, with a formidable army and flushed
with victory, to raise the siege, after having sustained
a severe loss. The citizens of Stralsund were so
sensible of the services of the field-marshal on this
occasion, that they made him a handsome present,
and had medals struck to perpetuate their gratitude,
and the honour of their deliverer. In the year 1635
he had charters granted to him, his wife, and son,
of the barony of Balgonie, and other lands in the
counties of T'ife, Berwick, and Roxburgh. He was
at this time serving in Lower Saxony. In the year
1639, when the Covenanters were preparing to resist
their sovereign in the field, Leslie returned from
Sweden, where he had continued after the death of
Gustavus in the service of Christina. "This Leslie,"
says Spalding, "having conquest from nought wealth
and honour, resolved to come home to his native
country of .Scotland and settle himself beside his
chief, the Earl of Rothes, as he did indeed, and
bought fair lands in Fife; but the earl foreseeing the
troubles, whereof himself was one of the principal
beginners, took hold of this Leslie, who was both
wise and stout, acquainted him with the plot, and
had his advice for the furtherance thereof to his
power."

It was a fortunate circumstance for the Covenanters
that the oppressions to which they had been subjected,
and the persecutions that were evidently preparing
for them, were well known on the Continent, where
thousands of their fellow-countrymen had been shed-
ding their blood in the defence of the religion and
liberties of their fellow- Protestants, and excited the
deepest interest in their favour. Leslie had un-
doubtedly been invited home, and he brought a
number of his countrymen along with him, who,
having perilled their lives for the same cause among
foreigners, could not reasonably be considered as in-
different to its success among their own countrymen.
Half a century had, for the first time since it was a
nation, passed over Scotland without anything like
general warfai'e. The people had, in a great measure,
become unaccustomed to its hardships and its dangers,
and the chieftains, such as had been abroad excepted,
were unacquainted with its practice, and ignorant of
its details. This defect, by the return of so many
who had been in the wars of Gustavus, was amply
supplied. Leslie was, by the committee of estates,
appointed to the chief command ; — many of his fellow-
adventurers of less celebrity, yet well acquainted with
military details and the equipment of an army, were
dispersed throughout the country, where they were
employed in training the militia, which in those days
comprehended every man that was able to bear arms
from the age of sixteen to sixty. By these means,
together with a manifesto by the Tables (committees
of the four estates assembled at Edinburgh), entitled
State of the Question, and Reasons for Defensive War,
which was circulated so as to meet the eye or the ear
of every individual in the nation, — the Covenanters
were in a state of preparation greatly superior to the
king, though he had been meditating hostilities long
before he declared them. Though now an old man,
little in stature, and defomied in person, Leslie was
possessed of ceaseless activity, as well as consum-
mate skill; and in both he was powerfully seconded
by the zeal of the peojile in general. Early ajiprised
of the intentions of Charles, he so managed matters
as to render them entirely nugatoiy. It was the in-
tention of the latter, while he advanced with his main
force upon his ancient kingdom by the eastern
marches, to enter it previously, or at least simul-
taneously, on the western side, with a body of

490

ALEXANDER LESLIE.

Highlanders and Irish, and by the Firth of Forth
with a strong division of his English army, under
his commissioner the Duke of Hamilton. To meet
this formidable array even.'thing that lay within the
compass of their limited means was prepared by the
Covenanters. Military committees were ajipointed
for every county, who were to see to the assembling
and training of the militia generally, and to forwaril
to the army such levies and such supplies as might
be from time to time demanded. Smiths were every-
where put in requisition for the fabrication of
muskets, carbines, pole-a.xes, Lochaber-axes, and
halberts; magazines to suiiply the troops were also
provided; and to call them together when occasion
should require beacons were provided, and placed
in every shire. .\rms to the amount of 30,000 stand
were provided from Holland, in addition to those of
home manufacture, and a foundry for cannon was
established in the Potter Row, at that time one of
the suburbs, now a street of Edinburgh. Leith, the
port of the capital, was, however, still defenceless;
but, aware that the Duke of Hamilton proposed to
land there with hostile intentions, it was immediately
resolved to put the place in a posture of defence.
The plan of a new fort, the old defences of the town
being in ruins, was laid down by Sir Alexander
Hamilton, who acted as engineer to Leslie; and
several thousands came spontaneously forward to
assist in its erection. Noblemen, gentlemen, and
citizens — men, women, and children — even ladies of
quality — -claimed the privilege of assisting in forward-
ing the good work, and in less than a week it was
finished, and the security of Edinburgh was considered
complete. Along the coast of Fife, too, every town
was surrounded with batteries mounted with cannon
carried on shore from the ships; and with the excep-
tion of Inchkeith and Inchcolm, which were some-
how neglected, there was not a resting-place in the
Firth for an enemy till he should win it at the point
of the pike.

In the meantime the Duke of Hamilton, lying in
Yarmouth Roads, was conunanded to sail for the
Forth, and by all or any means to "create an awful
diversion." His first sail was no sooner discovered
as a speck in the distant horizon, than the beacons
were in a blaze from the one extremity of the country
to the other, and ere he approached the shores of
Leith they were lined by upwards of 20,000 intrepid
defenders, among whom was his own mother,
mounted on horseback at the head of her vassals,
with a pair of pistols in the holsters before her, with
which she declared she would shoot her son with
her own hand the moment he set a hostile foot on
shore. Hamilton now found that he could do nothing.
The troops on board his fleet did not exceed 5000
men, all raw young peasants, miserably sea-sick, and
many of them labouring under thesmall-pox. Instead
of attempting hostile operations, he landed his men
upon the islands of Inchkeith and Inchcolm, which
sen-ed him for hospitals, and contented himself with
sending into the town-council some more of Charles'
proclamations, which were promised to be laid be-
fore the states, who were expected to meet in a few
days. This, as the measure of their obedience,
Hamilton was for the time obliged to accept. Of
this circumstance, with the strength which they
mustered, he failed not to acquaint his master, ad-
vising him at the same time to negotiate. — We are
not detailing the history of the war, but the part
performed in it by an individual, or we should have
stated that Argyle had been sent to the west, where
he had seized upon the castle of lirodick in Arran,
where the Earl of Antrim was to have first headed
his Irish bands, in consequence of which they were

for a time unable to come forward. The castle of
Dumbarton had also been seized by a master-stroke
of policy, as that of Edinburgh now was by the same
in war. In the afternoon of the 23d of March, Leslie
himself, with a few companies which he had been,
according to his usual custom, training in the outer
courtyard of Holyrood House, some of which he
secretly disposed in closes at the head of the Castle
Hill, approached to the exterior gate of the castle,
where he called a parley with the captain or governor,
demanding to be admitted. This being refused, he
seemed to retire from the gate, when a petard which
he had hung against it burst and laid it open. The
inner gate was instantly assailed with axes, and scal-
ing-ladders were applied to the wall, by which the
Covenanters gained immediate admission; while the
garrison, panic-stnick with the sudden explosion and
the vigour of the attack, surrendered without offering
any resistance. The castles of Dalkeith, Douglas,
and Strathaven in Clydesdale, and, in short, all the
castles of the kingdom, with the exception of that
of Carlaverock, were seized in the same manner.
Huntly, who was making dispositions in the north
to side with Charles, had also in the interim been
kidnapped by Montrose, so that he had actually not
the shadow of a party in the whole kingdom. To-
wards the end of JNIay, the king beginning to move
from York, where he had fixed his head-quarters,
towards the north, the army under Leslie was ordered
southward to meet him. The final muster of the
army previous to the march took place on the Links
of Leith, on the 20th of May, 1639, when from
12,000 to 16,000 men made their appearance, well
anned in the Gemian fashion, and commanded by
native officers, whom they respected as their natural
superiors, or by their own countrjmen celebrated
for their hardihood and that experience in militaiy
afiairs which they had acquired abroad. With the
exception of one German trumpeter there was not
a foreigner among them: all were Scotsmen, brought
immediately from the hearths and the altars which it
was the object of the war to defend. The private
men were, for the most part, ploughmen from the
western counties ; stout rustics whose bodies were
rendered muscular by healthy exercise, and whose
minds were exalted by the purest feelings of patriot-
ism and religion. It was on this day that they were
properly constituted an amiy by having the articles
of war read to them. These had been drawn out
by Leslie with the advice of the Tables, after the
model of those of Gustavus Adolphus, and a printed
copy of them was delivered to every individual
soldier. The general himself, at the same time,
took an oath to the estates, acknowledging himself
in all things liable both to civil and ecclesiastical
censure. Leslie had by this time acquired not only
the respect and confidence, but the love, of the whole
community, by the judgment with which all his
measures were taken, and the zeal he disjilayed in
the cause; a zeal, the sincerity of which was sufii-
ciently attested by the fame of his exploits in Ger-
many, and by the scars which he bore on his person
in consequence of these exploits. He was defomied,
old, and mean in his appearance; but the consum-
mate skill which he disjilayed, and the piety of his
deportment, rendered him, according to Ijaillie, who
was along with him, a more popular and respected
general than Scotland had ever enjoyed in the most
warlike and beloved of her kings. With the van of
this army, which was but a small part of the military
array of Scotland at this time, Leslie marched for
the borders on the 21st of May, the main body fol-
lowing him in order. Lie was abundantly supplied
on his march, and at eveiy successive stage found

ALEXANDER LESLIE.

491

that his numbers were increased, and his stock of
provisions becoming more am])le. The first night
he reached Haddington, the second Dunbar, and the
tiiird Dunglass, a strong castle at the east end of
Lammermoor, where he hahed and threw up some
intrenchments. Charles in the meantime advanced
to the borders, indulging in the most perfect assur-
ance of driving the Scottish insurgents before him.
Learning from his spies, however, tliat they were
within a day's march of him, and so well marshalled
that the result of a contest would be at best doubt-
ful, he ordered a trumpet to be sent with letters from
himself to the Scottish army, conveying overtures of
a friendly nature, but forbidding them to approach
within ten miles of his camp, and on this demonstra-
tion of their temporal obedience promising that all
their just supplications should be granted. Finding
them disposed to an amicable agreement, Charles
advanced his camp to the Birks, on the banks of the
Tweed, and directed the Earl of Holland, his general
of horse, to proceed with thirteen troops of cavalry,
3000 foot, and a number of field-pieces, to drive
some regiments of the Covenanters which had been
stationed at Kelso and Jedburgh under Colonel
Robert Monro, for the protection of the borders,
from their station, as being within the limits stipu-
lated with the noblemen who commanded the main
body. Proceeding, in the execution of his order, to
Dunse, the first town that lay in his way within the
Scottish border, the Earl of Holland found it totally
deserted of its inhabitants, except a very few, who
heard him read a proclamation declaring the whole
Scottish nation, especially all who were in arms and
did not immediately lay them down, traitors. Pro-
ceeding westward to Kelso, and having reached a
height overlooking the town, he found the Scottish
troops in the act of being drawn out to receive him.
Startled at their appearance, Holland sent forward
a trumpeter, to command them to retire, according
to the promise of their leaders. His messenger was
met by a stem demand whose trumpeter he was, and
on answering that he was Lord Holland's, was told
that it would be well for him to be gone. Displeased
with this reception of his missionary', his lordship
ordered a retreat, and the Scottish soldiers were with
difficulty restrained from pursuing them to their
camp. What share Leslie had in the proposed sub-
mission to Charles is not known; but he no sooner
heard of the above affair than he broke up his en-
campment at Dunglass, and set forward to Dunse,
where he ordered Monro to join him. Finding here
an excellent position commanding both roads to
Edinburgh, he formed his camp on the law behind
the town, where he could see the royal camp at
Birks, on the other side of the Tweed. This move-
ment was made without the knowledge of the English,
whose camp Leslie, had he been left to himself, would
most probably have surprised and secured with all
that was in it. Charles himself, walking out after
an alarm from the Scottish army, was the first to
descrj' their encampment on Dunse Law, and he
rightly estimated their number to be from 16,000 to
lS,ooo men; they were soon, however, increased to
24,000 by the reinforcements that hastened up to
them on the report of the English incursions at
Dunse and Kelso; and never was an army led to the
field better appointed, or composed of better mate-
rials. "It would have done your heart good," said
an eye-witness, "to have cast your eyes athwart our
brave and rich hills as oft as I did, with great con-
tentment and joy. Our hill was garnished on the
top toward the south and east with our mounted
cannon, well near to forty, great and small. Our
regiment lay on the sides; the crowners [superior

officers of regiments] lay in canvas lodges, large and
wide; their captains about them in lesser ones; the
soldiers about all in huts of timber, covered with
divot or straw. Over ever)- captain's tent door
waved the flag of his company, blue, with the arms
of Scotland wrought in gold, with the inscription
'For Christ's Crown and Covenant.' Leslie himself
lay in the castle of Dunse, at the bottom of the hill,
whence he issued regularly everv- night, rode round
the camp, and saw the watches regularly set."
Throughout the whole army there was the most
perfect harmony of opinion, both as to matters of
civil and ecclesiastical polity ; and there was a
fervour in the cause they had undertaken, that
burned with an equal flame in the bosom of the
peasant and the peer. The latter took their full
share in all the fatigues of the camp; slept, like
the common soldiers, in their boots and cloaks
on the bare ground; and in their intercourse with
their inferiors used the language of affection and
friendship, rather than that of command. Ministers
of the gospel attended the camp in great numbers,
carrj'ing arms like the rest, and many of them at-
tended by little partiesof their friends and dependants.
There were sermons morning and evening in various
places of the camp, to which the soldiers were called
by beat of drum; and while the day was devoted to
the practice of military exercises, its rise and its fall
were celebrated in every tent with the singing of
psalms, reading the Scriptures, and prayer. The
general tone of the army was ardent, full of devotion
to God and of the hope of success against the enemy.
"They felt," says Baillie, "the favour of God shin-
ing upon them, and a sweet, meek, humble, yet
strong and vehement feeling leading them along.
For myself, I never found my mind in better temper
than it was all that time since I came from home, for
I was as a man who had taken my leave from the
world, and was resolved to die in that service without
return." While they were thus strengthened in
spirit, the body was equally well attended to. The
regular pay of the common men was sixpence a day;
fourpence purchased a leg of lamb, and all of them
were served with wheaten bread; a luxurv' which it
is probable many of them never enjoyed either be-
fore or after. Leslie kept open table daily at Dunse
Castle for the nobility and for strangers, besides a
side-table for gentlemen waiters; and as there had
been an extraordinary crop the preceding year, and
the people were zealous to offer supplies, the camp
abounded with all the necessaries of life. An
amicable arrangement, however, having been entered
into between Charles and the Covenanters, peace
was proclaimed in both camps on the 18th of June,
1639.

In the month of April, 1640, it was found neces-
sary by the Covenanters to reassemble their army,
and Leslie was again appointed general ; but from
various causes it was the beginning of August before
the general armament could be collected at Dunse,
where, in the early part of that month, it was re-
viewed by the general. It amounted to 23,000 foot,
3000 horse, and a train of heavy artillerv-, besides
some light cannon, formed of tin and leather corded
round, capable of sustaining twelve discharges each.
This was a species of artillery used by Gustavus
Adolphus, and which the Scottish general had
adopted in imitation of his master. This army was
composed of the same men who had last year occu-
pied Dunse Law. The horse were chiefly composed
of respectable citizens and countrj- gentlemen lightly
armed; some of them having lances, and generally
mounted on the small but active horses of the coun-
try. Their attire and accoutrements were the same

492

ALEXANDER LESLIE.

as in tTie preceding year, including the broad Low-
land blue bonnet. Their march over the border was,
however, delayed for some weeks for the want of
money and necessaries. "It was found," says Mr.
John Livingston, who accompanied the army in the
capacity of chaplain to the Earl of Cassillis' regi-
ment, ''when the whole army was come up, that
there was want of powder and of bread, the biscuit
being spoiled, and of cloth to be huts to the soldiers.
This produced some fear that the expedition might
be delayed for that year. One day when the com-
mittee of estates and general officers and some
ministers were met in the castle of Dunse, and were
at prayer and consulting what to do, an officer of the
guard comes and knocks rudely at the door of the
room where we were, and told there was treacher}-
discovered; for he, going to a big cellar in the bottom
of the house, seeking for some other thing, had found
a great many barrels of gimpowder, which he appre-
hended was intended to blow us all up. After search
it was found that the powder had been laid in there
the year before, when the army had departed from
Dunse Law, and had been forgotten. Therefore,
having found powder, the Earls of Rothes and
Loudon, Mr. Alexander Henderson and Mr. Archi-
bald Johnston, were sent to Edinburgh, and within
a few days brought as much meal and cloth to the
soldiers by the gift of well-affected people there, as
sufficed the whole army. With the same readiness
that these people had parted with their cloth and
their meal, others parted with their plate, and to such
an extent was this carried, that for many years after-
wards not even a silver spoon was to be met with
in the best houses." "It was very refreshful," adds
Livingston, "to remark that after we came to a
quarter at night, there was nothing to be heard al-
most through the whole army but singing of psalms,
prayer, and reading of the -Scriptures by the soldiers
in their several tents; and I was informed there was
much more the year before, when the army lay at
Dunse Law. And indeed, in all our meetings and
consultings, both within doors and in the fields,
always the nearer the beginning there was so much
the more dependence upon God, and more tender-
ness in worship and walking; but through process of
time we still declined more and more."

General Leslie crossed the Tweed on the 20th of
August with his army in three divisions; the College
of Justice's troop of horse, consisting of i6o gentle-
men, under Sir Thomas Hope, riding on the right
wing in order to break the stream for the foot; all of
whom got safely through but one man, who was
drowned. In their march the officers of the Scot-
tish army were greatly embarrassed by a fear of
offi^nding the English nation, with which they had
no quarrel, and with which they knew well they
were not able to contend. With all the difficulties
imposed on him by his situation, however, Leslie
continued his march till the 28th, when he com-
pletely defeated the king's troops, who had been
sent to defend the fords at Xewburn. This success
put him in possession of Newcastle, Tynemouth,
Shields, and Durham, together with several large
magazines of provisions, and again reduced Charles
to the last extremity — a crisis which ultimately pro-
duced the treaty of Ripon, afterwards transferred
to London. The king had now, however, the par-
liament of England upon his hands, and was less
occupied with .Scottish affairs than formerly. Ten
months elapsed before the English parliament saw
fit to allow the treaty to be concluded, the Scottish
army being all the time quartered in Newcastle, that
they might be at hand to assist, in case of matters
coming to extremities between the king and the lords

of St. Stephen's Chapel. Embarrassed and con-
trolled by his parliament, Charles now attempted to
conciliate the Scots by conceding to them all their
demands; hoping thereby to engage them to take
part with him against the former. With this view
became himself to Scotland in the month of August,
1641, when, passing through the Scottish anny at
Newcastle, he was received with the utmost respect,
and entertained by the general, who was created
Lord lialgonie, and on the nth of October, 1641,
Earl of I-even by patent to him and his heirs what-
soever. In the following year the earl was sent over
to Ireland in command of the forces raised for sup-
pressing the rebellion there. In the next year he
was recalled to take the command of the forces sent
into England to the assistance of the parliament, in
pursuance of the Solemn League and Covenant.
He commanded the left of the centre division of the
parliamentary forces at the battle of Marston Moor,
and was driven out of the field, though the honour
of his own name and that of his countiy was gal-
lantly sustained by David Leslie, whose valour con-
tributed in a great degree to the victor)- there ob-
tained. He afterwards, assisted by the Earl of Cal-
lander, took the town of Ne>vcastle by storm; but
treated both the town and the garrison with lenity.
The king having made overtures to the Scottish
generals, Leven sent a copy of them to the parlia-
ment, which in return awarded him a vote of thanks,
accompanied by a present of a piece of plate. He
now laid siege to Harford, but being left by David
Leslie, who had marched with all the horse into
Scotland to oppose Montrose, and the king ap-
proaching in great force, he raised the siege, and
marched northward. He was appointed to com-
mand, at the siege of Newark, an army composed
of both Scottish and English troops, where the king
came to him privately on the 5th day of May, 1646.
He was afterwards one of a hundred officers who on
their knees besought his majesty to accept the pro-
positions offered him by the parliament, and thus be
merciful to himself and to the nation. When the
engagement for the king's rescue was entered into,
the Earl of Leven resigned the command of the army
in disgust, pleading the infirmities of old age. On
the failure of that project he was again restored to
the place he had so honourably filled; but before the
battle of Dunbar he again resigned on account of his
great age, but appeared in the field as a volunteer.
The year following, at a meeting of some noblemen
for concerting measures in behalf of Charles II. at
Eliot in Angus, he was, along with the rest, sur-
prised by a detachment from the garrison of Dundee,
carried to London, and thrown into the Tower. At
the request of Christina, Queen of Sweden, he was
liberated, had his sequestration taken off, and no
fine imposed upon him. He returned to Scotland
in the month of May, 1654, and shortly after went
to Sweden, to thank Christina for the favour she had
done him by interceding with Cromwell on his behalf.
How long he remained in Sweden is not known; but
he died at Balgonie on the 4th of April, 1661, at a
very advanced age. He was buried on the 19th
of the same month in the church of Markinch.
Few men have been more fortunate in life than Alex-
ander Leslie, Earl of Leven. He appears to have
entered upon its duties without fortune and with a
scanty education, and by the force of his talents, J
seconded by habits of religion and persevering in- M
dustry, raised himself to the highest honours which
society has to confer, both in his own and in foreign
countries. His sen-ices were at the time of immense
value to his countrv-, and would have been much
more so, had they not been shackled by the pre-

DAVID LESLIE.

493

judices, the prepossessions, and the ignorance of
those whom the circumstances of birth placed over
him as directors. His lordship acquired extensive
landed property, particularly Inchmartin in the Carse
of tjowrie, which he called Inchleslie. I le was twice
married: first to Agnes, daughter of Renton of Billy
in Berwickshire, and by her had two sons, CJustavus
and Alexander, the latter of whom succeeded him as
Earl of Leven, and five daughters. After the deatli
of his first wife, which took place in 1651, he married
Frances, daughter of Sir John Ferriers of Tamworth
in Staffordshire, relict of Sir John Parkington,Baronet
of Wcslwood, in the county of Worcester, by whom
he had no issue. His peerage finally became merged
by a female with that of Melville, in conjunction
with which it still exists.

LESLIE, David, a celebrated mihtary com-
mander during the civil wars, and the first Lord
Newark, was the fifth son of Patrick Leslie of Pit-
cairly, commendator of Lindores, by his wife, Lady
Jean Stuart, second daughter of Robert, first Earl
of Orkney. Of his early life little more is known
than that, like many others of his countrymen, he
went into the service of Gustavus Adolphus, King
of Sweden, where he distinguished himself by his
military talents, and attained to the rank of colonel
of horse. Returning from the Continent at, or
shortly after, the commencement of the civil wars,
he was appointed major-general to the army that
•was sent into England under the command of the
Earl of Leven to the assistance of the parliament.
This army, which marched for England in the month
of January, 1644, after suffering greatly from the
state of the roads and want of provisions, joined the
parliamentary forces at Tadcaster, on the 20th of
April, with whom they were united in the siege of
York, which was raised on the night of Sunday, the
30th of June, by the advance of Prince Rupert, with
all the strength of the royal army. Determined to
give him battle, the confederates took post on Mar-
ston Moor, on the south side of the Ouse, about five
miles distant from the scene of their former opera-
tions. Here they hoped to have interrupted the
march of the prince towards the city, which he was
desirous of gaining; but permitting their attention to
be engrossed by a party of horse wdiich he despatched
for this purpose, to contest the passage of a river, he
in the meantime succeeded in throwing the whole of
his army into the town. His immediate object thus
gained, he was advised by his colleague, the Marquis
of Newcastle, to rest satisfied till he should receive
reinforcements, or till the dissensions which now
appeared among the confederates should rise to such
a height as to destroy the unanimity of their proceed-
ings. Rupert, however, was not of a disposition to
wait for remote contingencies Avhen he conceived
the chances to be already in his favour; he therefore
hastened to Marston INIoor, the position the enemy
themselves had chosen, and came upon their rear
when they were already on their march for Tadcaster,
Cawwood, and Selby, by occupying which they in-
tended to cut off his supplies, and to hem him in till
the arrival of additional forces should render his cap-
ture easy, and his escape impossible. The Scottish
troops in advance of the army were already within a
mile of Tadcaster, when about nine o'clock of the
morning of the 22d of July, 1644, the alarm was
given that Prince Rupert's horse, to the number of
5000, were pressing on the rear of the confederates,
while the main body of his army occupied the moor
which they had just left. The march was instantly
countermanded, and preparations for an engagement
made with the least possible delay. The prince,

however, having full possession of the moor, they
were compelled to draw up part of their troops in an
adjoining field of rye, their right bearing upon the
town of Marston, and their line extending about a
mile and a half fronting the moor. By three o'clock
in the afternoon both armies, amounting to 25,000
men each, were formed in order of battle. The royal
army was commanded on the right by Prince Rupert
in person; on the left by Sir Charles Lucas, assisted
by Colonel Harvey; while the centre was led by
Generals Goring, Porter, and Tilyard. The Mar-
quis of Newcastle was also in the action, but the
place he occupied has not been ascertained. The
parliamentary army was composed on the right of
liorse, partly Scottish, commanded by Sir Thomas
Fairfax; on the left, likewise horse, by the Earl of
Manchester, and Cromwell his lieutenant-general,
assisted by Major-general David Leslie; and in the
centre by Lord Fairfax and the liarl of Leven. The
battle commenced -with a discharge of great guns,
which did little execution on either side. A ditch,
separating the combatants, rendered the assault a
matter of difficulty and peculiar danger, and both
stood for some minutes in breathless expectation
waiting the signal for attack. On that signal being
made, Manchester's foot and the Scots of the main
body in a running march cleared the ditch, and ad-
vanced boldly to the charge, accompanied by the
horse, who also rushed forward to the attack. The
fiery Rupert with his squadrons instantly^advanced
upon the no less fiery, but far more cautioifs, Crom-
well. The conflict was terrible ; every individual,
being under the eye of his leader, exerted himself as
if the fate of the day had been intrusted to his single
arm. The ti-oops of Cromwell, however, supported
by David Leslie and the Scottish horse, charged
through the very flower of the cavaliers, putting them
completely to flight, while Manchester's foot, keep-
ing pace with them, cut down and dispersed the
infantry. The Marquis of Newcastle's regiment
alone disdained to flee, and their dead bodies, dis-
tinguished by their white uniforms, covered the
ground they had occupied when alive. On the
other extremity of the line Sir Thomas Fairfax and
Colonel Lambert, with a few troops of horse, charged
through the royal army, and met their own victorious
left wing. The remainder, however, were completely
defeated, and even Fairfax's victorious brigade was
thrown into confusion by some new raised regiments
wheeling back upon it, and treading down in their
flight the Scottish reserve under the Earl of Leven,
who, driven from the field, fled to Tadcaster, carry-
ing with them the news of a total defeat. Cromwell,
Leslie, and Manchester, perceiving the rout of their
friends, returned to the field as the victors were about
to seize upon the spoil. The fate of the day was now
reversed. The royal troops occupied the field of lye,
and the parliamentary forces the moor. Each, how-
ever, determined if possible to preser\-e the advan-
tage they had gained, and both once more joined
battle. The struggle now, however, though bloody,
was short and decisive. The shattered remains of
the royal army sought shelter in York ; leaving all
their baggage, artillery, military stores, and above a
hundred stand of colours, in the hands of the con-
querors. Upwards of 3000 men were left dead on
the field; and upwards of 1500 prisoners — more than
100 of whom were principal officers — fell into the
hands of the conquerors. This victory was the death-
blow to the affairs of the king, and greatly added to
the reputation of Cromwell and Leslie, between whom
the whole merit of the afTair was divided; the In-
dependents claiming the largest share for Cromwell,
and the Presbyterians for Leslie. The combined

494

DAVID LESLIE.

army immediately laid siege to York, which surren-
dered by capitulation in a few days. The confeder-
ates, after the capture of York, separated; the Scot-
tish troops marcliinj; northward to meet the Earl of
Callander, whom tliey joined before Newcastle in
the month of August.

General liaillie, in the meantime, had lieen re-
called from ICngland to command the raw levies that
were raised for the defence of tlie country; but he
was accompanied in his progress by a committee of
the estates, who controlled all his movements; and,
contrary to the opinion of the general himself, com-
manded him to leave a strong position and expose
himself with an army of inexperienced soldiers to
certain destruction on the fatal field of Kilsyth,
August 15th, 1645. The issue of tliis battle left tlie
kingdom entirely in the power of Montrose and his
army. In this emergency David Leslie, with the
whole of the cavalry attached to the Scottish army,
then lying before Hereford, was recalled. Arriving
at Berwick, whither the estates had fled from the
plague, which was then raging in Edinburgh, Leslie
took measures for cutting off the retreat of Montrose
to the north, amongst whose mountains he had for-
merly found refuge. P'or this purpose he proceeded
as far as Gladsmuir, about three miles to the west of
Haddington, where he learned that Montrose was
lying secure in Eltrick Forest, near Selkirk. Leslie
was no sooner apprised of this than he wheeled to
the left, and marched southward by the vale of Gala.
The darkness of the night concealed his motions,
and the first notice Montrose had of his approach
was by his scouts informing him that Leslie was
within half a mile of him. A sanguinary encounter
soon followed; but Montrose's troops, though they
fought with a desperation peculiar to their character,
were completely broken and driven from the field,
leaving 1000 dead bodies behind them. Their
leader, however, had the good fortune to escape, as
did also the Marquis of Douglas, with the Lords
Crawford, Sir Robert Spotiswood, A. Leslie, William
Rollock, Erskine, Fleming, and Napier. The Lords
Hartfield, Drummond, and Ogilvy, Philip Nisbet,
William Murray (brother to Lord Tullibardine),
Ogilvy of Innerquharity, Nathaniel Gordon, Andrew
Guthrie (son to the Bishop of Moray), and two Irish
colonels, O'Kean and Lauchlin, were made prisoners,
and reserved for trial in the castles of Edinburgh and
Stirling. Upwards of 100 Irish soldiers taken were,
in conformity to a decree of the legislatures of both
kingdoms, shot upon the field.

Leslie now proceeded with his victorious army to
Lothian, and from thence, accompanied by the com-
mittee of estates, to Glasgow, where, in conjunction
with the committee of the church, they deliberated
on the measures necessary for completing the reduc-
tion of Montrose, and securing the internal peace of
llie kingdom. Some of the prisoners taken at Philip-
haugh were here tried and executed; and as a mark
of gratitude, the committee, out of a fine they im-
posed on the Marquis of Douglas, voted to Leslie
50,000 merks, with a gold chain, and to Middleton,
who was second in command, 30,000. Montrose,
restless and intriguing, in the meantime wandered
from place to place, endeavouring to raise a new
army. Leslie now returned to his station in the
Scottish army under tlie Earl of Leven, whom he
joined in the siege of Newark-upon-Trent. It was
here that Charles, baffled in all his projects, came
into the Scottish camp a helpless fugitive, on the 5th
of May, 1646. lie was received with great respect,
the commander-in-chief, the Earl of Leven, present-
ing him with his sword upon his knee. On the
return of the Scottish army it was reduced to about

6ooo men, of whom Leslie was declared lieutenant-
general, with a pension of /'looo a month over and
above his ])ay as colonel of the Perthshire liorse.
With this force Leslie proceeded to tlie north, where
the Gordons still kept up a party for the king. These
men, who had been so f^ormidable to Argyle, Hurry,
and liaillie, witli the parliamentary commissioners,
scarcely made the shadow of resistance to Leslie.
He seized upon all tlieir principal strengths, and
sent their leaders prisoners to Edinburgh. The
lives of the inhabitants, according to his instnic-
tions, he uniformly spared ; but ujion the Irish
auxiliaries he as uniformly did military execution.
Having gone over the northern districts, and secured
every castle belonging to the disaffected, he left Mid-
(Heton to garrison the country, with instructions to
seize upon the person of Iluntly, who had taken
refuge among the hills. These arrangements made,
he passed into the peninsula of Kintyre, to look after
Montrose's colleague, Alaster M'Coll. This chief-
tain, after making some ineffectual resistance, took
to his boats with his followers, and sought safely
among the western isles, leaving his castle of Duna-
vertie to the care of a body of Irish and Highlanders,
to the number of 300 men. As this force, however,
was wholly inadequate to the defence of the fort, it
was taken, and the garrison put to the sword.
Alaster himself was pursued by Leslie, with eighty
soldiers, to his castle in Isla. He had, however,
fled to Ireland, leaving 200 men under the command
of Colkittoch, his father, to defend his castle of
Dunevey. This stronghold Leslie also reduced, the
gai'rison having surrendered, on condition of having
their lives spared, but to be sent to serve under
Henry Sinclair, a lieutenant-colonel in the French
service. Colkittoch, being given to the Campbells,
was hanged. Having gone over the other islands
with the same success, Leslie returned to the low
country in the month of September, where he was
honoured with the approbation of his party for the
fidelity, diligence, and success with which he had
executed his commission. The king, in the mean-
time, had been delivered up to the English parlia-
ment, and passed through that series of adventures
which ended in his taking refuge in the Isle of Wight.
When the Duke of Hamilton in 1648 raised an army
of moderate Scottish Covenanters, to attempt the
rescue of his royal master, Leslie was offered the
command; but, the church being averse to the under-
taking, he declined accepting it. After the duke
had marched on his unfortunate expedition, the re-
maining strength of the country was modelled into a
new army under the less moderate Covenanters, and
of this the Earl of Leven was appointed commander,
and David Leslie major-general, as formerly. Im-
mediately after the death of Charles I., when the
cavaliers rose in the north for his son, in what was
called "Pluscardine's Raid," Leslie sent a party
against them in the month of May, 1649, under the
command of Charles Ker, Hacket, and Strahan, by
whom they were totally dispersed. On the resigna-
tion of the Earl of Leven, Leslie was appointed to
the chief command of the army raised on behalf of
Charles II., after he had accepted the covenant, and
been admitted to the government. In this situation
he showed himself an able general, repeatedly baffl-
ing by his skill the superior forces of Cromwell, whom
he at last shut up at Dunbar; and but for the folly of
the church and state committee, which had been the
plague of the army during all the previous troubles,
had undoubtedly cut off his whole army. Yielding
to the imjwrtunities of this committee, he rashly
descended from his commanding position, and was
signally defeated on the 3d of September, 1650.

GEORGE LESLEY,

495

Upwards of 3000 men ■were left dead on tlie field,
10,000 were taken prisoners, 200 colours, 15,000
stand of arms, with all the bajjgage and artillery,
fell into the hands of the English. Leslie, with the
wreck of his army, retired upon Stirling, and again
made such dispositions for defending tliat important
line of defence as Cromwell found himself unable to
force. Here he was joined by Charles, who himself
assumed the command of the army, having the Duke
of Hamilton and Leslie for his lieutenants. In this
capacity Leslie accompanied the king to Worcester,
where, on the 3d of September, 165 1, Cromwell
completely routed the royal army. Leslie was in-
tercepted in . his retreat through Yorksliire, and
committed to the Tower of London, where he re-
mained till the Restoration in the year 1660. By
Cromwell's act of grace he was fined in ;i^4000 in
the year 1654. After the Restoration he was created,
in consideration of his services and sufferings in tlie
royal cause, Lord Newark, by patent dated the 31st
of August, 1661, to him and the heirs male of his
body lawfully begotten, with a pension of ^500 per
annum. Plis lordship, however, does not seem to
have been without enemies, as the following letter
from the king, assuring him of his unabated con-
fidence, sufficiently implies:— "Although we have,
on all occasions, both abroad and since our happy
return, declared ourself fully satisfied with your con-
duct and loyalty in our service, and although, in
consideration of the same, we have given you the
title and honour of a lord; yet, seeing we are told
that malice and slander do not give over to persecute
you, we have thought fit to give you this further
testimony, and to declare under our hand, that while
you was the lieutenant-general of our army, you did,
both in England and Scotland, behave yourself with
as much conduct, resolution, and honesty as was
possible or could be expected from a person in that
trust: and as we told you, so we again repeat it, that
if we had occasion to levy an army fit for ourself to
command, we would not fail to give you an employ-
ment in it fit for your quality." His lordship died
in the year 16S2. He married Jean, daughter of
Sir John York, by whom he had a son, David, who
succeeded him as Lord Newark, and three daughters;
the eldest of whom, Elizabeth, was married to
Archibald Kennedy of Cullean, and was motlier to
Susanna, the celebrated Countess of Eglintoune.

LESLEY, George, of Monymusk, a Capuchin
friar of the earlier part of the seventeenth century.
The introduction of this individual as an illustrious
Scotsman, and the manner in which we intend to
treat the events of his life, require some explanation.
John Benedict Rinuccini, Archbishop of Fermo,
published in Italian the life and marvellous adven-
tures of his friend George Lesley, a Scotsman of
rank, who had been miraculously converted to the
Roman Catholic faith. ^ A work on so pleasing a
subject did not remain long in obscurity; it was
translated into French, in which language it was
published at Rouen in 1660, at Paris in 1682, and
again at Rouen in 1700. In 1673 ^^ ^^'^^ dramatized
at Rome, and the decent inhabitants of Monymusk,
a remote hamlet in Aberdeenshire, were clothed in
names suited for an audience in tlie imperial city;
such as Lurcanio a Calvinist clergyman, the parish
minister of Monymusk; Forcina, his servant; Theo-
philus, an old cottager; besides an angel, Pluto, and

' Not having been so fortunate as to meet with a copy of
the Italian edition, \v£ cannot give a copy of the title-pr.ge, or
even of the date.

Beelzebub, in the forni of Calvin.* The work, even
in its primitive form, is a pure romance, manufac-
tured for tlie laudable jiurpose of supporting the
holy Catholic church; while in the midbt of the ab-
surd topography, and still more absurd disjilays of
cliaracter, it is evident from names and circum-
stances, that the whole is founded on fact, and that
George Lesley must have been a man remarkable
for enthusiasm, eccentricity, villany, or some otlier
qualification on which it is difficult to determine.
There have already been published two abridged
translations of his life, one by Lord Hailes in his
Skc-U/ics of Scottish Bioff)-apIiy, the other in the Scots
Magazine for 1802. A search into such contem-
porary records as we thought might throw any liglit
on the real adventures and merits of this wonderful
man, has proved vain; and, unable to separate the
truth from tlie falsehood, we are compelled to follow
the steps of tliosc \\ ho have already treated tlie sub-
ject by giving an abridgment of the P'rench transla-
tion, without omitting any of its marvels.

The author commences with an account of the city
of Aberdeen, which, as we know it to be incorrect,
and can "separate the truth from the falsehood"
in it, we omit. In its neighbourhood lived James
Count Lesley, and Jean Wood his wife, the father
and mother of George, who received from them all
the treatment of a beloved son, with the exception,
that along with his mother's milk he sucked in the
dawning doctrines of Calvinism, Count Leslie died
soon after the birth of his son, leaving him vast
wealth, and the lady afterwards married the baron
de Torry.^ In his eighth year the young count was
sent to pursue his studies in France, with a train and
equipage suited to his rank, a heretic preceptor, and
a fund of advice steadfastly to maintain the faith
he had been taught. He applied diligently to his
studies, and became acquainted with two noble
Parisian brothers, whose society, contrary to the
usual expectation of tlie world regarding such asso-
ciates, confirmed him in his studious disposition, and,
like St. Basil and St. Gregory Nazianzen, he knew
no other street in Paris save that which communi-
cated with their house and the school. The Parisian
youths, compassionating the state of their companion's
soul, proceeded to effect his conversion, in which
they were assisted by their father, who, instead of
the ordinary method of balancing the doctrines of
the two religions with each other, appears to have
merely contrasted Calvinism, the affection of his
relations, and eternal damnation, with the Catholic
faith, eternal felicity, and the loss of his near rela-
tions. The discussions were conducted at the old
gentleman's country-house, beneath the shadow of
an oak, and as a recreation from the pastimes of
hunting and fishing. The effect of the whole was
irresistible ; young Lesley submitted to become a
member of the holy Catholic church, and was imme-
diately conducted to a confessional, after which his
companions beheld in his face a glimpse of that
glory which formerly appeared in the face of Moses,
^leanwhile the heretic preceptor was naturally dis-
pleased with what he saw; he argued, and threat-
ened, and represented the grief of the young count's
mother, but in vain. He then sent an account of
the matter to Monymusk, and the lady in great
trepidation demanded the return of her son; but he,
anxious for the safety of his new faith, declined, and

" II Carpucchino Scozzese, in Scena, con la seconda parte,
e sua morte, non ancor mai pin stampata. Data in luce dal
Signor Francesco Rozzi d'Alatri. In Roma, per il mancini,
1673.

3 Probably the Liird of Tcrrj-, a village near Aberdeen.

496

GEORGE LESLEY.

the enraged parent disowned him. "Alas!" groans
the archbishop, "to what an extent will bigotry
drive us in matters of religion." 'l"he young count,
who had now reached the mature age of sixteen, put
himself under the protection of his new friends, and
accompanied tliem on a pilgrimage to Loretto.
Here he formed an acquaintance with the Capuchin
fathers of St. Francis, ami jiarticularly with Aiige
Joyeuse, a noble Frenchman, who had exchanged
rank and wealth for the cord of St. Francis. On
the departure of his friends he intimated his intention
of remaining at Rome to prejwre for the conversion
of his miserable family: he expressed a desire to enter
the fraternity of .St. Francis, but was horrified to
discover that certain bulls prohibited the reception
of newly-converted heretics. The ingenuity of his
friend Ange attempted to relieve him from this
dilemma. It was represented that there was a ra-
tional distinction betwixt heretics in a Catholic coun-
try and the children of Huguenots, who had no means
of knowing the true faith. The distinction, how-
ever, was not satisfactory to the general of the order,
and Lesley formed the bold design of bursting into
the papal presence, and enforcing his request. When
the youth lifted up his adoring eyes, to look at the
countenance of the vicegerent of God, the whole
chamber beamed with a dazzling light, more lumin-
ous than the sun, the brighter rays of light being
there accumulated to form a tiara for the majesty of
the sacred head; — a phenomenon which we are con-
fidentially assured by the biographer always attends
the pontifical presence, although it is not often visible
to the naked eye. By the intervention of the pope
he was received into the order, and became a Capu-
chin, and assuming the ecclesiastical name of Arch-
angel, he preached with edification. Twenty years
had elapsed since his departure from Scotland, when
his mother, hearing that he had disgraced his family
by joining a fraternity of beggars, at first (according
to the charitable presumption of the archbishop)
wished to assassinate him, but preferred the more
humane alternative of sending her second son, the
Baron of Torry, to convert him. It would be tedi-
ous to tell how the brothers met, and how the re-
verse of what was expected took place, by the baron
joining the true faith, and both forming a project for
the conversion of their mother and the other inhabi-
tants of Scotland. The baron was the first to return
to Scotland, and accident soon revealed the change
in his faith ; in the meantime Lesley was chosen
Capuchin preacher at the court of Mary of Medicis,
Queen-regent of France, and on the institution of
the college de p)-opa<^anda fide, by Gregory XV., he
was appointed papal emissary to Scotland, to procure
the restoration of that lost land to the true faith, at
the same time accepting the additional situation of
interpreter to the Spanish ambassador in England.
Lesley, or as his biographer at this period com-
monly terms him. Archangel, wrote a letter to his
mother, which with much discretion he delivered
himself. He was received with considerable cold
politeness, and entertained in the castle ; where,
however, he could not cat his dinner in peace from
being compelled to sit beside a heretic clergyman,
who pocketed yxt crowns annually for teaching the
doctrines of damnation, to whom, says his author,
whenever he turned his eyes, he thought the banquet
assumed the aspect of a funeral ineal. Archangel
kept his secret about six days, when a remark which
he made connected with a change in the establish-
ment, proved him not to be a stranger, and he was
compelled to make himself known. The rejoicings
at this event can scarcely be described in words.
The old lady received thousands of visits of congra-

tulation, the fame of the event reached even to Aber-
deen (about twenty-five miles), fires of rejoicing were
lighted up on the caslU q{ Monymusk,' and the in-
habitants of the tozc'it'^ discharged culverins and let
off sky-rockets. He commenced a vigorous discharge
of the duties of liis mission; he led the people to an
adjoining mountain, where he had not been preach-
ing half a (juarter of an hour, when the peoj^le shud-
dered, changed colour, and knelt at his feet — he
converted 4000 to the true faith in eight months.
He now naturally turned his eyes towards the salva-
tion of his mother, to which he was resolved to make
his way through the heretical priest. The reverend
gentleman at first declined any discussion, but he was
at length compelled to come to issue. He was asked
what was the denomination of his peculiar faith, and
with much simplicity answered, it was the church of
Geneva. Archangel then asked if the church of
Geneva was ever mentioned in .Scripture? this was
a home-thrust to the minister, who had seen no
more in Scripture about the church of Geneva than
about the stipend of Monymusk. Like a prudent
man, however, he promised to produce what M-as
wanted if he could get time; but after repeated delays
having failed. Archangel triumphantly pointed to the
epistle to the Romans as a proof of the existence of
his church; the heretic was dismissed for incapability
and error, and his mistress' faith ceded to the victor.
The conversion of the mother was followed by that
of the other members of the family and the whole
establishment of the castle. A splendid chapel was
fitted up for the celebration of the rites of the Roman
Catholic church, and the object of the mission made
rapid progress for two years, at the end of which
period one of King James' edicts against Roman
Catholics compelled Archangel to retire to England,
and there prosecute his mission in secrecy, having
been compelled to leave his books and papers as a
prey to the enemy. His mother's goods were con-
fiscated, and she was reduced to the utmost misery
by Protestant persecution. In these circumstances
her son resolved to visit her, and dressing himself as
an itinerant vender of herbs, passed through the
j/;-Ct-/j- of Monymusk, vociferating "Buy my greens:"
he obtained an interview with his mother, who was
reduced to the necessity of being compelled to pur-
chase some of his commodity, and a scene ensued,
which our limits will not permit us to describe.
Being interrupted in his visit by the Protestant "in-
quisitors," he was compelled to return to England,
whence he was summoned to Italy to attend the head
of his order, on the ground of some alleged malver-
sation, the cause of which is not very lucidly ex-
plained. The plague raged in Italy during his
journey, and he for some time occupied himself in
attending the sick at Cremona. He was then ap-
pointed guardian of the convent of Mount George in
the diocese of Fermo. Here he became acquainted
with the archbishop who has so lucidly written his
memoirs, and through a mutual miracle a second
mission to Britain was concocted between them.
Archangel set out, accompanied by another Scottish
Capuchin called Epiphanes ; their vessel was over-
taken by a violent storm, and after a few amiable
discussions about tossing overboard some useless
hands, in order to lighten her, she was wrecked, the
two Capuchins being miraculously saved, along with
some passengers, among whom were two English
gentlemen, whom Archangel converted by the fol-
lowing comfortable argument: " JVe hold that yoii
cannot be saved, ;)'(W admit that twmay; judge, then.

' The castle of Monymusk is a neat old Flemish building,
which would make a rather diminutive modern mansion.
- The hamlet of Monymusk contains about fifty inhabitants.

JOHN LESLIE.

497

which is the safest religion."' He after this met a
young .Scotsman, who gave liim the pleasing intelli-
gence, that, notwithstanding the persecutions suf-
fered by the true faith in Scotland, one inlluential
family in the neighbourhood of the /</r^v town of
Monymusk had been spared, the influence of the
King of France having procured the restoration of
cheir estates, and permission to exercise their re-
ligion. This gentleman turned out to be his younger
brother Edward, from whom he learned also the
sad intelligence that their mother had fallen into a
fever, and died, from the dread that her son had
been drowned in his voyage. After this many ad-
ventures happened to Archangel, among which some
too curious remarks made by iiim on the fortifica-
tions of Newport caused his apprehension as a spy.
His zeal not decreasing, he wore out the patience of
the monarch, and becoming again amenable to the
laws against Papists, was commanded to quit the
kingdom. On his journey southward he made many
miraculous conversions, and particularly on the per-
sons of noblemen in the neighbourhood of the city
of Torfecan (Torphichen). While near the borders
of England, his exertions produced a fever, of which
he died, and a Jesuit in the neighbourhood per-
formed over him the last offices of charity. So
terminate the adventures of Le Capuchin Ecossois,
of which we are sorry we are compelled to omit
many choice portions.

LESLIE, John, Bishop of Clogher, was bom at
Balquhain, in the north of Scotland, after the middle
of the sixteenth century. He was of an ancient and
highly respectable family. The earlier part of his
education he received at Aberdeen, the latter part
at Oxford. He afterwards travelled into Spain,
Italy, Germany, and France, and acquired such a
proficiency in the languages of all these countries,
excepting the last, that he spoke them with the fluency
of a native. In the Latin language he particularly
excelled, and was so familiar with it, that it was said
of him in Spain when he resided there, Sohts Lesleius
Latine loqiiitii): He remained on this occasion
twenty-two years abroad, and during that time was
present at the siege of Rochelle. He also accom-
panied the Duke of Buckingham on the expedition
to the Isle of Rhe.

Leslie stood high in favour with Charles I., and
was by that monarch admitted a member of his privy-
council. In 1633 he was appointed to the bishopric
of Raphoe, in Ireland, where he built a handsome
palace. This building he aftenvards held out against
Cromwell, adopting the loyal alternative of enduring
a siege rather than submit to the usurper.

On the death of his royal patron he went abroad,
where he remained till after the Restoration. He
then returned to England, and in 1661 was trans-
lated to the see of Clogher. Here he remained till
his death, which took place in 1671, when he was
upwards of one hundred years of age. He was then
the oldest bishop in the world, having filled that
dignified station for fifty years.

LESLIE, CHARLES, a celebrated non-juring
divine, was the second son of the Bishop of Clogher.
He was born in the year 1650. He commenced his
education at Inniskillen, Ireland, and was admitted
a fellow-commoner in Trinity College, Dublin, in
1664. Here he continued till he commenced Master
of Arts, and during this period acted as tutor to Mr.
Michael Ward, aftenvards Bishop of Derry. After
the death of his father in 1 67 1, he came over to

' A favourite argument with Roman Catholics, to which
Jeremy Taylor made a well-known and unanswerable answer.
VOL. II.

England, and entered himself in the Temple at
London, and for some years studied the law. Find-
ing this an uncongenial pursuit, he relinquished it
and applied to divinity. In 16S0 he was admitted
into holy orders, and in 16S7 became chancellor of
the cathedral church of Connor, and also acted as a
justice of the peace. Soon after his appointment he
distinguished himself in a public religicnis controversy
with I'atrick Tyrrel, a Roman Catholic, who had
been appointed to the see of Clogher. The disputa-
tion was numerously attended by persons of the per-
suasions of both the champions, and each assigned
the victory to the defender of his own faith; but it is
beyond doubt that Leslie had greatly the advantage
of his antagonist. He afterwards held another public
disputation with two eminent Popish divines in the
church of Tynan, diocese of Armagh. The contro-
versy was maintained in the presence of a large
assembly, composed, as in the former case, of per-
sons of both religions; and here again the talents of
Leslie brought him off triumphantly. He was now
become exceedingly popular in the country for his
theological acquirements, and a circumstance soon
afterwards occurred which procured him equal cele-
brity for liis political knowledge, and for his in-
trepidity of character. A Roman Catholic high-
sheriff having been appointed for the county of
Monaghan, the gentlemen of the county, in great
alarm at this indication of Catholic ascendency, has-
tened to wait upon him for his advice as to how
they should act with regard to the newly-appointed
officer, whose religion disqualified him by law for
the situation. Mr. Leslie told them that it would
be equally illegal in them to permit the sheriff to act,
and in him to attempt it; that though appointed by
the authority of the crown, he, being of the Roman
Catholic persuasion, could not have taken the oaths
necessary to qualify him for the office, and that there-
fore his nomination was illegal. This doctrine he
afterwards held at the quarter-sessions, where the
case came to be decided, and so effectually did he
urge his objections, and that in the presence of the
sheriff himself, that the bench unanimously agreed
to commit the pretended officer for his intrusion.
Mr. Leslie thus placed himself in conspicuous oppo-
sition to the dominant party, and openly declared
that he no longer considered James as the defender
of the faith.

Notwithstanding, however, of his hostility to the
Papists, he continued a stanch supporter of the
exiled family at the revolution in 1688, and refused
to take the oaths to King William and Queen Maiy.
The consequence of this fidelity was the loss of all
his preferments.

When Ireland became disturbed in 1689, Mr.
Leslie removed with his family to England, where
he employed himself in writing political pamphlets
to serve the cause which he had embraced ; but
though opposed to the existing government, he con-
tinued a zealous and active supporter of the Church
of England. About this time he entered into a con-
troversy with the Quakers, which is said to have
arisen from the circumstance of his lodging with a
family of that persuasion. This family he converted.
The first of the several treatises which he wrote
against the Quakers is entitled T/ie S)iaf:c in the
Grass. It appeared in i6g6, and soon ran into a
second edition. It was answered by George Whit-
head, in a pamphlet entitled An Antidote to the
Snake in the Grass. In his second edition Mr. Leslie
noticed this answer; but he was again assailed in a
production called Satan Dissolved from his Disguises
of Light, which also appeared in 1696. To this and
several other attacks Mr. Leslie replied at great

67

49S

JOHN LESLIE.

length, in A Defence of a Book entitled the Snake in
the Grass. This again provoked a host of answers,
amongst which was one by the Quakers entitled A
Switch for the Snake. To this Mr. Leslie again re-
plied, in A Second Defence, or the Third and Last
Part of the Snake in the Grass.

The most celebrated works of Mr. Leslie, though
these just enumerated discovered singular ability,
were those which he wrote against the Deists. The
first of these was published in 1697 in a letter to a
friend, and was entitled A Short and Easy Method
7vith the Deists. The friend alluded to in tlie title
was a lady, though the work bears that it was a
gentleman. Having been thrown accidentally into
the company of infulels, she applied to Mr. Leslie
for "some short topic of reason, without running to
authorities and the intricate mazes of learning." The
treatise was effectual, and Mr. Leslie, although it
was not his original intention, was prevailed upon to
publish it. This work he enlarged considerably in
a second edition. No answer appeared to the Short
and Easy Method till 17 10, when it was replied to
in a treatise entitled A Detection of the True JMcan-
ing and Wicked Designs of a Book entitled, &c.
Mr. Leslie replied to this attack in The Truth of
Christianity Demonstrated, to which was prefixed A
Vindication of the Short Alethod luith the Deists.
These works against Deism produced a powerful
effect, and amongst others the conversion of a person
of tlie name of Gildon, who had acquired consider-
able celeljrity as a member of that persuasion. This
man not only professed himself convinced of his
errors, and publicly retracted them, but wrote a book
against the opinions which he had formerly enter-
tained, entitled The Deisfs Manual, or a Rational
Intjuiry into the Christian Religion.

Encouraged by the success of his attack on Deism,
Mr. Leslie in 1699 produced his Short AletJwd luith
the feziis, a work which was first suggested by a
similar circumstance with that which had given rise
to his Short Method with the Deists. An eminent
Jew had been converted by his reasoning, and had
intimated his intention of publicly owning his con-
viction. The convert, however, died during Mr.
Leslie's absence, without exhibiting the recantation
which he had proposed.

The next controversy in which Mr. Leslie was en-
gaged was with the Socinians. It began in 1694.
In 1697 he published the first of the six dialogues,
entitled The Socinian Controversy Discussed. This
was answered in a short tract, entitled Remarks on
Mr. Charles Leslie^ s First Dialogue on the Socinian
Controversy. Mr. Leslie replied, and was again
answered by his opponent in A Vindication of the
Remarks. Mr. Leslie now published A Reply to the
Vindication, and with this ended the first part of the
controversy.

His principal works against the Papists were, " The
True Nature of the Catholic Church, in answer to the
Bishop of Meaux's Letter to Mr. Nelson," printed
in 1703; The Case Stated between the Church of Rome
and the Church of England, published in 1713; and
Of Private fudgtnent and Authority in I^ I alters of
Faith. These works are said to have made several
converts from Popery.

Although thus earnestly and laboriously employed
in the cause of religion, Mr. Leslie did not neglect
the interests, so far as any efforts of his could serve
them, of the exiled family. He wrote several poli-
tical tracts during this period, and made several
journeys to Bar le Due, to visit the Pretender, who
was then residing there. These journeys, however,
and his political treatises, especially one entitled
The Good Old Cause, published in 17 10, gave such

offence to the ruling party, that it is said a warrant
for his apprehension was actually issued against him.
However this may be, he ftjund it necessary to quit
the kingdom in 1713, when he proceeded to Bar le
Due, and took up his residence by invitation with
the Pretender, who procured a room to be fitted up
for him in his own house. While here Mr. Leslie
was permitted to officiate in a private chapel after
the manner of the Church of England, and it is even
said that the Pretender had promised to listen to his
arguments concerning his religion, and that Mr.
Leslie had in vain endeavoured his conversion. This,
however, is contradicted by Lord Bolingbroke, who
asserts that he not only refused to listen to i\Ir.
Leslie, but forbade all discussion on religious mat-
ters. Notwithstanding of this, however, and of
several other subjects of dissatisfaction with the
Chevalier, whose conduct towards him does not ap-
pear to have been altogether adjusted to his deserts,
Mr. Leslie continued to remain with him, and in
1716 accompanied him into Italy after his unsuccess-
ful attempt upon England. Here he remained till
1721, when he found his situation so exceedingly dis-
agreeable that he determined on returning to his
native country. This he accomplished, but died in
the following year, on the 13th April, in his own
house at Glaslough, in the county of Monaghan.

The list of Mr. Leslie's works, political and theo-
logical, is exceedingly voluminous. The theological
works, in seven volumes, were printed in 1832 at the
Oxford university press.

LESLIE, John, Bishop of Ross, and distinguished
for his indefatigable exertions in behalf of Queen
Mary, was born in 1526, being the son of Gavin
Leslie, an eminent la^vyer descended from the
Barons of Balquhain, one of the most respectable
branches of the ancient family of Leslie. He re-
ceived his education at the university of Aberdeen,
and in 1547 was made canon of the cathedral church
of that diocese. Pie subsequently pursued his studies
in the universities of Toulouse, Poictiers, and Paris,
at which last place he took the degree of Doctor of
Laws. In 1554 he was ordered home by the queen-
regent, and made official and vicar-general of the
diocese of Aberdeen. In the turmoil of the Refor-
mation, which soon after commenced, Leslie became
a noted champion of the Romish faith, and appeared
on that side in the famous disputation at Edinburgh
in 1560. When it was resolved to bring over the
young queen from France to assume the government
of her native country, Leslie was the chief deputy
sent to her by the Catholics, to gain her exclusive
favour for that party; but though he had the dex-
terity to arrive before the Protestant deputation, he
was not successful. Leslie, however, returned to
Scotland in the queen's company, and was appointed
by her a privy-councillor and one of the senators of
the College of Justice. In 1564 the abbey of Lin-
dores was conferred upon him, and he was soon
after promoted to the bishopric of Ross; offices
catholic in form, but which now referred to little
more than certain temporalities to which they con-
ferred a title. Leslie was one of the sixteen com-
missioners appointed in this reign to revise the Scot-
tish laws, and it was chiefly owing to his care that
the volume of the acts of parliament, usually called
the Black Acts, from its being printed in the old
English character, was given to the world in 1566.

The name of the Bishop of Ross derives its chief
lustre from the steadfastness and zeal with which he
adhered to the fortunes of his royal mistress after
they had experienced the remarkable reverse which
is well known to have befallen them. When Mary

had become an almost hopeless captive in England,
this amiable prelate, at the hazard of all his temporal
enjoyments, continued to adhere to her, and to exert
himself in her behalf, with a fidelity which would
have adorned any cause. He was one of her com-
missioners at the conference of York in 1568; on
which occasion he defended her with a strength of
reasoning which is allowed to have produced a great
impression, though it did not decide the argument in
her favour. He afterwards appeared as her ambas-
sador at the court of Elizabeth, to complain of the
injustice done to her; and if the English princess had
not been a party interested in the detention of his
mistress, his solicitations could have hardly failed of
effect. When he found that entreaties and appeals
to justice were of no avail, he contrived means for
the escape of the queen, and planned the project for
her marriage to the Duke of Norfolk, which ended
in the execution of that unfortunate nobleman. Leslie
was examined in reference to this plot, and notwith-
standing his privileges as an ambassador, which he
vainly pleaded, was committed prisoner, first to the
Isle of Ely, and afterwards to the Tower of London.
It appears to have been during this confinement that
he wrote the historical work by which his name is
now chiefly known. In 1573 he was liberated from
prison, but only to be banished from England. He
then employed himself for two years in soliciting the
interference of the continental princes in behalf of
his mistress, but without obtaining for her any active
assistance. Even with the pope, whom he requested
to use his influence with these princes, he met with
no better success. While at Rome he published his
history in Latin, under the title of De Origine, Mori-
bus, et Rebus Gestis Scoiorum. This appeared in
1578: next year, having removed to France, he was
made suffragan and vicar-general of the archbishopric
of Rouen in Normandy; and while visiting the dio-
cese, was apprehended and thrown into prison, and
obliged to pay 3000 pistoles to prevent his being
given up to Elizabeth. During the remainder of
the reign of Henry HI. he lived unmolested; but
on the accession of the Protestant Henry IV., who
was the strict ally of Elizabeth, he fell again into
trouble. In the course of his visitation of the diocese
in 1590 he was once more thrown into prison, and
forced to purchase his freedom at the same expense
as before. In 1593 he was made Bishop of Con-
stance, but being now apparently tired of life, which
for many years had presented only disappointments
and vexations, he soon after retired into a monastery
at Gurtenburg, about two miles from Brussels, where
he spent the remainder of his days in tranquillity.
He died May 31st, 1596, and lies buried in the mon-
astery, under a monument erected to his memory by
his nephew and heir, John Leslie.

Bishop Leslie is generally allowed the praise of
great learning and of high diplomatic abilities, though
it is almost as generally regretted that he did not
turn them to a better use. His fidelity to a declin-
ing cause is also allowed, even by its enemies, to
have been a sentiment as free from the dross of
worldly or selfish views as the motives of a line of
public conduct ever are. The isolation of a Catholic
church dignitary in society seems favourable to the
development of such sentiments; and there are not
many cases in which the principle is observed to
have been more powerful than in the history of this
Scottish prelate. His tongue, his pen, the travel of
his body, his temporal fortune, were all devoted with
the most generous imreserve to the cause which he
thought that of justice and true religion; and what
more can any man do to show the superiority of his
nature to the meaner passions?

JOHN LESLIE. ^99

The works of Bishop Leslie are as follow :
I. '■'■ Dcfcjice of tlie Honour of Mary Queen of Scot-
land; with a Declaration of her Right, Title, and
Interest to the Crown of England;" Liege, 1571, Svo,
which was immediately suppressed. 2. Affluti Anitni
Consolationes et Tratujuilli Animi Consa-z'atio; Paris,
1574. 3. De Origine, Moribus, et Rebus Gestis Scot-
orutn; Romre, 1578, 4to. 4. A Treatise s/i07oing t/iat
the Regiment of IVoinen is Conformable to the Law of
God and A'ature. 5- -^'' Titulo et Jure Mariiv Scot-
oruni Reginu: ; quo Anglice Successioncm Jure sibi
■z'indicat; Rheims, 1 580, 4to. 6. '■'■The History of
Scotland, from the Death of James I. in 1436 to the
year 1561; Edinburgh, 1830, 4to.

The volume last mentioned was printed from a
manuscript in the possession of the Earl of Leven
and Melville. It is in the Scottish tongue, and
forms the original of the three latter books of the
Latin history, which differs from it in no respect
except in being a little more ample. It appears to
have been composed in the vernacular tongue in
order that it might be of use to his captive mistress,
who, it is to be presumed, was not so good a Latinist
as her cousin Elizabeth. The reason of his present-
ing her with only this detachment of the history of
her country was, that the preceding part was already
to be had in Bellenden's version of Boece. That
work stops at the death of James I., and it would
naturally occur to Bishop Leslie that a continuation
to his own time was a desideratum, both to the people
and to her whom he maintained to be their sovereign.
He finished his work in March, 1570, and presented
the unfortunate queen with the manuscript in 1571;
but it never saw the light till the date above men-
tioned, when 100 copies were printed for the Banna-
tyne Club, with fifty additional for sale to the public.
The style of the work, though it could not fail to
sound rudely in the ears of a modem Englishman, is
highly elegant and dignified, forming a wonderful
improvement upon the rude simplicity of Bellenden.
The worthy bishop informs us that he stops at the
beginning of Queen Mary's reign, because the trans-
actions subsequent to that period contain much that
he does not think would reflect honour upon his
country: there could be few whose words were more
worth listening to respecting that important and
greatly controverted part of our histor)-.

The volume alluded to contains a portrait of Leslie,
representing him as a grave and venerable man, with
an aquiline nose, a small beard, and a very lofty
and capacious forehead. As a specimen of the Scot-
tish which a learned prelate would then write, and
a queen peruse, we may quote the bishop's character
of James V. : —

"Their was gnt dule and meane maid for him
throw all the partis of his realme, because he was a
nobill prince, and travaillet mekill all his dayis for
manitening of his subjectis in peace, justice, and
quietnes. He was a man of pearsonage and stature
convenient, albeit michtie and strong theirvvith; of
countenance amiable and lufely, specially in his com-
munication; his eyes grave and scharp of sicht, that
quhomsoever he did ones see and marke, he wald
perfytly knawe in all tymes thairefter; of witt in all
things quick and prompt, of a princely stomacke and
heich courage in greit perillis, doubtful affairis and
materis of weichtie importance; he had in a maner
a divine foresicht, for in sic thingis as he went about
to doo, he did them advisedlye, and with grit delib-
eracion, to the intent that amangis all men his witt
and prudence might be noted and regardit, and
alsfarre excell and ])as all uthers in estait and dignitie.
Besides this, he was sober, moderate, honest, effabill,
curteous; and so farr abhorrit pride and arrogance,

500

SIR JOHX LESLIE.

that he was ever sharpe and quick to thame
quhilk were spotted or nottit with that crime. He
•was alsua a good and suir justiciar, be the quhilke
one thing he allurit to him the hartis of all the people,
because they lived quietlie and in rest, out of all op-
pressioun and molestacioun of the nobilitye and riche
persones; and to this severyte of his wes joinit and
annexit a certane merciful pitye, quhilk he did
oftymes shaw to sic as liad offendit taking rather
composicions of money nor menis lyvis.
This gude and modest prince did not devoure and
consume the riches of his countrcy, for by his heich
pollicye marvellouslie riched hisrealme and himselfe,
both with gold and silver, all kinds of riche sub-
stance, quhairof he left greyt stoir and quantitie in all
his palices at his departing. And so this king, liv-
ing all his tyme in the favour of fortune, in heich
honour, riches, and glorye, and for his nobill actis and
prudent pollyces, worthye to be registrat in the buike
of fame, gaif up and randerit his spreit into the hands
of Allmichty God, quhair I doubt not bot he hes
suir fruition of the joye that is preparit for these as
sell sitt on the richt hand of our Salveour. "

LESLIE, Sir John, professor of natural philo-
sophy in the university of Edinburgh, and distin-
guished by his valuable writings and discoveries, was
born at the kirk-town of Largo, in Fife, on the i6th
of April, 1766. His father, Robert Leslie, by pro-
fession a joiner and cabinet-maker, and originally
from the neighbourhood of St. Andrews, was a much
respected and worthy man, and seems, in point of
education and general attainments, to have been
superior to the majority of persons in his station at
that period. The mother of Sir John Leslie was
Anne Carstairs, a native of Largo. \Vhen very
young he was sent to a woman's school in the vil-
lage, but remained only a short time there. After-
wards he was placed under a Mr. Thomson at Lundin
Mill, with whom he learned to write; and lastly he
went to Leven school and began to learn Latin; but
being a weakly boy and unable to walk so far, he
was obliged after about six weeks to give up attend-
ance. As these were the only schools he attended
before going to college, it is evident that his elemen-
tary acquirements must have been exceedingly im-
perfect. He received however, while at home, some
lessons in mathematics from his elder brother Alex-
ander, and soon began to show a surprising aptitude
for that branch of science. His manners at this
period of life were remarkably reserved and shy.
He seemed bent on devoting himself entirely to study,
and read with peculiar avidity all the books that
came within his reach on mathematics and natural
philosophy. To Latin he took a strong dislike, and
could not be induced to resume the study of it till
after his first year at college.

His extraordinary proficiency in geometrical exer-
cises, joined to a consideration of the unfavourable
circumstances under which hehad acquired it, brought
him at an early period under the notice of Professors
Robison and Stewart, of the university of Edin-
burgh, who were much impressed by the extraor-
dinary powers which he displayed. It was at length
resolved by his parents that he should be sent to the
university of St. Andrews, in order to fit himself for
a learned profession, and he was accordingly entered
there as a student of mathematics in 1 779. At the
first distribution of prizes he attracted some atten-
tion by his proficiency, which was the means of in-
troducing him to the patronage of the Earl of Kin-
noul, then chancellor of the university. Being now
destined for the church, he went through the regular
routine of instructions for that purpose. After at-

tending for six sessions at St. Andrews, he removed
to Edinburgh, in company with another youth —
destined like himself to obtain a high niche in the
temple of fame, and to be honoured, at the same
moment with himself, more than forty years after,
with a royal favour expressive of his equal merit —
James (afterwards Sir James) Ivory. At St. An-
drews he had also formed an acquaintance with Dr.
William Thomson, the continuator of Watson's L(/i
of Philip II., and latterly a professed author of no
small note in London. At the university of Edin-
burgh Mr. Leslie studied three years, during which
time he was introduced to Dr. Adam Smith, and
employed by that eminent man in assisting the
studies of his nephew, afterwards Lord Reston. He
now gave up his intention of adopting the clerical
profession, which he found to be in a great measure
incompatible with the strong bent which his mind
had taken towards physical studies.

In 1788 he went to Virginia, as tutor to two young
college friends, Messrs. Randolph; and after spend-
ing more than a year in America, returned to Edin-
burgh. In January, 1790, he proceeded to London,
carrying with him some recommendatory letters from
Dr. Smith ; he has Ijeen heard to mention, that one
of the most pressing injunctions with which he was
honoured by that illustrious philosopher, was to be
sure, if the person to whom he was to present him-
self was an author, to read his book before approach-
ing him, so as to be able to speak of it, if there
should be a fit opportunity. His first intention was
to deliver lectures on natural philosophy ; but being
disappointed in his views, he found it expedient to
commence writing for periodical works, as the
readiest means of obtaining subsistence. For ob-
taining employment of this kind he was mainly
indebted to his friend Dr. William Thomson, who
engaged him upon the notes of a new edition of the
Bible, which he was then publishing in numbers.
About three months after his arrival in London he
made an agreement with Mr. Murray, the bookseller,
to translate Bufibn's iVattiral History of Birds, which
was published in 1793, in nine octavo volumes. The
sum he received for it laid the foundation of that
pecuniary independence which, unlike many other
men of genius, his prudent habits fortunately enabled
him early to attain. The preface to this work, which
was published anonymously, is characterized by all
the peculiarities of his later style ; but it also be-
speaks a mind of great native vigour and lofty con-
ceptions, strongly touched with admiration fcJr the
sublime and the grand in nature and science. Dur-
ing the progress of the translation he fulfilled an
engagement with the Messrs. Wedgewood of Etruria
in Staffordshire, to superintend their studies ; he left
them in 1792. In 1794 Mr. Leslie spent a short
time in Holland; and, in 1796, he made the tour
of Germany and Switzerland with Mr. Thomas
Wedgewood, whose early death he ever lamented
as a loss to science and his country. About this
period he stood candidate for a chair at St. An-
drews, and subsequently for that of natural philo-
sophy in Glasgow, but without success. The fortun-
ate candidate on the latter occasion was Dr. James
Brown of St. Andrews, with whom Mr. Leslie to
the end of his life maintained a constant intimacy.
In 1799 he travelled through Norway and Sweden
in company with Mr. Robert Gordon, whose friend-
ship he had acquired at St. Andrews College.

At what period Mr. Leslie first struck into that
brilliant field of inquiry where he became so con-
spicuous for his masterly experiments and striking
discoveries regarding radiant heat, and the connec-
tion between light and heat, we are unable to say.

SIR JOHN LESLIE.

501

But his differential thermometer — one of the most
beautiful and delicate instruments that inductive
genius ever contrived as a help to experimental in-
quiry, and which rewarded its author by its happy
ministry to the success of some of his finest experi-
ments— must have been invented before the year
1800, as it was described in yichohon's /'/u'/oso/'/tua/
yoitrnal some time during that year. The results
of those fine inquiries, in which he was so much aided
by this exquisite instrument, were published to the
world in 1S04, in his celebrated Essay on the Nature
and Propagation of Heat} The experimental devices
and remarkable discoveries which distinguish this
publication far more than atone for its great defects
of method, its very questionable theories, and its
transgressions against that simplicity of style which
its aspiring author rather spurned than was unable
to exemplify ; but which must be allowed to be a
quality peculiarly indispensable to the communica-
tion of scientific knowledge. The work was hon-
oured, in the following year, by the unanimous
adjudication to its author, by the council of the
Royal Society, of the Rumford medals, appropriated
to reward discoveries in that province whose nature
and limits he had so much illustrated and extended.

Mr. Leslie had thus distinguished himself by his
acquirements, when, early in 1805, in consequence
of the translation of Professor Playfair from the
chair of mathematics to that of natural philosophy
in the university of Edinburgh, the former became
vacant, and the subject of this memoir appeared as
a candidate for the situation. It might have been
expected that, where the qualifications of the indi-
vidual were so decidedly above all rivalrj% there
could have been no hesitation in his native country
to confer upon him the honour which he sought.
Such there might not have been, if what is called
the moderate party in the Scottish church had not
been inspired by a jealousy of his liberal principles
in politics, accompanied by a desire of advancing
one of their own number to oppose his election.
The person brought forward as the rival candidate
was Dr. Thomas Macknight, one of the ministers
of the city, and son of the venerable commentator
on the epistles — a gentleman highly qualified, no
doubt, not only for this, but for almost any other
chair in the university; but who, nevertheless, could
not be matched against an individual so distinguished
for the benefits he had conferred on science as Mr.
Leslie ; and who was moreover liable to the dis-
qualifying consideration that he was already engaged
in an office which, to be well done, requires the
whole man, while Mr. Leslie stood in the light of
a most useful member of society in a great measure
unprovided for.

The electors in this case were the magistrates and
town-council of Edinburgh, and to them Mr. Leslie
was recommended not only by fame, but by the
warmest testimonials from Sir Joseph Banks, Mr.
Dempster of Dunnichen, Dr. Hutton of Woolwich,
Baron Masseres, and Dr. Maskelyne. In the sup-
position that these electors were disposed to discharge
their trust with fidelity, they could have no hesita-
tion in preferring Mr. Leslie ; and it is to be related
to their credit, that they had no such hesitation. On
learning the bent of their resolution, the ministers
of Edinburgh held various private meetings, as if
to indicate the more pointedly that they had a pecu-
liar interest of their own in the matter; and it was
resolved to oppose ^Ir. Leslie's election on the

1 Previous to this period Mr. Leslie, when not other%%'ise or
elsewhere engaged, used to live with his brothers at Largo;
and there were the experiments for his Essay on Heat carried
on, and the book written.

grounds of what they deemed an infidel note in his
Essay on I/eat ; employing for this purpose a clause
in the fundamental charier of the college, directing
the magistrates to take the advice of the Edinburgh
clergy in the election of professors.

The note alluded to was one in reference to the
unphilosophical theories which once attempted to
explain the phenomena of gravitation by means of
invisible ethers. Mr. Leslie, in treating this point,
found it convenient to refer to Mr. Hume's theory
of cause and effect, in which, as is well known, he
makes use of certain generally received doctrines to
invalidate the argument for the existence of the
Deity. In making the reference it did not seem to
Mr. Leslie to be necessary tliat he should condemn
the ultimate use made of these doctrines by Mr.
Hume, since he was only engaged in a physical ex-
amination. His note, therefore, stands as follows :
"Mr. Hume is the first, so far as I know, who has
treated of causation in a truly philosophic manner.
His Essay on A'cccssajy Coiiutrtio/i seems a model
of clear and accurate reasoning. But it was only
wanted to dispel the cloud of mystery which had so
long darkened that important subject. The un-
sophisticated sentiments of mankind are in perfect
unison with the deductions of logic, and imply at
bottom nothing more in the relation of cause and
effect than a constant invariable sequence." From
these words, however, it was evident, in the opinion
of his clerical opponents, "that Mr. Leslie, having,
with Mr. Hume, denied all such necessary connec-
tion between cause and effect as implies an operat-
ing principle in the cause, has of course laid a
foundation for rejecting all argument that is derived
from the works of God to prove either his being or
attributes."

When I^Ir. Leslie was informed of the grounds
on which the Edinburgh ministers rested their op-
position, he addressed a letter to the Rev. Dr. Hun-
ter, professor of divinity, and one of the i&vf clergy-
men of the city who were not opposed to him, laying
before him some explanations of the note, to which
he begged him to call the attention of his brethren.
These explanations were chiefly what are stated
above, and are thus followed up: "I have the fullest
conviction that my ideas on the question to which
the note refers would appear to coincide, in every
essential respect, with those of the most enlightened
adversaries of Mr. Hume's philosophy. But, limited
as I am to a few moments of time, I can only dis-
avow (which I do with the greatest sincerity and
solemnity) every inference which the ingenuity of
my opponents may be pleased to draw from the
partial view I have taken of the general doctrine, to
the prejudice of those evidences on which the truths
of religion are founded. If I live to publish another
edition of my work, I pledge myself to show in an
additional paragraph how grossly and injuriously
I have been treated on this occasion. . . It is
painful to be called on, after the habits of intimacy
in which I have lived with the most exemplary char-
acters in both parts of the island, to repel a direct
charge of atheism; but whatever may be the effect
of such calumnies on the minds of strangers, it affords
me much consolation to think that they will be
heard with contempt and indignation by those who
know the real state of my sentiments, and particularly
by such as are acquainted v.ith the strictness of those
religious principles in which I had the happiness
to be educated from my earliest years."

This letter was laid before the ministers at a
meeting held by them on the 12th of March, 1805;
but being, to use their own phrase, by no means
satisfied with it, they appointed a committee, con-

502

SIR JOHN LESLIE.

sisting of Dr. Grieve, Mr. David Black, Mr. David
Dickson, and Dr. Inglis, to jiroceed to tlie town-
council and protest against the election of Mr. Leslie.
As the council was to be that day engaged in the
election, the committee went accordingly to their
chamber, and presented a protest which had been
prepared, in which, besides stating the grand objec-
tion of the note and their inferences from it as to
Mr. Leslie's religious principles, they stated that,
"in the event of his being elected, notwithstanding
this representation, they reserved to themselves full
power of questioning the validity of such election,
and of employing whatever means may to them be
found competent for preventing Mr. Leslie's induc-
tion into the office of professor ; with full power, in
the event of his induction, to prosecute for his ejec-
tion from said office in any competent court, civil
or ecclesiastical." Immediately after this paper was
given in and its bearers had left the hall, the council
elected Mr. Leslie.

At the meeting of the presbytery of Edinburgh on
the 27th, the committee of the city clergy gave in
a representation stating these transactions, along with
a copy of their protest, and requested the reverend
court to take such steps in the matter as they might
judge proper. It was here determined by vote to
carry the affiiir before the synod ; a step formally
necessary for bringing it under the decision of the
highest national church-court, the General Assembly.

At the meeting of this court on the 22d of May,
the case of Mr. Leslie came before it in the shape
of a complaint by the Rev. Sir Henry Moncrieff and
other members of the sj-nod, against the reference
of the case to the General Assembly. It was thus
apparent that the leaders of the more zealously pious
party of the church had taken the part of Mr. Leslie
against their accustomed opponents. The interest
which the public could not have failed to entertain
respecting the question, even if confined to its native
merits, was excited to an uncommon degree by this
complication of the phenomenon. The case, never-
theless, furnished only an unusually striking example
of what must always be the result of a party system
in any deliberative body. It happened to be con-
venient for the "moderate" party on this particular
occasion, to show an anxious desire for the purity
of faith and doctrine; and for this purpose they raked
up a negative title in the Edinburgh clergy to be
consulted in the exercise of the town-council patron-
age, which had not been acted upon for twenty-six
years, during which time several of the very men
now prosecuting had been elected to chairs in the
university without regard to it. It was equally con-
venient for the evangelical party, though adverse to
all their usual principles, to regard the suspected
infidelity of Mr. Leslie with a lenient and apologetic
spirit, in order that they might be in their usual
position regarding their opponents, and because they
hoped to gain a triumph for themselves m the non-
success of a prosecution which they could easily
see rested upon no valid grounds, and could hardly,
in the face of public opinion, be carried to its ut-
most extent, even though a majority of servile votes
could have been obtained for the purpose.

In the course of the long debate which followed
the introduction of the case, some very strong testi-
monies were brought forward in favour of Mr. Leslie's
moral and religious character ; and the speeches on
either side, which occupied two days, were charac-
terized by a metaphysical depth and an amount of
scientific knowledge which perhaps no other church-
court in Europe could have equalled. Near midnight
on the second day of the debate, it was determined
by 96 against 84 to dismiss this vexatious case with-

out further notice. On the vote being announced,
a shout of applause — an unwonted sound in the
General Assembly — burst from the crowd assembled
in the galleries.

Mr. Leslie entered without further opposition upon
the duties of his chair, and upon a course of experi-
mental discovery by which he was to confer lustre
upon the university. Through the assistance of one
of his ingenious contrivances — his hygrometer — he
arrived in 1810 at the discover)- of that singularly
beautiful process of artificial congelation, which en-
abled him to convert water and mercury into ice.
"We happened," says a brother professor, "to
witness the consummation of the discovery — at least,
of the performance of one of the first successful re-
petitions of the process by which it was effected ;
and we shall never forget the joy and elation which
beamed on the face of the discoverer, as, with his
characteristic good nature, he patiently explained the
steps by which he had been led to it."

In 1809 Mr. Leslie published his Elements of Geo-
metry, which immediately became a class-book, and
has since gone through four editions. He also pub-
lished, in 1 81 3, an Account of Experiments and
Instruments depending on the relation of Air to Heat
and Moisture. In 181 7 he produced his "Philo-
sophy of Arithmetic, exhibiting a Progressive View
of the Theorj' and Progress of Calculation," a small
octavo; and, in 1S21, his " Geometrical Analysis ajtd
Geometry of Curve Lines, being volume second of a
Course of Mathematics, and designed as an Introduc-
tion to the Study of Natural Philosophy."* In 1822
he published Elements of Xatural Philosophy for the
use of his class — reprinted in 1829 — and of which
only one volume appeared. Rudiments of Geometry,
a small octavo, published 182S, and designed for
popular use, was his last separate work. Besides
these separate works he wrote many admirable
articles in the Edinburgh Re-view, three profound
treatises in N'icholson^ s Philosophical Journal, a few
in the Transactions of the Royal Society of Edin-
burgh, and several very valuable articles on different
branches of physics in the Supplement to the
Encyclopcedia Britannica. In 1819, on the death of
Professor Playfair, whose promotion had formerly
made room for him in the chair of mathematics, he
was elevated to the professorship of natural philo-
sophy, by which his powers were of course brought
into a far wider field of display and of usefulness
than they had been for the preceding fourteen years.
Among the preliminary treatises of the seventh edition
of the Encyclopcedia Britannica, which began to be
published in 1830, he wrote a "Discourse on the His-
tory of Mathematical and Physical Science during
the Eighteenth Centur}-," which may be described
as one of the most agreeable and masterly of all his
compositions.

The income enjoyed by Mr. Leslie was for many
years so much above his necessities, that he was able,
by careful management, to realize a fortune not far
short of ten thousand pounds. Part of this he ex-
pended, in his latter years, upon the purchase and
decoration of a mansion called Coates,near his native
village, where he spent all the intervals allowed by
his college duties. Early in the year 1832, at the
recommendation of the lord-chancellor (Brougham),
he was invested with a knighthood of the Guelphic

' The Elements of Geometry included trigonometry and
geometrical analysis m one volume, for the three first editions;
and the curve lines of the second order was a small separate
work. In the fourth edition of the Geometry, 1820, one volume
included geometry and trigonometry', and the second, pub-
lished some time after, consisted of geometrical analysis, in-
cluding the curves of the second order formerly published,
with the addition of the higher curves.

SIR JOHN LESLIE.

503

order, at the same time that Messrs. Herschel, C.
Hell, Ivory, Brewster, South, and Harris Nicolas,
received a similar honour. Sir John Leslie was not
destined long to enjoy the well-merited distinction.
In the end of October, while superintending some of
tlie improvements about his much-loved place, he
incautiously exposed himself to wet, the consequence
of which was a severe cold. Among the various
foibles which protruded themselves through the better
jiowers and habitudes of his mind, was a contempt
for medicine, and an unwillingness to think that he
could be seriously ill. He accordingly neglected his
ailment, and was speedily seized with erysipelas in
one of his legs; a disorder at that time raging in
Scotland with all the symptoms and effects of a
malignant epidemic. On Wednesday, October 31st,
he again exposed himself in his grounds, and from
that day the malady advanced very rapidly. On
the evening of Saturday, November 3d, he breathed
his last.

The scientific and personal character of Sir John
Leslie has been sketched with so bold and free a
pencil by Mr. Macvey Napier, his brother in both
academic and literary labours, that we make no
apology for presenting it to the reader, in lieu of
anything of our own : —

"It would be impossible, we think, for any intelli-
gent and well-constituted mind to review the labours
of this distinguished man, without a strong feeling
of admiration for his inventive genius and vigorous
powers, and of respect for that extensive knowledge
which his active curiosity, his various reading, and
his happy memory had enabled him to attain. Some
few of his contemporaries in the same walks of science
may have excelled him in profundity of understand-
ing, in philosophical caution, and in logical accuracy;
but we doubt if any surpassed him, whilst he must
be allowed to have surpassed many, in that creative
faculty— one of the highest and rarest of nature's
gifts — which leads and is necessary to discovery,
though not all-sufficient of itself for the formation of
safe conclusions; or in that subtilty and reach of
discernment which seizes the finest and least obvious
relations among the objects of science — which elicits
the hidden secrets of nature, and ministers to new
combinations of her powers. There were some flaws,
it must be allowed, in the mind of this memorable
person. He strangely undervalued some branches
of philosophical inquiry of high importance in the
circle of human knowledge. His credulity in matters
of ordinary life was, to say the least of it, as con-
spicuous as his tendency to scepticism in science.
It has been profoundly remarked by Mr. Dugald
Stewart, that 'though the mathematician may be pre-
vented, in his own pursuits, from going far astray, by
the absurdities to which his errors lead him, he is
seldom apt to be revolted by absurd conclusions in
other matters. Thus, even in physics,' he adds,
'mathematicians have been led to acquiesce in con-
clusions which appear ludicrous to men of different
habits.' Something of the same kind was observ-
able in the mind of this distinguished mathematician,
for such also he was. He was apt, too, to run into
some startling hypothesis, from an unwarrantable ap-
plication of mathematical principles to subjects alto-
gether foreign to them; as when he finds an analogy
between circulating decimals and the lengthened
cycles of the seasons. In all his writings, with the
exception perhaps of his last considerable perform-
ance, the discourse prefixed to the seventh edition of
the EiicyclopcTciia Brilannica, even in the sober field
of pure mathematics, there is a constant straining after
'thoughts that breathe and words that bum,' and a
love of abstract, and figurative, and novel modes of

expression, which has exposed them to just criticism
by impartial judges, and to some puny fault-finding
by others, more willing to carp at defects than to
point out the merits which redeem them. But when
even severe criticism has said its worst, it must be
allowed that genius has struck its captivating im-
press deep and wide over all his works. His more
airy speculations may be thrown aside or condemned;
but his exquisite instruments, and his original and
beautiful experimental combinations, will ever attest
the fruitfulness of his mind, and continue to act as
helps to farther discovery. We have already alluded
to the extent and excursiveness of his reading. It is
rare, indeed, to find a man of so much invention,
and who himself valued the inventive above all the
other powers, possessing so vast a store of learned
and curious information. His reading extended to
every nook and corner, however obscure, that books
have touched upon. He was a lover, too, and that
in no ordinal-)' degree, of what is conmionly called
anecdote. Though he did not shine in mixed society,
and was latterly unfitted by a considerable degree of
deafness for enjoying it, his conversation, when seated
with one or two, was highly entertaining. It had
no wit, little repartee, and no fine turns of any kind,
but it had a strongly-original and racy cast, and was
replete with striking remarks and curious informa-
tion.

"He had faults, no doubt, as all 'of woman bom'
have : he had prejudices, of which it would have
been better to be rid; he was not over charitable in
his views of human virtue; and he was not quite so
ready, on all occasions, to do that justice to kindred
merit as was to be expected in so ardent a worshipper
of genius. But his faults were far more than com-
pensated by his many good qualities — by his constant
equanimity, his cheerfulness, his simplicity of char-
acter almost infantine, his straightfor^vardness, his
perfect freedom from affectation, and, above all, his
tmconquerable good nature.^ He was, indeed, one
of the most placable of human beings; and if, as has
been thought, he generally had a steady eye, in his
worldly course, to his own interest, it cannot be
denied that he was, notwithstanding, a warm and
good friend, and a relation on whose affectionate
assistance a firm reliance could ever be placed.

"There is one other matter which, in justice to
the illustrious dead, we cannot pass over in silence;
we mean the permanent service rendered to the class
of natural philosophy by the late Sir John Leslie in
the collection of by far the finest and most complete
set of apparatus in the kingdom. Augustus boasted
that he found Rome built of brick, and left it a city
of palaces and temples constmcted of marble. With-
out any exaggeration, something analogous may be
predicated of Sir John Leslie in regard to the appar-
atus of this class. He found it a collection of anti-
quated and obsolete mbbish; he left it the most
complete and perfect of its kind in this kingdom; and
if it had pleased God to spare him a few years longer,
it would, beyond all doubt, have been rendered the

' The person of Sir John Leslie was, in later life, far from
gainly. He was short and corpulent, with a florid face and
somewhat unsightly projection of the front teeth, and tottered
considerably in walking. He was, moreover, very slovenly in
his mode of dressing — a peculiarity the more curious, as it was
accompanied by no inconsiderable share o{ self-respect, and an
anxiety to be thought young and engaging. The mixture of
great intellectual powers with the humbler weaknesses cf
human nature can seldom have been more strikingly exem-
plified than in his case; though it is evident that, as his weak-
nesses were very much those to which unmarried men in ad-
vanced life are supposed to be most peculiarly liable, they
might have probably been obviated in a great measure if he
had happened to spend his life in the more fortimate con-
dition of matrimony.

504

SIR JOIIX LESLIE JOIIX LEYDEX.

first in Europe or the world. The renovation whicli
he effected was, indeed, most radically complete.
The whole of the old trash was thrown aside, and
its place supplied by new instruments, constructed
on the most improved principles by the most cele-
brated artists both in this country and on the Con-
tinent ; wliile its absolute amount was increased
tenfold, and adapted in tlie happiest manner to the
present advanced state of science. His perseverance
and enthusiasm in this respect were indeed boundless;
and as his predecessors were not experimentalists,
in the same sense in which he was, and had made
little or no effort to accommodate the apparatus to
the progress of science, or even to repair the wear
and tear of time, he had the whole to create, in the
same way as if the class had only been founded when
he was first promoted to the chair. By his own
continued and admirably-directed efforts, aided by
the liberality of the ]iatrons, who generously made
him several grants in funlierance of the object which
he had so much at heart — and also by very consider-
able pecuniary sacrifices upon his own part, for which
he has never as yet got the credit that is so justly
due to him — he at length succeeded in furnishing
the apparatus-room in the manner in which it may
now be seen by any one who chooses to visit it, and
thus conferred upon the university a benefit for which
it ought to be for ever grateful to his memory. This
may sound strange in the ears of those who have
been accustomed to hear it said, as it has often been,
most falsely, that Sir John Leslie was a bad experi-
menter. The truth is, that of all his great and varied
gifts, none was more remarkable than the delicacy
and success with which he performed the most diffi-
cult experiments, excepting perhaps his intuitive
sagacity in instantly detecting the cause of an acci-
dental failure; and it is a known fact, that, after he
had discovered and communicated to the world his
celebrated process of artificial congelation, particu-
larly as applied to the freezing of mercury, some of
the first men of science in London failed of performing
it, till the discoverer himself, happening to be on
the spot personally, showed them wherein consisted
the fault of their manipulation, and at once performed
the experiment which had previously baffled all their
efforts. It is equally well known to those who
were acquainted witla him, that the most elegant
in form as well as the most delicate in operation of
the beautiful instruments invented by himself were
constructed by his own hand, and that this, to him
most agreeable employment, constituted the recrea-
tion of his leisure hours. The apparatus-room,
indeed, contains many specimens of his workmanship
in this line, and they are of such a description as
would not do any discredit to the most practised and
skilful artist. To his immediate successor his acqui-
sitions and his labours will therefore be of incalcu-
lable importance; but the merit which really belongs
to him can only be duly estimated by those who
know what he found when he became professor of
natural philosophy, and can compare it with the
treasures which he has left behind him."'

' Some further particulars respecting his various talents and
acquirements may be gathered from the following notice which
appeared in the Edinhurgk Coura>it, and seems to be the pro-
duction of one qualified in more ways than one to speak upon the
subject: — " Sir John Leslie has been for many years known in
this country, and over all Europe, as one of the most eminent
characters of the age. As a mathematician and philosopher — as
a profound and accomplished scholar — as a proficient in general
literature, and in history and many other branches of know-
ledge— he had few rivals. But it was for mathematical science
and its kindred studies that he discovered, at a very early
period, a decided predilection: and it is in the successful illus-
tration of scientific truth and of all the complicated phenomena
of physics that his great reputation has been acquired. In

LEVEN, Earl of. Scc Leslie (Alexander).

LEYDEN, John, a man of singularly varied genius
and accomplishment, was born on the 8th of Sep-
tember, 1775, at Denholm, a village on the banks
of the Teviot, in the parish of Cavers and county of
Roxburgh. His parents were John Leyden and Isa-
bella Scott, wh(3 had three sons and two daughters
younger than himself His ancestors in both lines
had been farmers on the estate of Cavers for several
generations; but his father, though skilful in rural
affairs, declined to engage on his own account in
the same occupation, thinking even the fortunate
pursuit of gain a poor compensation for the anxiety
that attends it. About a year after the birth of their
first child, he removed to Henlawshiel on the farm
of X''ether Tofts, which was then occupied by Andrew
Blythe, his wife's uncle, whom he first served as
shepherd, and subsequently as overseer, his master
having had the misfortune to lose his sight. The

these pursuits he was eminently qualified to excel by the great
original powers of his mind, which were further stimulated by
an ardent enthusiasm, and an early desire of distinction amon.j
the illustrious names of his day. Along with a profound
knowledge of his subject, he possessed great inventive powers,
which not only enabled him to sound the depths of science, but
toexpound its important problems with a simplicity and elegance
rarely equalled. In making his way through the intricacies of
physical research, his severe judgment giiided him in the right
path; and hence his demonstrations always afford a striking
and beautiful display of pure reason, without any tendency to
that spirit of metaphysical subtlety which occasionally per-
plexes the speculations of Laplace, Legendre, with others of
the continental philosophers: and it is worthy of remark that,
along with the penetrating force of his judgment, he carried
into those studies that taste and fancy — that predilection for
the beautiful — which may be recognized in all his speculations,
whether in literature or in science. His taste in geometrj' was
foimded on the purest models of Grecian philosophy; he de-
lighted to expound to his pupils the simplicity and elegance of
the demonstrations by the great masters of antiquity; he com-
mended them to their imitation, and expatiated on the subject
in a manner well fitted to inspire a kindred enthusiasm; so
that we might have fancied that he was dilating, not on the
merits of a mathematical problem, but on some of those beauti-
ful forms and classic models of ancient art which h.ave been
the wonder of all succeeding times. Nor was this admiration
of ancient geometry a mere pedantic or barren speculation.
The great philosopher of whom we are speaking carried his
principles into practice, and applied the abstract properties of
figures with the h.appiest success to experimental philosophy ;
many branches of which he greatly extended by his discover-
ies; and in all of them he developed the most original views,
which m.ty yet be traced to important results. The range of
his studies was amazingly e.xtensive; and he had accumulated
vast stores of knowledge, especially on scientific subjects. He
was deeply versed in the history of science, which he had
traced from its earliest dawnings in the times of Greece and
Rome, through all the subsequent vicissitudes which it expe-
rienced during the dark .iges of barbarism, till it was revived
by the Arabians in the East, and was afterwards improved and
perfected by the more brilliant discoveries of modem times.
We speak literally when we say, that we doubt if there is a
single publication relating to this subject, either in the ancient
or the modern languages, which he had not diligently perused;
and his knowledge, minute and accurate on every point, and,
once acquired, never forgotten, overflowed in his conversation
and in his writings. The date of any great discovery was
familiar to him; he could give anecdotes or biographical
sketches of all the great promoters of science in every age;
and the prodigality of his information was not more surprising
than the ease with which he preserved its disposition and ar-
rangement, under certain great leading principles, which were
the landmarks of his mind, by which the store of facts which
he had been treasuring up for years was reduced into order,
and each distributed into its proper place in the great system
of which it formed a part. For the truth of this remark we
may refer to the ' History of the Barometer' in the Edinburgh
Rcviezv, and to his papers on meteorology and other subjects
in the Eucyclopcedia. Britannica, to his continuation of Play-
fair's Introductory Discourses prefixed to that work, as well
as to many of his other productions, which display the great
extent of his researches. On other subjects also, not con-
nected with his peculiar studies, his information was minute
and extensive. He was deeply read in Scottish histor>^ and
antiquities; and on all modern questions of politics or political
economy he had his own original ideas, which he was alvvays
ready to e.vpress and expound in a fair and temperate strain."

JOHN LEYDEX.

SOS

cottage in which the family resiiled was of a
humble construction; its internal accommodations
were equally simple; but it was situated at the foot
of the majestic hill of Rubislaw, and there, among
the "dun heathy slopes and valleys green," did
Leyden imbibe that enthusiasm and manliness of
character which afterwards displayed themselves so
strongly in his domestic affections, in his love of
country, and in his unweared pursuit of knowledge.
With the inmates of his father's house dwelt in-
telligence, cheerful content, and piety; and in tliis
scene of the domestic virtues Leyden was taught to
read by his grandmotlier, under wliom he soon ac-
quired a familiar acquaintance witli the events re-
corded in the sacred volume, tlie historical passages
in the Old Testament having first attracted his atten-
tion. His taste for reading, once kindled, spread
like the moorhurn on his native heaths, first over the
books in his fatlier's possession, ancl tlien to the
shelves of the neighbours. Some poinilar works on
Scottish history supplied the inspiring recital of the
deeds of Wallace and Bruce, which, beyond their
immediate benefit, have continued as examples
through succeeding ages to cherish sentiments of
independence in every generous bosom. Among
the other productions with which he was greatly
delightetl, have been enumerated the poems of Sir
David Lindsay, Paradise Lost, Chapman's transla-
tion of Homer, and the Arabian Nights Entertain-
ments. An odd volume of the last-named work he
obtained, when he was about eleven years old, by a
resolute perseverance of solicitation quite commen-
surate witli the ardour of his subsequent literary
career. He had received from a companion some
account of its contents, and been told that the trea-
sure belonged to a blacksmith's apprentice who re-
sided at some miles' distance from his father's house.
The very next morning Leyden waded through the
snow in the hope of being allowed to peruse a part
of the volume in the owner's presence — for he had
no title to expect a loan of it in any other way; and
that he might have leisure to do so, he set out be-
times. On reaching the smithy, learning that the
lad had gone from home to do some work, he pro-
ceeded to the place, and, having preferred his re-
quest, met with a refusal. But he was not to be so
dismissed; and continuing beside the lad the whole
day, he either succeeded in gaining his good graces,
or prevailed by the mere force of pertinacity, so that
he got the book as a present, and returned home by
sunset, "exhausted by hunger and fatigue," says Sir
Walter Scott, "but in triumphant possession of a
treasure for which he would have subjected himself
to yet greater privations."

At nine years of age Leyden had been sent to the
parish school of Kirktown, where, to writing and
arithmetic, he added a little knowledge of Latin
grammar. He continued here three years, with tlie
interval of two very long vacations, in consequence
of the death of one teacher and the removal of an-
other. At these times he assumed the plaid, and
looked after his father's flock when his assistance
was needed. His parents now clearly perceived that
the bent of their son's mind was for learning, and
he was accordingly placed under the charge of Mr.
Duncan, a Cameronian minister at Denholm, who
instructed a few pupils, — he could not usually draw
together more than five or six— in Greek and Latin.
"Of the eagerness of his desire for knowledge," says
the Rev. James Morton, "it may not be improper
to relate an anecdote which took place at this time:
Denholm being about three miles from his residence,
which was rather too long a walk, his father was
going to buy him an ass to convey him to and from

school. Leyden, however, was unwilling, from the
common prejudice against this animal, to encounter
the ridicule of his school-fellows by appearing so
ignobly mounted, and would at first have declined
the offered accommodation. But no sooner was he
informed tliat the owner of the ass hajjpened to have
in his possession a large book in some learned lan-
guage, which he offered to give into the bargain,
than his reluctance entirely vanished, and he never
rested until he had obtained this literary treasure,
which was found to be the Calepini Dictionariiim
Oitolingiu: "

After he had enjoyed the advantage of Mr. Dun-
can's instructions for two years, it was judged that
he was qualified for college; and in November, 1790,
his father accompanied him half-way to Edinburgh,
with a horse which they rode alternately ; he per-
formed the rest of the journey on foot. His views
being directed to the church, he began the usual
course of study by attending the Greek and Latin
classes; in the preparations for which he was assidu-
ous, allotting a stated portion of time daily to the
tasks of each professor, and employing the remaining
hours in desultoiy reading, from which, having the
command of the college library, he was not deterred,
like some young men, by any difficulty of deter-
mining which books it would be most proper and
advantageous for him to read first. His public ap-
pearances threatened at the outset to draw down
upon him some degree of ridicule; but Professor
Dalzell used to describe, with some humour, the
astonishment and amusement excited in his class
when John Leyden first stood up to recite his Greek
exercise. The rustic yet undaunted manner, the
humble dress, the high harsh tone of his voice, joined
to the broad provincial accent of Teviotdale, dis-
composed on this first occasion the gravity of the
professor, and totally routed that of the students.
But it was soon perceived that these uncouth attri-
butes were joined to qualities which commanded
respect and admiration. The rapid progress of the
young rustic attracted the approbation and counten-
ance of the professor, who was ever prompt to dis-
tinguish and encourage merit ; and to those among
the students who did not admit literary proficiency
as a shelter for the ridicule due since the days of
Juvenal to the scholar's worn coat and unfashionable
demeanour, Leyden was in no respect averse from
showing strong reasons adapted to their comprehen-
sion, and affecting their personal safety, for keeping
their mirth within decent bounds.^

The Greek language was long his favourite studj-,
and, considering his opportunities, he became much
more intimately acquainted with its best authors than
is usual in Scotland, even among those who make
some pretensions to literature. The Latin he un-
derstood thoroughly; and it is perhaps the best proof
of his classical attainments, that at a later period, to
use his own expression, "he passed muster pretty
well when introduced to Dr. Parr."

Leyden was now at the fountain-head of know-
ledge, and availed himself of former privations by
quaffing it in large draughts. He not only attended
all the lectures usually connected with the study of
theology, but several others, particularly some of the
medical classes — a circumstance which afterwards
proved important to his outset in life, although at
the time it could only be ascribed to his restless and
impatient pursuit after science of every description.

' The ensuing part of the present article is borrowed, with
very slight aherations, from a memoir of Dr. Leyden in the
Kdinhitrgli Annual Register for 1811 — evidently, from its
"careless inimitable graces," the composition of Sir Walter
Scott.

5o5

JOHN LEYDEN.

Admission to these lectures was easy from the libe-
rality of the professors, who throw their classes
gratuitously open to young men educated for the
church, a privilege of which Leyden availed himself
to the utmost extent. There were indeed few
branches of study in which he did not make some
progress. Besides the learned languages, he ac-
quired French, Spanish, Italian, and German, was
familiar with the ancient Icelandic, and studied
Hebrew, Arabic, and Persian.

But though he soon became particularly distin-
guished by his talents as a linguist, few departments
of science altogether escaped his notice. He in-
vestigated moral philosophy with the ardour common
to all youths of talent who studied ethics under the
auspices of Professor Dugald Stewart, with whose
personal notice he was honoured. He became a
respectable mathematician, and was at least super-
ficially acquainted with natural philosophy, natural
history, chemistry, botany, and mineralogy'. These
various sciences he acquired in different degrees, and
at different times, during his residence at college.
They were the fruit of no very regular plan of study:
whatever subject interested his mind at the time
attracted his principal attention till time and in-
dustry had overcome the difficulties which it pre-
sented, and was then exchanged for another pursuit.
It seemed frequently to be Leyden's object to learn
just so much of a particular science as should enable
him to resume it at any future period; and to those
who objected to the miscellaneous, or occasionally
the superficial, nature of his studies, he used to answer
with iiis favourite interjection, "Dash it, man, never
mind: if you have the scaffolding ready, you can run
up the masonry when you please." But this mode
of study, however successful with John Leyden,
cannot be safely recommended to a student of less
retentive memory and robust application. With
him, however, at least while he remained in Britain,
it seemed a matter of little consequence for what
length of time he resigned any particular branch of
study; for when either some motive or mere caprice
induced him to resume it, he could with little diffi-
culty reunite all the broken associations, and begin
where he left off months or years before, without
having lost an inch of ground during the interval.

The vacations which our student spent at home
were employed in arranging, methodizing, and en-
larging the information which he had acquired during
his winter's attendance at college. His father's cot-
tage affording him little opportunity for quiet and
seclusion, he was obliged to look out for accom-
modations abroad, and some of his places of retreat
were sufficiently extraordinary. In a wild recess, in
the den or glen which gives name to the village of
Denholm, he contrived a sort of furnace for the pur-
pose of such chemical experiments as it was adequate
to performing. But his chief place of retirement
was the small parish church, a gloomy and ancient
building, generally believed in the neighbourhood
to be haunted. To this chosen place of study,
usually locked during week-days, Leyden made en-
trance by means of a window, read there for many
hours in the day, and deposited his books and speci-
mens in a retired pew. It was a well-chosen spot of
seclusion, for the kirk (excepting during divine ser-
vice) is rather a place of terror to the Scottish rustic,
and that of Cavers was rendered more so by many a
tale of ghosts and witchcraft, of which it was the
supposed scene; and to which Leyden, partly to in-
dulge his humour, and partly to secure his retire-
ment, contrived to make some modern additions.
The nature of his abstiiise studies, some specimens
of natural history, as toads and adders, left exposed

in their spirit-vials, and one or two practical jests
played off upon the more curious of the peasant ly,
rendered his gloomy haunt not only venerated by the
wise, but feared by the simple, of the parish, who
began to account this abstracted student, like the
gifted person described by Wordsworth, as pos-
sessing—

• Waking empire wide as dreams,

An ample sovereignty of eye and ear;

Rich are his walks with supernatural cheer;
The region of his inner spirit teems
With vital sounds, and monitory gleams

Of high astonishment and pleasmg fear."

This was a distinction which, as we have already
hinted, he was indeed not unwilling to affect, and to
which, so far as the visions existing in the high fancy
of the poet can supply those ascribed to the actual
ghost-seer, he had indeed no slight pretensions.

Books as well as retirement were necessary to the
progress of Leyden's studies, and not always attain-
able. But his research collected from every quarter
such as were accessible by loan, and he subjected
himself to the utmost privations to purchase those
that were not otherwise to be procured. The re-
putation also of his prosperous career of learning
o])tained him occasional access to the library of Mr.
Douglas of Cavers — an excellent old collection, in
which he met for the first time many of those works
of the middle ages which he studied with so much
research and success. A Fi'oissart in particular,
translated by Lord Berners, captivated his attention
vi'ith all those tales "to savage virtue dear," which
coincided with his taste for chivaliy, and with the
models on which it had been formed ; and tales of
the Black Prince, of the valiant Chandos, and of
Geoffrey Tete-Noir, now rivalled the legends of
Johnnie Armstrong. Walter the Devil, and the
Black Douglas.

In the country Leyden's society was naturally
considerably restricted, but while at college it began
to extend itself among such of his fellow-students
as were distinguished for proficiency in learning.
Among these we may number the celebrated author
of the Pleasures of Hope; the Rev. Alexander Murray
united with Leyden in the kindred pursuit of oriental
learning, and whose lamp, like that of his friend,
was extinguished at the moment when it was placed
in the most conspicuous elevation; William Erskine,
author of a poetical epistle from St. Kilda, with whom
Leyden renewed his friendship in India; the ingeni-
ous Dr. Thomas Brown, distinguished for his early
proficiency in the science of moral philosophy, of
which he was afterwards professor in the Edinburgh
college; the Rev. Robert Lundie, minister of Kelso;
and several other young men of talent, who at that
time pursued their studies in the university of Edin-
burgh.

In the year 1796 the recommendation of Professor
Dalzell procured Leyden the situation of private
tutor to the sons of Mr. Campbell of Fairfield, a
situation which he retained for two or three years.
During the winter of 1 798 he attended the two young
gentlemen to their studies at the college of St. An-
(Irews. Here he had the advantage of the acquaint-
ance of Professor Hunter, an admirable classical
scholar, and to whose kind instructions he professed
much obligation. The secluded situation also of St.
Andrews, the monastic life of the students, the frag-
ments of antiquity with which that once metropolitan
town is surrounded, and the liljraries of its colleges,
gave him additional opportunity and impulse to
pursue his favourite plans of study.

About the time he resided at St. Andrews, the
renown of Mungo Park, and Leyden's enthusiastic

JOIIX LEYDEX.

507

attachment to all researches connected with oriental
learning, turned his thoughts towards the history of
Africa, in which he found much to enchant an ima-
gination which loved to dwell upon the grand, the
marvellous, the romantic, and even the horrible, and
which was rather fired than appalled by the jiicture
of personal danger and severe privation. Africa in-
deed had peculiar charms for Leyden. lie delighted
to read of hosts whose arrows intercepted the sun-
beams; of kings and soldiers who judged of the num-
berless number of their soldiers by marching them
over the trunk of a cedar, and only deemed their
strength sufficient to take the field when such myriads
had passed as to reduce the solid timber to impalpable
dust: the royal halls also of Dahomey, built of skulls
and cross-bones, and moistened with the daily blood
of new victims of tyranny; — all, in short, that pre-
sented strange, wild, and romantic views of human
nature, and which furnished new and unheard-of
facts in the history of man, had great fascination for
his ardent imagination. And about this time he used
to come into company quite full of these extraordin-
ary stories, garnished faithfully with the unpronounce-
able names of the despots and tribes of Africa, which
any one at a distance would have taken for the exor-
cism of a conjuror. The fruit of his researches he
gave to the public in a small volume, entitled A
Historical and Philosophical Sketch of the Discoveries
and Settlements of the Europeans in N'orthern and
Western Africa at the Close of the Eighteenth Centii}y,
crown 8vo, 1799. It is written on the plan of Ray-
nal's celebrated work, and as it contains a clear and
lively abridgment of the information afforded by
travellers whose works are of rare occurrence, it was
favourably received by the public.

On Leyden's return to Edinburgh from St. An-
drews, he resided with his pupils in the family of
Mr. Campbell, where he was treated with that re-
spect and kindness which every careful father will
pay to him whose lessons he expects his children to
receive with attention and advantage. His hours,
excepting those of tuition, were at his own uncon-
trolled disposal, and such of his friends as chose to
visit him at Mr. Campbell's were sure of an hospit-
able reception. This class began now to extend
itself among persons of an older standing than his
contemporaries, and embraced several who had been
placed by fortune, or had risen by exertions, to that
llxed station in society to which his college intimates
were as yet only looking forwards. His acquaint-
ance with Mr. Richard Heber was the chief means
of connecting him with several families of the former
description, and it originated in the following cir-
cumstances.

John Leyden's feelings were naturally poetical, and
he was early led to express them in the language of
poetry. Before he visited St. Andrews, and while
residing there, he had composed both fragments and
complete pieces of poetry in almost every style and
stanza which our language affords, from an unfinished
tragedy on the fate of the Darien settlement, to
songs, ballads, and comic tales. Many of these
essays afterwards found their way to the press
through the medium of the Ediitbiirgh Magazine, at
that time under the management or the patronage of
Dr. Robert Anderson, editor of the British Poets,
with whom Leyden was on terms of intimacy. In
this periodical miscellany appeared from time to
time poetical translations from the Greek Anthology',
from the Norse, from the Hebrew, from the Arabic,
from the Syriac, from the Persian, and so forth,
with many original pieces, indicating more genius
than taste, and an extent of learning of most unusual
dimensions. These were subscribed J. L. About

this time also Mr. Archibald Constable was opening
business, chiefly as a retailer of curious and ancient
books, a department in which he possessed extensive
knowledge; Mr. Richard Heber, the extent of whose
invaluable library is generally known, was, in the
winter of 1799-1800, residing in Edinburgh, and a
frequenter of course of Mr. ConstaVjlc's shop. In
these researches he formed an acquaintance with
Leyden, who examined as an amateur the shelves
which Mr. Heber ransacked as a purchaser, and the
latter discovered with pleasure the unknown author
of the poems which have been already alluded to.
The acquaintance soon ripened into friendship, and
was cemented by mutual advantage. Mr. Ileber
had found an associate as ardent as himself in the
pursuit of classical knowledge, and who would will-
ingly sit up night after night to collate editions, and
to note various readings; and Leyden, besides the
advantage and instruction which he derived from
Mr. Heber's society, enjoyed that of being introduced,
by his powerful recommendation, to the literar)' gen-
tlemen of Edinburgh, with whom he lived in inti-
macy. Among these may be reckoned the late Lord
Woodhouselee, Mr. Henry Mackenzie, the distin-
guished author of the Man of Feeliiig, and the Rev.
Mr. Sidney Smith, then residing in Edinburgh, from
all of whom Leyden received flattering attention,
and many important testimonies of the interest which
they took in his success. By the same introduction
he became intimate in the family of Mr. Walter
Scott, where a congenial taste for ballad, romance, '
and border antiquities, as well as a sincere admira-
tion of Leyden's high talents, extensive knowledge,
and excellent heart, secured him a welcome recep-
tion. And by degrees his society extended itself still
more widely, and comprehended almost every one
who was distinguished for taste or talents in Edin-
burgh.

The manners of Leyden when he first entered into
company were very peculiar; nor indeed were they
at any time much modified during his continuing in
Europe; and here perhaps, as properly as elsewhere,
we may endeavour to give some idea of his personal
appearance and habits in society. In his complexion
the clear red upon the cheek indicated a hectic pro-
pensity, but with his brown hair, lively dark eyes,
and well-proportioned features, gave an acute and
interesting turn of expression to his whole counten-
ance. He was of middle stature, of a frame rather
thin than strong, but muscular and active, and well
fitted for all those athletic exertions in which he
delighted to be accounted a master. For he was no
less anxious to be esteemed a man eminent for learn-
ing and literary talent, than to be held a fearless
player at single-stick, a formidable boxer, and a dis-
tinguished adept at leaping, running, walking, climb-
ing, and all exercises which depend on animal spirits
and muscular exertion. Feats of this nature he used
to detail with such liveliness as sometimes led his
audience to charge him with exaggeration; but, un-
like the athletic traveller in /Esop's apologue, he was
always ready to attempt the repetition of his great leap
at Rhodes, were it at the peril of breaking his neck
on the spot. And certainly in many cases his spirit
and energ}' carried him through enterprises which his
friends considered as most rashly undertaken. An
instance occurred on board of ship in India, where
two gentlemen, by way of quizzing Leyden's preten-
sions to agility, offered him a bet of twenty gold
mohrs that he could not go aloft. Our bard in-
stantly betook himself to the shrouds, and, at all the
risk incident to a landsman who first attempts such
an ascent, successfully scaled the main-top. There
it was intended to subject him to an unusual practical

5o8

JOHN LEVDEX.

sea-joke, by seizing him up, i.e. tying him, till he
should redeem himself by paying a fine. But the
spirit of Leyden dictated desperate resistance, and
finding he was likely to be overpowered, he flung
himself from the top, and seizing a rope, precipitated
himself on deck by letting it slide rapidly through
his grasp. In this operation he lost the skin of both
hands, but of course won his wager. But when he
obser^•ed his friends look grave at the expensive turn
which their jest had taken, he tore and flung into the
sea the order for the money which they had given
him, and contented himself with the triumph which
his spirit and agility had gained. And this little
anecdote may illustrate his character in more respects
than one.

In society John Leyden's first appearance had
something that revolted the fastidious and alarmed
the delicate. He was a bold and uncompromising
disputant, and neither subdued his tone, nor molli-
fied the form of his argument, out of deference to
the rank, age, or even sex of those with whom he
■was maintaining it. His voice, which was naturally
loud and harsh, was on such occasions exaggerated
into what he himself used to call his sa-uj-tottes, which
were not verj- pleasant to the ear of strangers. His
manner was animated, his movements abrupt, and
the gestures with which he enforced his arguments
rather forcible than elegant; so that altogether his
first appearance was somewhat appalling to persons
of low animal spirits or shy and reserved habits, as
well as to all who expected much reverence in society
on account of the adventitious circumstances of rank
or station. Besides, his spirits were generally at top-
flood, and entirely occupied with what had last
arrested his attention, and thus his own feats, or his
o\m studies, were his topic more frequently than is
consistent with the order of good society, in which
every person has a right to expect his share of con-
versation. He was indeed too much bent on attain-
ing personal distinction in society to choose nicely
the mode of acquiring it. For example, in the course
of a large evening party, crowded with fashionable
people, to many of whom Leyden was an absolute
stranger, silence being imposed for the purpose of a
song, one of his friends, with great astonishment and
some horror, heard Leyden, who could not sing a
note, scream forth a verse or two of some border
ditt}-, with all the dissonance of an Indian war-whoop.
In their way home he ventured to remonstrate with
his friend on this extraordinary exhibition, to which
his defence was, "Dash it, man, they would have
thought I was a/raid to sing before them." In short
his egotism, his bold assumption in society, his affec-
tation of neglecting many of its forms as trifles be-
neath his notice — circumstances which often excited
against his first appearance an undue and dispropor-
tionate prejudice — were entirely founded upon the
resolution to support his independence in society,
and to assert that character formed between the
lettered scholar and the wild rude borderer, the
counterpart as it were of Anacharsis, the philosophic
Scythian, which, from his infancy, he was ambitious
of maintaining. His humble origin was with him
rather a subject of honest pride than of false shame,
and he was not unwilling that his deportment should
to a certain degree partake of the simplicity of the
ranks from which he had raised himself by his
talents to bear a share in the first society.

Having thus marked strongly the defects of his
manner, and the prejudice which they sometimes
excited, we crave credit from the public while we
record the real virtues and merits by which they were
atoned a thousand-fold. Leyden's apparent harsh-
ness of address covered a fund of real aiiection to his

friends, and kindness to all with whom he mingled,
unwearied in their ser\ice and watchful to oblige
them. To gratify the slightest wish of a friend he
would engage at once in the most toilsome and diffi-
cult researches, and when perhaps that friend had
forgotten that he even intimated such a wish, Leyden
came to pour down before him the fullest information
on the subject which had excited his attention. And
his temper was in reality, and notwithstanding an
affectation of roughness, as gentle as it was generous.
Xo one felt more deeply for the distress of those he
loved. Xo one exhibited more disinterested plea-
sure in their success. In dispute he never lost tem-
per; and if he despised the outworks of ceremony, he
never trespassed upon the essentials of good breed-
ing, and was himself the first to feel hurt and dis-
tressed if he conceived that he had, by any rash or
hasty expression, injured the feelings of the most in-
considerable member of the company. In all the
rough play of his argument too he was strictly good-
humoured, and was the first to laugh if, as must
happen occasionally to those who talk much, and
upon everj- subject, some disputant, of less extensive
but more accurate information, contrived to arrest
him in his \&r\ pitch of pride, by a home fact or in-
controvertible argument. And when his high and
independent spirit, his firm and steady principles of
religion and virtue, his constant good humour, the
extent and variet}- of his erudition, and the liveliness
of his conversation were considered, they must have
been fastidious indeed who were not reconciled to
the foibles or peculiarities of his tone and manner.

Many of those whose genius has raised them to
distinction have fallen into the fatal error of regard-
ing their -wit and talents as an excuse for the un-
limited indulgence of their passions, and their bio-
graphers have too frequently to record the acts of
extravagance and habits of immorality which dis-
graced and shortened their lives. From such crimes
and follies John Leyden stood free and stainless.
He was deeply impressed vdlh. the truths of Chris-
tianitj-, of which he was at all times a ready and
ardent asserter, and his faith was attested by the
purity of morals which is its best earthly evidence.
To the pleasures of the table he was totally indiffer-
ent, never exceeded the bounds of temperance in
wine, though frequently in society where there was
temptation to do so, and seemed hardly to enjoy any
refreshment excepting tea, of which he sometimes
drank verj- large quantities.^ "When he was travel-
ling or studving his temperance became severe ab-
stinence, and he often passed an entire day without
any other food than a morsel of bread. To sleep he
was equally indifferent, and when, during the latter
part of his residence in Edinburgh, he frequently
spent the day in company, he used, upon retiring
home, to pursue his studies till a late hour in the
morning, and satisfy himself with a verj' brief por-
tion of repose. It was the opinion of his friends that
his strict temperance alone could have enabled him
to follow so hard a course of reading as he enjoined
himself. His pecuniary resources were necessarily
much limited; but he knew that independence, and
the title of maintaining a free and uncontrolled de-
meanour in society, can only be attained by avoiding
pecuniar)' embarrassments, and he managed his
funds with such severe economy that he seemed
always at ease upon his verj- narrow income. We
have only another trait to add to his character as
a member of society. With all his bluntness and
peculiarity, and under disadvantages of birth and

• A lady whose house he frequented mentioned to a friend
of the editor that she had filled him out eighteen cups in one
evening.

JOHN LEYDEN.

509

fortune, Leyden's reception among; females of rank
and elegance was favourable in a distinguished degree.
Whether it is that the tact of the fair sex is finer tlian
ours, or that they more readily pardon peculiarity in
favour of originality, or that an uncommon address
and manner is in itself a recommendation to their
favour, or that they are not so readily offended as
the male sex by a display of superior learning — in
short, whatever was the cause — it is certain that
Leyden was a favourite among those whose favour
all are ambitious to attain. Among the ladies of
distinction who honoured him with their regard, it
is sufficient to notice the Duchess of Gordon and
Lady Charlotte Campbell, who were then leaders
of the fashionable society of Edinburgh. — It is time
to return to trace the brief events of his life.

In iSoo Leyden was ordained a preacher of the
gospel, and entered upon the functions then con-
ferred upon him by preaching in several of the
churches in Edinburgh and the neighbourhood. His
style of pulpit oratory was marked with the same
merits and faults which distinguish his poetry. His
Style was more striking than eloquent, and his voice
and gesture more violent than elegant; but his dis-
courses were marked with strong traits of original
genius; and although he pleaded an internal feeling
of disappointment at being unequal to attain his own
ideas of excellence as a preacher, it was impossible to
listen to him without being convinced of his uncom-
mon extent of learning, knowledge of ethics, and
sincere zeal for the interest of religion.

The autumn of the same year was employed in a
tour to the Highlands and Hebrides, in which Ley-
den accompanied two young foreigners who had
studied at Edinburgh the preceding winter. In this
tour he visited all the remarkable places of that in-
teresting part of his native country, and diverging
from the common and more commodious route,
visited what are called the rough bounds of the High-
lands, and investigated the decaying traditions of
Celtic manners and story which are yet preserved in
the wild districts of Moidart and Knoidart. The
journal which he made on this occasion was a curi-
ous monument of his zeal and industry in these re-
searches, and contained much valuable information
on the subject of Highland manners and tradition,
which is now probably lost to the public. It is re-
markable that after long and painful research in
quest of original passages of the poems of Ossian, he
adopted an opinion more favourable to their authen-
ticity than has lately prevailed in the literary world.
But the confessed infidelity of Macpherson must
always excite the strongest suspicion on this subject.
Leyden composed, with his usual facility, several
detached poems upon Highland traditions, all of
which have probably perished, excepting a ballad,
founded upon the romantic legend respecting Mac-
Phail of Colonsay and the mermaid of Correvrecken,
inscribed to Lady Charlotte Campbell, and published
in the third volume of the Border Minstrelsy, \\-hich
appeared at the distance of about a twelvemonth
after the first two volumes. The opening of this
ballad exhibits a power of harmonious numbers
which has seldom been excelled in English poetry.
Nor were these legendary effusions the only fruit of
his journey; for in his passage through Aberdeen
Leyden so far gained the friendship of the venerable
Professor Beattie, that he obtained his permission to
make a transcript from the only existing copy of the
interesting poem entitled "Albania." Tiiis work,
which is a panegyric on Scotland in nervous blank
verse, written by an anonymous author some time
in the beginning of the eighteenth century, Leyden
afterwards republished, along with Wilson's "Clyde,"

under the title of Scottish Descriptive Poems, l2mo,
1S02.

In iSoi, when Mr. Lewis published his Tales of
Wonder, Leyden was a contributor to that collection,
and furnished the ballad called the "Elf-king;" and
in the following year he employed himself earnestly
in the congenial task of procuring materials for the
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, the first publication
of Walter Scott. In this labour he was equally in-
terested by friendship for the editor, and l)y his own
patriotic zeal for the honour of the .Scottish borders,
and both may be judged of from the following cir-
cumstance. An interesting fragment had been ob-
tained of an ancient historical ballad, but the re-
mainder, to the great disturbance of the editor and
his coadjutor, was not to be recovered. Two days
afterwards, while Mr. Scott was sitting with some
company after dinner, a sound was heard at a dis-
tance like that of the whistling of a tempest through
the torn rigging of the vessel which scuds before it.
The sounds increased as they ajoproached more near,
and Leyden (to the great astonishment of such of the
guests as did not know him) burst into the room,
chanting the desiderated ballad with the most enthu-
siastic gesture, and all the energy of the saw-tones
of his voice already commemorated. It turned out
that he had walked between forty and fifty miles and
back again, for the sole purpose of visiting an old
person who possessed this precious remnant of an-
tiquity. His antiquarian researches and poetic talents
were also liberally exerted for the support of this un-
dertaking. To the former the reader owes in a great
measure the "Dissertation on Fairy Superstition,"
which, although arranged and digested by Mr. Scott,
abounds with instances of such curious reading as
Leyden alone had read, and was originally compiled
by him; and to the latter the spirited ballads en-
titled "Lord .Soulis" and the "Cout of Keeldar."

Leyden's next publication was ''''The Co7nplaynt of
Scotland, a new edition of an ancient and singularly
rare tract bearing that title, written by an uncertain
author about the year 1548." This curious w<n-k
was published by IMr. Constable in the year 1801.
As the tract was itself of a diffuse and comprehensive
nature, touching upon many unconnected topics,
both of public policy and private life, as well as
treating of the learning, the poetry, the music, and
the arts of that early period, it gave Leyden an op-
portunity of pouring forth such a profusion of anti-
quarian knowledge in the preliminary dissertation,
notes, and glossary, as one would have thought could
hardly have been accumulated during so short a life,
dedicated too to so many and varied .studies. The
intimate acquaintance which he has displayed with
Scottish antiquities of every kind, from manuscript
histories and rare chronicles, down to the tradition
of the peasant and the rhymes even of the nurseiy,
evince an extent of research, power of arrangement,
and facility of recollection, which has never been
equalled in this department.

Meanwhile other pursuits were not abandoned in
the study of Scottish antiquities. The Edinburgh
Magazine was united in 1802 with the old Scots
Magazine, and was now put under the management
of Leyden by Mr. Constable the publisher. To this
publication during the period of his management,
which was about five or six months, he contributed
several occasional pieces of prose and poetr}', in all
of which he was successful, excepting in those where
humour was required, which, notwithstanding his
unvaried hilarity of temper, Leyden did not possess.
He was also, during this year, engaged with his
Scenes of Infancy, a poem which was afterwards pub-
lished on tlie eve of his leaving Britain; and in which

5IO

JOHN LEYDEN,

he has interwoven his own early feelings and recol-
lections with the description and traditional history
of his native vale of Teviot.

The friends of Leyden began now to be anxious
for his present settlement in life, lie had been for
two years in orders, and there was every reason to
hope that he might soon obtain a church through the
numerous friends and powerful interest which he now
possessed. More than one nobleman of high rank
expressed a wish to serve him should any church in
their gift become vacant; and, from the recommenda-
tion of other friends to those possessed of political
interest, he was almost assured of being provided
for by a crown presentation on some early oppor-
tunity. But his eager desire of travelling, and of
extending the bounds of literary and geographical
knowledge, had become, as he expressed himself to
an intimate friend, "his thought by day and his
dream by night, and the discoveries of Mungo Park
haunted his very slumbers." When the risk was
objected to him, he used to answer in a phrase of
Ossian, " Dark Cuchullin will be renowned or dead;"
and it became hopeless to think that this eager and
aspiring spirit could be confined within the narrow
sphere, and limited to the humble though useful
duties, of a country clergyman. It was therefore now
the wish of his friends to turn this irresistible thirst
for discovery into some channel which might at once
gratify the predominant desire of his heart, and be
atten<led with some prospect of securing his fortune.
It was full time to take such steps; for in 1802 Ley-
den had actually commenced overtures to the African
Society, for undertaking a journey of discovery
through the interior of that continent — an enterprise
which sad examples have shown to be little better
than an act of absolute suicide. To divert his mind
from this desperate project, a representation was
made to the Right Hon. William Uundas, who had
then a seat at the Board of Control, stating the
talents and disposition of Leyden, and it was sug-
gested that such a person might be usefully employed
in investigating the language and learning of the
Indian tribes. Mr. Dundas entered with the most
liberal alacrity into these views; but it happened,
\mfortunately as it might seem, that the sole appoint-
ment then at his disposal was that of surgeon's assist-
ant, which could only be held by a person who had
taken a surgical degree, and could sustain an examin-
ation before the medical board at the India House.
It was upon this occasion that Leyden showed, in
their utmost extent, his wonderful powers of applica-
tion and comprehension. He at once intimated his
readiness to accept the appointment under the con-
ditions annexed to it, and availing himself of the
superficial information he had formerly acquired by
a casual attendance upon one or two of the meilical
classes, he gave his whole mind to the study of
medicine and surgery, with the purpose of qualifying
himself for his degree in the short space of five or six
months. The labour which he underwent on this
occasion was incredible; but with the powerful assist-
ance of a gentleman of the highest eminence in his
profession (Mr. John Bell of Edinburgh), he suc-
ceeded in acquiring such a knowledge of this com-
plicated and most difficult art, as enabled him to
obtain his diploma as surgeon with credit, even in
the city of Edinburgh, so long famed for its medical
school, and for the wholesome rigour adopted in the
distribution of degrees. Leyden was, however, in-
cautious in boasting of his s-uccess after so short a
course of study, and found himself obliged, in con-
sequence of his imprudence, to relinquish his inten-
tion of taking out the degree of M.I), at Edinburgh,
and to have recourse to another Scottish university

for that step in his profession. Aleanwhile tlie sudden
exchange of his profession gave great amusement
to some of his friends, especially when a lady having
fainted in a crowded assembly. Dr. Leyden advanced
to her assistance, and went through the usual routine
of treatment witli all the gravity wliich beseemed his
new faculty. In truth, the immediate object of his
studies was always, in season and out of season, pre-
dominant in Leyden's mind, and just about this time
he went to the evening party of a lady of the highest
rank with the remnants of a human hand in his
pocket, which he had been dissecting in the morning;
and on some question being stirred about the muscu-
lar action, he was with difficulty withheld from pro-
ducing this grisly evidence in support of the argu-
ment which he maintained. The character of Leyden
cannot be understood without mentioning those cir-
cumstances that are allied to oddity; but it is not so
easy to body forth those qualities of energy, appli-
cation, and intelligence, by which he dignified his
extravagancies, and vindicated his assumption of
merit, far less to paint his manly, generous, and
friendly disposition.

In December, 1 802, Leyden was summoned to
join the Christmas fleet of Indiamen, in consequence
of his appointment as assistant-surgeon on the Madras
establishment. It was sufficiently understood that
his medical character was only assumed to bring him
within the compass of Air. Dundas's patronage, and
that his talents should be employed in India with
reference to his literary researches. He was, how-
ever, pro foi-ma, nominated to the Madras Hospital.
While awaiting this call, he bent his whole energies
to the study of the oriental languages, and amused
his hours of leisure by adding to the Scenes of Infancy
many of those passages addressed to his friends, and
bearing particular reference to his own situation on
the eve of departure from Scotland, which, flowing
warm from the heart, constitute the principal charm
of that impressive poem. Mr. James Ballantyne,
an early and intimate friend of Leyden, had just then
established in Edinburgh his press, which afterwards
became so distinguished. To the critical skill of a
valued and learned friend, and to the friendly as
well as professional care of Ballantyne, Leyden
committed this last memorial of his love to his native
land. The last sheets reached him before he left
Britain, no more to return.

About the middle of December John Leyden left
Edinburgh, but not exactly at the time he had pro-
posed. He had taken a solemn farewell of his friends,
and gone to Roxburghshire to bid adieu to his parents,
whom he regarded with the most tender filial affec-
tion, and from thence he intended to have taken his
departure for London without returning to Edin-
burgh. Some accident changed his purpose, and
his unexpected arrival in Edinburgh was picturesciue
and somewhat startling. A party of his friends had
met in the evening to talk over his merits, and to
drink, in Scottish phrase, his bonallie. While about
the witching hour they were crowning a solemn
bumper to his health, a figure burst into the room,
muffled in a seaman's cloak and travelling cap, cov-
ered with snow, and distinguishable only by the
sharpness and ardour of the tone with which he ex-
claimed, "Dash it, boys, here I am again!" The
start with which this unexpected apparition was re-
ceived was subject of great mirth at the time, and
the circumstance was subsequently recalled by most
of the party with that mixture of pleasure and melan-
choly which attaches to the particulars of a last
meeting with a beloved and valuable friend.

In London, the kindness of Mr. Helper, his own
reputation, and the recommendation of his Edin-

JOHN LEYDEN.

burgh friends, procured Leyden much kindness and
attention among persons of rank and literary distinc-
tion. His chief protector and friend, however, was
Mr. George Ellis, the well-known editor of the
Specimens of Ancient Eni^lis/t Poei)y. To this
gentleman he owed an obligation of the highest
possible value, in a permission which he kindly
granted him to change, on account of illness, from
one vessel to another, the former being aftersvards
unfortunately cast away in going down the river,
when many of the passengers were drowned.

After this providential exchange of destination,
the delay of the vessel to which he was transferred
permitted his residence in London until the begin-
ning of April, 1803, an interval which he spent in
availing himself of the opportunities which he now
enjoyed of mixing in the most distinguished society
in the metropolis, where the novelty and good
humour of his character made ample amends for the
native bluntness of his manners. In tlie beginning
of April he sailed from Portsmouth in the Hugh
Inglis, where he had the advantage of being on
board the same vessel with Mr. Robert Smith, the
brother of his steady friend the Rev. Mr. Sidney
Smith. And thus set forth on his voyage perhaps
the first British traveller that ever sought India moved
neither by the love of wealth nor of power, and who,
despising alike the luxuries commanded by the one
and the pomp attached to the other, was guided
solely by the wish of extending our knowledge of
oriental literature, and distinguishing himself as its
most successful cultivator. This pursuit he urged
through health and through sickness, unshaken by
all the difficulties arising from imperfect communica-
tion with the natives, from their prejudices and those
of their European masters, and from frequent change
of residence; unmoved either by the charms of plea-
sure, of wealth, or of that seducing indolence to
which many men of literature have yielded after
overcoming all other impediments. To this pursuit
he finally fell a sacrifice, as devoted a martyr in the
cause of science as ever died in that of religion.
We are unable to trace his Indian researches and
travels with accuracy similar to that with which we
have followed those which preceded his departure
from Europe, but we are enabled to state the follow-
ing outlines of his fortune in the East.

After a mutiny in the vessel, which was subdued
by the exertions of the officers and passengers,
and in which Leyden distinguished himself by his
coolness and intrepidity, the Hugh Inglis anived at
Madras, and he was transferred to the duties of his
new profession. His nomination as surgeon to the
commissioners appointed to survey the ceded districts
seemed to promise ample opportunities for the cul-
tivation of oriental learning. But his health gave
way under the fatigues of the climate; and he has
pathetically recorded, in his Address to a?i Indian
Gold Coin, the inroads which were made on his
spirits and constitution. He was obliged to leave
the presidency of Madras, suffering an accumulation
of diseases, and reached with difficulty Prince of
Wales Island. During the passage tlie vessel was
chased by a French privateer, which was the occa-
sion of Leyden's composing, in his best style of border
enthusiasm, an Ode to a Malay Cris, or dagger, the
only weapon which his reduced strength now ad-
mitted of his wielding. The following letter to Mr.
Ballantyne, dated from Prince of Wales Island, 24th
October, 1805, gives a lively and interesting account
of his occupations during the first two years of his
residence in India.

" Fitloo Penang, October z^th, 1S05.

"My dear Ballantyne, — Finding an extra India-

man, the Pez'enge, which has put into this harbour
in distress, bound to Europe, 1 take another oppor-
tunity of attempting to revive, or rather commence,
an intercourse with my European friends, for since
my arrival in India I have never received a single
scrap from one of them, — Proh Deum! Mr. Constable
excepted; and my friend Erskine writes me from
Bombay, that none of you have received the least
intelligence of my motions since I left Europe. This
is to me utterly astonishing and incomprehensible,
considering the multitude of letters and parcels that
I have despatched from Mysore, especially during
my confinement for the liver disease at Seringapatam,
where I had for some months the honour of inhabiting
the palace of Tippoo's prime minister. I descended
into Malabar in the beginning of May, in order to
proceed to Bombay, and perhaps eventually up the
Persian Gulf as far as Bassorah, in order to try the
effect of a sea vojage. I was, however, too late,
and the rains had set in, and the last vessels sailed
two or three days before my arrival. As I am always
a very lucky fellow, as well as an unlucky one, which
all the world knows, it so fell out that the only vessel
which sailed after my arrival was wrecked, while
some secret presentiment, or rather 'sweet little
cherub, that sits up aloft,' prevented my embarking
on board of her. I journeyed leisurely down to
Calicut from Cananore, intending to pay my respects
to the cutwall and the admiral, so famous in the
Liisiad of Camoens ; but only think of my disap-
pointment when I found that the times are altered,
and the tables turned with respect to both these
sublime characters. The cutwall is orily a species
of borough-bailiff, while the admiral, God help him,
is only the chief of the fishermen. From Calicut I
proceeded to Paulgautcherr}', which signifies in the
Tamal language 'the towm of the forest of palms,'
which is exactly the meaning of Tadmor, the name
of a city founded by Solomon, not for the Queen of
Sheba, but as it happened, for the equally famous
Queen Zenobia. Thus having demonstrated that
Solomon understood the Tamal language, we may
proceed to construct a syllogism in the following
manner: 'Solomon understood the Tamal language,
and he was wise — I understand the Tamal language,
therefore I am as wise as Solomon!' I fear you
logical lads of Europe will be very little disposed to
admit the legitimacy of the conclusion; but, however
the matter may stand in Europe, I can assure you it's
no bad reasoning for India. At Paulgautcherry I
had a most teiTible attack of the liver, and should
very probably have passed away, or, as the Indians
say, changed my climate — an elegant periphrasis for
dying, however — had I not obstinately resolved on
living to have the pleasure of being rez'cnged on all
of you for your obstinate silence and 'perseverance
therein to the end.' Hearing about the middle of
August that a Bombay cruiser had touched at Aleppo,
between Quilod and Cochin, I made a desperate
push through the jungles of the Cochin rajah's
countr}-, in order to reach her, and arrived about
three hours after she had set sail. Anybody else
would have died of chagrin, if they had not hanged
themselves outright. I did neither one nor the
other, but ' tuned my pipes and played a spring to
John o' Badenyon;' after which I set myself coolly
down and translated the famous Jewish tablets of
brass, preserved in the synagogue of Cochin ever
since the days of Methusalem. Probably you may
think this no more difficult a task than deciphering
the brazen tablet on any door of Princes or Queen
Street. But here I beg your pardon; for, so far
from anybody, Jew, Pagan, or Christian, having
ever been able to do this before, I assure you the

51=

JOHN LEVDEX.

most learned men of the world have never been able
to decide in what language, or in what alphabet, they
were written. As the character has for a long time
been supposed to be antediluvian, it has for a long
time been as much despaired of as the Egyptian
hieroglyphics. So much was the diwan or grand
vizier, if you like it, of Travancore astonished at the
circumstance, that he gave me to understand that I
had only to pass through the sacred coic in order to
merit adoption into the holy order of Bramins. I
was forced, however, to decline the honour of the
sacred cow, for unluckily Phalaris' bull and Moses'
calf presented themselves to my imagination, and it
occurred to me that perhaps the Ram-rajah's cow might
be a beast of the breed. Being on the eve of a new
attack of the liver, I was forced to leave Travancore
with great precipitation, in the first vessel that pre-
sented itself, a ^lapella brig bound to Puloo Penang,
the newly erected presidency on the Straits of
Malacca, where I have just arrived, after a perverse
pestilent voyage, in which I have been tenibly ill of
revulsions of bile and liver, without any of the con-
veniences which are almost necessary to a European
in these parts, and particularly to an invalid. We
have had a very rough passage, the cabin ver)' often
all afloat, while I have been several times completely
drenched. In addition to this we have been pursued
by a Frenchman, and kept in a constant state of
alarm and agitation; and now, to mend the matter,
I am writing you at a kind of naval tavern, wliile all
around me is ringing with the vociferation of tar-
paulins, the hoarse bawling of sea -oaths, and the
rattling of the dice-box. However, I flatter myself
I have received considerable benefit from the voyage,
tedious and disgusting and vexatious as it has
been. . . .

"You know when I left Scotland, I had determined
at all events to become a furious orientalist, ' nemini
secundus,^ but I was not aware of the difficulty.
I found the expense of native teachers would prove
almost insurmountable to a mere assistant-surgeon,
whose pay is seldom equal to his absolutely necessary
expenses; and, besides, that it was necessary to form
a library of MSS. at a most terrible expense, in every
language to which I should apply, if I intended to
proceed beyond a mere smattering. After much
consideration, I determined on this plan at all events,
and was fortunate enough in a few months to secure
an appointment which furnished me with the means
of doing so, though the tasks and exertions it im-
posed on me were a good deal more arduous than
the common duties of a surgeon even in a Mahratta
campaign: I was appointed medical assistant to the
Mysore survey, and at the same time directed to
carry on inquiries concerning the natural history of
the country, and the manners and languages, &c., of
the natives of Mysore. This you would imagine
was the very situation I wished for; and so it would,
had I previously had time to acquire the country
languages. But I had them now to acquire after
severe marches and countermarches in the heat of
the sun, night-marches and day-marches, and amid
the disgusting details of a field-hospital, the duties
of which were considerably arduous. However, I
wrought incessantly and steadily, and without being
discouraged by any kind of difficulty, till my health
absolutely gave way; and when I could keep the field
no longer, I wrought on my couch, as I generally do
still, though I am much better than I have been.
As I had the assistance of no intelligent Europeans,
I was obliged long to grope my May; but I have now
acquired a pretty correct idea of India in all its
departments, which increases in geometrical progres-
sion as I advance in the languages. The languages

that have attracted my attention since my arrival have
been Arabic, Persic, Hindostanee, Mahratta, Tamal,
Telinga, Canara, Sanscrit, Malayalam, Malay, and
Armenian. You will be ready to ask where I picked
up these hard names, but I assure you it is infinitely
more difficult to pick up the languages themselves,
several of which include dialects as different from
each other as French or Italian from Spanish or
Portuguese; and in all these I flatter myself I have
made considerable progress. \Vhat would you say
were I to add the ^Ialdivian and Mapella languages
to these? Besides, I have deciphered the inscriptions
of Mavalipoorani, which were written in an ancient
Canara character that had hitherto defied all at-
tempts at understanding it, and also several Lada
Lippi inscriptions, which is an ancient Tamal dialect
and character, in addition to the Jewish tablets of
Cochin, which were in the ancient Malayalam, gene-
rally termed Malabar. I enter into these details
merely to show you that I have not been idle, and
that my time has neither been dissipated, nor devoid
of plan, though that plan is not sufficiently unfolded.
To what I have told you of, you are to add constant
and necessarj' exposure to the sun, damps and dews
from the jungles, and putrid exhalations of marshes,
before I had been properly accustomed to the climate,
constant rambling in the haunts of tigers, leopards,
bears, and serpents of 30 or 40 feet long, that make
nothing of swallowing a buft'alo, by way of demon-
strating their appetite in a morning, together with
smaller and more dangerous snakes, whose haunts are
dangerous, and bite deadly; and you have a faint
idea of a situation in which, with health, I lived as
happy as the day was long. It was occasionally
diversified with rapid jaunts of a hundred miles or
so, as fast as horses or bearers could carr)' me, by
night or day, swimming through rivers, afloat in an
old brass kettle, at midnight ! O ! I could tell you
adventures to outrival the witch of Endor, or any
witch that ever swam in egg-shell or sieve; but you
would undoubtedly imagine I wanted to impose on
you were I to relate what I have seen and passed
through. No! I certainly shall never repent of hav-
ing come to India. It has awakened energies in me
that I scarcely imagined I possessed, though I could
gnaw my living nails with pure vexation to think
how much I have been thwarted by indisposition.
If, however, I get over it, I shall think the better of
my constitution as long as I live. It is not every
constitution that can resist the combined attack of
liver, spleen, bloody flux, and jungle-fever, which is
very much akin to the plague of Egypt and yellow
fever of America. It is tnie I have been five times
given up by the most skilful physicians in these parts;
but in spite of that I am firmly convinced that 'my
doom is not to die this day.' You are to commend
me kindly to your good motherly mother, and tell
her I wish I saw her oftener, and then to your brother
Alexander, and request him sometimes, on a Saturday
night, precisely at eight o'clock, for my sake, to play
'Gingling Johnny' on his flageolet. If I had you
both in my tent you should drink yourself drunk
witli wine of Shiraz, which is our eastern Falemian,
in honour of Plafiz, our Persian Anacreon. As for
me, I often drink your health in ivatcr (ohon a ree !),
having long abandoned both wine and animal food,
not from choice, but dire necessity — Adieu, dear
Ballantyne, and believe me, in the Alalay Isle, to be
ever yours sincerely, John Leyden."

Leyden soon became reconciled to Puloo Penang
(or Prince of \Vales Island), where he found many
valuable friends, and enjoyed the regard of Philip
Dundas, Esq., then governor of the island. He

JOHN LEYDEN.

513

resided in that island for some time, and visited
Achi, with some otlier places on the coasts of Sum-
atra and the Malayan peninsula. Here he amassed
the curious information concerning the language,
literature, and descent of the Indi-Chinese tribes,
which afterwards enabled him to lay before the Asiatic
Society at Calcutta a most valuable dissertation on
so obscure a subject.

In 1S06 he took leave of I'enang, regretted by
many friends, whom his eccentricities amused, his
talents enlightened, and his virtues conciliated. His
reception at Calcutta, and the effect which he pro-
duced upon society there, are so admiral^ly illustrated
by his ingenious and well-known countryman Sir
John Malcolm, that it would be impossible to present
a more living picture of his manners and mind, and
the reader will pardon some repetition for the sake
of observing how the same individual was regarded
in two distant hemispheres.

"to the editor of the BOMBAY COURIER."^

"It is not easy to convey an idea of the method
which Dr. Leyden used in his studies, or to describe
tlie unconquerable ardour with which these were
pursued. During his early residence in India I had
a particular opportunity of observing both. When
he read a lesson in Persian, a person near him, whom
he had taught, wrote down each word on a long slip
of paper, which was afterwards divided into as many
pieces as there were words, and pasted in alphabeti-
cal order, under different heads of verbs, nouns, &c.,
into a blank book that formed a vocabulary of each
day's lesson. All this he had in a few hours in-
structed a very ignorant native to do; and this man
he used, in his broad accent, to call 'one of his
mechanical aids.' He was so ill at Mysore, soon
after his arrival from England, that Mr. Anderson,
the surgeon who attended him, despaired of his life;
but though all his friends endeavoured at this period
to prevail upon him to relax in his application to study,
it was in vain. He used, when unable to sit up-
right, to prop himself up with pillows, and continue
his translations. One day that I was sitting by his
bedside the surgeon came in. — 'I am glad you are
here,' said Mr. Anderson, addressing himself to me,
'you will be able to persuade Leyden to attend to my
advice. I have told him before, and now I repeat,
that he will die if he does not leave off his studies
and remain quiet.' 'Very well, doctor,' exclaimed
Leyden; 'you have done your duty, but you must
now hear me: I cannot be idle, and whether I die or
live, the wheel must go round till the last ;' and he
actually continued, under the depression of a fever
and a liver complaint, to study more than ten hours
each day.

"The temper of Dr. Leyden was mild and gene-
rous, and he could bear with perfect good humour
raillery on his foibles. When he arrived at Calcutta
in 1S05 I was most solicitous regarding his reception
in the society of the Indian capital. 'I entreat you,
my dear friend,' I said to him the day he landed, 'to
be careful of the impression you make on your enter-
ing this community ; for God's sake learn a little
English, and be silent upon literary subjects, except
among literary men.' 'Learn English!' he ex-
claimed 'no, never; it was trj'ing to learn that lan-
guage that spoilt my Scotch; and as to being silent,
I will promise to hold my tongue, if you will make
fools hold theirs.'

"His memory was most tenacious, and he some-
times loaded it with lumber. When he was at My-

* We omit the earlier portion of this letter, referring to the
general character and manners of Leyden.
VOL. II.

sore an argument occurred upon a point of English
history; it was agreed to refer it to Leyden, and to
the astonishment of all parlies he repeated verbatim
the whole of an act of parliament in the reign of
James relative to Ireland, which decided the point
in dispute. On being asked how he came to cliarge
his memory with such extraordinary matter, he said
that several years before, when he was writing on the
changes that had taken jilace in the English language,
this act was one of the documents to which he had
referred as a specimen of the style of that age, and
that he had retained every word in his memory.

"His love of the place of his nativity was a pas-
sion in which he had always a pride, and which in
India he cherished with the fondest enthusiasm. I
once went to see him when he was very ill and had
been confined to his bed for many days; there were
several gentlemen in the room; he inquired if I had
any news; I told him I had a letter from Eskdale.
'And what are they about in the borders?' he asked.
'A curious circumstance,' I replied, 'is stated in my
letter;' and I read him a passage which described the
conduct of our volunteers on a fire being kindled by
mistake at one of the beacons. This letter mentioned
that the moment the blaze, which was the signal of
invasion, was seen, the mountaineers hastened to their
rendezvous, and those of Liddesdale swam the Liddle
river to reach it. They were assembled (though
several of their houses were at a distance of six and
seven miles) in two hours, and at break of day the
party marched into the town of Hawick (at a distance
of twenty miles from the place of assembly), to the
border tune of ' Wha daur meddle ■wi'' 7ne? ' Leyden's
countenance became animated as I proceeded with
this detail, and at its close he sprung from his sick-
bed, and with much strange melody, and still stranger
gesticulations, sung aloud, ' IVha daur meddle wi'
?ne? li'ha dcuir meddle 7ci' me?'' Several of those
who witnessed this scene looked at him as one that
was raving in the delirium of a fever.

"These anecdotes will display more fully than any
description I can give, the lesser shades of the charac-
ter of this extraordinary man. An external manner
certainly not agreeable, and a disposition to egotism,
were his only defects. How trival do these appear
at a moment when we are lamenting the loss of such
a rare combination of virtues, learning, and genius,
as were concentrated in the late Dr. Leyden !

"John M.a.lcolm."

We have little to add to General Malcolm's lu-
minous and characteristic sketch. The efficient and
active patronage of Lord Minto, himself a man of
letters, a poet, and a native of Teviotdale, was of the
most essential importance to Leyden, and no less
honourable to the governor-general. Leyden's first
appointment as a professor in the Bengal College
might appear the sort of promotion best suited to
his studies, but was soon exchanged for that of a
judge of the twenty-four pergimnahs of Calcutta.
In this capacity he had a charge of police, which
"jumped with his humour well;" for the task of
pursuing and dispersing the bands of robbers who
infest Bengal had something of active and military
duty. He also exercised a judicial capacity among
the natives, to the discharge of which he was admir-
ably fitted by his knowledge of their language, man-
ners, and customs. To this office a very consider-
able yearly income was annexed. This was neither
expended in superfluities, nor even in those ordinary
expenses which the fashion of the East has pro-
nounced indispensable ; for Dr. Leyden kept no
establishment, gave no entertainments, and was, with
the receipt of this revenue, the very same simple,

68

514

JOHN LEYDEX DUNCAN LIDDEL.

frugal, and temperate student which he had been at
Edinburgh. But, exchisive of a portion remitted
home for the most honourable and pious purpose,
his income was devoted to the pursuit which engaged
his whole soul; to the increase, namely, of his ac-
quaintance with eastern literature in all its branches.
The expense of native teachers of every countiy and
dialect, and that of procuring from every quarter
oriental manuscripts, engrossed his whole emolu-
ments, as the task of studying under the tuition of
the interpreters, and deciphering the contents of the
volumes, occupied every moment of his spare time.
"I may die in the attempt," he writes to a friend,
"but if I die without surpassing Sir William Jones
a hundred-fold in oriental learning, let never a tear
for me profane the eye of a borderer." The term
M-as soon approaching when these regrets were to be
bitterly called forth, both from his Scottish friends
and from all who viewed with interest the career of
his ardent and enthusiastic genius, which, despising
every selfish consideration, was only eager to secure
the fruits of knowledge, and held for sufficient reward
the fame of having gathered them.

Dr. Leyden accompanied the governor-general
upon the expedition to Java (August, iSii), for the
])urpose of investigating the manners, language, and
literature of the tribes which inhabit that island, and
I)artly also because it was thought his extensive
knowledge of the eastern dialects and customs might
be useful in settling the government of the country,
or in communicating with the independent princes
in the neighbourhood of the Dutch settlements. His
spirit of romantic adventure led him literally to rush
upon death; for, with another volunteer who attended
the expedition, he threw himself into the surf, in
order to be the first Briton of the expedition who
should set foot upon Java. When the success of the
well-concerted movements of the invaders had given
them possession of the town of Batavia, Leyden dis-
played the same ill-omened precipitation in his haste
to examine a library in which many Indian manu-
scripts of value were said to be deposited. A li-
brary, in a Dutch settlement was not, as might have
been expected, in the best order, the apartment had
not been regularly ventilated, and, eitiier from this
circumstance, or already affected by the fatal sick-
ness peculiar to Batavia, Leyden, when he left the
place, had a fit of shivering, and declared the atmo-
sphere was enough to give any mortal a fever. The
presage was too just; he took his bed, and died in
three days (August 28), on the eve of the battle
which gave Java to the 13ritish empire.

Thus died John Leyden, in the moment perhaps
most calculated to gratify the feelings which were
dear to his heart ; upon the very day of military
glory, and when every avenue of new and interesting
discovery was opened to his penetrating research.
In the emphatic words of Scripture, "the bowl
was broken at the fountain." His literary remains
were intrusted by his last will to the charge of Mr.
Ileber and Dr. Hare of Calcutta, his executors.
They arc understood to contain two volumes of
poetry, with many essays on oriental and general
literature. His remains, honoured with every re-
spect by Lord Minto, now repose in a distant land,
far from the green-sod graves of his ancestors at
Hazeldean, to which, with a natural anticipation of
such an event, he bids an affecting farewell in the
solemn passage which concludes the Scenes of In-
fancy:—

"The silver moon, at midnight cold and still,
Looks, sad and silent, o'er yon western hill;
While large and pale the ghostly structures grow,
Reared on the confines of the world below.

Is that dull sound the hum of Teviot's stream?
Is that blue light the moon's or tomlvfire's gleam,
Hv which a mouldering pile is faintly seen,
'I'he old deserted church of Hazeldean,
Where slept my fathers in their natal clay,
Till Teviot's w.-iters roU'd their bones away?
Their feeble voices from the stream they raise
' Rash youth ! unmindful of thy early days.
Why didst thou quit the peasant's simple lot?
AVhy didst thou leave the peasant's turf-built cot,
The ancient graves, where all thy fathers lie,
And Teviot's stream, that long has murmured by?
And we— when Death so long has closed our eyes
How wilt thou bid us from the dust arise,
And bear our mouldering bones across the main,
From vales that knew our lives devoid of stain?'
Rash youth ! beware, thy home-bred virtues save,
And sweetly sleep in thy paternal grave !"

Such is the language of nature moved by the
kindly associations of country and of kindred affec-
tions. But the best epitaph is the story of a life
engaged in the practice of virtue and the pursuit of
honourable knowledge ; the best monument, the
regret of the worthy and of the wise ; and the rest
may be summed up in the sentiment of Sannazario.

" Haeccine te fessum tellus extrema manebat
Hospitii post tot terraeque marisque labores?
Pone tanien gemitus, nee te monumenta parentum
Aut moveant sperata tuis tibi funera regnis.
Grata quies patria;; sed et omnis terra sepulchrum."

To this eloquent and highly picturesque memoir,
upon which we have drawn so largely, it is only to
be added, that the Poetical Remains of Dr. Leyden
were published in one volume 8vo, in 1819, with a
memoir by the Rev. James Morton; and that another
posthumous work, entitled JMemoirs of the Emperor
Baber, and commemorating for the first time an
Indian hero little inferior to Caesar or Napoleon,
but heretofore totally unknown in Europe, in
which he had had the co-operation of his friend Mr.
William Erskine, appeared at Edinburgh in 1826.

LIDDEL, Dr. Duncan, a physician of eminence,
was born in Aberdeen in the year 1561, and was son
to a respectable citizen of that town.' He received
his education at the schools, and the university of
King's College, in his native city. In the year
1579, at the early age of eighteen, he visited the
Continent, passing over to Dantzic, whence he
travelled through Poland to Frankfort-on-the-Oder,
where he had the good fortune to meet with a bene-
ficent countryman. Dr. John Craig, afterwards phy-
sician to James VI., who then taught logic and
mathematics. His views, which were previously
wavering, were fixed by the kind attention and
assistance of his friend, who enabled him to study
mathematics, philosophy, and medicine for three
years in the university of Frankfort, where Craig
was himself a professor. In 1582 Craig proposing
to return to Scotland, his pupil proceeded to prose-
cute his studies at Breslau in Silesia, under the con-
duct of a statesman at that period of considerable
note — Andreas Dudithius, to whose attention his
zealous countryman had recommended him. In this
new sphere of exertion he is said to have made ex-
tensive progress in his favourite study of the mathe-
matics, under the tuition of Professor Paulus Witti-
chius. After spending somewhat more than a year
at Breslau he returned to Frankfort, where he again
turned his attention to medicine, and commenced a

' Inscription on a brass plate in the church of St. Nicholas,
Aberdeen; Sketch of the Life of Dr. Duncan Liddet, Aber-
deen, 1790. This pamphlet, understood to have been written
by Mr. John Stewart, professor of Greek in Marischal College,
gives so accurate and concise .an account of its subject, that
little can be added. We are aware of but one work h.aving
any reference to Liddel which has been overlooked. The
Literce ad Joannem Kepplerum contain one or two letters
from him.

DUNCAN LIDDEL.

course of private tuition in mathematics and philo-
sophy. A contagious distemiier whicli broke out
at Frankfort in 1587, dispersini^ the students in vari-
ous directions, induced him to change his place of
residence for the celebrated university of Rostock.
Here he appears to have first acquired celebrity for his
jirofessional knowledge and conversational informa-
tion, antl particularly for his knowledge of astronomy
and mathematics. He became the companion and
jjupil of BrucKus, a physician and philosopher of
Flanders, who, althougli the senior of Liddel both
in years and celebrity, acknowledges himself to have
received much useful information and assistance from
the young philosopher; while Caselius, another com-
panion and friend of Liddel, pays a tribute to the
comprehensiveness of his genius and reading, by
remarking that "he was the first person in Germany
who explained the motions of the lieavenly bodies
according to the three different hypotheses of Ptolemy,
Copernicus, and Tycho Brahe. "

The illustrious individual last mentioned had like-
wise studied at the university of Rostock : it is pro-
l)able that the pursuits of the two philosophers brought
them into contact, and the author of the biography
of Liddel considers it sufficiently established, that
they were intimate with each other in after-life, and
that the Danish philosopher frequently visited the
subject of our memoir in his journeys to Scotland.
There is, however, a shadow of authority for sup-
posing' that Liddel held the higher rank of an op-
ponent of Tycho Brahe, and maintained a disputa-
tion with him on equal terms. The eccentric Sir
Thomas Urquhart, who, whatever information he
may have chosen to receive on the subject, certainly
was enabled to have made himself master of the true
state of the circumstances which he related, says,
"These mathematical blades put me in mind of that
Dr. Liddel, who, for his profoundness in those sciences
of sensible immaterial objects, was everywhere much
renowned, especially at Frankfort-de-Main, Frank-
fort-on-the-Oder, and Heidelberg, where he was
almost as well known as the monstrous bacchanalian
tun that stood there in his time. He was an eminent
professor of mathematics, a disciple of the most ex-
cellent astronomer Tycho Brahe, and condisciple of
that worthy Longomontanus : yet in imitation of
Aristotle (whose doctrine with great proficiency he
had imbued), he esteemed more of truth than either
of Socrates or Plato ; when the new star began to
appear in the constellation of Cassiopasia, there was
concerning it such an intershocking of opinions be-
twixt Tycho Brahe and Dr. Liddel, evulged in print
to the open view of the world, that the understand-
ing reader could not but have commended both for
all ; and yet (in giving each his due) praised Tycho
Brahe most for astronomy, and Liddel for his know-
ledge above him in all the other parts of philosophy."
It is not improbable that the imaginative author of
the j'etvcl may have thouglat proper, without much
inquiry, to bestow on a person born in his own near
neighbourhood the merit of a conflict in which a
Scotsman, whose name may not have then been
known, was engaged; at the same time adding to the
lustre of the achievements of his countryman. The
author of the life of Dr. Liddel observes, "Upon
what authority this circumstance is founded cannot
be discovered, for there is no mention of it in either
of the very full accounts of the life and writings of
Tycho Brahe by Gassendi and Montucla, nor in a
large volume written by Tycho himself concerning
this new star ; although he there animadverts at

• On the authority of Caselius' dedication to Craig, and
the funeral oration on Liddel.

great length upon the opinions of many other astro-
nomers \\ho had also treated of it. Nor could any
such controversy have possibly happened at the time
mentioned by Sir Thomas Urquhart, for the new
star there spoken of was observed by Tycho Brahe
in 1572, and the account of it published in 1573,
when Dr. Liddel was only twelve years of age.
There is indeed, in the volume of Astronomical
Epistles of Tycho Brahe, a long letter from him to
his friend Rothmannus, ciiiefly filled with severe
reflections upon the publications of a certain Scots-
man against his account of the comet of 1577, not
of the new star in Cassiopajia; but it appears from
Gassendi that this Scottish writer was Dr. Craig,
formerly mentioned, and not Dr. Liddel." When
we recollect that Liddel and Craig, as intimate liter-
ary associates, may have imbibed the same theories,
and similar methods of stating them, this la.st cir-
cumstance approaches a solution of the difficulty.

In the university of Rostock Liddel received the
degree of Master of Philosophy, and in 1590 he left
it to return to Frankfort, at the request of two young
Livonians of rank, to whom it is probable he acted
as tutor. He did not long remain at P^rankfort on
his second visit, having heard of the rising fame of
the new "Academia Julia," founded at Helmstadt
by Henry Julius, Duke of Brunswick, in 1576. Here
he accompanied his pupils, and was restored to the
company of his old friend Caselius, whom the duke
had invited to his youthful establishment.

In 1591 Liddel, by the recommendation of his
friend, and of Grunefeldt, an eminent civilian, was
appointed to the lower professorship of mathematics
in the new university, as successor to Parcovius, who
had been removed to the faculty of medicine; and,
on the death of Erhardus Hoffman in 1594, he suc-
ceeded to the first or higher mathematical chair.
This eminent station he filled during the course of
nine years, giving instructions in geometry, astro-
nomy, and universal geography, and keeping the
information he communicated to his pupils on a
level with the dawning progress of discover}'. In
1596 he obtained the degree of Doctor in Medicine;
and, in a science which was not at that period con-
sidered as so completely abstracted from the circle
of general knowledge as its practical extent now
compels it to be, he acquired the same celebrity
which he had achieved in philosophy and mathe-
matics. He is said by his lectures and writings to
have proved the chief support of the medical school
of Helmstadt; he acted as first physician to the court
of Brunswick, and enjoyed a lucrative private prac-
tice among the opulent families in the neighbour-
hood. In 1599 he was elected dean of the faculty
of philosophy, a post of honour to which he was
frequently re-elected, both by the faculties of philo-
sophy and of medicine. Rleanwhile, in the year
1603, he resigned to Henricus Schaperus the chair
of mathematics, of which he had remained occupant,
notwithstanding his labours in another science; and
in the year following he was chosen pro-rector of
the university. The method of studying his profes-
sion, and his courses of public tuition, had already
made Liddel an author of no inconsiderable extent,
and about this period the fame he had acquired
probably induced him to present the academical
works which he had written or superintended in a
distinct manner before the world. In 1605 was pub-
lished Disputatioiies Mcdicinales Diincaiti Liddelii
Scoti, Phil, ct Med. Doctoris, ct Professoris Publici in
Academia Julia I/elmastadtii. This work, filling
four volumes 4to, contains the theses or public dis-
putations maintained by himself and his pupils at
Helmstadt from 1592 to 1606; it is dedicated as a

Si6

DUNCAN LIDDEL-

SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

mark of gratitude to his early friend and patron
Craig, accompanied by the usual multitude of com-
mendatory verses on the author and his works. This
book is mentioned by the author of the memoirs of
Liddel as having been reprinted at so late a period
as 1720. In 1607 he produced a better-known work,
Ars Mcdica, SitccincU et Pcrspicne Explicata, pub-
lished at Hamburg. This work was dedicated to
King James. A second edition was published at
Lyons in 1624, and a third at Hamburg in 1628.
As in other works on medicine of the period, the
range of the author's investigation was not confined
to subjects to w'hich the term medical would now
exclusively refer ; metaphysics were included. Into
the merit of this as a work on practical medicine
it would now be useless to inquire, and we may be
content with ranking the merit of the author accord-
ing to the estimation of the work during the seven-
teenth century, which was by no means inconsider-
able. At the time when the last-mentioned work
was published, motives wdiich we cannot now dis-
cover induced Liddel to retire for the remainder of
his life to his native country, which he had frequently
visited during his honoured residence abroad. It
•would appear that he privately left the university, as
Caselius remarks that the Duke of Brunswick, if
aware of his intention, would probably not have
permitted so active a teacher to leave his favourite
institution, which was then falling into confusion.
On his return he passed through Germany and Italy,
and finally took up his residence in Scotland, al-
though in what part of the country seems not to be
known, the earliest information obtained as to his
locality being of the year 1612, when he subscribed
at Edinburgh a deed of settlement, mortifying cer-
tain lands in the neighbourhood of Aberdeen for
the support of six bursars in Marischal College. The
magistrates of Aberdeen were appointed trustees for
the application of the fund ; and, according to a not
unusual practice, the curse of God was denounced
against any one who should abuse or misapply it.^
By a settlement dated the 9th December, 1613, he
confirmed the previous donation, and left for the
establishment of a professorship of mathematics in
Marischal College, the sum of 6000 merks, which
was afterwards profitably laid out on land by the
trustees. To the same institution he left his books
and instruments. This may be considered the last
performance of his active life, for he died eight days
after its date, on the 17th of December, 161 3. He
was buried in the church of St. Nicholas in Aber-
deen, where a tablet of brass, on which his portrait
has been boldly and expressively engraved by an
artist at Antwerp, was erected to his memory. He
is likewise commemorated by a small obelisk erected
in the lands of Pitmedden, near Aberdeen — the same
which he mortified for the support of bursars. Dying
unmarried, the children of a l)rother and sister in-
herited his property, and one of the former succeeded
Dr. William Johnston in the mathematical chair
which Dr. Liddel had founded.

Besides the literary efforts already mentioned, a
posthumous work by Liddel was published at Ham-
burg in 1628, entitled Tmctatns de Dente Aureo ;
being an answer to a tractate by Jacobus Horstius,
who had maintained the verity of a fable which bore
that a boy of Silesia, who had lost a tooth, received
from nature in return one of pure gold. The cir-
cumstance was considered an omen to encourage the

' In a minute of the council records of Aberdeen, of date
6th December, 1638, it is ordained that Dr. Liddel's bursars
shall wear a black bonnet and a black gown, both in the college
and in the street, conform to the will of the mortifier, under
the pain of deprivation.

Germans in their wars with the Turks, and predica-
tive of the downfall of the Mahometan faith. The
subject can be interesting only to those who study
the extent of human credulity.

LINDSAY, Sir David, a celebrated Scottish
poet of the sixteenth century, was born about the
year 1490. He is distinguished by the title "of the
Mount," from the name of his family seat near Cupar
in Fife, and which is presumed, though not certainly
known, to have been also the place of his birth.
The early part of his education he received at Cupar,
the after part of it at St. Andrews, to which he re-
moved in 1505. Here he remained till 1509. From
this period till 15 12 there is a hiatus in his history,
and it is not known how the intermediate space was
employed. In that year, however, he is found to
be in attendance upon the young prince, afterwards
James V., who was born on the lOth of April, 1512.
The particular nature of his appointment on first
settling at court cannot be ascertained ; but it does
not appear to have been of a very dignified descrip-
tion. His attendance on the infant monarch seems
also to have been divided with the royal parent James
IV., on whom he is found waiting as a special
servant on the remarkable occasion of the feigned
spectre's appearance before that prince in the chapel
of Linlithgow in 15 13. Lindsay stood close beside
the king during the whole of that extraordinary scene,
and, according to his namesake the historian, declared
that he, along with the other servants in attendance,
made several ineffectual attempts to take hold of the
ghostly intruder.

The death of James IV., which took place soon
after, does not appear to have affected Lindsay's
situation at court. He still continued his attendance
on the young prince, and this in rather a singular
capacity, considering the respectability of his family,
although probably it may be thought that there was
no degradation, if indeed it was not a positive honour,
to take the personal charge of an infant king. This,
however, he seems to have done literally, and, as is
gathered from passages in his own works, much in
the character of a dry nurse. The following are
amongst those alluded to. The lines occur in the
dedication of his poem entitled the Dream : —

" Quhen thou was young I bore thee in my arme,
Full tenderlie till thou begouth to gang ;
And in thy bed aft happit thee full warme.
With lute in hand, sine sweitly to thee sang."

And again at an after period, when complaining
of the neglect which he met with at court, he thus
reminds the king of the days of his childhood, and
of the playful and tender kindnesses which then passed
between them :

" How as ane chapman belris his pack,
I bure thy grace upon my back;
And sometimes strydlinges on my neck,
Dansand with mony bend and beck.
The first syllabis that thou did mute
Was pa, da lyne, upon the lute ;
Then playit I twenty sprlngis perquier,
Quhilke was great pleasure for to heir;
Kra play thou let me never rest,
Bot Gynkertoun thou luifit ay best."

Lindsay's attendance on the young king was not
dignified by any charge whatever connected with his
education. His services were entirely of a personal
nature, and were only put in requisition when the
royal youth returned from "scule." James' education
was intrusted to (Javin Dunbar, an eminent and
learned prelate, so that, with all Lindsay's genius,
he seems not to have been thought competent to this
important and honourable trust. That which he
filled, however, such as it was, he retained till the

SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

517

year 1524, when he was dismissed from it by the
intrigues of the queen-mother, who, aiming at the
sole direction of the national affairs during the min-
ority of the king, carefully removed from the royal
presence all whom she feared might exert an inllu-
ence over the young monarch inimical to her own
views and interests, and amongst that number she
seems to have reckoned the poet. His dismissal,
however, seems by no means to have taken place
with the king's consent, although it is evident that
he was obliged to submit to it. He was too young
to assert his own will in opposition to that of his
mother, but he did the next best thing he could
for the kind companion of his tender years — he pro-
cured a pension to be bestowed upon him, and took
especial care of its punctual payment.

On the king's assuming the reins of government
in his own person, and when his will could be no
longer opposed, Lindsay was recalled to court, and
about 1530 was appointed lyon king-at-arms, and
as a necessary accompaniment, invested with the
honour of knighthood. In the dedication of the
Dream to the king, already quoted from, and which
was written during the time of his banishment from
court, although he complains of the treatment which
he had received, he not only acquits the king of
having any part in inflicting it, but speaks in terms
of the warmest gratitude of the kindness of his royal
master. He seems, indeed, to have formed a strong
personal attachment to the monarch, and there is
every reason to believe that it was reciprocal. Lind-
say had now begun to make some figure as a poet.
He had already written the Dream and the Com-
playiit, both productions of great merit ; but it was
to his talent for satire, a quality which he had not
j'et exhibited, that he was chiefly indebted for the
singular degree of popularity which he afterwards
acquired. Of the felicity and point with which he
could exercise this dangerous gift, the following
curious instance is related by Dr. Irving in his life
of the poet: — "The king being one day surrounded
by a numerous train of nobility and prelates, Lindsay
approached him with due reverence, and began to
prefer a humble petition that he would install him
in an office which was then vacant. 'I have,' said
he, 'servit your grace lang, and luik to be rewardit
as others are, and now your maister taylor, at the
pleasure of God, is departit, wherefore I wald desire
of your grace to bestow this little benefite upon me.'
The king replied, that he was amazed at such a re-
quest from a man who could neither shape nor sew.
'Sir,' rejoined the poet, 'that maks nae matter, for
you have given bishopricks and benefices to mony
standing here about you, and yet they can nouther
teach nor preach, and why not I as weill be your
taylor, though I can nouther shape nor sew, seeing
teaching and preaching are nae less requisite to their
vocation than shaping and sewing to ane taylor?'
The effect of this well-managed y'l^w d^ esprit upon the
bystanders, many of whom came within its range,
may be readily conceived. Whatever might be their
feelings on the subject, James himself enjoyed it
greatly, and found much amusement in contemplat-
ing the angry looks which it occasioned."

This and other witticisms at the expense of the
clergy are supposed by Lindsay's biographers to
have been the principal cause of that want of pro-
motion of which he so frequently complains; but this
seems doubtful. James himself had but little rever-
ence for the clerg)', and it is not therefore likely that
he would be displeased with Lindsay for entertaining
similar sentiments. Of the king's opinion of the
holy men of his time, his answer to a deputation of
them which waited upon him with a list of Protestant

peers and chiefs whom they desired might be brought
to punishment, is sufficiently indicative. "Pack, ye
jugglers," said he, "get ye to your charges and re-
form your own lives; be not instruments of discord
between my nobility and me; or I vow to God I
shall reform you, not as the King of Denmark by
imprisonment, nor as he of England by hanging and
beheading, but yet by most severe punishments, if
ever such motion proceed from you again." It is
not therefore easy to say, considering the intimate,
nay familiar, footing on which Lindsay stood with
the king, what were the causes that afforded him
grounds for his frequent complaints, if indeed he
had any at all that were reasonable — a point by no
means made evident. Whatever might be the emolu-
ments arising from his services, they were now
occasionally of a sufficiently dignified and important
nature. In 1 531 he was despatched on an embassy
to Antwerp, to renew an ancient commercial treaty
with the Netherlands; and in 1548 he was sent to
the court of Denmark, to solicit ships to protect the
Scottish coast against the English, and to negotiate
a free trade in grain for the Scottish merchants.

Besides being a man of genius, Lindsay was also
a man of great practical good sense, if the latter be
not indeed a necessary attribute of the former, and
this enabled him to see in a peculiarly strong and
clear light the errors and absurdities, if not in-
herent in, at least which had been then ingrafted on,
the Church of Rome, and against these he directed
the whole force of his satirical powers, and with an
effect which rendered him at once extremely formid-
able to the clergy, and singularly popular with the
great bulk of the people.

Of his talent for ridicule the following exquisitely
humorous specimen of his manner of dealing with the
impositions of the Romish church will give a correct
idea. It is the speech of a pardoner — of one who
dealt in miracles and traded in holy relics and ab-
solutions. It occurs in his play entitled Ane Saty7-e
of the Thrie Estaitis: —

"My potent pardonnis ye may se
Cum frae the Can of Tartaric,

Weill seillit with ester schellis.
Thocht ye haif no discretioun,
Ve sail haif full remissioun.

With help of buikis and bellis.
Heir is a rellik lang and braid,
Of FynmackowU the richt chaft blade.

With teith and all togidder;
Of Collingis Kow heir is a home, —
For eitting of Makameillis come

Was slane into Baquhidder.
Heir is the cordis baith grit and lang
Quhilk hangit Johnnie Armistrang,

Of gude hempt saft and sound:
Gude haly pepill, I stand ford,
Quhaeir beis hangit in this cord,

Neidis never to be drowned.
The culum of St. Bryddis cow,
The gruntill of Sanct Antonis sow,

Quhilk bure his haly bell:
Quha evir heiris this bell clink
Gife me a duccat to the drinke.

He sal! nevir gang till hell —
Without he be with Belliall borne.
Maisteris, trew ye that this be scome?

Cum, win this pardon, cum !
Quha luivis thair wy\'is not with thair hairt
I haif power thame to depairt;

Me think you deif and dum.
Hes nanc of you curst wicket wy\is
That haldis you into sturt and stryvis?

Cum take my dispensatioun;
Of that cummer I sail mak you quyt,
Howbeid yourself be in the wyte,

And mak ane fals narratioun.
Cum win the pardone, now let see
For meill, for malt, or for money;

For cok, hen, guse, or gryss.
Of rellikkis heir I haif a hunder,
Quhy cum ye not? This is a wonder;

I trow ye be not wyss."

CIS

JOHN LINDSAY,

From this it will be plainly seen what a dangerous
and powerful enemy the Romish church had to
contend with in the person of Lindsay — infinitely
more dangerous and more powerful than the ablest
preacher or the most acute reasoner. The effect,
indeed, aided as it was by the circumstance of the
public mind being already attuned to such feelings
and sentiments regarding religious matters, was alto-
gether irresistible; and there is no doubt that this
and similar productions of the satirist tended more
to the accomplishment of the final overthrow of
Popery in Scotland than any other circumstance
previous to the Reformation. Lindsay himself was
the Bums of his day. His poems were in every
mouth, and were equally appreciated in the cottage
as in the castle. Among the lower orders he was
especially popular. His broad humour delighted
them beyond measure, and there was scarcely one of
them but could repeat large portions oi Davie Lind-
say from memory. Indeed it is not yet a very great
while since his popularity among this class began
to fade. Nor, though now certainly fast losing
ground, is he by any means yet entirely forgotten in
the country. Many an ancient tiller of the soil, and
his equally ancient better half — for what remains of
his fame is more \'igorous in the countrj' than the
town — still cherish and appreciate the merits of their
old favourite native poet.

The dread and detestation in which Lindsay's satir-
cal poems were held by the clergy is expressively
enough indicated by their having procured an act to
have his "buick" burned during the regency of Mary
of Loraine, when they had regained a temporary
ascendency under that princess, and a wonder arises
that Lindsay himself was not subjected to a similar
fate ; indeed, that he escaped it at aU is a circumstance
not easily accounted for.

During his lifetime many unfortunate persons were
brought to the stake for heresy, and for contemning
the ordinances of the existing religion ; and how it
happened that he, incomparably the most dangerous
and most notorious offender of them all, should have
escaped, is a question that may well be asked; but
we suspect it is one which cannot be satisfactorily
answered, otherwise than by supposing that he was
protected by the strong arm of royalt}'.

In 1537 Lindsay acted as sort of master of cere-
monies on the occasion of the arrival in Scotland of
Mary of Guise, queen of James V. He contrived a
variety of pageants, and prepared orations for the
reception of her majesty at St. Andrews, and super-
intended in person the execution of his designs. Some
of them were absurd and fantastic enough, but they
were of course in accordance with the taste of the
times.

Of the concluding years of his life nothing is kno^\•n,
nor is it ascertained when or where he died. Dr.
Irving states that he survived till the year 1567; but
how long he lived after is unknown. He must,
however, from this account, have been at least up-
wards of seventy years of age at the time of his death.
Lindsay's merits as a poet are not of the very highest
order. Broad humour was his forte, and the speci-
men given wll sufficiently show, that when he trusted
to this talent he did not trust to a broken reed. His
principal pieces are The Dreme, The Complaynt, The
Complay?it of the King's Papingo, Satyre on the Thrie
Estaitis, Anszver to the A'ing's Fly ting, and The
Complaynt of Base he the Kin^s Hotind.

LINDSAY, John-, eighteenth Eari of Crawford
and founh Earl of Lindsay, was bom on the 4th of
October, 1 702. He was the eldest son of John, seven-
teenth Earl of Crawford, by Emilia, daughter of

James Lord Doune, and grand-daughter to the
Duchess of Lauderdale. His mother having died
while he was yet an infant, he was committed to the
charge of an elderly female domestic at the family
seat of Struthers in Fife; his father, who was at this
time captain of the second troop of horse grenadiers,
and lieutenant-general of Queen Anne's forces, resid-
ing constantly in London.

His lordship in after-life has been frequently heard
to repeat an interesting anecdote which occurred
about this period of his life. The Duke of Argyle
and the Duke of Hamilton were one day dining with
his father. After dinner a warm debate ensued about
the then all-engrossing topic the union. In the
midst of it the Duke of -■^rg^le caught up the young
earl, then a child, who was playing about the room,
placed him on the table in the midst of the crowd of
bottles and glasses by which it was occupied, and,
after contemplating the boy for an instant, "Craw-
ford," he said, addressing his father, "if this boy lives,
I wonder whether he will be of your sentiments."
"If he has a drop of my blood in his veins," replied
the earl, "he certainly will." "I warrant, at any
rate, he will make a brave fellow," said Argyle,
kissing the child, and placing him again on the
floor.

In 1713 his lordship sncceeded, by the death of
his father, to the family titles and estates, and was
soon after invited, together with a younger and only
brother and two sisters, by the Duchess of Argj-le,
their grand-aunt, to take up their residence with her
in the Highlands, where she then lived in retirement.
Here he remained until he had attained a proper age
for college, when he was sent to the university of
Glasgow. His biographer Rolt informs us, that
while residing with the Duchess of Arg)le, the young
earl had fallen desperately in love with a little High-
land girl; but he unfortunately gives no account of
the progress or termination of this boyish attachment.
The circumstance, however, affords an early indica-
tion of the warm, chivalrous, and romantic disposi-
tion for which his lordship was afterwards so much
distinguished.

While at the university he rendered himself famous
amongst his fellow-students by his boldness and
courage. He led them on in all their battles with
the citizens, headed every expedition of difficulty or
danger, and stood fonvard on all occasions as the
champion of the college, when any of its members
were injured or insulted, or conceived themselves to
be so. He, in short, took the whole burden of the
university's honour on his own shoulders, and guarded
and protected it with the most watchful zeal and
uncompromising intrepidity. From the college of
Glasgow he went to that of Edinburgh, where he
remained for some time, and then returned to the
retirement of the Duchess of Arg}-le in the High-
lands. Here he now prosecuted his studies under
the tuition of a private preceptor, and continued this
course until he attained his nineteenth year.

On arri\'ing at this age it was thought proper that
he should, agreeably to the usual practice in the cases
of young men of rank and fortune, proceed to the
Continent, at once to complete his education,
and to improve himself by travel. With this new
he set out in the year 1721, first for London, where
he remained for a short time, and thereafter to Paris.
Here he entered the academy of Vaudeuil, and con-
tinued to attend that seminary during the two suc-
ceeding years. His progress in learning, and in the
acquisition of ever)- elegant accomplishment while
he resided in the French capital, was so remarkable,
as to excite a strong feeling of respect for his talents
amongst his fellow-academicians, who saw him sur-

JOHN LINDSAY.

519

passing many students of much longer standing, and
attaining an eminence wiiich left him few competitors.
In horsemanship, fencing, and dancing, he was con-
sidered, even in the refined city of Paris, to be with-
out a rival.

In 1723 he quitted the academy of Vaudeuil, but
continued to reside in France till 1726. In the same
year in which his lordship left the seminary just
named, an incident occurred strongly illustrative of
his daring and determined character. Amongst the
other sights exhibited during the festivities which
were hekl in celebration of the accession of the young
P'rench king, was that of drawing one of the fish-
ponds in tlie gardens of Versailles. The Earl of
Crawford was amongst the crowd assembled to wit-
ness this novelty. In pressing forward to the edge
of the water to obtain a sight of the young monarch,
he was rudely jostled by a French marquis. Irritated
by this incivility, the earl instantly caught up the
Frenchman, who was in full court-dress, in his arms,
and tossed him, robes and feathers and all, into the
middle of the fish-pond. The spectators, highly
delighted with the unexpected exhibition, burst into
immoderate fits of laughter, in which they were
cordially joined by the young king himself, who
eagerly inquired who the person was that had thrown
the marquis into the water. The latter himself did
not think fit to take any notice of the affair either at
the time or at any after period.

In 1726 liis lordship returned to Britain, acknow-
ledged by all to be one of the most accomplished
gentlemen of the age. On the 25th of December of
the same year he obtained a captain's commission in
one of the additional troops of the 2d regiment of
Royal Scots Greys. This appointment he held till
1730, when, these troops being disbanded, he again
repaired to the Duchess of Argj'le's residence in the
Highlands, and remained there for the next eighteen
months. In January, 1732, he once more left this
retirement to mingle with the world, being appointed
to the command of a troop of the 7th or Queen's
Own regiment of dragoons. He was also, in the
same month, elected one of the sixteen representa-
tives of the Scottish peerage, in place of the Earl of
Loudon deceased. This honour was again conferred
upon him at the general elections in the years 1734,
1 741, and 1747. In the month of June, 1733, his
lordship was appointed gentleman of the bed-chamber
to the Prince of Wales. On the 1 8th of Februar)',
in the year following, he obtained the captain-lieu-
tenancy of the 1st regiment of foot-guards, and on
the 1st of October, in the same year, a company of
the 3d foot-guards. Notwithstanding these various
appointments, the earl, who entertained from his
youngest years a strong passion for military fame,
finding his life but an inactive one, and the English
service unlikely at the time to present him with any
opportunity of distinguishing himself, sought and
obtained the king's permission to go out as a volunteer
to the Imperial army, the emperor being at that time
engaged in a war with France.

His lordship joined the Imperialists in 1 735, at
Bruchsal on the Rhine, where he was received with
every mark of distinction and favour by the celebrated
Prince Eugene of Savoy, then in command of the
troops in that quarter. Finding, however, that there
was no immediate appearance of active service here,
his lordship, accompanied by Viscount Primrose and
Captain Dalrymple, both volunteers like himself,
proceeded to the army under Count Sackendorfif. The
first duty imposed on them by this general was to
reconnoitre the enemy, v/ho were posted near Claus-
sen. As they advanced towards the French lines
they were met by a party of the enemy, three times

the number of their own escort, and a skirmish ensued,
in which Count Nassau, who accompanied them,
was killed, and Lord Primrose severely wounded by
a musket-ball close beside the Earl of Crawford.
On the evening of the same day, 17th of October,
1735, 'he battle of Claussen was fought, affording his
lordship an opportunity of distinguishing himself,
which he did not let pass. He attached himself to
the Prince of Waldeck, who commanded the left
wing of the Imperialists, and attended him throughout
the whole of the battle. The position in which the
earl was placed was the first attacked by the enemy,
and was the most sanguinary part of the field. The
intelligence, braverj', and good conduct of his lord-
ship in this engagement excited the warmest admira-
tion of the prince, and laid the foundation of his
future fame as a soldier.

Preliminaries of peace between the emperor and
France having been soon afterwards signed, the earl
left the Imperial army, made a tour of the Nether-
lands and Holland, and again returned to Britain.
On his arrival he was graciously received by George
II., who honoured him with many warm expressions
of esteem. His lordship remained at home for two
years. At the end of this period he again became
desirous of exchanging the monotony of a peaceful
and idle for an active life, and sought the king's
permission to serve as a volunteer in the Russian
army, under Field-marshal Munich, then engaged
with the Imperialists in a war against the Turks.
Having obtained the royal permission, he embarked
at Gravesend in April, 1738, for Petersburg. On
his arrival there he waited upon the czarina, who
appointed him to the command of a regiment of
horse, with the rank of general in the Russian ser-
vice. His lordship then left Petersburg in the
middle of May to join the army, wdiich he effected
after a dangerous and tedious journey of a month's
duration. Several sanguinary engagements with the
Turks soon followed, and in all the earl eminently
distinguished himself, both by his military skill and
fearless intrepidity. In one of these murderous con-
flicts, which took place on the 26th of July, and in
which the Turks and Tartars were repulsed with great
loss, his lordship, who was at the head of a party of
Cossacks, excited the astonishment and admiration
of even these bold and skilful riders by his dexterity
in horsemanship. Nor were they less delighted
with the gallantry also which he exhibited in this
battle, in the instance of a single combat with
a Tartar, whom, after a desperate encounter, he
sabred and stripped of his arms. The latter he after-
wards brought to England with him as objects of
curiosity.

The season being now far advanced. Marshal
Munich thought it advisable to retire from the scene of
operations, and accordingly retreated to Kiow, whither
he was accompanied by the earl, who remained with
him for three weeks after the cessation of hostilities.
He then left Munich, and joined the Imperialists near
Belgrade. The earl had now acquired a large stock
of military knowledge, and had been especially im-
proved in the art by his experience under Munich,
whom he justly reckoned the first captain of the age.
Six weeks after he joined the Imperial army, it was
marched into winter-quarters. On this occasion he
attached himself to Prince Eugene's regiment, and
proceeded with that corps to Comorra, thirty-three
miles S.E. of Presburg. Here, and at Vienna, to
which he occasionally resorted, he remained till the
middle of April, 1739. During this leisure his lord-
ship employed himself in reducing to method and
system the militaryknowledge which he had acquired,
by drawing plans and writing obser\'ations on the

520

JOHN LINDSAY.

Russian campaign; thus availing himself of every
means and opportunity that offered of improving
himself in that art, to attain an eminence in which
had been from his earliest years the object of his
fondest hopes.

His lordship now joined the Imperialists asseml)led
near Peterwaradin, uniier the command of Marshal
Wallis, and attaclied himself to his old friend and
fellow-soldier the I'rince of Waldeck, lieutenant-
general of infantry. In a short time after the battle
of Krotzka, near Belgrade, was fought. In this
engagement the earl, while fighting the Turks at
the head of Palfi's cuirassiers, had his favourite black
horse killed under him: another was immediately
brought him, but he had scarcely gained the saddle
when he himself was struck with a nuisket-ball,
which, entering the outside of his left thigh, shattered
the bone to pieces, and brought him to the ground.
Here he lay for some time in a state of utter insensibi-
lity, when he was accidentally discovered by General
Count Sucheri, who, on perceiving him, ordered
some grenadiers to raise him up and place him on
one of his horses. This, however, was all the atten-
tion which the urgency of the moment would permit.
Having been mounted on the horse he was left to
his fate, and received no further assistance until the
following morning, when lie was found by one of his
own grooms, his face deadly pale, his head uncovered,
and himself holding fast by the horse's mane with
both hands to prevent his falling off. He was now
immediately carried to Belgrade, where surgical
assistance was obtained. So desperate and severe
was his wound, that his lordship walked for the first
time, and even then with the assistance of crutches,
only in the beginning of September, 1740 — about a
year and a half after he had received it.

Being advised to try the effects of the baths of
Baden, he proceeded to that quarter, and remained
there till the nth of August, 1741; but finding there
no effectual cure, he embarked for England. Not-
withstanding his absence, the earl's interest had not
been neglected at home. In July, 1739, he was
made a colonel of horse and adjutant-general, and
on the 25th October of the same year was appointed
colonel of the 42d regiment of foot, or Royal Scots
Highlanders. The same inclination to forward his
militaiy views marked his return. On the 25th of
December, 1741, the year in which he came to
England, he was appointed colonel of the second
troop of horse grenadier-guards.

His lordship's wound still annoying him, he, in
1742, repaired to the baths of Bareges and Provence,
from the last of which he derived great benefit. Pie
finallyjoined the British army, of which Field-marshal
Stair was commander, on the 24th of May, 1743, at
Plochstet, where George II. happened to be at the time.
At the battle of Dettingen, which took place on the
i6th of the following month, the earl commanded a
brigade of life-guards, and conducted himself through-
out that conflict with a coolness and intrepidity which
greatly enhanced his reputation for courage and mili-
tary skill. During the action his lordship, on one
occasion, ordered the officers of his brigade to the
front, the enemy being within fifty paces of them.
He then addressed his men, "Plark, my dear lads,"
he said, "trust to your swords, handle them well,
and never mind your pistols." Placing himself then
at their head, he led them on to the charge, the
trumpets the while sounding the martial strain of
"Britons, Strike Home;" his soldiers, participating
in his enthusiasm, closed on the French, and drove
them before them with prodigious slaughter. In the
beginning of the battle a musket-ball struck his lord-
ship's right holster-case, penetrated the leather, and.

hitting the barrel of the pistol which it contained,
fell harmlessly into the case. Here it was found by
his lordship, who showed it the day after the en-
gagement to the king at Hanau, where he then was,
and who, on seeing the earl approaching, e.\claimed,
"Here comes my champion;" following up after-
wards this flattering expression of his opinion of his
lordship's merits by the most gratifying remarks on
the gallantry of his conduct on the preceding day.

In this year (1743) the earl was appointed colonel
of the 4th or Scottish troop of horse-guards, and,
after the battle of Dettingen, was made a general of
brigade. In May, 1744, his lordship joined the
comisined armies, in camp near Brussels; but, owing
to the over-caution of Marshal Wade, no opportunity
offered of again distinguisliing himself during the
whole of the campaign which followed. In the next
year, however, this was not wanting. The Duke of
Cumberland, having been appointed captain-general
of the Britisji forces, arrived at Brussels on the nth
of April, 1745, his lordship being then with the army
as brigadier-general. The arrival of his grace was
soon after (30th April) followed by the battle of
Fontenoy. In this engagement his lordship con-
ducted himself with his usual gallantry, and exhibited
even more than his usual skill, particularly in con-
ducting the retreat, which he did in a manner so
masterly, as procured for him a reputation for mili-
tary genius not inferior to any of that age. His
lordship also wrote an exceedingly able and interest-
ing account of the battle. On the 30th of May fol-
lowing, he was promoted to the rank of major-
general.

The rebellion in Scotland now occurring, his
lordship was ordered, in February, 1746, from Ant-
werp, where he then was, to his native countrj', to
take the command of the Hessians employed by the
government on that occasion, and whose numbers
amounted to 6000. With these troops he secured
Stirling, Perth, and the passes into the Lowlands,
while Cumberland proceeded by the north-east coast
in quest of the rebels. On this visit to Scotland his
lordship formed an acquaintance with, and afterwards
married, Lady Jane Murray, eldest daughter and
presumptive heiress of James, second Duke of Athole.
On the extinction of the rebellion he returned to the
army in the Netherlands, where he arrived early in
June. At the battle of Rocoux, which took place
on the 1st of October following, he commanded the
second line of cavalry, with which he drove back the
French infantry, and threw them into irretrievable
confusion. His lordship soon afterwards accom-
panied the army into winter-quarters at Bois le Due.
His troop of horse-guards being this year disbanded,
he was appointed to the command of the 25th regi-
ment of foot on the 25th December, 1746.

In February following (1747) his lordship em-
barked for lingland, and at Belford met by a])point-
ment Lady Jane Murray, to whom he was married on
the day of his arrival. His wound, which had never
yet been thoroughly healed, now again broke out from
fatigue, and subjected him anew to all the pain and
suffering which he had experienced immediately after
receiving it. From Belford the earl and countess
proceeded to London, from thence to Ilelvoetsluys,
and finally to Bois le Due, where they arrived in June.
On the 22d May his lordship, previous to his leaving J
England, was appointed to the command of the 2d m
regiment of dragoons or Royal Scots Greys, in room
of the Earl of Stair deceased; and on the 26th of Sep-
tember following he was promoted to the rank of
lieutenant-general.

On the conclusion of the campaign the earl, ac-
companied by his countess, went to Aix-la-Chapelle,

ROBERT LINDSAY ROBERT LISTON.

521

for the benefit of the baths there; being still seriously
annoyed by his wound, which had attain broken out
after a second temporary cure. While his lordship
was confined here to bed, his young countess- she
had not yet attained her twentieth year — was seized
with a violent and malignant fever, which carried her
off in four days. Mis lordship, who was deeply
affected by his loss, and for a time wholly incon-
solable, ordered that the body of his deceased lady
should be embalmed, and sent over to his family
burial-place at Ceres in P'ife. lie himself remained
at Aix till the ojiening of the campaign in 174S, when
he joined the Duke of Cumberland and confederate
army of 150,000 men. His lordship remained with
the army till the conclusion of the peace, which took
place in the same year. On the i6th of February
of the following year (1749) he superintended the
embarkation of the British troops at Williamstadt,
and soon after returned to London, where he died
on "the 25th December, in the forty-eighth year of his
age, after suffering again severely from his wound.
His remains were carried to Ceres, and deposited
beside those of his countess.

His lordship is represented to have been of middle
size, remarkably stout, but finely formed. His man-
ners were mild, elegant, and refined; his disposition
generous, brave, and charitable, often beyond his
means. His purse, open to all, was especially at
the service of the distressed widows of officers, num-
bers of whom were relieved from misery and destitu-
tion by his bounty. His lordship always maintained a
splendid retinue, and lived in a style becoming his
rank, but was moderate at table, and temperate in
all his habits. His judgment was strong, his temper
serene and dispassionate. His lordship having died
Avithout issue, the titles of Crawford and Lindsay
devolved on George, Viscount of Garnock.

LINDSAY, Robert, of Pitscottie, author of the
Chronicles of Scotland known by his name, was born
about the beginning of the sixteenth century. He
was a cadet of the noble family of Lindsay, com-
prising the Earls of Crawford and Lindsay and the
Lords Lindsay of Byres. He is not known otherwise
than as the author of the Chronicles alluded to, and
these have not had the effect of eliciting any informa-
tion regarding him from his contemporaries, which
could be of any avail to a modern biographer. He
has in truth been scarcely recognized even as a
literary man by the chroniclers of Scottish genius,
and yet this is the only ground on which he seems
to have any claim to commemoration, there being
no other circumstance of any interest in his life but
that of his having written the work spoken of above.

As to the Chronicles themselves, it is not perhaps
very easy to determine in what language they should
be spoken of They present a strange compound of
endless and aimless garrulity, simplicity, credulity,
and graphic delineation; the latter, however, evi-
dently the effect not of art or design, but of a total
want of them. He describes events with all the
circumstantiality of an eye-witness, and with all the
prolixity of one who is determined to leave nothing
untold, however trifling it may be. But his credu-
lity in particular seems to have been boundless, and
is remarkable even for the credulous age in which he
lived. He appears to have believed without ques-
tion everything which was told him; and, believing
it, has carefully recorded it. After detailing at some
length, and with great gravity, all the circumstances
of the mysterious summons of Plotcock, previous to
^e battle of Flodden Field, "verily," he says, "the
author of this that caused me write the manner of
the summons was a landed gentleman, who was at

that time twenty years of age, and was in the town
tlie time of the said summons; and thereafter, when
the field was stricken, he swore to me, there was no
man that escaped that was called in this summons,
but that one man alone which made his protestation."
The earnest and honest simplicity of the good old
chronicler, however, is exceedingly amusing. He
aims at nothing beyond a mere record of what he
conceived to be facts, and these he goes on detailing
with a great deal of incoherence, and all the unin-
tellectual precision of an artificial process, neither
feeling, passion, nor mind ever appearing to mingle
in the slightest degree with his labours. These
characteristics of the chronicles of Lindsay have
greatly impaired their credibility, and have almost
destroyed all confidence in them as authorities.
Where he is cornjborated by other historians, or
by an association of well-known and well-established
circumstances, he may be tmsted; but where this is
not the case, his testimony ought to be received with
caution; for, where he does not absolutely create, he
is almost sure to exaggerate, and is thus in any event
a very unsafe guide.

If Lindsay was but an indifferent chronicler, he
was a still worse poet, as will be conceded, it is pre-
sumed, after a perusal of the following introductory
stanzas of a poetical address to Robert Stewart,
Bishop of Caithness, prefixed to the Chronicles: —

" O little book, pass thou with diligence
To St. Andrews that fair city;
Salute that lord with humble reverence,
Beseeking him, of fatherly pity,
With entire heart, and perfect charity,
And that he would on noways offend
To look on thee, one day or two to spend.

" And there show him thy secrets, more and less.
From the beginning unto the end :
And also you to come utter and express ;
Show him the verity, and make it to him kend —
The martial deeds, and also the fatal end,
Of his noble dainty progenitor,
In Scotland lived sometime in great honour."

The Chronicles begin with James II., 1436, and
end with Queen Mary, 1565. This latter reign,
however, is not completed, being carried down only
a little beyond the period at which the marriage of
that unfortunate princess with Darnley took place.

LISTON, Robert, F.R.S. This great medical
teacher and practitioner was bom on the 28th of
October, 1794, and was son of the Rev. Henry
Liston, minister of Ecclesmachen, Linlithgowshire.
After having finished his course of classical and pro-
fessional education, he, at the termination of the
latter, practised as ordinary house-surgeon in the
Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh. It speaks much for
his professional attainments at this period — for he
was only at the age of twenty-one— that he perceived
the defects that prevailed in the management of that
institution; and not a little for his courage as well as
disinterestedness, that he set himself in earnest to
reform them. Like most of those daring young
geniuses, however, who look too exclusively to the
good end in view, and are satisfied with the rectitude
of their own motives, he pursued his plan of reform
with such ardour as to waken the wrath of the direc-
tors, who were little disposed to be taught that they
were in the wrong by such a juvenile instructor.
Liston, however, persevered, while his growing re-
putation coming to his aid, at length gave his repre-
sentations such weight, that, when his connection
with the infirmary terminated, a full acknowledgment
of the important services he had rendered was entered
upon its records. In 1817 Mr. Liston became a
graduate of the Royal Colleges of Surgeons of Edin-
burgh and London, and commenced practice in the

522

ROBERT LISTOX WILLIAM LITIIGOW.

former city, where his reputntion as a surgical ope-
rator grew yearly, until he attained that pre-eminence
which left him without a rival. For tliis department,
indeed, he was admirably fitted by nature; for in-
dependently of his acquired skill, he possessed a
decision of will, firmness of nerve, strength of muscle,
and quickness of eye, whicli (piaUfied him for suc-
cessful operations, where many of his gentler or less
prompt and active brethren would have failed. But
with all this, he was neither a rash experimenter nor
merciless practitioner: on the contrary, he not only
performed boldly and skilfully what was necessary,
but stopped short where danger was to be appre-
hended. His manner also combined such gentleness
with firmness, as secured the confidence and esteem
of his patients. In addition to his practice, he de-
livered lectures, first on anatomy, and afterwards on
surgery, between the years 1822 and 1834, which
were highly valued and numerously attended.

Having thus won for liimself a high reputation
both as practitioner and instructor, it was natural
that Mr. Liston should anticipate those professional
honours which are so often bestowed upon candidates
of greatly inferior pretensions. His hopes were
directed to a professorship of surgery in the univer-
sity of Edinburgh, which no one in vScotland was
better (if as well) qualified to fill; but as the wished-
for vacancy did not occur, or was won by a more
favoured competitor, he formed a professorship for
himself, with the world for his auditory, by publish-
ing in 1833 his Principles of Surgery, a work which
he afterwards repeatedly revised, and which went
through several editions. Subsequently many of his
lectures on various subjects, and especially on litho-
tomy, were published in the Lancet. Of the merits
of these writings, which were recognized at once by
the whole medical profession, and which have spread
his fame through every medical school in Europe and
America, it would now be superfluous to speak;
their scientific correctness and thorough practical
character, as well as the improvements which they
have introduced into practical surgery, are sufficient
evidences of their worth. Disappointed in his hopes
of Edinburgh, and having fully tested his own powers,
Dr. Liston was now desirous of a wider field, which
was opened to him in 1834, by his being appointed
surgeon to the North London Hospital. He left the
Scottish capital in the November of that year; and
so fully was his value now appreciated in Edinburgh,
that before his departure a public dinner was given
to him, at which the lord-provost presided, while
the addresses delivered on the occasion by the most
eminent of the medical and surgical professions, who
attended, made eloquent acknowledgment of his high
talents and eminent services, as well as regret at their
transference to another sphere of action.

In London the fame of Dr. Liston became so
distinguished, that his private practice annually in-
creased, and the most difficult and critical operations
were reserved for his experienced hand. After hav-
ing filled for some time the office of surgeon to the
North London Hospital, he was appointed professor
of clinical surgery in University College; and in 1846,
in addition to that situation, which he raised to hon-
our and distinction, he was ajipointed one of the
examiners of the Royal College of Surgeons. In
this way, notwithstanding a certain bluntness of
manner which he had preserved from the beginning,
his private worth, as well as professional knowledge,
procured him not only the highest distinction in his
own country, but a world-wide reputation, which as
yet has suffered no abatement. Here, however, his
career was unexpectedly closed when it was at the
brightest. After enjoying almost uninterrupted good

health till within a year of his death, he was attacked
by a malady, the causes of which his medical advisers
could not ascertain, but which was found, on z. post
mortem examination, to have been occasioned by
aneurism in the aorta. He died in Clifford Street,
London, on the 7th of December, 1847, at the age
of fifty-three.

LITHGOW, William, a well-known traveller of
the seventeenth century, was born in the parish of
Lanark in the year 1583. Nothing is known of his
birth or parentage, or of the earlier period of his life.
He seems to have attracted very little general notice
prior to the publication of his travels in 1614; and
even. the celebrity which these acquired for him does
not appear to have suggested any inquiry into his
previous history.

There is no reason, however, to believe otherwise
than that he was a person of rather mean condition
and poor circumstances, though evidently possessed
of an education very far surpassing what was common
among the vulgar at the period when he lived. The
motives which induced him to leave his native coun-
try to perform a painful and dangerous pilgrimage
through foreign lands, are not more obvious than
some of the other particulars of his early life. He
himself, in the strange and almost unintelligible
jargon in which he frequently indulges in the work
which records his adventures, obscurely assigns two:
the oppression of enemies — but who they were, or
what was the cause of their enmity, he does not say
— and an irresistible desire to visit strange lands.
It would indeed appear that this last was the ruling
passion of his life, and that, together with a roving,
unsettled, and restless disposition, it was the prin-
cipal agent in compelling him to undertake the
formidable journeys which he accomplished, and
enabled him to bear up with such a series of hard-
ships and bodily sufferings as perhaps no man ever
before or since has endured.

From the obscurity in which his early life is in-
volved, it is not therefore until he has assumed the
character which has procured him celebrity, namely,
that of a traveller, that Lithgow is introduced to us.

In his youth, while he was, as he himself says, yet
a stripling, he made two voyages to the "Orcadian
and Zetlandian Isles." Shortly after this he pro-
ceeded on a tour through Germany, Bohemia, Hel-
vetia, and the Low Countries. From the latter he
went to Paris, where he remained for ten months.
William Lithgow nowhere gives the slightest hint
regarding the source whence he derived the funds
necessary to defray the expenses of these journeys;
but there seems to be some reason for believing that
he trusted in a great measure to chance, and to the
casual assistance which he might receive from any of
his countrymen whom he might encounter in the
different places he visited. This applies only, how-
ever, to the first part of his career; the latter was
provided for by a piece of good fortune which shall
be noticed in its proper place.

On the 9th of March, 1609, Lithgow again started
from Paris on another roving expedition, and on
this occasion proceeded in the first instance directly
to Rome. 1 1 e was escorted several miles on his way
by three or four of his countrymen, with whom he
had picked up an acquaintance while in Paris, and
who, not improbably, supported him during the time
of his residence in that city. These persons he de-
scribes as gentlemen, and one of them, at any rate,
certainly had a claim to this character on the score
of rank. This was Ilay of Smithfield, Esq., of the
King of France's body-guard. Although thus asso-
ciating himself, however, with these gentlemen,

AVILLIAM LITHGOW,

523

Litligow does not speak of them as equals, but in a
marked tone of inferiority; leaving altogether an im-
pression that their kindness and attention proceeded
from the circumstances of his being a countryman, a
man of talent, and of a singular, bold, and adventur-
ous disposition. Having bid adieu to his compan-
ions, he trudged onwards to Rome on foot; for such
^vas his usual mode of travelling. He made it a
rule, and strictly adhered to it, never to avail him-
self of any conveyance during a journey when he
could accomplish it on foot, and his only deviation
was in the cases of crossing seas, rivers, or lakes.
During all his travels he never mounted a horse, or
put his foot into a carriage, or any description of
vehicle whatever.

While in Rome he made a narrow escape from
the Inquisition; the most sanguinary and ferocious
of whose members were at that time, singidar to say,
Scotsmen. Two of these were from St. Andrews.
There were besides one of the name of Gordon, one
Cunningham, born in the Canongate of Edinburgh,
and several others; and it was from the eager pursuit
of these, his own countrymen, that poor Lithgow
found the greatest difficulty in escaping. This, how-
ever, he effected by the assistance of a domestic of
the Earl of Tyrone, who was then residing at Rome.
This man, whose name was Megget, concealed him
for three days and nights on the roof of the earl's
palace, and on the fourth night conveyed him secretly
out of the city, by aiding him to scale the walls, as
the gates and streets were all carefully guarded by
persons appointed by the Inquisition to apprehend
him.

From Rome Lithgow proceeded to Naples, and
from thence to Loretto. On his way to the latter
place he overtook a carriage in which were two
young gentlemen from Rome with their mistresses,
all proceeding joyously on a pilgrimage to the shrine
of the Madonna. This lively group insisted upon
the lonely pedestrian's stepping into their carriage,
but adhering to the rule he had laid down of never
availing himself of any such conveyance, he obstin-
ately refused. Finding that they could not prevail
upon him to take a seat beside them, the good-
natured pilgrims descended from their carriage and
insisted on keeping him company on foot, and thus
associated the whole party jogged merrily on for
Loretto. Here he fell in with another of his country-
men, of the name of Arthur, with whom he had been
formerly acquainted, and who seems to have been
imbued with some portion of his own restless and
rambling disposition. Having spent some time in
Loretto they proceeded together to Ancona, and
thence by sea to Venice. Flere his companion left
him to cross the Alps, while his own "purpose
reached for Greece and Asia." Arthur, it appears,
had been a domestic servant of the Earl of Glencairn.
The circumstance therefore of Lithgow's making him
a companion, would seem to be an additional proof
that he did not assume, or pretend to, the character
of a gentleman traveller.

Lithgow now proceeded to visit the various islands
in tiie Mediterranean, and thereafter wandered
through Greece and Asia, encountering innumerable
dangers and difficulties; now shipwrecked, now at-
tacked by banditti, now plundered and maltreated,
and with all this, frequently exposed for days and
nights together to the inclemency of the weather;
his religion excluding him in several places, not only
from the hospitality of the natives, but even from the
shelter of their houses. During his peregrinations
through Greece, he met with two gentlemen from
Venice who entertained him kindly for ten days, and
on his departure made him a present of fifty zechins

in gold; the first gift, he says, he received in all his
travels, and, it may be added, that this is also the
first allusion he makes to any pecuniary matters re-
lating to himself. He now ]iroceeds to declare, that
if some such instances of good fortune had not befal-
len him he should never have been able to accom-
plish his "sumptuous peregrination."

Not contented with the adventures in which he was
unavoidably, on his part, involved, there were others
which he sought. Like another Don Quixote, he
released captives, or at least assisted them to effect
their escape, and came to the aid of distressed
damsels. Altogether he appears to have been a
singularly benevolent and kind-hearted man; ready
at all times to peril his life for the injured or op-
pressed, whenever he thought such a risk could be
of service to them.

From Greece Lithgow proceeded overland to
Egypt, and finally reached Grand Cairo. During
his journey thither he had the good fortune to fall
in with three Dutchmen at Jenisalem, who were
journeying with a caravan in the same direction.
These he joined, and kept by them until they reached
the Egyptian capital. Here his three companions
speedily killed themselves by drinking "strong
Cyprus wine without mixture of water." Each as
they died left the survivors all his property, and the
last bequeathed the whole accumulated amount to
Lithgow. He had, however, some difficulty in
rescuing his legacy from the grasp of the Venetian
consul; but by sacrificing a part he obtained posses-
sion of the remainder, which amounted to 942 zechins
of gold, besides rings and tablets. Thanking God
for his good fortune, he now proceeded, quite at his
ease as to money matters, to inspect everj'thing that
was curious in the city. From Cairo he proceeded
to Alexandria, where he embarked for Malta. P"rom
thence he sailed for Sicily, walked afterwards to
Paris, and finally came over to England, where he
presented to King James, to Queen Anne, and to
Prince Charles, "certain rare gifts and notable relicks
brought from Jordan and Jerusalem."

After remaining in London for about a year,
Lithgow's propensity to roving again became too
strong to be resisted, and he set out upon a second
expedition. He now traversed the Netherlands and
Switzerland, and from thence proceeded to Calabria.
Here another windfall came in his way, but it was
one of a much more questionable nature in point of
morality than that which met him at Cairo. Be-
tween Saramutza and Castello Franco he found the
dead bodies of two young barons lying in a field, who
had just killed each other in a duel. Seeing that
they were richly clad, Lithgow, "to speak the
truth," as he himself says, searched their pockets,
and found two silken purses well filled with Spanish
pistoles. These, together with certain rings which
they wore on their fingers, he carried off and appro-
priated to his own use; and he thus moralizes on the
fact: — "Well, in the mutability of time there is ay
some fortune fallelh by accident, whether lawful or
not I will not question. It was now mine that was
last theirs; and to save the thing that was not lost
I travelled that day thirty miles further to Terra
Nova."

Lithgow now visited Africa, traversing Barbar}-,
Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli. Then cross-
ing over to Italy, he perambulated Ilungarj', Ger-
many, and Poland, and finally reached Dantzic, where
he embarked for England, and once more arrived in
safety in London. He was now an object of curiosity
and interest, and while he remained in England was
frequently admitted to familiar audiences of his
majesty, and was at all times a welcome guest at the

524

WILLIAM LITIIGOW JOHN LIVINGSTON.

tables of the first nobility and j^jentlemen in the king-
dom, where lie repaid their civilities by relating the
story of his adventures.

Lithgow's spirit of enterprise and singular restless-
ness of disposition, however, were still unsubdued;
and neither all that he had seen, nor all that he had
suffered, could induce him to settle at home. In 1619
he again set out on another roving expedition, but on
this occasion he was furnished with letters of recom-
mendation from King James, addressed to "all
kings, princes, and dukes." Provided with these
documents he proceeded to Ireland. From thence
he sailed for France, travelled through Portugal
and Spain, and finally arrived at Malaga. Here he
was apprehended as a spy, and accused of giving in-
telligence to some English ships which were then on
the Spanish coast, respecting the return of the Plate
fleet. All poor Lithgow's proofs and asseverations
of innocence availed him nothing. He was sub-
jected to the most dreadful tortures. His limbs
were mangled and crushed, and his body torn and
lacerated with tightened cortls and other engines of
torture. His innocence as a spy was ultimately es-
tablished to the satisfaction even of his persecutors;
but he was then handed over to the Inquisition,
which inflicted upon him a fresh series of tortures
not less horrible than the first. Maimed and muti-
lated, Lithgow was at length liberated by the inter-
ference of the English consul and of several English
residenters in Malaga, from whom all knowledge of
the unfortunate traveller's fate had been carefully
concealed until it was discovered to them by accident.

Shortly after his release he was carried on board
of an English ship, for his person was so fearfully
mangled that he was not only wholly unable to walk,
but was apparently beyond hope of recovery. In
this state, on his arrival in England, which was in
1621, he was exhibited, lying on a feather bed, to
the king and the whole of the court, all the persons
of whom it was composed crowding to see him.
His miserable situation excited universal sympathy,
and might under a more spirited prince have become
the ground of a national quarrel with the country in
which the cruelty and injustice had been inflicted.
If his majesty, however, failed in avenging the un-
happy traveller's injuries, he was not wanting in
compassion for his sufferings. He was twice sent
to Bath at the royal expense, and maintained by the
same hand for seven and twenty weeks, until he had
in a great measure recovered his original health and
strength, "although," he says, "my left arm and
crushed bones be incurable."

Soon after his arrival in England, Lithgow was
carried, by the king's direction, to the residence of
Gondomar, the Spanish ambassador at the English
court, for the purpose of endeavouring to procure
some redress of his grievances. By this celebrated
person he was treated with characteristic duplicity.
Lithgow finding the case hopeless, accused the
Spaniard, in the presence chamber, and before a
crowd of courtiers, of deceit and ungentlemanlike
conduct. This charge he followed up with an act
of violence on the person of the ambassador, for
which, though his spirited conduct was much ap-
plauded, he was sent to the Marshalsea, where he
was confined nine weeks. Lithgow after this made
several attempts to procure some sort of redress or
compensation from the House of Commons, by a bill
of grievances, but none of these were successful.
The last effort of this kind which he made was in
1626. In the year following he returned to Scot-
land; and still under the influence of that spirit
which had urged him to roam through the world for
so many years, he undertook a tour through the

Western Isles. He speaks of himself as having been
in the island of Arran in the year 1C28; but from
this period little more is known regarding him. He
finally, however, and probably soon after this, re-
turned to his native parish, where he remained till
his death; but when this took place is uncertain.
He was interred in the churchyard of Lanark, and
is yet familiarly spoken of in that part of the country,
where it is said several of his descendants still exist.
The place of his sepulture is unmarked by any me-
morial, and cannot therefore be pointed out.

The first edition of his travels was printed in 16 14,
4to. This work was again reprinted in the reign of
Charles I., with a dedication to that monarch. He
also published an account of the siege of Buda in
1637, a circumstance which shows that he had at-
tained a considerable age; as in 1637 he would be in
his fifty-fourth year.

LIVINGSTON, John, one of the most revered
names in Scottish ecclesiastical history. He was
born at Kilsyth in Stirlingshire (then called Mony-
broch), on the 21st of June, 1603. His father, Mr.
William Livingston, who officiated as minister of
Monybroch from 1600 to 1614, and was then trans-
lated to Lanark, was the son of Mr. Alexander
Livingston, his predecessor in the charge of the
parish of Monybroch, and who, in his turn, was a
grandson of Alexander, fifth Lord Livingston, one
of the nobles intrusted with the keeping of Queen
Mary in her infancy, and the ancestor of the Earls
of Linlithgow and Callander. His mother was
Agnes Livingston, daughter of Alexander Livingston,
a cadet of the house of Dunnipace. His Christian
name he received at baptism in compliance with the
request of Lady Lillias Graham. '^

"Worthy famous Mr. John Livingston," as he
was fondly termed by his contemporaries, received
the rudiments of learning at home, and at the age of
ten was sent to study the classics under Mr. Wallace,
a respectable teacher at Stirling. During the first
year he made little progress, and was rather harshly
treated by the schoolmaster; this was corrected by
a remonstrance from his father, after which he pro-
fited very rapidly by his studies. When he had com-
pleted his third year at Stirling, it was proposed that
he should go to the Glasgow university; but his
father eventually determined that he should remain
another year at school, and this, he informs us,^ was
the most profitable year he had at school, being
chiefly devoted to a course of classical reading. Dur-
ing the time of his residence in Stirling, Mr. Patrick
Simpson, a clergyman of much note, officiated in the
parish church; and Mr. Livingston relates that, on
receiving the communion from his hands, he experi-
enced a physical agitation of an uncommon char-
acter, which he believed to have been occasioned
"by the Lord for the first time working upon his
heart." At his father's house in Lanark, to which _
he returned in 1 61 7, in order to attend the death-bed ■
of his mother, he had further opportunities of profit- TJ
ing religiously; for it was the occasional resort of
some of the most distinguished clergymen and "pro-
fessors" of that age. The celebrated Mr. Robert
Bruce was among the number of the former; and of
the latter were the Countess of Wigton (whom
Livingston himself calls the "rare"), Lady Lillias
Graham, already mentioned. Lady Culross, still more
famous than any of the rest, and Lady Barnton. It

' A gentlewoman of the house of Wigton, with whom, as
with many persons of equal rank, his father was on intimate
terms of personal and religious friendship, and whose father,
husband, and eldest son, were all of the same appellation.

2 In his life, written by himself. Glasgow, 1754.

JOHN LIVIXGSTOX.

52s

seems to have then been a common practice for such
persons as were conspicuous for religious earnestness,
of whatever ranlv, to resort much to eacliotlier's houses,
and to take every opportunity, when on a journey,
to spend a night in a kindred domestic circle, where
they might, in addition to common hospitalities,
enjoy the fellowship of a common faith. To a large
mingling in society of this kind we are no doubt to
attribute much of the sanctity for which Mr. Living-
ston was remarkable through life.

The subject of our memoir received his academical
education at the university of St. Andrews, where
Mr. Robert Boyd was then principal, and Mr. Robert
Blair, another eminent divine, the professor of the-
ology. Being tempted at this time l:)y some pro-
posals for a secular profession, he adopted the expe-
dient of retiring to a cave on the hanks of Mouse-
water (perhaps the same which sheltered Wallace),
where he spent a whole day in spiritual meditation,
and ultimately resolved to become a preacher of the
gospel, as the only means of securing his own eternal
interests. During the progress of his subsequent
studies in divinity, he gave token of that firm adher-
ence to Presbyterian rules which characterized him
in his maturer years. He was sitting with some of
the people and a few of his fellow-students in a
church in Glasgow, when the archbishop (Law) came
to celebrate the communion for the first time after
the Episcopal fashion estal^lished by the Perth Ar-
ticles. Seeing the people all sitting as usual, Law
desired them to kneel, which some did, but among
the recusants were Livingston and the little party of
students. The archbishop commanded them either
to kneel or depart: to this Livingston boldly replied,
that "there was no warrant for kneeling, and, for
want of it, no one ought to be excommunicated."
Law only caused those near them to move in order
that they might remove.

Mr. Livingston became a preacher in 1625, and
for a considerable time preached for his father at
Lanark, or in the neighbouring parish churches.
He had several calls to vacant churches, especially
to Anwoth in Galloway, which was afterwards filled
by the celebrated Rutherford. The increasing rigour
of the Episcopal regulations appears to have pre-
vented him from obtaining a settlement. He was
at length, in 1627, taken into the house of the Earl
of Wigton at Cumbernauld, as chaplain, with per-
mission to preach in the hall to such strangers as
chose to accompany the family in their devotions,
and also to minister occasionally in the neighbour-
ing pulpits. Pie was living in this manner when he
produced the celebrated revival of religion at the
Kirk of Shotts. This, it seems, was a place where
he always found himself in the enjoyment of an un-
usual degree of "liberty" in preaching. On Sunday,
June 20, 1630, the communion was celebrated at
Shotts to a large assemblage of people, among whom
were all the more eminently pious women of rank in
that part of the country. The nnpression produced
by the solemnities of the day was so very great that
many did not depart, but spent the whole night in
prayer and conference.* Among these was Mr.
Livingston, who being requested to give a sermon
next morning to the still lingering multitude, walked
forth very early into the fields. Here, he says,
"there came such a misgiving of spirit upon me,
considering my unworthiness and weakness, and the
multitude and expectation of the people, that I was
consulting with myself to have stolen away some-
where." He had actually gone to some distance, and

' The bed-room of Lady Culross was filled with people, to
whom she prayed "three large hours' time," — "having great
motion upon her." — Livingston s Li/e, MS. Ad. Lib.

was losing sight of the Kirk of Shotts, when the
words, " Was I ever a barren wilderness or a land
of darkness?" were brought into his heart with such
an overcoming power as constrained him to return.
In the ensuing service he "got good assistance about
an hour and a half" upon the text, Eze. xxxvi. 25,
26: "Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you,"
&c. "In the end," says Mr. Livingston, "offering
to close with some words of exhortation, I was led
on about an hour's time in a strain of exhortation and
warning, w ith such hberty and melting of heart, as
I never had the like in public all my lifetime." The
effect of the address is spoken of by P'leming, in his
FitlJilliHg of the Scriptures, as "an extraordinary ap-
pearance of God and down-pouring of the Spirit,
with a strange unusual motion on the hearers," inso-
much that five hundred, it was calculated, had at that
time "a discernible change wrought upon them, of
whom most proved lively Christians afterwards. It
was the sowing of a seed through Clydesdale, so as
many of the most eminent Christians in that country
could date either their conversion, or some remark-
able confirmation of their case, from that day." The
importance of such a sermon in propagating religion
in a countiy where it was as yet but imperfectly in-
troduced, has given this event a prominent place —
not perhaps in the history of the Church of Scotland,
but certainly in the history of the gospel. It caused
Monday sermons after the celebration of the com-
munion to become general, and appears to have been
the origin of that now habitual practice.

Livingston gives some curious particulars in refer-
ence to this signally successful preaching. He offi-
ciated on the ensuing Thursday at Kilmarnock, and
there he was favoured with some remains, as it were,
of the affiatus which had inspired him on the fonner
day. Next Monday, however, preaching in Irvine,
"I was so deserted," says he, "that the points I had
meditated and written, and had fully in my memory,
I was not, for my heart, able to get them pronounced.
So it pleased the Lord to counterbalance his deal-
ings and hide pride from man. This so discouraged
me that I was upon resolution for some time not to
preach — at least not in Irvine; but Mr. David Dick-
son could not suffer me to go from thence till I
preached the next Sabbath, to get, as he expressed
it, amends of the devil. And so I stayed, and
preached with some tolerable freedom."

Finding all prospect of a parochial settlement in
his native country precluded by the bishops, Mr.
Livingston was induced in August, 1630, to accept
the charge of the parish of Killinchie, in the north
of Ireland, where a considerable portion of the pop-
ulation consisted of Scots. Here he ministered with
great success, insomuch that by one sermon preached
in the neighbouring parish of Holywood, he was cal-
culated to have converted a thousand persons in as
effectual a manner as he had done the five hundred
at Shotts. Such extensive utility is perhaps only to
be expected in a country such as Scotland and Ire-
land then were, and as America has more recently
been; but yet, as similar acts are recorded of no con-
temporary clergyman whose name is familiar to us,
we must necessarily conclude that there was some-
thing in the oratorical talents and spiritual gifts of
Mr. Livingston which marked him out as a most
extraordinary man. His success as a minister is less
agreeably proved in another way — by the persecu-
tion, namely, of the bishop in whose diocese he offi-
ciated. After being once .suspended and replaced,
he was, in May, 1632, deposed, along with 5lessrs.
Blair, Welsh, and Dunbar; after which he could
only hold private meetings with his flock. He and
several of his people were now become so desperate

526

JOHN LIVINGSTON.

as to the enjoyment of religion in their own way,
under British institutions, that they formed a resolu-
tion to emigrate to America. lie accordingly set
sail from Weymouth; but being driven back by a con-
trary wind, some circumstances induced him to
change his mind. Almost immediately after his
return he and his deposed brethren were rein-
stated by a letter of the lord-deputy Strafford;
and, for a year and a half, he continued to preach
at Killinchie.

Mr. Livingston's salary in this charge was only
^4 a-year; yet he takes pains to assure us, that not-
withstanding all his travels from place to place, and
also occasional visits to Scotland, he never wanted
money. He lets slip afterwards, however, that he
received sums occasionally from the Countesses of
Eglintoune and Wigton, and other devout ladies.
His mode of life was so fully justified by the circum-
stances of the times, which rendered it by no means
singular, that Mr. Livingston was not deterred from
forming a matrimonial connection. He had formed
an attachment to the eldest daughter of Bartholomew
Fleming, merchant in Edinburgh, "of most worthy
memory." The young lady was also recommended
to him by the favourable speeches of many of his
friends. Yet — and the fact is a curious trait of the
age and of the man — he spent nine months "in seek-
ing directions from God," before he could make up
his mind to pay his addresses. "It is like," he says,
"I might have been longer in that darkness, except
the Lord had presented me an occasion of our con-
ferring together; for, in November, 1634, when I was
going to the Friday meeting at Antrim [the lady was
then residing on a visit in Ireland], I forgathered
with her and some others going thither, and pro-
pounded to them, by the way, to confer upon a text
whereon I was to preach the day after at Antrim;
wherein I found her conference so just and spiritual,
that I took that for some answer to my prayer to
have my mind cleared, and blamed myself that I had
not before taken occasion to confer with her. Four
or five days after, I proposed the matter, and desired
her to think upon it; and after a week or two I went
to her mother's house, and, being alone with her,
desiring her answer, I went to prayer and desired
her to pray, which at last she did: and in that time
I got abundant clearness that it was the Lord's mind
that I should marry her, and then propounded the
matter more fully to her mother; and, albeit I was
then fully cleared, I may truly say it was about a
month after before I got marriage affection to her,
although she was, for personal endowments, beyond
many of her equals, and I got it not till I obtained
it by prayer; but thereafter 1 had greater difficulty to
moderate it."

The parties, having proceeded to Edinburgh, were
married in the West Church there, June 23, 1635,
under circumstances of proper solemnity, notwith-
standing that Archbishop Spottiswood, chancellor of
Scotland, was understood to have issued orders for
the apprehension of Mr. Livingston some days be-
fore. The wedding was attended by the Earl of
Wigton and his son Lord Fleming, and a number of
other pious friends. Having returned to Ireland,
he was in the ensuing November once more deposed,
and even, it appears, excommunicated. He con-
tinued, nevertheless, to hold forth at private meet-
ings in his own house, where Blair, also again de-
posed, took up his abode. At length, in renewed
despair, he once more embarked along with his wife
for the American colonies; but, strange to say, after
having sailed to a point nearer to the banks of New-
foundland than to any part of Europe, he was again
driven back; after which, conceiving it "to be the

Lord's will that he should not go to New England,''
he made no further attempt.

For about two years Mr. Livingston preached
occasionally, but always in a somewhat furtive man-
ner, both in Ireland and Scotland. He was in the
latter country in 1637, when at length the bishops
brought matters to such a crisis, as terminated their
supremacy in Scotland, and enabled divines like
Mr. Livingston to open their mouths without fear.
Mr. Livingston was present at Lanark when the
covenant was received by the congregation of that
place; and he says that, excepting at the Kirk of
Shotts, he never saw such motions from the Sjjirit of
God; "a thousand persons all at once Hfting up their
hands, and the tears falling down from their eyes."
Being commissioned to proceed to London, to confer
with the friends of the cause in reference to this grand
national movement, he disguised himself in a gray
coat and a gray montero cap, for the purpose of
avoiding the notice of the English authorities. An
accident which befell him on the way confined him,
after his arrival in the metropolis, to his chamber;
but he was there visited by many friends of liberty
in church and state, including several of the English
nobility. He had not been long in London when
the Marquis of Hamilton informed him through a
mutual friend that the king was aware of his coming,
and threatened "to put a pair of fetters about his
feet." He was therefore obliged to retire precipi-
tately to his own country.

In July, 1638, Mr. Livingston was enabled, under
the new system of things, to enter upon the ministry of
the parish of Stranraer in Wigtonshire — a place with
which he had long been familiar, in consequence of
his frequently passing that way to and from Ireland.
Here his zeal and eloquence appear to have been
deeply appreciated, insomuch that the people flocked
even to hear his private family devotions, filling his
house to such a degree, that he had at length to per-
form these exercises in the church. It is a still more
striking proof of his gifts, that multitudes of his Irish
friends used to come over twice a-year to be present
at his ministrations of the communion. On one
occasion he had no fewer than 500 of these far-
travelled strangers; on another he had twenty-eight
of their children to baptize! Such was then the keen
appreciation of "free preaching," and the difficulty
of obtaining it under the restrictions of the Episcopal
system, that some of these people were induced to
remove to Stranraer, simply that they might be of
the congregation of Mr. Livingston. It is confessed,
indeed, by the subject of our memoir, that the ob-
structions which the Irish Presbyterians encountered
at that time in hearing the gospel preached after their
own way tended materially to excite and keep alive
religious impressions in their hearts. "The per-
petual fear," he says, "that the bishops would put
away their ministers, made them with great hunger
wait on the ordinances." The narrow views of that
age prevented the king or his ecclesiastical friends
from seeing the tendency of their measures; but the
result was exactly accordant to the more extended
philosophy of our own times. We have now less
persecution, and naturally a great deal more indif-
ference.

It is a fact of too great importance to be over-
looked, that Mr. Livingston was a member of the
General Assembly which met at Glasgow in Novem-
ber, 1638, and decreed the abolition of Episcopacy
in Scotland. He accompanied the army in the cam-
paign of 1640 as chaplain to the regiment of the Earl
of Cassillis, and was present at the battle of New-
burn, of which he composed a narrative. In No-
vember he returned to Stranraer, where, in one

JOHN LIVIXGSTON JOHN LTZARS.

527

Sunday, notwithstanding the smallness and poverty
of the town, he raised a contribution of no less than
forty-five pounds sterhng for the use of the army. A
large portion of this, it must be remarked, was given
by one poor woman under very peculiar circum-
stances. She had laid aside, as a portion to her
daugliter, seven twenty-two shilling pieces and an
eleven-pound piece : the Lord, she said, had lately
taken her daughter, and having resolved to give
him her portion also, she now brought forward her
little hoard in aid of that cause which she seriously
believed to be his. In these traits of humble and
devoted piety there is something truly affecting; and
even those who are themselves least disposed to such
a train of mind mustylv/ that they are so.

Mr. Livingston appears to have always retained a
warm feeling towards the Presbyterians of the north
of Ireland. At the breaking out of the rebellion in
1 64 1, when these poor people fled in a body from
the fury of the Catholics, multitudes came into Scot-
land by the way of Stranraer. Of the money raised
in Scotland to relieve the refugees, ^^looo Scots was
sent to Mr. Livingston, who distributed it in small
sums, rarely exceeding half-a-crown, to the most
necessitous. He complains in his memoirs, that out
of all the afflicted multitudes who came in his way,
he hardly observed one person "sufficiently sensible
of the Lord's hand" in their late calamity, or of their
own deserving of it, "so far had the stroke seized
their spirits as well as bodies." This is a remark
highly characteristic of the age. One more valuable
occurs afterwards. Being sent over to Ireland with
the Scottish army, "he found," he says, "a great
alteration in the country; many of those who had
been civil before were become many ways exceeding
loose; yea, sundry who, as could be conceived, had
true grace, were declined much in tenderness; so, as
it would seem, the sword opens a gap, and makes every-
body worse than before, an inward plague coming with
the outward; yet some few were in a very lively con-
dition." If Air. Livingston had not been accustomed
to regard everything in a spiritual light, he would
have argued upon both matters with a view simply
to physical causes. He would have traced the savage
conduct of the Catholic Irish to the united operation
of a false religion and the inhumane dominancy of
a race of conquerors; and the declining piety of the
Presbyterians to that mental stupor which an un-
wonted accumulation of privations, oppressions, and
dangers can hardly fail to produce. It is strange to
a modern mind to see men, in the first place, violat-
ing the most familiar and necessary laws respecting
their duty to their neighbours (as the English may
be said to have done in reference to the native Irish),
and then to hear the natural consequences of such
proceedings described as a manifestation of divine
wrath towards a class of people who were totally
unconnected with the cause.

Mr. Livingston was minister of Stranraer for ten
years, during which time he had not only brought his
own flock into a state of high religious culture, but
done much latterly to restore the former state of
feeling in the north of Ireland. In the summer of
1648 he was translated by the General Assembly to
Ancrum in Roxburghshire, where lie found a people
much more in need of his services than at Stranraer.
In 1650 he was one of three clergymen deputed by
the church to accompany an embassage which was
sent to treat with Charles II. at the Hague for his
restoration to a limited authority in Scotland. In
his memoirs Mr. Livingston gives a minute account
of the negotiations with the young king, which throws
considerable light on that transaction, but cannot
here be. entered upon. He seems to be convinced,

however, of the insincerity of the king, though his
facility of disposition rendered him an unfit person
to oppose the conclusion of the treaty. Being of
opinion that the lay-ambassadors were taking the
curse of Scotland with them, he refused to embark,
and was at last brought off by stratagem. In the
ensuing transactions, as may be conceived, he took
tiie side of the protestors ; but, upon the whole, he
mingled less in public business than many divines of
iuferior note in spiritual gifts. During the protec-
torate he lived very quietly in the exercise of his
parochial duties; and on one occasion, though in-
clined to go once more to Ireland, refused a charge
wliich was offered to him at Dublin, with a salary of
;^200 a year. After the Restoration he very soon fell
under the displeasure of the government, and, in
April, 1663, was banished from his native countiy,
which he never more saw. He took up his residence
at Rotterdam, where there was already a little society
of clergymen in his own circumstances.

In narrating the events of this part of his life Mr.
Livingston mentions some curious traits of his own
character and circumstances. "My inclination and
disposition," he says, "was generally soft, amorous,
averse from debates, rather given to laziness than
rashness, and easy to be wrought upon. I cannot
say what Luther affirmed of himself concerning
covetousness ; but, I may say, I have been less
troubled with covetousness and cares than many
other evils. I rather inclined to solitariness than
company. I was much troubled with wandering of
mind and idle thoughts. For outward things I never
was rich, and I never was in want; and I do not
remember that I ever borrowed money, but once in
Ireland five or six pounds, and got it shortly paid.
I choosed rather to want sundry things than to be in
debt. I never put anything to the fore of any main-
tenance I had; yea, if it had not been for what I got
with my wife, and by the death of her brother and
some others of her friends, I could hardly have main-
tained my family by any stipend I had in all the
three places I was in."

. The remainder of his life was spent in a manner
more agreeable, perhaj^s, to his natural disposition
than any preceding part. He had all along had a
desire to obtain leisure for study, but was so closely
pressed by his ordinary duties that he could not
obtain it. He now devoted himself entirely to his
favourite pursuit of biblical literature, and had pre-
pared a polyglot Bible, which obtained the unquali-
fied approbation of the most learned men in Scotland,
when he was cut off, on the 9th of August, 1672, in
the seventieth year of his age. Just before he ex-
pired, his wife, foreseeing the approach of dissolution,
desired him to take leave of his friends. "I dare
not," said he, with an affectionate tenderness; "but
it is likely our parting will be but for a short time."
Mr. Livingston, besides his Bible (as yet unpub-
lished), left notes descriptive of all the principal
clergymen of his own time, which, with his memoirs,
were printed in 1754. Some of his cliildren emi-
grated to America, where their descendants have
become people of the first distinction and weight in
society. The late Dr. John H. Livingston, minister
of the Reformed Dutch church in New York, pro-
fessor of divinity to that body, and president of
Queen's College, New Jersey — one of the first men
of his age and country, and to whose memoirs by
Mr. Alexander Gunn we have been indebted for
some of the preceding facts — was the great-great
grandson of the subject of this memoir.

LIZARS, John. This distinguished surgeon and
teacher of surgery was born in Edinburgh ; but in

528

JOHN LIZAUS.

what year of the last century has not been stated.
He was educated at the high-school of that city.
Resolving to follow the medical profession, he was
so fortunate as to become the pupil and apprentice
of John Bell, the elder brother of Sir Charles Bell,
of whom biographical notices have been given in this
work. Thus Lizars obtained for his master and
teacher one of the most accomplished masters in
surgery and anatomy; and being the right pupil for
such a preceptor, his progress in these departments,
to which he naturally directed his whole attention,
was correspondent to his advantages. In short, his
professional character was insensibly moulded in
that of John Bell, than whom he could not have
found a better exemplar. Having obtained his di-
l)loma in 1808, Lizars passed several years as naval
surgeon during the Peninsular war, and served on the
Spanish and Portuguese coasts in the fleet commanded
by Lord Exmouth. One of the ships in which he
served had for its captain Charles Napier, afterwards
the distinguished admiral and hero of Acre, and be-
tween the pair a warm friendship was formed, which
lasted for life.

On leaving the sea-service in 1815, Lizars returned
to Edinburgh, and was admitted a fellow of the
Royal College of Surgeons in that city. So highly
also was he valued byhisformer master, John Bell, that
he was admitted into the partnership which subsisted
between Bell and Robert Allan, the eminent surgeon,
and author of the well-known work entitled AllaiCs
Siirgoy. Soon after forming this connection, Mr.
Lizars began to lecture in the school with Allan, the
former on the department of anatomy and physiology,
and the latter on surgery. In a few years the part-
nership was dissolved, when Lizars continued to
lecture on anatomy alone at the theatre. No. i
Surgeon's Square, which had long been distinguished
as an anatomical school. Having won a high re-
putation by his lectures on anatomy, he in the course
of four or five years began to lecture on surgery also.
This double duty was a weighty undertaking, and
exhausting both to mind and body, and required
a careful economizing of time and capacity. His
method, according to his biographer, was as follows:
— "First, a lecture on anatomy from eleven to twelve;
secondly, a half-hour's demonstration on anatomy
at one o'clock; and, thirdly, the lecture on surgery
from two to three. This he did daily, Saturdays
excepted; besides which he had a large class of
practical anatomy — a department, the conducting of
which was then a much less easy or safe matter than
it now-a-days proves to us, who have merely to
receive bodies under the peaceful operation of the
anatomy act." Of the comprehensive efficiency of
this extended and laborious range of instruction we
are also told by the sarne authority: "Mr. Lizars'
activity and success may be judged when we mention,
that on each of his three classes there was an average
attendance of about 150 students. His success as a
teacher may be said to have been due not only to
his ability as an anatomist and surgeon, but to the
great attention he paid to his pupils in the time he
spent with them, and to the zeal with which he in-
spired them."

A change that must have been welcomed as a
relief at length occurred in this process of teaching,
in consequence of a resolution of the Edinburgh Col-
lege of Surgeons to recognize each teacher for one
science only. This judicious plan of confining the
utmost talent to its one especial department was an
improvement in the science originated by the Edin-
burgh College of Surgeons, in consequence of the
advance of the profession, and the number of its able
and eminent practitioners; and the decision set Mr.

Lizai-s free from the oppression of his double toil.
He therefore retained the department of surgery for
himself, and consigned to his brother Alexander
(afterwards anatomical professor in the university of
Edinburgh) his class of anatomy. In 1S31 John
Lizars was appointed professor of surgery to the
Royal College of Surgeons, and in this office he
continued to teach and lecture until 1S38-39, when
he resigned his charge. The vast store of anatomical
and pathological specimens which his enthusiastic
zeal had collected from his extensive range of private
and hospital practice, and most of which specimens
were prepared by himself, were devoted by him to
the advancement of the science they illustrated. The
anatomical museum was consigned to the anatomical
class when his brother Alexander became its lec-
turer; and his surgical museum to the charge of Dr.
Handyside, who succeeded him as lecturer on surger)'.

It was much that Mr. Lizars should have won so
high a reputation when such powerful rivals were in
the field. Of these it is enough to mention the names
of Barclay, Mackintosh, Fletcher, Arg}ll Robertson,
and John Reid. But perhaps more than these was
Liston, who was also his colleague at the hospital.
But although they taught and operated side by side,
while each had his fame and followers, no petty
jealousy interfered to mar their mutual cordiality.
While senior operating-surgeon of the Royal In-
firmar)', Lizars had frequently to perform difficult
operations in which Liston also excelled; but in both
there was the same professional knowledge and skill,
the same firmness of ner\'e, and the same exquisite
delicacy of touch that carried them successfully
through the most critical experiments upon the living
subject, and left the question undecided as to M-hich
of them should be reckoned the greater. "Mr.
Lizars," says his biographer, from whom we again
quote, "could be equalled as an operator, but could
not be surpassed. He had the ease and trust brought
by that thorough familiarity with anatomy which
years of teaching in the dissecting-room can alone
supply, and a rich endowment of that natural cool-
ness which is to the surgeon what natural bravery is
to the soldier. None who witnessed it are likely to
forget the coolness and dexterity with which he per-
formed the then laudable but anxious experiment of
exposing and tying the innominate arter)- ; no one,
probably, of the large and eager audience so cool as
the operator himself It will be remembered, too,
that surgery is indebted to him for the introduction
of the operation of removal of the upper jaw." Nor
was it to lecturing and practice only that the cares
of Professor Lizars were confined, in which case the
best of his fame might have passed away with him,
and left nothing but a vague memory behind. His
writings were numerous in medical journals, and the
chief of his published treatises on professional sub-
jects were On the Extraction of Diseased Ovaria; On
Chcb-foot; On Strabismus; On Stricture; and his
well-known System of Practical Surgery. But it was
chiefly by his large anatomical work, \h& Anatomical
Plates, that he was best known in his day. It was
a noble attempt, in the prevalent difficulty of pro-
curing subjects, to assist students with substitutes;
and the engravings of this splendid work, which were
executed with great care and at much expense, were
made chiefly from original dissections. Its usefulness
was indicated by its immense sale irrespective of the
cost; and although the superior facilities now af-
forded to the study of anatomy have made all such
aids less necessary, it is still consulted with benefit
both by the student and surgeon.

After he had abandoned tlie office of public teacher
and lecturer, Professor Lizars devoted his time to

SIR GEORGE LOCKHART.

529

private practice, surgical and general, and in this he
continued during the last twenty years of his life,
with occasional appearances as an author. It was
in keeping with his long and hard-working career,
that at the close he should die in harness. On the
20th of May, i860, he had been out as usual in the
forenoon on his round of professional duties, but
feeling drowsy, had returned home. Insensibility
gradually grew upon him without any return of con-
sciousness, and un the following evening he died
without pain.

LOCKHART, Sir George, a distingriished con-
stitutional lawyer, and lord-president of the Court of
Session, was the second son of Sir James Lockhart
of Lee, a judge of the Court of Session. The period
of his birth is unknown, and the earliest circum-
stance of his life which has been recortled is, that he
studied for the bar, to which he was admitted on the
Sth of January, 1656, by the commissioners ap-
])ointed for the administration of justice in Scotland
under the government of Cromwell.' The well-
kno\vn personal interest of his brother Sir William
Lockhart with the Protector, was probably the
means of introducing his talents to early notice; and
on the 14th May, 1658, he was appointed "sole
attorney," or lord-advocate of Scotland. On the
restoration of the monarchy his family inlluence pro-
cured him favour at court; and after taking the oath
of allegiance, along with the performance of other
somewhat humiliating ceremonies, expressive of re-
gret for his support to the fallen government, he was
permitted the exercise of his profession, and received
the honour of knighthood in 1663. Sir George dis-
tinguished himself as an able barrister, and became
a man of power and influence. Notwithstanding
favours extended towards him, such as monarchs too
often find sufficient to secure unhesitating tools, he
used the privileges of his profession frequently against
the court; and through the progress of the dark deeds
perpetrated by Tweeddale and Lauderdale, his name
frequently occurs in the Books of Adjournal (the
criminal record of Scotland), as using his professional
abilities in favour of the Covenanters. One of the
most prominent features of his life is the struggle
which he headed in 1674 for procuring by indirect
means, and partly through the influence of the bar,
an appeal from the courts of law to the legislature,
imauthorized by the theory of the constitution of
Scotland, and directly against the wishes of the court,
to which a body of paid judges, removable at plea-
sure, seemed a more pliable engine than an assembly
of men, partly elected, partly holding by hereditary
right. He was the person who, in the suit between
the Earl of Dunfermline and the Earl of Callender
and Lord Almond, advised the last-mentioned to
present an appeal to parliament.* The earl being
cited before the privy-council to answer for tliis act,
applied to Sir George Lockhart, Sir Robert Sinclair,
Sir George Cunningham, and Sir George Mackenzie,
for information how to act in the matter; and a paper
was drawn up for him by these eminent men, de-
claring "that he desired nothing thereby, but to
protest for remeid of law;" in other words, that he
(lid not wish the decree of the Court of Session to
be reduced on the ground of injustice or oppression,
but a revisal by the parliament, declaratory or statu-
tory, as to the law on the point. "In all which,"
says Sir George Mackenzie, with the bitterness of

' Brunton and Haig's Hist, of Col. of Just. 419.

- Those readers who are not acquainted with the details of
this event, may find such circumstances connected with it as
are here omitted, in the life of SiK ]ony. Lauder of Foun-

TAINHALL.

VOL. :i.

disappointment, "Sir George Lockhart's design was
to bring in this trial before the parliament, hoping
thereby that they would lay aside the president, and
leave the chair vacant for him." Lauderdale im-
mediately proceeded to court, accompanied by the
president of the Court of Session and one of the
judges; and on theirrep'n't of the ]iroceedings Charles
found the matter of sufficient im]K)rlance to demand
personal interference, and wrote a letter to the privy-
council, in which, expressing his conviction of the
necessity of preserving the supreme power of the
College of Justice, and his "abhorrence" of ajipeals,
he was graciously j^leased that no proceeding should
be instituted against those who had maintained the
]ioIitical heresy, in case they disavowed it; but that
if they did not, they should be debarred the exercise
of their jirofessions. The consequence of this letter
was the banishment of Lockhart and Cunningham,
and the voluntary exile of fifty advocates, who chose
to resent the insult: but the manner in which the act
is detailed by Sir (ieorge Mackenzie, and the curious
views which he casts on the motives and conduct of
his great rival, prompt us to extract the passage: —
"His majesty having ordained by his letters such as
would adhere to that appeal to be debarred from
pleading, and Sir George Lockhart and Sir John
Cunningham being thereujwn called in before the
lords, they owned that though formal appeals might
be said to be contrary to the 62 act. Par. 14 James
II., yet a protestation for remeid of law might be
allowed; whereupon they were debarred from their
employments till the king should declare his further
pleasure. And albeit it might have been reasonably
concluded that this exclusion should have pleased
the younger advocates whom those seniors over-
shaded, interrupting the chief advantage and honour
that was to be expected in that society; yet most
fearing to offend so eminent men, who they knew
would soon return to their stations, and being pushed
on by the lords of the party, and the discontented
persons to whom they owed their employments, went
tumultuarily out of the session-house with those who
were debarred ; and thus, as Sir George Lockhart
broke that society at first by his avarice in the matter
of the regulations, he broke them now again by his
pride in the matter of the appeals; and by raising a
clamour against the president, and joining in the
popular dissatisfaction, he diverted early from him-
self that great hatred which was so justly conceived
against his insolence and his avarice — two crimes
which were more eminent in him than his learning."
Although the causes of the enmity entertained by
Mackenzie towards Lockhart are not fully explained,
the allusions of the former make it quite clear that
it arose from professional and political rivalry. The
king had written to the burghs, advising them to
renew their old acts against the choosing of repre-
sentatives. "The king's design in this was," says
Sir George, "to exclude such as had been factious
in the former parliament, and to engage the burghs
to an immediate dependence on the crown. " The dis-
affected advocates endeavoured to inspire the burghs
with a wish to oppose the designs of the court ; in
the meantime, however, it was necessary' that the
king's letters should be answered, and a draught of
such a document was prepared for the committee by
Sir George Mackenzie. This letter was sent for the
perusal of Lockhart, who altered it "so as of a dis-
creet and dutiful letter, it became, by adding what
was humorous, and striking out what was discreet,
a most unpolisht and indiscreet paper. And when
Sir George Lockhart was askt why he had deformed
it so, his answer to James Stewart was, that it was
fit to make Sir George Mackenzie unpardonable."

69

530

SIR GEORGE LOCKHART.

Sir George Mackenzie alleges that Lockhart had
induced him to join the body in favour of appeals
on the ground that the union of so many members
of the bar would form a formidable opposition to
Lauderdale; and it is to his enmity against that minis-
ter at the period, that, without a better reason, we
must date Mackenzie's accession to the cause. But
when the king, on the 1 2th of December, issued a pro-
clamation, declaring, on the word of a prince, that
such of the advocates as should not petition for re-
admission before the 2Sth of Januarj- following should
never be pemiitted to return to their profession, Sir
George ^Iackenzie "did so much tender the reputa-
tion of his king, that he, having been bedrid of a
broken leg when the rest were debarr'd, shunn'd to
have himself debarr'd, or publicly to own the appeal;
though to secure such as had, he declared that he
would not return to his employment without them.
Which not satisfying Sir George Lockhart, who
pressed still that Sir George Mackenzie should be de-
barr'd, he was content, in a letter under his hand, to
oblige himself in those terms; but this letter not hav-
ing satisfied, and he being prest, merely to satisfy Sir
George Lockhart's private humour, he called for his
former letter, and wrote in a postscript these words:
'But if I enter and put myself in the same condition
with the rest, I do declare this letter, and all the
obligations therein, to be void and not obligatoiy.'
And having owned the appeal with a very undaunted
courage, did from that hour despise that party which
had jealous'd him, after so many proofs of his cour-
age and fidelity, to please a little creature, who had
never follow'd them, but his own passion, to which
he and they were become such slaves, that they had
thereby lost the glory and reputation of impartial
reformers, which had so much recommended them
at first, while they followed Sir George Mackcnziis
disinterested advices." Mackenzie then adds a cir-
cumstance, which will hardly diminish the suspicion
of his tortuous conduct in the business, although it
may shed a ray of additional light on the causes of
his rancour towards Lockhart. This is the letter
from which the party concluded Sir George Mac-
kenzie to be guilty of perjurj', in having entered
before the rest; dispersing copies of the letter with-
out the postscript, because they knew the postscript
destroyed their malicious pretences. Before the day
which the court had named as the last for receiving
the submission of the recusant advocates, a document,
couched in the form of a petition, but steadily vin-
dicating the right of appeal for remeid of law, was
presented to the privy-council. This verj' valuable
paper, which has been preserved at full length by
Mackenzie, is full of legal knowledge and clear con-
cise reasoning; it had, however, to strive, not only
against power, but also against precedent; no clear
established law could be found on which to rest the
right of appeal, and a course of ingenious special
pleading had to be derived from implication, and the
plea that the Court of Session was a distinct body
from the daily session of old, which, being a com-
mittee of parliament set apart for the purpose of saving
the time and trouble of the main body, would have
defeated its end by the admission of appeals. The
grand constitutional argument of a check on the ven-
ality of judges could only be hinted at under the cloak
of deference and submission to the royal authority;
and the petitioners thought it prudent to terminate
their certainly firm and manly statement of their rights
with the concession, that "as the petitioners acknow-
ledge there are eminent lawyers upon the session,
of deser\-ed reputation; so, if the lords of session, by
an act of sederunt orother\vise, will plainly and clearly
declare that protestations for remeid of law, to his

majesty and estates of parliament, were and are in
themselves unlawful, and that the parliament cannot
thereupon review and rescind their decreets, if they
find just cause; the petitioners will so far defer to
their authority, as to be concluded thereby, and
satisfy what was prescribed and required by the
lords of session as to that point." Mackenzie was
induced to sign this petition: he says, "Sir George
Lockhart's love of money making him weary of
that love to revenge, he persuaded the appealers
(for so all the adherers were called) to give in an
address to the privy - council ; but so bitter and
humorous, that Sir George Mackenzie, though he
had concur'd in furnishing materials and argument,
did with some others dissent from it; till they were
again conjur'd by some of their comrades not to
make a rupture at a time wherein their fixt adher-
ence to one another was their only security."* The
petition was viewed by the privy-council and the
king as a daring and seditious piece of pleading; and
Sir John Cunningham proceeding to London to en-
deavour by his personal influence to alleviate the
threatened effects, was quickly followed by Sir
George Lockhart and Sir Robert Sinclair; "but
upon express promise," says jMackenzie, "that if Sir
George Mackenzie and those who had signed the
address should be pursu'd for it, they should return
and concur with him in the defence. Notwithstand-
ing whereof," he continues, " they having been pur-
su'd in a process before the privy-council, Sir George
Lockhart and Sir Robert Sinclair retir'd, and lurk"t
near to North Allerton, without acquainting even
their wives of their residence, lest thereby they
might have been advertis'd. Whereupon Sir George
Mackenzie gave in his defence," &c. The defence
deserted the constitutional origin of the struggle, and
assumed the aspect of a mere vindication of the
motives of presenting the petition. Mackenzie at
length yielded; as a motive for so doing he says —
but we are aware of no document that confirms the
assertion — that he "intercepted at last a letter,
wherein they (Lockhart and Sinclair) told their con-
fidants that they had resolved to wait the event of
that process ; in which, if Sir George Mackenzie was
absolved, they would be secure by the preparative ;
but if he was found guilty, the malice of the pur-
suers would be blunted before it reacht them." Ac-
cordingly, on the plausible ground that "it was no
dishonour to submit to their prince, ceding being
only dishonourable amongst equals, and never being
so when the contest was rais'd by such as designd
to make them knaves and fools," he prevailed on the
greater number of his brethren to submit. Sir George
Lockhart, left to maintain the struggle almost alone,
fully aware that unanimity and number only can give
effect to political resistance, presented a tardy sub-
mission in December, 1675, and was re-admitted to
the privileges of his profession on the 28th of Janu-
ary, 1676.- We have dwelt thus long on this inci-
dent, because it is one of the ver)' few constitutional

' With the petulant remarks on Lockhart, so plentifully-
scattered through the above quotations, compare the following
publislied character of the professional abilities of his great
rival by Sir George Mackenzie, in his Eloquence 0/ tite Bar —
it would be difficult to conceive a more perfect picture of a
great forensic orator: — " Lockartius corpus alteram juris civilis,
alterque Cicero dici poterat. I Hi etiam peculiare erat ar^-
menta sua eo ordine disponere, ut tanquam lapides in fornice
alter alterura sustineret; quse ex impro\4so, dum oraret, ei
suggerebantur, prompta solertia indicabat, aptisque locis dis-
ponebat. Nihil ab eo abscondit jurisprudentia, et quamprimum
casus illi a cliente aperirctur, sua omnia, omniaque adversarii
argumenta rctexebat. Iracundia, quae alios oratores turbabat,
eum tantum excitarc solebat; vocem tamen latratu, vultumque
rugis deformabat."

^ Mackenzie's Memoirs, 267-310,

SIR GEORGE LOCKHART.

531

struggles connected with the history of Scotland,
and the curious details lately brought to light in the
Memoirs of Sir George Mackenzie are not verj- gene-
rally perused.

The next political transaction in which we find
Lockhart professionally engaged, is the trial of Mit-
chell, in 1678, for having four years previously at-
tempted the murder of Archbishop Sharpe. He was
tried on his own confession, and there is no point
of history more surely ascertained, or less liable to
doubt, than that the confession was obtained on a
promise of pardon. " But," as Burnet expressively
says, " Sharpe would have his life." For the purpose
of' facilitating the prosecution, Nisbet, the lord-ad-
vocate, was superseded by Mackenzie; and Primrose,
from being clerk-register, was appointed justice-
general. "He fancied,"' says Burnet, "orders had
been given to raze the act that the council had made
(the act offering the conditional pardon), so he turned
the books, and he found the act still on record. He
took a copy of it and sent it to Mitchell's counsel."
Thus armed, Lockhart appeared, to meet the con-
fession. Burnet, who says, "He was the most learned
lawyer and the best pleader I have ever yet known
in any nation," states that "he did plead to the ad-
miration of all, to show that no extrajudicial con-
fession could be allowed in a court. The hardships
of a prison, the hopes of life, with other practices,
might draw confessions from men when they were
perhaps drunk or out of their senses. He brought
upon this a measure of learning that amazed the
audience, out of the lawj-ers of all civilized nations.
And when it was opposed to this that the council
was a court of judicature, he showed that it was not
the proper court for crimes of this nature, and that
it had not proceeded in this as at a court of judica-
ture. And he brought out likewise a great deal of
learning upon those heads. But this was overruled
by the court, and the confession was found to be
judicial. The next thing pleaded for him was, that
it was drawn from him upon the hope and promise
of life : and on this Sharpe was examined. The
person he had sent to Mitchell gave a full e^ndence
of the promises he had made him; but Sharpe denied
them all. He also denied he ever heard any promise
of life made him by the council ; so did the Lords
Lauderdale, Rothes, and Halton, to the astonish-
ment of all that were present. Lockhart upon that
produced a copy of the act of council, that made
express mention of the promise given, and of his
ha\-ing confessed upon that. And the prisoner prayed
that the books of council, which lay in a room over
that in which the court sat, might be sent for.
Lockhart pleaded that since the court had judged
that the council was a judicature, all people had a
right to search into their registers; and the prisoner,
who was like to suffer by a confession made there,
ought to have the benefit of those books. Duke
Lauderdale, who was in the court only as a witness,
and so had no right to speak, stood up and said he
and those other noble persons were not brought thither
to be accused of perjur)'; and added, that the books
of council were the king's secrets, and that no court
should have the perusing of them. The court was
terrified with this, and the judges were divided in
opinion. Primrose and one other was for calling
for the books, but three were of opinion that they
were not to furnish the prisoner with cNndence, but
to judge of that which he brought, and here was only
a bare copy, not attested upon oath, which ought
not to have been read. So this defence being re-
jected, he was cast and condemned."' Perhaps the

' Buniet, i. 41.

annals of crime scarcely produce another so perfect
specimen of judicial villany.

The talents and courage of Lockhart were em-
ployed by the Earl of Argj-le at his memorable trial
in 16S1 ; three times the privy-council denied him
the sanction of their warrant — unfortunately often
necessary at that period for the safety of the lawyer
who should defend a person accused of treason — and
it was at last granted, lest Arg)'le, on the ground
that he was deprived of legal assistance, might in-
terrupt the trial by refusing to plead. In the parlia-
ment of 1681 he was appointed one of the commis-
sioners of the shire of Lanark, a seat which he held
till his death; and in 1685, after the fall of his op-
ponents in the ministry', we find him one of the com-
mittee appointed to answer the king's letter to the
parliament, and a lord of the articles.- In 1685, on
the death of Sir David Falconer of Newton, Lock-
hart was appointed president of the Court of Session,
and was soon afterwards made a pri\')'-councillor
and a commissioner of the exchequer. Ha\-ing in
the year 1679 boldly undertaken the task of repre-
senting before the king the grievances against Lauder-
dale, he was considered one of the chief political
opponents of that minister, and seems to have been
gradually led to a participation ^^-ith the proceedings
of the Duke of York. After ha^-ing followed the
actions of a high-minded man through the path of
honour, and seen him use his talents and influence
in the protection of the weak, and resistance to the
powerful, it is painful to arrive at transactions in
which the presence of his accustomed firmness or
integrity may seem wanting. He is said to have
been at first opposed to a repeal of the penal laws
against Papists, but after a journey to London, con-
certed for the purpose of overcoming his scruples, to
have entertained a different ^•iew^ — a view which,
it is to be feared, was produced more by the benig-
nant smile of royalty, than by a sudden accession of
liberal principles. On the question of the applica-
bility of the disabling laws to the Duke of York, he
somewhat sophistically maintained that "a commis-
sion to represent the king's person fell not under the
notion of an office."* But, if he chose to assist the
court in obtaining its ends by legal means, his former
spirit returned on an attempted stretch of arbitrary
power, and he objected to the pri\y-council's sanc-
tioning a relaxation in favour of the Roman Catho-
lics, becoming law, through the mere royal preroga-
tive. " '

This great man, whose talents and courage would
have adorned a better period, fell a -victim to the fury
of one of those savages which misgovemment pro-
duces. He was murdered by John Chiesley of Dairy
on the 31st of March, 1689.

The determination to commit the murder on the
part of this man arose from a dispute with his wife,
the latter claiming aliment for herself and ten chil-
dren, and the parties consenting that the claim should
be settled by the arbitration of Lockhart and Lord
Kemnay, who gave a decree appointing an annual
sum out of Chiesley's estate to be paid to his wife.
Infuriated at not being permitted to deprive his wife
and offspring of their daily bread, he formed the
resolution of taking vengeance on the president at
whatever cost. On communicating his intention to
Mr. James Stewart, advocate, he was answered that
"it was a suggestion of the devil, and the ver)' im-
agination of it a sin before God ;" to which he replied,
"Let God and me alone; we have many things to
reckon betwixt us, and we will reckon this too."'

* Act Pari. viii. 456-7.

* Burnet, L 408.

' Fountainhall's Diary, 167.
* Fountainhall, 192.

5j-

GEORGE LOCKHART.

The victim, it appears, was informed of his intention;
bat he disdained precautions. The murderer con-
fessed that, when in London, he had walked up and
down Pall-mall, with a pistol beneath his coat, lying
in wait for the president. The day on which he
consummated the deed was Sunday. He charged
his pistol and went to church, where he watched the
motions of his victim, and when Lockhart was re-
turning to his own house through the close or lane
on the south side of the Lawnmarket, now known
by the name of the "Old Bank Close," following
close behind him, discharged a shot, which took
effect. The president fell, and being carried into
his own house, immediately expired, the ball having
passed through his body. Chiesley did not attempt
to escape, and, on being told that the president was
dead, he expressed satisfaction, and said "he was
not used to do things by halves," He was put to
the torture and made a full confession, and ha\-ing
been seen committing the act, and apprehended im-
mediately after, or as it is technically termed "red
hand," he was summarily tried before the provost
of Edinburgh, as sheriff within the city. He was
sentenced to have his right hand cut off while alive,
to be hanged upon a gibbet with the instrument of
murder suspended from his neck, and his body to
be hung in chains between Leith and Edinburgh.^

LOCKHART, George, a celebrated poliucal
partisan, and author of Memoirs concerning the
Affairs of Scotlcind, Commentaries, &c &c., was the
eldest son of the above, by Philadelphia, youngest
daughter of Philip, fourth Lord Wharton. He was
bom in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, in the year
1673. He appears to have been educated for the
Scottish bar, but ha%ing succeeded, on the death
of his father, to a very ample fortune, he seems to
have turned his attention chiefly to politics, and hav-
ing obtained a seat in the Scottish parliament, 1703,
he distinguished himself by his opposition to all the
measures of the court, and his ceaseless activity in
behalf of the fallen Episcopal church and the exiled
royal family. Singularly unlike his father in dis-
cernment of the justice of a cause and liberality of
principle, he appears to have resembled him in the
stubborn courage with which he pursued any favour-
ite object To all the principles of the Revolution
he professed a deep aversion; and the union of the
kingdoms of Scotland and England he considered,
especially in regard to the former, as likely to termin-
ate in that misery which a peculiar class of politicians
always argue to be the consequence of any change.
He was, however, named by the queen one of the com-
missioners upon that famous treaty, and, with the
exception of the Archbishop of York, was the only
Tor)- that was so named. "He had no inclination
to the emplo\-ment," he has himself told us, "and
was at first resolved not to have accepted it, but his
friends, and those of his party, belie-4-ing he might
be serviceable, by giving an account how matters
were carried on, prevail«i with him to alter his re-
solution." Before entering upon the duties of his
high office, he accordingly took their advice in what
manner he was to conduct himself, and in particular,
"whether or not he should protest and enter his
dissent against those measures, being resolved to re-
ceive instructions from them, as a warrant for his
procedure, and to justify his conduct: so, when they
all unanimously returned this answer, that if he
should protest, he could not well continue longer
to meet with the other commissioners; and, if he
entered his dissent, it would render him odious to

^ -\niot's Cri/Tt, Tr. i6i-;4.

them, and that they would be extremely upon the
reserve with him, so as he would be utterly incapable
to learn anj-thing that might be useful afterwards in
opposing the design ; whereas, if he sat quiet, and
concealed his opinion as much as possible, they, ex-
pecting to persuade him to leave his old friends and
party, would not be so shy, and he might make dis-
coveries of their designs, and thereby do a singular
service to his country ; therefore they agreed in ad-
vising him neither to protest or dissent, nor do any-
thing that might discover his opinion and design,
unless he could find two or three more that would
concur and go along vixCa. him (which was not to be
expected), but to sit silent, making his remarks of
everything that passed, and remain with them as long
as he could ; and then, at last, before signing the
result of the treaty, to find out some pretence of
absenting himself." Such were the feelings and in-
tentions which he brought to the accomplishment
of a transaction which he was chosen for the purpose
of fiirthering, in the most expeditious and most effi-
cient manner; and he relates with pride that he acted
up to his instructions, that he acted as a spy on the
proceedings of the others, and at least was enabled
to interrupt and render more laborious the con-
summation of a measure which his party was unable
to stifle. The archbishop, disdaining to follow a
similar course, absented himself from the meetings.
But Lockhart had other and more dangerous duties
to perform for his party; he held a commission from
the Scottish Ja-cobites to commimicate \\ith the Eng-
lish Tories, and if possible to ascertain how far the
latter might be brought to concur in a scheme, pro-
jected in Scotland, for the restoration of the son of
the abdicated monarch by force. This commission
he e.xecuted with similar fidelity, but he foimd the
English less zealous than the Scots, and disinclined
to any attempt, at least during the lifetime of the
queen. AH the transactions which might be inter-
esting to the exiled family he faithfully reported to
the courts of Versailles and St. Germains, through
the instrumentality of an emissary called Captain
Straiton, while he submitted his proceedings to the
cognizance of his brother Jacobites, whom he aptly
termed his constituents. His account of the proceed-
ings of the commissioners is distorted by party col-
ouring beyond the usual allotment of such documents,
and one is tempted to ask how a person who saw
in every branch of the proceedings something so
irredeemably wicked, could have so far compromised
his conscience, as to have permitted himself to be
chosen as one of those whose duty it was to assist in
and further them.

The scheme of a general rising was designed for
the purpose of stifling the projected union ; but the
attempt having failed, the Jacobites were compelled
to debate the treaty, clause by clause, in open par-
liament, where, notvvnthstanding every artifice for
exciting public clamour, it was triumphantly carried.
Lockhart, through the whole, was uniform in his
opposition — adhered to every protest that was taken
against it, and, in more than one instance, enteretl
protests against it in his own name. He also, in
conjunction with Cochrane of Kilmaronock, gave
fifty guineas to Cunningham of Aiket. for the purpose
of forwarding a design of forcibly dispersing the
parliament by an army of Cameronians. which he
proposed to raise in the western shires, but which, as
he alleged, he was prevented from doing by the in-
trigues of the Duke of Hamilton.

The imion ha\ing been ratified by the parliaments

of both kingdoms, and peaceably carried into effect,

the next hope of the Jacobites was the French inva-

[ sion, which Hooke had negotiated with them during

GEORGE LOCKIIART.

533

the preceding year, and to which they now looked
forward with the most ardent expectation. Of ail
the partisans of James, perhaps none were more
zealous, on this occasion, than the subject of this
memoir; but, fortunately for himself, he followed in
the train and acted by the advice of the Duke of
Hamilton, who, being at the time at his seat in
Lancaster, and taken there into custody by a king's
messenger, could not meet his Scottish friends at
Dumfries, according to agreement, till the defeat of
the French fleet rendered any furtlicr appearance at
that time unnecessary, in consequence of which he
himself, as well as his friends, escaped anything like
serious prosecution. Mr. Lockhart also, having llie
powerful influence of his uncle Lord Wharton ex-
erted in his favour, remained unmolested.

The next hope of the Jacobites was in the inclina-
tions of the queen, which, with all her coldness, they
naturally expected, and indeed had, if we may be-
lieve their own account, and lay much weight on a
few accidental circumstances, a well-grounded hope,
that they might be extended to her brother and his
family; and that they might more effectually influence
her counsels, it was resolved that no influence or
endeavour should be spared in procuring seats in
parliament for the heads of the ]3arty. Mr. Lock-
hart started for the county of Edinburgh, and had
sufficient interest to secure his election, though he
was obnoxious both to the court and the Presby-
terians, to whom he seems to have been always
inimical. The first session of the first British parlia-
ment did not afford much scope for that species of
ingenuity for which Mr. Lockhart has taken so much
credit to himself; and by his efforts, joined to those
of Mr. Houston younger of Houston, Lag younger
of Lag, Duff of Drummure, and Cochrane of Kil-
maronock, all unwavering supporters of the same
political creed, little or nothing was effected. The
next session was almost wholly occupied with the
affair of Sacheverel, in whose behalf the Jacobites
were joined by those supporters of the house of
Hanover who either conceived, or for political pur-
poses alleged, that the church was in danger, while
the affairs of Scotland were neglected amidst more
exciting discussions. A field was soon, however, to
be opened, in which they doubted not shortly to reap
a rich harvest.

At the period when a waiting-woman in the
queen's bed-chamber was sapping the foundation of
the Godolphin and Marlborough administration, that
ministry requested leave to dismiss Mrs. Masham,
threatening her with an address from the two houses
of parliament; to which was to be attached an in-
vitation to Prince George of Hanover. "As such
treatment much chagrined the queen against her
ministry," says Lockhart, "she was veiy desirous to
secure herself against such attempts, and did avowedly
solicite a great many members of both houses of
parliament, that they would not consent to a motion
to deprive her of the liberty allow'd to the meanest
housekeeper in her dominions, viz. that of choosing
her own domestic servants." — "And I accordingly,"
continues the narrator, in a very remarkable passage
bearing on one of the most obscure points in British
history, "procured an address, in a very high mon-
archical style, from the barons and freeholders in the
county of Edinburgh; and having brought it up with
me when I came to parliament, I was introduced by
the Duke of Hamilton to present the same; and
having read it to her majesty, she seemed very well
pleased, gave a gracious return to the address, and
then told me, tho' I had almost always opposed her
measures, she did not doubt of my affection to her
person, and hoped I would not concur in the design

against Mrs. Masham, or for bringing over the Prince
of Hanover. At first I was somewhat surprised, but
recovering myself, I assured her I should never be
accessary to imposing any hardship or affront upon
her; and as for the Prince of Hanover, her majesty
might judge from the address I had read, that I
should not be acceptable to my constituents if I
gave my consent for bringing over any of that family,
either now or any time hereafter. At this she smiled,
and I withdrew; and then she said to the duke, she
believed I was an honest man; and the duke replied,
he could assure her I liked her majesty and all her
father's bairns."^ The gradual ste])s towards a deli-
cate and dangerous subject, so naturally laid down
in this valuable passage — the hope expressed by the
queen that tlie Jacobite partisan was averse to the
removal of the favourite and the introduction of
the prince— the surprise of the Jacobite, and his in-
genious extension of the request — the queen's smile
and remark on his honesty — and, finally, the cautious
but bold extension of the insinuations in the kindly
rejoinder of the duke, all speak to the authenticity of
the scene, and the accurate obseiTation of the nar-
rator. That he may be depended on there is little
doubt. The cautious Hallam considers that the
Lockhart Papers sufficiently prove that the author
"and his friends were confident of the queen's in-
clinations in the last years of her life, though not of
her resolution." Nor can a vanity to be esteemed
the depository of the secrets of princes be likely to
operate on a man whose works are not to be
witnessed by his own age. On the whole, the
passage may be said almost to prove that the queen's
"inclinations" were with her brother; but a "re-
solution" on either side she appears to have never
attained.

The circumstance last mentioned was soon followed
by the renowned downfall of Anne's Whig ministrj-.
Strong but ineffectual attempts were made by the
Whigs at the elections. Lockhart was violently
opposed in Edinburghshire, but carried his election
by a great majority; as did Sir Hugh Paterson of
Bannockburn for the shire of Stirling, and Sir
Alexander Areskine, lord lyon king-at-arms, for
the shire of Fife, both thorough-paced Jacobites
and violent Episcopalians. The last of these gentle-
men, along with Mr. Carnegie of Boysack, Mr.
James Moray, second son to the Viscount Stormont,
afterwards created by the Pretender Lord Dunbar,
and Sir Alexander Cuming of Cantar, joined Mr.
Lockhart in a close confederacy, agreeing to mutual
support in cordially prosecuting the great objects
for which they had come into parliament, viz. the
dissolving of the treaty of union, and the breaking
up of the Protestant succession. Keeping their
agreement as secret as was compatible with its effi-
cacy, and prudently cultivating the friendship of the
English Tories, they soon became conspicuous, and
were regarded by both sides of the house as men of
superior consequence, whose feelings and views it
was necessary to consult in all measures regarding
Scotland. The first fruit of this confederacy was a
breach of the union, committed by the House of
Lords, in reversing a sentence of the magistrates of
Edinburgh, which shut up the meeting-house of a
Mr. Greenshields, the first clergyman who introduced
the English liturgy into the service of the Scots
Episcopal church. The full harvest was the act of
toleration, with the oath of abjuration annexed, to
be imposed upon all the ministers of the Scottish
church ; the act restoring lay patronage ; and the
act for the observing certain holidays, all of which

' Lockltart Papers, i. 307.

534

GEORGE LOCKHART.

vere prepared by Mr. I.ockhart, and by liim ami
]iii friends fcsrced upon the ministiy, contrary to the
expressed opinion of the people, and with the avowed
jiurpose of undermining the Presbyterian interest.

At the same time that he was so deeply engaged
in forwarding the particular views of himself and his
friends, in regard to affairs jiurely .Scottish, Mr.
Lockhart was also employed upon the more general
business, or what may be called the drudgery, of the
house. He was one, and the only Scotsman, who
was upon the commission of the house for examining
the national accounts, with the view of criminating
the ex-Whig ministers ; and, as chairman of that
commission, gave in a long report, intended to im-
plicate the Duke of Marlborough, a person whose
conduct was certainly not pure, while it still alTords
a pleasing contrast to that of his accusers. The
report, however, when it came to be examined,
discovered only the headstrong party spirit of its
authors, and not much against the accused but the
usual political corruption, too characteristic of the
])criod.

The duties of a commissioner upon the national
accounts did not, however, by any means absorb the
whole attention of the indefatigable Lockhart, for
while he devoted himself to the service of the Pre-
tender, he also proposed a bill in parliament to be-
stow upon curates the bishops' rents, and to resume all
grants of church property that had been made to the
universities, which he declared to be public nuisances,
mere nests of rebellion, which could not be soon
enough annihilated. The service to be accomplished
in favour of the exiled family by these measures is
not very clear, and we are prevented from knowing
the effect their proposal would have produced, from
his friends declining to adopt them. So high, indeed,
was he borne by his zeal, that an order was obtained
by his friends from St. Germains, recommending to
him moderate measures, and dissuading him from
attempts to openly force the English ministry upon
desperate projects, as they were themselves well
enough disposed, and were the best judges of the
means whereby their good intentions would be carried
into effect. This order he dared not disobey, but he
owns it was much against his inclination, and takes
the liberty of affirming that it injured the Pretender's
interest.

On the Duke of Hamilton being appointed am-
bassador to the court of France, he selected the
subject of our memoir to wait privately upon him,
and to act according to his orders upon an affair of
extraordinary moment which he never explained, but
wliicii Lockhart understood to be the Pretender's
restoration, and he was just leaving Scotland with
the hope of being called to accompany the duke
upon that pleasing duty, when he heard that a
quarrel betwixt Hamilton and Lord Mohun had
brought both these distinguished noblemen to an
untimely end. This circumstance he affirms to have
been fatal to the hopes of the Pretender, no one
having been found capable of conducting so delicate
a business till the period when disputes in the
cabinet and the death of the queen rendered the case
hopeless. But these circumstances did not damp his
ardour, or prevent him from impeding the govern-
ment which he could not overturn. Accordingly,
on the attempt to extend the malt-tax to Scotland,
in the year 171 3, he made a desperate effort, in
which he was seconded by the Earls of Mar, Eglin-
ton. Hay, &c., for the dissolution of the union, a
])roject which narrowly failed of success, as we have
narrated more at large in the life of John Duke of
Argyle. The attempt to assimilate the Scottish to
the English militia which followed, he resisted, and,

in his personal friendship, defended the hereditary
title of the Duke of Argyle to the lieutenancy of the
county of Argyle. His friends, who could not see
the advantage of such a measure, were displeased,
but his design was to bring over the duke to the
interests of the Pretender, of which he was ahvavs
suspicious the ministiy were less careful than of their
own. He, however, continued to sit and to act ^\hh
them, under the strongest assurances from lioling-
broke, that everything he could desire would be
done for the Pretender so soon as it was possible to
do it with safety, till the prorogation before the
death of the queen, when he retired to his residence
in the country, and though the same parliament was
assembled on the death of the queen, did not attend
it, having lost all hope of the Pretender's restora-
tion by other means than arms.

He accordingly began privately to provide horses
and arms for himself and his dependants, though
from his late conduct he was not trusted by the
leaders of the party to the extent that might have
been expected. Nothing, indeed, but mere general
surmises seem to have reached him till the month
of August, 1 715, when warrants were already issued
out against all who were suspected as favouring the
designs of the Earl of Mar, and under one of these
warrants he was, early in that month, apprehended
at his house of Drv-den, and committed prisoner to
the castle of Edinburgh. In these circumstances
he immediately wrote to the Duke of Argyle, who,
in return for his services in regard to the militia bill,
procured his enlargement, after he had been fifteen
days a prisoner, on his giving bail for 6000 merks.
He was no sooner liberated than he waited upon his
rebel associates who had not been apprehended; but
finding them still disinclined to the communication,
he retired to his house at Carnwath, where he
secretly and diligently employed his personal influ-
ence in the furtherance of the cause, though still un-
acknowledged by any of the ostensible leaders of the
insurrection, and waited till the arrival of the Pre-
tender, or the transit of the Forth by Mar, should
give the signal for him and his friends to appear in
arms. In the meantime a letter from the Duke of
Argj'le informed him that his practices were well
known to the government, and requiring him forth-
with to repair to his house at Dryden. Everything —
arms, horses, &c. — were again disposed of in the best
manner that could be devised, and he immediately
repaired to Dryden, where he negotiated with Ken-
mure and the southern rebels; his troop of horse,
under the command of his brother, Philip Lockhart,
being sent to join them at Biggar, he himself staying
behind for a few days to arrange some minor con-
cerns. To insure his safety after concluding his
transactions with the rebels, he wrote to the lord
justice-clerk, requesting to know whether he shoulil
remain in Edinburgh or go home to Dryden, and
was ordered to choose the latter alternative. Mackin-
tosh, however, having that night crossed the Forth
on his march to the south, a party of soldiers was
sent out to Dryden, who apprehended Lockhart, and
carried him again to the castle; a circumstance which
saved both his life and his estate, as well as those of
many others who were prepared to set out willi him
on an expedition that proved desperate — his whole
troop being taken at Preston, along with the rest of
their companions, and his brother shot as a deserter
by order of a court-martial.

Mr. Lockhart suffered a long confinement, but
escaped, through the steadiness of his friends, that
punishment which was likely to have followed his
conduct, and which the government, could they
have elicited sufficient evidence, would most willingly

GEORGE l.OCKHART.

535,

have inflicted; but he was by no means cured of his
affection for the exiled family, and before two years
had elapsed he was employed as an agent to bring
up 6000 bolls of oatmeal, to be given to the King
of Sweden as the hire or the reward for his setting
the Pretender upon the British throne. Of all the
attempts made by the party in its despair this was
certainly the most singular; yet he seems to have
embarked in it with that ardour which marked his
character, and he contrived to obtain from the Earl
of Eglinton the offer of 3000 guineas towards its
accomplishment. It was soon, however, found to
be a project which could not be carried into effect.
He narrowly escaped being involved in the affair of
Glenshiel, and when the Spanish battalion was
l)rought to Edinburgh, he supplied the commander,
Don Nicolas, with what money he wanted till he
could be supplied with bills from the Spanish am-
bassador in Holland, telling him, at the same time,
tiiat "it was unkind in him to allow himself to be
straitened, when he knew the king, for whose
cause he suffered, had so many friends in town that
would cheerfully assist him."

In 171S the Pretender commenced a correspond-
ence with Mr. Lockhart, which continued with little
interruption till 1727, when it fell into the hands of
the government, by what means has never been fully
explained, though most probably it was in conse-
quence of a dispute Mr. Lockhart had got into with
the Episcopal college respecting the election of a
bishop of the name of Gillon, whose ordination was
keenly opposed by a number of the presbyters, who
objected to the nomination that had been made of
him by the Pretender, as unduly influenced by Lock-
hart, who for a number of years had been the only
channel through which they communicated with
their exiled prince. Many meetings were held, and
much rancour displayed on the subject, by the en-
raged presbyters, who threatened the consequences
of the rebellion, in which most of the parties were
implicated, if the consecration was persisted in. The
bitterness of the disputants made it impossible for
them to be secret: the whole came before the public,
and the government being masters of the channel of
communication, the earliest packet transmitted to
Lockhart was waited for and sent to London. Orders
were immediately sent to seize Strahan, a merchant
in Leith to whom the packet had been directed, and,
under a strong guard of dragoons, to send him to
London. Before setting out, however, he was well
instructed how to conduct himself, supplied with
money by Lockhart and the Earls of Kincardine and
Dundonald, with the assurance that if he behaved
with firmness, nothing could be brought legally home
to him, while his family in the meantime should be
carefully seen to, and he himself would gain honour
by the incident. Warrants were at the same time
issued for the apprehension of Mr. Lockhart and
Mr. Corsar, one of his friends. The latter was ap-
prehended at Glammis, but the former, taking the
alarm, effected his escape into Durham, where he
remained in the house of a friend till the 8lh of April,
when he sailed for Dort, where he arrived in safety.
He immediately wrote to the Pretender, through
Lord Inverness, stating the circumstances into which
he had fallen, and that he was waiting his master's
commands before finally resolving how to dispose of
himself In the meantime he met Lord North and
Grey at Brussels, who had also been under the neces-
sity of leaving his native country for dabbling in the
affairs of the Pretender, and was thus far on his way
to the court of that personage, where he hoped to be
trusted with the management of his affairs, which,
in the hands of Colonel Hay and Jarjies Murray

(created Lords Inverness and Dunbar), were gene-
rally supposed to have fallen into disorder, pressing
at the same time that Mr. Lockhart should accom-
pany him, and take charge of the affairs of Scotland,
wiiile he attended to those of England. Lockhart,
however, would not approach the court of the Pre-
tender without his orders, shrewdly suspecting that
James was too fond of the Lady Inverness, who
was Lord Dunbar's sister, to part permanently with
either of the three. The Lord North and Grey pro-
ceeded to his destination, but found, instead of the
premiership which he expected, an appointment pro-
vided for him in the army of Spain, with which he
was obliged to be content. Inverness had been
nominally superseded by Sir John Graham, who pro-
posed the most flattering terms to Lockhart; but the
former was still first in the Pretender's affection, and,
along with Dunbar, held the entire management of
his counsels, which were, and had long been, ven.-
far from what the latter gentleman wished. By their
advice, and in pursuance of his own feelings, the
Pretender no sooner heard of the death of George I.
than he left Bologna for Lorrain in the greatest haste,
intending to put himself at the head of the High-
landers, and with their assistance conquer and secure
the throne of the three kingdoms; a similar project
to that which his son attempted in the year 1745.
A messenger was sent to consult Lockhart, who,
astonished at the folly of the proposal, assured the
Pretender that it would prove the ruin of himself and
all his friends, and would deprive him of the power
of ever again renewing the attempt. More wise than
his son upon a like occasion he accepted the advice,
and returned to Avignon. Lockhart tendered him
afterwards some long letters containing very good
advices, with which he probably had little hope that
he would comply, and learning, in the month of
April, 1728, that his friends the Duke of Argjle,
Lord Hay, and Duncan Forbes, then lord-advocate
for Scotland, had procured him liberty to return and
to live at home unmolested, he embraced the oppor-
tunity of doing so, nothing being required of him but
his simple promise that he would live in peace. He
was, however, required to go by the way of London,
and to return thanks personally to George II., who
was now in possession of the throne. "This," he
says, "did not go well down with me, and was what
I would most gladly have avoided; but there was no
eviting of it; and as others, whose sincere attach-
ment to the king was never doubted, had often pre-
ceded me on such like occasions, I was under the
necessity of bowing my knee to Baal, now that I was
in the house of Rimmon." Having performed this
piece of unwilling submission, he returned to his
family in 1 72S, evidently in despair of furthering the
cause in which he had so long exerted himself, and
determined to resign all connection with politics.
Of his after-history we have been unable to learn
more than that he was slain in a duel on December 1 7,
1731, having entered the fifty-ninth year of his age.

He was married on the 13th of April, 1697, to
Euphemia Montgomery, third daughter of Alexander,
ninth Earl of Eglinton, by his first w ife, Margaret,
daughter of William Lord Cochrane, son of the Earl
of Dundonald. He had seven sons and eight daugh-
ters. His eldest son George, possessing somewhat
of the prudent foresight of his father, delivered him-
self up in the year 1746 to Sir John Cope, the day
after the battle of Gladsmuir, and was for a consider-
able time a prisoner at large in England. His
grandson George continued with Charles till after
the fatal battle of Culloden, after which he escaped
to the Continent, and died an exile at Paris some few
months before his father, in the year 1 76 1.

536

JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART.

As an author Mr. Lockhart is entitled to very
considerable praise. His memoirs concerning the
affairs of Scotland, and his commentaries, though
neither so clear nor so impartial as could be wished,
are yet valuable materials for histor)-, and throw-
very considerable light both upon the individual
characters and transactions of those times. And his
register of letters is still more interesting, as giving
us not only an account of the proceedings, but the
acts themselves, of the Jacobites of the period. His
memoirs were surreptitiously published during his
lifetime, by a friend to whom he had lent them, and a
key to the names (given in the published volume in
initials) was aftenvards circulated. He left his papers
carefully concealed, with instructions to his heir to
abstain from publishing them till the year 1750; but
the connection of his grandson with the rebellion of
1745 rendering their appearance even then inexpe-
dient, they lay unnoticed, until, at the request of
Count Lockhart, they were edited by Mr. Anthony
Anfrere in 1S17.

We have only to add, that in private life his char-
acter seems to have been exceedingly amiable, and
he enjoyed in a high degree the respect and affec-
tion, notwithstanding the contrariety of their political
principles, of the best and wisest public man of his
age — Duncan Forbes of Culloden.

LOCKHART, John Gibsox. This distinguished
miscellaneous writer, who occupied so high a station
in the tribunal of literary criticism, was bom at Glas-
gow, and, as is generally supposed, in the year 1793.
His father, the Rev. Dr. John Lockhart, who for
nearly fifty years was minister of the College or
Blackfriars' Church, Glasgow, will not soon be for-
got by the denizens of that good city, not only on
account of his piety and worth, but also his remarkable
wit and extreme absence of mind — two qualities
which are seldom found united in the same character.
The stories with which Glasgow is still rife of the
worthy doctor's occasional obliviousness, and the
amusing mistakes and blunders it occasioned, are
even richer than those of Dominie Samson; for, when
he awoke from his dream, he could either laugh with
the laughers, or turn the laugh against them if neces-
sary-. But his remarkable powers of sarcasm, as
Avell as his creative talents in embellishing an amus-
ing story, were so strictly under the control of reli-
gious principle and amiable feeling, that he would
often stop short when sensitiveness was likely to be
wounded, or the strictness of truth violated. It
would have been well if the same powers which
were so conspicuous in his talented son had been
always kept under the same coercion.

Of this amiable divine John Gibson Lockhart was
the second son, and the eldest by a second marriage,
his mother having been a daughter of the Rev. Dr.
Gibson, one of the ministers of Edinburgli. At an
early age he prosecuted his studies at the university of
Glasgow, and with such success, that he received one
of its richest tokens of approval in a Snell exhibition
to Baliol College, Oxford. Here he could prosecute,
with increased facilities, those classical studies to
which he was most addicted; and in a short time he
took a high station as an accomplished linguist, even
among the students of Oxford. His studies at Baliol
College, which were directed to the profession of the
law, were followed by a continental tour; and, on
returning to Scotland, he was called to the Scottish
bar in 1S16. It was soon evident, however, that he
was not likely to win fame or fortune by the profes-
sion of an advocate. He lacked, indeed, that power
without which all legal attainments are useless to a
barrister — he could not make a speech. Accordingly,

when he rose to speak on a case, his first sentence
was only a plunge into the mud; while all that fol-
lowed was but a struggle to get out of it. Had the
matter depended upon writing, we can judge how it
would have gone other^vise; had it even depended
on pictorial pleading, he would have been the most
persuasive of silent orators, for, during the course of
a trial, his pen was usually employed, not in taking
notes, but sketching caricatures of the proceedings,
the droller)' of which would have overcome both
judge and jury. As it was, he became a briefless
barrister, and paced the boards of Parliament House
discussing with his equally luckless brethren the
passing questions of politics and literary criticism.
He made a happy allusion to this strange professional
infirmity at a dinner which was given by his friends
in Edinburgh, on his departure to assume the charge
of the Qitartcrly Rei'ieiu. He attempted to address
them, and broke down as usual, but covered his
retreat with, "Gentlemen, you know that if I could
speak we would not have been here."'

In Mr. Lockhart's case it was the less to be re-
gretted that he was not likely to win his way to the
honours of a silk gown, as he had already found a
more agreeable and equally distinguishing sphere of
action. He devoted himself to literature, and litera-
ture adopted him for her own. He had already
made attempts in periodical writing, and the favour
with which his contributions were regarded en-
couraged his choice and confirmed him in authorship.
A more settled course of exertion was opened up for
him in 181 7, the year after he had passed as advocate,
by the establishment of Blackii'ood' s Magazine. Of
this distinguished periodical he became, with John
Wilson, the principal contributor; and now it was
that the whole torrent of thought, which the bar
may have kept in check, burst forth in full profusion.
Eloquence, and wit, and learning distinguished his
numerous articles, and miparted a prevailing character
to the work which it long after retained; but unfor-
tunately with these attractive qualities there was
often mingled a causticity of sarcasm and fierceness
of censure that engendered hatred and strife, and at
last led to bloodshed. But into this painful topic we
have no wish to enter; and the unhappy termination
of his quarrel with the author of Paris Visited and
Paris Rez'isited, may as well be allowed to sleep in
oblivion. It is more pleasing to tui-n to his Peter's
Letters to his Kinsfolk, a wonderful series of eloquent,
vigorous, and truthful sketches, embodying the dis-
tinguished men, in almost every department, by whom
Scotland was at that period distinguished above
ever)' other nation. Not a few, at the appearance of
this his first separate work, were loud in their outcry
against the author, not only as a partial delineator,
but an invader of the privacies of life and character;
but now that years have elapsed, and that the li\-ing
men whom he so minutely depicted have passed
away from the world, the condemnation has been
reversed, and the resentment been superseded by
gratitude. How could we other%vise have possessed
such a valuable picture-gallery of the great of the
past generation? All this Sir Walter Scott fully
appreciated when he thus wrote to the author of
Peter's Letters in 1819: — "What an acquisition it
would have been to our general information to have
had such a work written, I do not say fifty, but even
five-and-twenty years ago; and how much of grave
and gay might then have been preserved, as it were,
in amber, which have now mouldered away ! When
I think that, at an age not much younger than yours,
I knew Black, Ferguson, Robertson, Erskine, Adam
Smith, John Home, &ic. Sec, and at last saw Bums,
I can appreciate better than any one the value of a

JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART.

537

work which, like this, would have handed them
down to posterity in their living colours."

It was in May, iSiS, that Lockhart first formed
that acquaintanceship with Sir Walter Scott which
so materially influenced the course of his after-life.
The introduction to the ''Great Unknown" took
place in Edinburgh, at the house of Mr. Home
Drummond of Blair-Drummond, where a small but
select party was assembled; and Scott, who under-
stood that Mr. Lockhart had but lately returned
from a tour in Germany, held with him an amusing
conversation on Goethe and German literature. This
introduction soon ripened into an intimacy, in which
Miss Scott became a principal personage, as a mar-
riage treaty, with the concurrence of all parties, was
settled so early as the February of 1820. On the
29th of April the marriage took place at Edinburgh,
and Sir Walter, who was the worshipper as well as
recorder of good old Scottish fashions, caused the
wedding to be held in the evening, and "gave a
jolly supper afterwards to all the friends and con-
nections of the young couple." Mr. Lockhart and
his bride took up their abode at the little cottage of
Chiefswood, about two miles from Abbotsford, which
became their usual summer residence — and thither
Sir Walter, when inundated by sight-seers and hero-
worshippers, was occasionally glad to escape, that
he might breathe in a tranquil atmosphere, and write
a chapter or two of the novel that might be on hand,
to despatch to the craving press in Edinburgh.
These were happy visits, that spoke of no coming
cloud; "the clatter of Sibyl Grey's hoofs, the yelp-
ing of Mustard and Spice, and his own joyous shout
of reveilUe under our windows, were the signal that
he had burst his toils, and meant for that day to
'take his ease in his inn.' On descending he was to
be found seated with all his dogs and ours about
him, under a spreading ash that overshadowed half
the bank between the cottage and the brook, point-
ing the edge of his woodman's axe for himself, and
listening to Tom Purdie's lecture touching the plan-
tation that most needed thinning." By the year 1837
how completely all this had terminated! In the
last volume of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Lockhart
thus closes the description: "Death has laid a hea\'y
hand upon that circle — as happy a circle, I believe,
as ever met. Bright eyes now closed in dust, gay
voices for ever silenced, seem to haunt me as I write.
She whom I may now sadly record as,
next to Sir W'alter himself, the chief ornament and
delight at all those simple meetings — she to whose
love I owed my own place in them — Scott's eldest
daughter, the one of all his children who in counten-
ance, mind, and manners most resembled himself,
and who indeed was as like in all things as a gentle
innocent woman can ever be to a great man, deeply
tried and skilled in the struggles and perplexities of
active life — she, too, is no more." In December,
I S3 1, John Hugh Lockhart, the Master Hugh Little-
john of the Tales of a Grandfather, died, and in 1853
Lockhart's only surviving son, Walter Scott Lock-
hart Scott, leaving no remains of the family except
a daughter, Charlotte, married in August, 1847, to
James Robert Hope- Stuart, who succeeded to the
estate of Abbotsford. In this way the represen-
tatives of both Sir Walter Scott and John Lock-
hart have terminated in Monica, the only surviving
child of Hope-Scott of Abbotsford.

Leaving this domestic narrative, so full of happi-
ness, disappointment, and sorrow, we gladly turn to
the literarj' life of John Gibson Lockhart. After the
publication of Peter's Letters, his pen was in con-
stant operation; and notwithstanding the large circle
of- acquaintance to which his marriage introduced

him, and the engagements it entailed upon him, he
not only continued his regular supplies to Black-
wood's Magazine, but produced several separate
works, with a fertility that seemed to have caught its
inspiration from the example of his father-in-law.
The first of these was Valerius, one of the most
classical tales descriptive of ancient Rome, and the
manners of its people, which the English language
has as yet embodied. After this came Adam Blair,
a tale which, in spite of its impossible termination,
so opposed to all Scottish canon-law, abounds with
the deepest touches of genuine feeling as well as
descriptive power. The next was Reginald Dalton,
a three-volumed novel, in which he largely brought
forvvard his reminiscences of student life at Oxford,
and the town-and-gown affrays with which it was
enlivened. The last of this series of novels was
Matt/uio IVald, which fully sustained the high char-
acter of its predecessors. It will always happen in
the literar)' world, that when a critical censor and
sharp reviewer puts forth a separate work of his own,
it will fare like the tub thrown overboard to the
tender mercies of the whale: the enemies he has
raised, and the wrath he has provoked, have now
found their legitimate object, and the stinging cen-
sures he has bestowed upon the works of others are
sure to recoil with tenfold severity upon his own.
And thus it fared with Lockhart's productions; the
incognito of their author was easily penetrated, and
a thunder-shower of angry criticism followed. But
this hostile feeling having lasted its time has died
a natural death, and the rising generation, who
cannot enter into the feuds of their fathers, regard
these writings with a more just appreciation of their
excellence. After a short inter\-al Lockhart came
forth in a new character, by his translations from the
Spanish Ballads ; and such was the classical taste,
melody of versification, and rich command of lan-
guage w^hich these translations evinced, that the
regret was general that he had not been more ex-
clusively a poet, instead of a student and author in
miscellaneous literature. His next productions were
in the department of biography, in which he gave
an earnest of his fitness to be the literary executor
and historian of his illustrious father-in-law — these
were the Life of Robert Burns, which appeared in
Constables Miscellany; and the Life of Xapolecn
Bonaparte, which was published in Murray's Family
Library.

The varied attainments of Mr. Lockhart, and the
distinction he had won in so many different depart-
ments of authorship, obtained for him, at the close
of 1825, a situation of no ordinaiy responsibility.
This was the editorship of the Quarterly Reiir^u, the
great champion of Toryism, when the political prin-
ciples of Tor\-ism were no longer in the ascendant,
and which were now reduced to a hard battle, as
much for life itself as for ^•ictor^' and conquest. It
was no ordinary merit that could have won such a
ticklish elevation at the age of thirty-two. Lockhart
gladly accepted the perilous honour, linked, however,
as it was with the alternatives of fame and emolu-
ment; and for twenty-eight years he discharged its
duties through the good and evil report with which
they were accompanied. In his case, as might be
expected, the latter prevailed, and the angrj- com-
plaints of scarified authors were loudly swelled by
the outcries of a political party now grown into fiill
strength and activity. With the justice or the un-
reasonableness of these complaints we have nothing
to do; but it speaks highly for the able management
of Lockhart, that in spite of such opposition, the
Rez-iezi' continued to maintain the high literar\' aiKl
intellectual character of its earlier years. During

SIR WILLI.UI LOCKHART.

538

the latter years of his life his health was greatly im-
paired; but for this his intellectual exertions, as well
as family calamities and bereavements, will suffi-
ciently account. In the summer of 1S53 he resigned
his editorship of the Quarterly Rfiiru.', and spent the
following winter in Italy; but the maladies under
which he laboured, although assuaged for a time,
came back with double violence after his return
home, and he died at Abbotsford, which had become
the seat of his son-in-law, on the 25th of November,

1854-

Although not directly enumerated in the list of his
authorship, the ablest, the widest known, and pro-
bably the most enduring of all Lockhart's produc-
tions, will here naturally occur to the mind of the
reader. ^Vho, indeed, throughout the whole range
of educated society, has failed to penise his I.iJ'e of
Scott, or will forget the impressions it produced?
But even here, too, the angry objections with which
Peter s Letters to his Kinsfolk was encountered, were
revived with tenfold bitterness, and the charges of
violated confidence, unnecessary exposure, or vain-
glorious adulation, were raised, according to the
mood of each dissatisfied complainer. But could a
more perfect and complete picture of the whole mind
of Sir Walter Scott, in all its greatness and defects,
have been better or even other%vise produced?

LOCKHAET, Sir William, of Lee, an eminent
statesman under the protectorate of Cromwell, was
the third son of Sir James Lockhart of Lee, by Mar-
tha, daughter of Douglas of Mordingston. He was
bom in the year 1 621, and received the earlier part
of his education in Scotland, whence he proceeded
to some one of the usual seminaries in Holland. He
did not long remain in that countr)-, but after visit-
ing Scotland for a short period, joined the French
army as a volunteer, and so far distinguished himself
as to attract the attention of the queen-mother, who
procured for him a pair of colours.^ He subsequently
accompanied Lord William Hamilton to Scotland,
and accepted the appointment of lieutenant-colonel
in that nobleman's regiment.

In the course of his military duty he was introduced
to Charles I., at his surrender to the Scottish army
before Newark. He was on this occasion knighted,
and was afterwards employed to negotiate for the
safety of the Marquis of Moreton. Having joined
in the enterprise of the Duke of Hamilton called the
Engagement, he was taken prisoner in the unfortun-
ate action at Preston, and, after remaining a year in
custody at Newcastle, regained his liberty at the
serious cost (at that period) of £iocX). Having at-
tached himself to the house of Hamilton, he neces-
sarily attracted the jealous notice of the rival noble-
man Argv'le, and on several occasions subsequent
to the arrival of Charles II. in Scotland, suffered,
through its influence, a degree of contumely from the
king, which roused his haughty spirit to exclaim
that " No king upon earth should use him in that
manner." But while he did not conceive that he
should suffer the insults of a king with more patience
than those of any other man, his private feeling to-
wards the nominal head of the government did not
interfere with his duty to his countr>-, and his ser^ces
to the cause he had adopted as the best. He re-
mained an officer in Charles' army, and his regiment
was distinguished for its services at the battle of
Worcester. The cause of monarchy being now sup-
pressed in both ends of the island, he remained for
two years Ln retirement; but wearj- of keeping in
dormancy powers which he was aware might distin-

• Harding's BiosraJ>hical Mirror, iii. 54.

guish him in the ser^•ice of the state, he repaired to
London, and was welcomed by the Protector, who
never permitted a man of Lockhart's powers to re-
main unwillingly idle. From which side the ad-
vances were made appears not to be known; it was
probably from that of Lockhart. This step is the
more surprising as he had belonged to that party of
the Scottish Presbyterians which used to regard
monarchy with most respect On the iSth of ^Iay,
1652, he was appointed one of the commissioners
for the administration of justice in Scotland, and in
1654 the Protector gave him one of his nieces in
marriage," and raised him to the possession of the
highest political influence in the land. In 1654 and
1656 he represented the shire of Lanark in Crom-
well's parliaments. He was also appointed one of
the trustees for disposing of the forfeited estates of
the royalists, and a member of the Protector's pri\-j--
council for Scotland.

On the 14th December, 1655, he was appointed
ambassador from England to Louis XIV. ; a duty
which, at that dangerous period, when the British
government was acknowledged abroad only from its
strength, was eminently calculated to bring out the
peculiar energies of his mind. He did not proceed
on his mission until April, 1656;^ a circumstance
which probably accounts for his having sat for Lanark
during that year. The character both of the govern-
ment and its ser\-ant quickly secured respect. "He
was," says Clarendon, " received with great solem-
nity, and was a man of great address in treaty, and
had a marvellous credit and power with the Cardinal
Mazarine. " * His countryman Burnet, who probably
knew him better, says, "He was both a wise and
gallant man, calm and virtuous, and one that carried
the generosities of friendship very far. He was
made governor of Dunkirk and ambassador at the
same time. But he told me that when he was sent
afterwards ambassador by Kmg Charles, he found
he had nothing of that regard that was paid him in
Cromwell's time."^ He arrived at Dieppe on the
24th of April, and was received with all the civic
honours which the town could bestow.^ An alliance
with France in opposition to Spain, and indeed any-
thing resemblmg amity towards the fonner nation,
was considered an anomaly in the British constitu-
tion, resembling an infraction of the laws of nature,
and the measure, although it was boldly undertaken
and successfully executed, has met the reprobation
of historians, whose simple statement of its impolicy
and folly is embraced in the terms, "An alliance
between Great Britain and France." But the union
was an act of almost diplomatic necessity on the
part of the Protector, from the alliance (as it was
termed) of Spain with the exiled Charles; and with

- Harding calls the niece " Robina Sewster." Noble thinks
the lady whom Lockhart married was probably a daughter of
Desborough, because Secretarj- Thurloe writes to Lockhart,
'• H. H. the Protector doe verj- much rejoice to hear that your
lady is in a way of recovery, and so doth General Desborough,
and truly no more than yours," &c. — House 0/ Crom-well,
ii. 256.

The following passage from the same source is perhaps more
conclusive : —

Colonel Lockhart to Secretary Thurloe.

"\\"hen I had the honour to take leave of you, I had your
permission to give you trouble in any business wherein I was
concerned ; therefore being engaged by articles of agreement
with General Desbrowe to make a purchase in England for a
settlement to my wife and her children, and the daie being
elapsed, by which time I was bound either to make a purchase,
or to secure so much money by way of mortgage upon land m
England, I am bould to beseech you to move his highness
for leave to me for a month to come to London for settling
that affair," &c. Edinburgh, December 25lh, 1655.— Thurloe's
State Pafiers, iv. 342.

3 Thurloe, iv. 647. 728. * History, vii. 180.

5 Burnet's Ovjii Times, i. 76. ' Thurloe, iv. 739.

SIR WILLIAM LOCKIIART.

539

■whatever reluctance the French may have at first
looked upon the noveUy, Mazarine found himself
associated with a government wliose assistance was
useful, and whose enmity might be dangerous.

From the influence of the clergy alone was any
opposition to be dreaded. "I have receaved," says
the ambassador, "many civill messages from persons
of honour and good interest; and 1 fynd also that
my being here is much dislyked by others, especiallie
by the assembly of the clergy. And," he continues,
in the manner of the period, "I shall make it my
endeavour to wait upon God for his directione aiul
protectione, and shall verie little trouble myself with
their menaces." But Lockhart found that the
French were at least lukewarm in assisting the vast
designs of Cromwell, and that they were naturally
averse to be the mere auxiliaries of their natural
enemies, in subjecting those neighbouring provinces
which had often called forth the full power of their
armies.

Lockhart accordingly takes many occasions to ex-
press the discontent of his energetic temper at the
interruptions thrown in his way. Alluding to the
cardinal's conduct about the dispute which then
divided France, he says, "So soon as I have the
opportunity of being at court, I shall endeavour to
inform myself as fully as shall be possible for me, of
what hath passed in this particular; and if I find
that the differences betwixt the cardinal and the
prince are in any good way of accommodatione, I
shall then persuade myself that the cardinal (what-
ever pretences he hath had to the contrary) intends
a peace with Spayne in good earnest, and hath got
over the greatest rub that was in his way: for in his
discourses on that businesse, I found that the resto-
ration of the prince stuck more with him than either
the re-delivery of towns, or the leaving of his allye
the Portugal, to the Spanyard's mercy." ^ And,
probably under the irritation of delay, he wrote to
Secretary Thurloe in June, saying, " I beg leave to dis-
charge my conscience, by letting you know that I am
verie much convinced that his highnesse affairs here
doe infinitelie suffer by mismanagement. They doe
requyre the addresse of a hande muche more happie
than myne; and therefore shall humbly beg, that you
may be pleased to lett his highnesse knowe how much
it concerns his interest heare that some other person be
employed, whose parts and experience may be more
suitable to this trust than myne are."' But Lockhart
did not either give up his commission in discontent,
or submit to be dallied with. Towards the termina-
tion of the year, he says in his despatches, "the
audience my last told you I demanded and was pro-
mised, hath been defered till this evening, notwith-
standing my endeavours to the contrary: and though
it lasted from six o'clock at night till ten, yet I can-
not say I had much satisfaction in it, for Mons. De
Lion was with his eminence all the tyme, and by
his presence necessitated my sylence in some particu-
lars, that, if I had had the honour to entertain the
cardinal by himself, I durst have ventured upon.
Howsoever, finding several particulars, formerly
agreed upon, questioned, and others absolutely
denyed, I was guiltie of the rudenesse to tell his
eminence that I did not understand such proceedure
in businesse, and was astonished to meet so unex-
pected changes."^ From remonstrances the ambas-
sador proceeded to threats. It was the determina-
tion of the English that Mardyke and Dunkirk should
be taken and left in their hands; and in the com-
mencement of the year 1657, "Lockhart," says Clar-
endon, "made such lively instances with the cardinal,

1 Thurloe, v. 441.

- Ibid. 120.

' IbiJ. 574.

and complaints of their breach of faith, and some
menaces that his master knew where to find a more
punctual friend, that as soon as they had taken Mont-
mcdy and St. Venant, the army marched into
Flanders: and though the season of the year was
too far spent to engage in a siege before Dunkirk,
they sat down before Mardyke, which was looked
upon as the most difficult part of the work; which
being reduced, wouUl facilitate the other very much;
and that fort they took, and delivered it into the
hands of Reynolds, with an oljligation 'that they
would besiege Dunkirk the next year, and make it
their first attempt.'"*

Lockhart's contests for the interests of Britain did
not terminate after the capture of Mardyke: he ac-
cused the French of purposely leaving the town un-
defended, that the British might be compelled to raze
the fortifications, and gain no advantage from their
captures, while they weakened the enemies of
France. He urged Turenne to proceed immediately
to the siege of Dunkirk, then but ill defended, offer-
ing for the service 5000 veterans and 2000 recruits;
hut he had to wait until June, 1658, ere the design
was put in practice. At this celebrated siege Lock-
hart commanded the British foot, with which he
charged and routed those of Spain. "As to the
siege of Dunkirk," says Lord Fouconberg, "by the
little discourse I have had with the Duke de Crequy,
Chevalier Grammont, and others, I find they infinitely
esteeme my Lord Lockhart for his courage, care, and
enduring the fatigue beyond all men they ever saw.
These were their own words."* When the fortifica-
tions had yielded to his efforts and those of his illus-
trious coadjutor Turenne, he found himself still per-
plexed by the interruptions of the French: that the
possession of so important and long-hoped-for an
acquisition should be left to foreigners, was humiliat-
ing; and whatever respect they paid to Cromwell's
government, these might at least indulge the privilege
of preventing their assistance from being so ample
as it appeared. Almost unassisted, Lockhart was
compelled with his small army immediately to put
the place in a posture of defence, and complaining
that he was "forced to buy the very pallisades of the
Fort-Royall, otherwayes the French, notwithstand-
ing any order the king and cardinall can give, would
pull them out; and not only bum them, but pull
down the earthern works in taking them out."°

After the siege Lockhart was visited by commis-
sary Mandossi, a person who, under pretence of
paying some debts which the Spanish army had in-
curred during the siege, acted as an emissarj' from
the Marquis of Caracine, privately to discover the
extent to which Lockhart might countenance an im-
mediate treaty as the avenue to a peace; but the con-
quering general returned polite and haughty answers
to the hints laid before him. He was appointed
governor of Dunkirk, an office in which he was
enabled to distinguish himself for his resolution and
consistency; and he was employed as plenipotentiary
at the treaty of the Pyrenees. After the accession
of Richard Cromwell, and even during the uncer-
tainty of the continuance of a protectoral government
in England, Sir William Lockhart so far supported
in his own person the influence of the commonwealth,
that the interference of the exiled prince was disre-
garded by both the foreign powers. After the peace
he visited England, and met with Monk, whom he
found still apparently intent on the continuation of
the protectorate. Being tiuis lulled into security,
he returned to his foreign station, which he hardly
reached %vhen he heard rumours of the approaching

* Hist. vii. 212.

' Thurloe, vii. 151.

« IbiJ. 173.

540

SIR WILLIAM LOCKHART

GEORGE LOGAX.

restoration of monarchy. WTien Monk first hinted
that his exertions would be at the service of the
king, and advised him speedily to quit Spain, lest
his person might be seized as a hostage fur the re-
storation of Dunkirk, Charles fled to Breda; and
Lockhart might at once have obtained pardon for all
offences, and the prospect of high promotion under
the new order of things, if he would have acceded to
a request (made with many flattering promises) to
throw open to him the gates of Dunkirk. But the
man who had said he would not be insulted even by
a king, answered that "he was trusted by thecommon-
weath, and could not betray it."* "This scruple,"
says Hume, "though in the present emergence it
approaches towards superstition, it is difficult for
us entirely to condemn;" but the elegant historian
made the obser\ation on the presumption that Lock-
hart "was nowise averse to the king's service."
" Whether this refusal," says Clarendon, "proceeded
from the punctuality of his nature (for he was a
man of parts and of honour), or from his jealousy
for the garrison, that they would not be disposed
by him (for though he was exceedingly beloved and
obeyed by them, yet they were all Englishmen,
and he had none of his own nation, which was the
Scottish, but in his own family); certain it is that,
at the same time that he refused to treat with the
king, he refused to accept the great offers made to
him by the cardinal, who had a high esteem of him,
and offered to make him marshal of France, with
great appointments of pensions and other emolu-
ments, if he would deliver Dunkirk and Mardyke
into the hands of France; all which overtures he re-
jected: so that his majesty had no place to resort to
preferable to Breda." ^ After the termination of the
period of excitement and energy in which he bore so
active a part, little of interest remains to be told
connected with the events of Lockhart's life. He
was of course deprived of the government of Dun-
kirk, which was bestowed on Sir Edward Harley.
Through the intercession of Middleton he was suf-
fered to return to Britain, and was introduced to
Charles; he then retired to Scotland, where he
buried himself in retirement, and amused himself
with teaching his fellow-countrj-men the English
methods of agriculture; but, driven away by the pre-
vailing anarchy, he preferred a residence with the
relations of his wife, in Huntingdonshire. In 1665,
when a renewed struggle of the commonwealth's men
was expected in Scotland, the busy spirits who had
dreamed of rather than concocted the enterprise,
looked to the Earl of Cassillis and Lockhart as the
individuals who would probably become their leaders;
but neither countenancing the advances which were
cautiously made, the project fell for a period. In
1671 he was brought to court by Lauderdale, and he
showed no disinclination to be employed, "not so
much," says Burnet, "out of ambition to rise, as
from a desire to be safe, and to be no longer looked
on as an enemy to the court." But Charles seems
to have considered him as one of his ' ' natural " ene-
mies, "for when a foreign minister," continues
Burnet, "asked the king leave to treat with him in
his master's name, the king consented, but with this
severe reflection, that he believed he would be true
to anybody but himself" "He was sent," continues
the same authority, "to the courts of Brandenburg
and Lunenburg, either to draw them into the alliance,
or, if that could not be done, at least to secure them
from all apprehensions. But in this he had no
success. And indeed when he saw into what a
negotiation he was engaged, he became very uneasy.

^Burnet, L S6.

- Clatcndon, ut suj>.

For though the blackest part of the secret was not
trusted to him, as appeared to me by the instructions
which I read after his death, yet he saw whither
things were going; and that affected him so deeply,
that it was believed to have contributed not a little
to the languishing he soon fell into, which ended in
his death two years after." This event took place on
the 20th March, 1675, a year after the death of his
father. Noble has told us that his death was attri-
buted to the alternate causes of "a poisoned glove,"
and disgust at the machinations betwixt Charles and
Louis, of which he had been the unconscious instru-
ment. "I have ever looked on him," says Burnet,
"as the greatest man that his countr)- produced in
this age, next to Sir Robert Murray."

LOGAN, George, chiefly celebrated as the con-
troversial opponent of Ruddiman, was bom in the
year 1678, and is supposed to have been the son of
George Logan, a descendent of the family of Logan
of Logan in Ayrshire, who married Miss Cunningham,
a daughter of the clergyman of Old Cumnock, and
sister to Mr. Alexander Cunningham, professor of
civil law in the university of Edinburgh towards the
latter end of the eighteenth centurj-.^ George Logan
was educated at the university of Glasgow, of
which he entered the Greek class in 1693, and became
a blaster of Arts in 1696. Being destined for the
church, he was licensed as a preacher by the pres-
bytery of Glasgow about the year 1 702, and on the
7th of April, 1 707, he was ordained a minister by the
same presbytery, in pursuance of a popular call to
the parish of Lauder, the ministrj' of w hich he ob-
tained in preference to two other candidates, Mr.
Stephen Oliver and Mr. George Hall. He remained
at Lauder until the 22d January, 17 19, when, in
consequence of another caD, which was unanimous
on the part of the parisliioners, he was appointed to
the ministry of Sprouston, in the presb\tery of Kelso.
A second time inducements were held forth, which
prompted him to change his sphere of duty, and en
the 22d Januar}', 1722, he was inducted as minister
of Dunbar. Here he married his first wife, the sister
of Sir Alexander Home of Eccles in the Merse, a
lady who left him a son and daughter, both of whom
survived him. His ministry appears to have secured
much popularity, for advancement was again held
forth to him; and on the 14th December, 1732, ^
he was admitted one of the ministers of Edinburgh. 1
He whose fame and fortune had been so much ad-
vanced by the popular voice, now published a treatise
Oil iJie Right of Electing Ministers, and it may safeiy
be presumed that the liberal opinions thus com-
menced, and continued through the rest of his life,
were at least fostered by the influence which the ex-
ercise of a popular right had produced on his own
fortune. It is probable that this tract was published
just before his appointment to the charge in Edin-
burgh, being dated in the same year. When the act
for bringing to punishment those connected with the
Porteous mob, in 1736, was ordered to be read :n
all the churches, on the last Sunday of every month
during a year, "all the ministers," says Mr. Chalmers,
rather enigmatically, "did not think with Logan
that the will of the legislature ought, on this occa-
sion, to be obeyed. And he was carried, by the
activity of his temper, into a contest, in 1737, with
the Rev. Dr. Alexander Webster, one of the ministers
of Edinburgh, on the propriety of refusing obedience
to an act of parliament, in a point wherein it is not
easy to perceive how either conscience or religion
could be concerned." On the 8th of ISIay, 1740,

* Chalmers' Life 0/ Ruddunan, 190.

GEORGE LOGAN JOHN LOGAX.

541

Logan was appointed moderator of the General
Assembly. During the occupation of Edinburgh by
the Highlanders, in 1745, Logan, in common with
most of the other ministers of Edinburgh, thought it
jjrudent to secure his personal safety by quitting the
town. His house being near the weigh-house, where
the Highlanders had a guard to prevent communica-
tion between the city and castle, was occupied by
them as a guard-house. After their retirement he
inserted in the newspapers an advertisement for the
recovery of some articles abstracted by his late guests,
a document containing more satire upon the Tory
party than his political pamphlets. His controversy
with Ruddiman originated in the edition of Buchanan's
works edited by that eminent scholar in 1715. He
had become a member of a society of critics, whose
ostensible purpose was to rescue the memory of
Buchanan from the prejudicial opinions of his editor,
but whose labours, though they appear to have
reached a considerable extent of matter, were never
published. In 1746 Logan published "A Treatise
on Gozernnuiit; showing that the Right of the Kings
of Scotland to the Crown was not strictly and abso-
lutely Hereditary;" and in 1747 he subjoined "A
Second Treatise on Goiernment ; showing that the
Right to the Crown of Scotland was not Hereditar)-
in the sense of Jacobites." The first answer he
received was in an anon}'mous letter, written in a
spirit of airy ridicule, and in July, 1 747, appeared
the graver discussion of the grounds of his opinions
by Ruddiman. Logan, in company \vith many
men who have supported liberal and enlightened
political sentiments, had the misfortune to be more
anxious to establish them on historical precedent
than on their native merits, and the history of Scot-
land was peculiarly barren in ascertained facts for
such a purpose. His principles appear to have
been somewhat akin to those of Grotius, which ad-
mitted nothing in hereditar)- right but a continuation
to the descendants of the permission given to their
ancestor to govern. To show that the crown of
Scotland did not descend though the Stewarts in a
pure legitimate stream, he discussed the well-known
subject of the legitimacy of Robert HL, and the
question, certainly at one time debatable, whether
the Pretender was or was not the son of James IL
The former of these points has now been pretty
satisfactorily established by the labours of Innes, Hay,
Stewart, and Ruddiman, and the latter is no longer
a matter of doubt. But Logan is accused of having
gone to other and more frail sources; a fabulous list
of kings had been added to the number of the tenants
of the Scottish throne by Boece and the other early
chroniclers. Buchanan, if he did not know the list
to be fabricated, knew the circumstances of the lives
of these persons to rest on so unstable a foundation,
that he found himself enabled to twist their characters
to his theories. On the events connected with the
reigns of these persons, Logan like'wise comments;
but after having done so, turning to the writings of
Innes and Stillingfleet, he remarked — "But I shall
be so good as to j-ield it to Lloyd, Stillingfleet, and
Innes; but then let our Scottish Jacobites and the
young Chevalier give over their boasting of heredi-
tary succession by a longer race of kings in Scotland
than in any kingdom in the known world."* Ruddi-
man employed his usual labour in clearing the ques-
tions about Robert III. and the birth of the Pretender;
but in another point — the wish to prove that Robert
the Bruce was a nearer heir to the Scottish crown
by feudal usages than John Baliol — he failed.
Chalmers, who can see neither talent nor honesty

1 First Treatiic, 50.

in Logan, and no defect in Ruddiman, observes,
that "it required not, indeed, the vigour of Ruddi-
man to overthrow the weakness of Logan, who laid
the foundations of the government which he affected
either on the wild fables of Boece, or on the more
despicable fallacies of Buchanan;" but the fables,
which were satirically noticed by Logan, were sub-
jects of serious consideration to the grave critic.
Ruddiman brings agamst his opponent the charge,
frequently made on such occasions, of "despising
dominions, speaking evil of dignities, and throwing
out railing accusations against kings, though the
archangel Michael durst not bring one against the
devil himself, whom our author, I hope, will allow
to be worse than the worst of our kings."- This
was, at least, in some degree complimentary to Logan,
and the critic, proceeding, tries to preser\-e for the
ancestors of Charles II. both their length of line
and their virtues, and is anxious to show that, at
least, such as cannot be easily saved from the censures
of Buchanan and Logan, were not lineal ancestors
of the great Charles II. In point of philosophy,
Ruddiman's work cannot well be compared with the
several pamphlets of Logan, although even the argu-
ments of the latter against divine right would now
be considered too serious and uncalled for by any
power of defence. The different pamphlets will be
found accurately enumerated in Chalmers' Life of
Ruddiman. Logan was the more restless and deter-
mined of the two. and continued his attacks until
1749, when both had reached a period of life fitted
for more peaceful pursuits. Logan died at Edinburgh
on the 13th of October, 1755, in the seventy--seventh
year of his age.

LOGAN, JoHX. a poet and sermon writer of no
mean eminence, was born in the year 1748, at Soutra,
in the parish of Fala, in the county of Mid-Lothian,
being the son of George Logan, a small farmer at
that place of the Dissenting persuasion. He received
tlie elements of learning at the school of Gosford, in
East-Lothian, to which parish his father removed
during his childhood. Being the younger of two sons,
he was early destined to the clerical profession, ac-
cording to a custom not yet abrogated in families of
the humbler rank in Scotland. At the university of
Edinburgh he formed an acquaintance with the un-
fortunate Michael Bruce, and also with Dr. Robert-
son, afterwards minister of Dalmeny, and known as
author of a life of Mary Queen of Scots. In the
society of the former individual he cultivated poeti-
cal reading and composition, being fondest, as might
be supposed from the character of his own efforts,
of the writings of Spenser, Collins, Akenside, and
Gray, the three last of whom bear so honourable
a distinction from the cold and epigrammatic man-
ner of their contemporaries. During one of the re-
cesses of the college, while residing in the countr}-,
he became known to Patrick Lord Elibank, who,
with his usual enthusiasm in favour of genius of
ever}- kind, warmly patronized him.

On completing his education Logan was received
as tutor into the house of Mr. Sinclair of Ulbster,
and thus became preceptor of Sir John Sinclair,
author of the Code of Agriculture. He did not long
retain this situation, in which he was succeeded by
his friend Robertson. In 1 770 he superintended
the publication of the first edition of the poems of
Bruce, who had died three years before. The vol-
ume professedly contained a few supplementary
pieces by other writers, and of these Logan was
himself the principal author. The best of his con-

- Ruddiman's AnruL-er, 27.

542

JOHN LOGAN.

tributions was the "Ode to the Cuckoo," which,
nolwithstanciing the obvious fault of a want of con-
nection between the various parts of various stanzas,
is still one of the most popular poems in the lan-
guage.

In 1773 Logan was licensed as a preacher by the
presbytery of Edinburgh, thus joining the ranks of
the Established instead of the Dissenting church.
He soon became known as an eloquent and affecting
preacher, and in the same year was called by the
kirk-session and incorporations of South Leith to
be their minister; a situation always considered as
one of the most honourable in the Church of Scot-
land, and which had just been vacated by another
man of genius, Dr. Henry Hunter, whose life has
been given in the present work. Here he continued
to cultivate literature with devoted ardour, though
it was not till 17S1 that he thought proper to publish
any poetry under his own name. Among the studies
of Dr. Logan, history was one of those in which he
most delighted. In the winter of 1779 he delivered
a course of lectures on the " Philosophy of History,"
in St. Mary's Chapel, Edinburgh, under the coun-
tenance and approbation of Drs. Robertson, Blair,
Ferguson, and other eminent persons connected with
the university. So successful was he in these exhi-
bitions, that on the chair of universal history becom-
ing vacant in 17S0, he would unquestionably have
obtained it, if he had possessed the incidental quali-
fication of being a member of the Scottish bar. In
the succeeding year he published an analysis of his
lectures, so far as they related to ancient history,
under the title of Elements of the Philosophy of His-
tory, which was followed by one of the lectures On
the i\Ianners and Gozernnteitl of Asia. His poems,
published in 1781, attracted so much attention, that
a second edition was called for next year. In this
collection he reprinted several of the pieces which
he had formerly given to the world along with those
of Michael Bruce. A painful charge rests against
his memory regarding the real authorship of some
of those pieces, and also respecting the use he made
of a copious manuscript of Bruce's poetry intrusted
to him after the publication of the first volume.
Into this controversy, which is fully stated in Ander-
son's edition of the British Poets, we deem it unne-
cessary to enter ; but we can state, as a fact not for-
merly known to the biographers of Logan, that he
asserted his innocence in a very decided manner,
after his removal to London, by ordering an Edin-
burgh agent to take out an interdict against an
edition of Bruce's Poems, in which several of his own
pieces had been appropriated, under the supposition
of their belonging to that poet.

Undeterred by the fate of Home, Logan produced
a tragedy in 1783. It was entitled Rtinnimede, and
aimed at combining the history of Magna Charta
with a love-story said to be expressly borrowed from
the Tancrede of Voltaire. Ritnnimede was rehearsed
by Mr. Harris at Covent Garden Theatre, but pre-
vented from being acted by an order from the cham-
berlain, who, in the recent feeling of the American
war of independence, took alarm at several of the
breathings in favour of liberty. Logan then printed
it, and had it acted in the Edinburgh theatre; but in
neither form did it meet with decided success. This,
with other disappointments, preyed upon the spirits
of the poet, and he now betook himself to the most
vulgar and fatal means of neutralizing grief. It is
to be always kept in mind that his father had died
in a state of insanity, the consequence of depressed
spirits. Hence it is to be presumed that the aberra-
tions of the unhappy poet had some palliative in
constitutional tendencies. From whatever source

they arose, it was soon found necessary that he should
resign the charge of the populous parish with which
he had been intrusted.' An agreement to this pur-
pose was completed between him and the kirk-
session in 1786, and he retired with a certain modicum
of the stipend, while Mr. Dickson was appointed
his assistant and successor.

In the autumn of the preceding year Logan had
proceeded to London, apparently with the design of
devoting himself entirely to literature. He Mas en-
gaged in the management of the English Peiic-u;
and compiled a view of ancient historj-, which passed
under the name of Dr. Rutherford. In 17S8 he
published an anonymous pamphlet, entitled A Reziera
of the Principal Charges against Mr. Hastings; which,
being const nied into a breach of the privileges of
the House of Commons, caused a prosecution of the
]:)ublisher Stockdale, who, however, was acquitted.
This was the last production he gave to the world.
After a lingering indisposition he died in London,
December 28, 1 7S8, about forty years of age.

Dr. Logan destined legacies to the amount of
;^6oo to certain of his friends and relations, to be
realized out of his books and manuscripts. The lat-
ter consisted of sermons, miscellaneous prose pieces,
lectures, and a few small lyrical poems. In 1790
the first volume of the sermons was published, under
the superintendence of Drs. Robertson, Hardy, and
Blair. The second volume appeared in the follow-
ing year; and, before the end of 1793, both volumes
had undergone a second impression. None of his
other posthumous works have been published.

Except in the latter part of his life, when rendered
irritable and sottish by the results of his con|,|i|^-
tional temperament, Dr. Logan is allowed to?]have-
been a man of the most amiable character, full of
refined sensibility, and free from all mean vices. Of
his poetry, which has been several times reprinted in
the mass, it is no small praise to say that it advances
before the age in which it was written, having more
of the free natural graces which characterize modern
verse, than the productions of most of his contem-
poraries. It is also characterized in many instances
by singularly happy expressions, as it is in general
by extreme sweetness of versification. His "Ode
to the Cuckoo" and his hymns are the pieces which
may be expected to last longest. A selection from
the latter, omitting portions of some of those chosen,
was embodied in the volume of paraphrases sanctioned
by the Church of Scotland as an addition to the
psalmody. "The sermons of Logan," says his
earliest biographer. Dr. Anderson, "though not so
exquisitely polished as those of Blair, possess in a
higher degree the animated and passionate expres-
sion of Massillon and Atterbury. His composition
is everywhere excellent — its leading characteristics
being strength, elegance, and simplicity. The for-
mation of his sentences appears the most inartificial;
though, at the same time, it will be found strictly
correct. But the manner, amidst all its beauties,
is, on the first perusal, lost in the enjoyment the
reader feels from the sentiment. Devotional and
solemn subjects peculiarly accord with his feelings
and genius. In exhibiting deep and solemn views of
human life, his sentiments are bold and varied, and

' An aged parishioner of Dr. Logan mentioned to a friend
of the editor of this work, that he was present in church one
day, when the conduct of the reverend gentleman was such
as to induce an old man to go up, and, in no very respectful
Linguage, call upon the minister to descend from the pulpit
which he disgraced. Such an anecdote, if read immediately
after perusing one of the elegant discourses of Logan, would
form a singular illustration of the propinquity which sometimes
exists between the pure and impure, the lofty and the de-
graded, in human character.

JOHN CLAUDIUS LOUDON.

543

his imagination teems with the most soothing and
elevated figures. ... It appears to have been
no part of his plan to seek out for new subjects of
preaching, or to exert his ingenuity in exhibiting new
views of moral and religious topics. To embellish
the most common subjects, which are certainly the
most proper and useful, with new ornaments — to
persuade by more forcible and captivating illustration
— to unite the beauties of elegant diction and the
splendour of fine imager)- — in this lay his chief exer-
tions, and here rests his chief praise."

LOTHIAN, Dr. William, F.R.S.E., author of
a Histor}- of the United Prinimes of the Xetherlands,
was bom at Edinburgh in 1740, being the son of
Mr. George Lothian, a respectable surgeon in that
city. Ha\-ing passed through the various stages of
his education with some eclat, he was licensed as a
preacher of the gospel in 1762, and appointed in
1764 one of the ministers of the Canongate. As a
preacher hismethod of instruction wassimpleand per-
spicuous, his sentiments rational and manly, and his
manner unaffected and persuasive. For many years
before his death he was afflicted with a very painful
disease; yet he not only performed his professional
duties with unabated zeal, but found energ^i- and
spirit to compose the work above-mentioned, which
appeared in 17S0. Pre%nously to this publication he
had been honoured by the Edinburgh university
with the degree of Doctor of Di\-inity. He died
December 17, 17S3, having only completed the
forty-third year of his age. Two sermons by him
are published in the Scotch Preacher. 4 vols. i2mo,
1 776. For a more copious notice of this respectable 1 ,
di\"ine. reference may be made to the first volume of
the Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.

LOUDON, John CLArDirs. This eminent im-
prover of our gardening and agriculture was bom
at Cambuslang, Lanarkshire, on the Sth of April,
17S3. His father was a respectable farmer, who
resided at Kerse Hall, near Gogar, in the neighbour-
hood of Edinburgh: his mother was only sister of the
mother of Dr. Claudius Buchanan, so well kno^vn
by his philanthropic labours in behalf of the Hin-
doos, and his work entitled Christian Researclies in
Asia. Even when a child, John Claudius Loudon
evinced that taste in gardening for which he was
afterwards so distinguished; and his chief pleasure
at that lime was to lay out and make walks and
beds in a little garden which his father had given
him. He was early sent to Edinburgh for the bene-
fit of his education, where he resided with his uncle;
and besides studying botany and chemistry, he learned
Latin, and afterwards French and Italian, contri\-ing
to pay the fees of his teachers by the sale of his
translations from the two last-mentioned languages.
Being placed at the age of fourteen under the charge
of a nurserj-man and landscape-gardener, he continued
his studies in botany and chemistry-, to which he
added that of agriculture, at the imiveRity of Edin-
burgh; while, to obtain as much time as jx)ssible from
the duties of the day, he was wont to sit up two
nights during each week, a practice that grew into
a habit, and which he continued for years during his
subsequent studies.

In 1S03, when he had now reached his twentieth
year, and obtained a considerable reputation in land-
scape-gardening. Loudon went up to London, carry-
ing with him numerous letters of introduction to some
of the first landed proprietors in England. On
entering the great metropolis the tasteless manner
in which the public squares were laid out caught his
obsen-ant eye : their gloomy trees and shrubs were

planted as if the places had been designed for church-
yards rather than haunts of recreation. As the soli-
tary voice of a stranger would have been unheard
upon such a prevalent evil, he had recourse to the
press, and published an article, entitled " Obser\ations
on Laying out the Public Squares of London," in the
Literary Journal, in which he recommended the
oriental plane, almond, sycamore, and other lighter
trees, instead of the lugubrious plantings that had
hitherto been in vogue. The advice gradually pre-
vailed, and the effect is to be seen in the cheerful,
graceful aspect of our public squares in London, as
well as over the kingdom. He now became an author
as well as practical workman, and his pen went
onward with little intermission for forty years, until
his life terminated. His first publication, which ap-
peared in 1S04, was entitled Obsenations on the For-
mation and St/anageme7it of Useful and Ornamental
Plantations. In the following year he published
A Short Treatise ott some Imf'ro^ements lately made
in Hot-houses; and in 1806 ".^ Treatise on forming;
Improving, and Managing Country Residences ; and
on the Choice of Situations appropriate to every
Class of Purchasers." As Loudon was an excellent
artist, this work was enriched with thirty-two copper-
plate engra^■illgs of landscape scener\-, drawn bv him>
self.

A disaster which soon after befell him, and under
which the activity of others would have been para-
lyzed, only opened up for Loudon a wider range of
action. In consequence of travelling upon a rainy
night on the outside of a coach, and neglecting after-
wards to change his clothes, so severe an attack of
rheumatic fever ensued that he was obliged to take
lodgings at Pinner, near Harrow. Here, during the
days of convalescence, he had an opportunity of ob-
serving the cumbrous, wasteful, and unskilful modes
of farming pursued in England, and so much at
variance with those which were beginning to be put
in practice in his o\*"n country. With Loudon to
see an e\"il was to labour for its removal, and p>ersist
until it was removed. For the sake of giving prac-
tical illustrations of his proposed amendments, he
induced his father to join with him in renting Wood
Hall, near London, where their operations were so
successfiil, that in 1S07 he was enabled to call public
attention to the proof, in a pamphlet entitled ^^An
Immediate and Effectual Mode of Raising the Rental
of the Landed Property of England, &c., by a Scotch
Farmer, now farming in Middlesex." This excel-
lent work introduced him to the notice of General
Stratton, by whom he was induced to farm Tew
Park, a property belonging to the general in Ox-
fordshire. On moving to this new locality Mr.
Loudon did not content himself with reaping the
fruits of his superior farming; anxious that others
should share in the benefit, he established an academy
or coU^e of agriculture on the estate of Tew Park,
where yotmg men were instmcted in the theory of
fanning and the best modes of cultivating the soil ;
and, anxious to diffiise this knowledge as widely as
possible, he published, in 1S09, a pamphlet, entitled
''■The Utility of Agriadtural Knowledge to the Sons
of the Landed Prop-idors of Great Britain, ice., by
a Scotch Farmer and Land-agent."'

In this way, while Loudon was generously doing
his uttermost to be the Triptolemus of England, and
teaching the best modes of increasing and eliciting
the riches of its soil, his own success was a practical
conament upon the efiicacy of his theories ; for, in
1S12, he found himself the comfortable possessor of
;^i;.ooo. This was enough for one who had a
higher aim in life than mere money-making, and to
fit himself more effectually for that aim, he resolved

544

TOHX CLAUDIUS LOUDOX.

to improve his mind by travel. Accordingly, he
resigned his profitable farm, and in March, 1813,
commenced his travels on the Continent, visiting the
principal cities of Germany and Russia. Short
though this tour was, for he returned to England in
the following year, it was associated with a variety
of interesting adventures, of which he published a
fiill account, illustrated by sketches from his own
pencil On returning to London he found that the
greater part of his property had disappeared, from
the faithlessness of the investments to which it had
been intrusted, and thus he had to begin the world
anew. He returned to his original occupation, that
of landscape-gardening, on which he resolved to
produce an extensive work; and for the improvement
of his knowledge on this subject he made, in 1S19,
a tour of France and Italy. Three years after the
work appeared, under the title of the Encydopadia
cf Gardening; and such was the high reputation it
acquired, that its author was reckoned the first horti-
culturist of his day. Of this work a second edition
appeared in 1824, containing great alterations and
improvements. Encouraged by the success that at-
tended it, Loudon commenced another equally copi-
ous, and upon the same plan, which appeared in
1825, entitled ihz Encycloptzdia of Agriculture. In
1826 he commenced the Gardener's Magazine, the
first periodical that had ever been devoted to horti-
cultural subjects. In 1S28 he commenced the Maga-
ziru of Natural History, which was also the first
periodical of the kind. In 1829 he published the
Eiuyclopcidia of Plants, which was less his own work
than any of its predecessors, as he claimed nothing
of it beyond the plan and general design. During
the two years that followed he was chiefly employed
in producing new editions of his Eticyclopczdias of
Agriculture and Gardening, and of these, the first
was almost wholly re-written, and the latter entirely
so. But these occupations, although so laborious,
were not his sole nor even his chief task at the time,
for he was also closely engaged with the Encyclopcedia
of Cottage, Farni, and Villa Architecture — so closely,
indeed, that himself and Mrs. Loudon used to sit up
the greater part of every night employed upon i^
never having more than four hours' sleep, and drink-
ing strong coffee to keep themselves awake. It
would have been hard, indeed, had such labour been
in vain; and therefore it is gratifjing to add, that this
■was not only one of the most useful, but also most
successful, of all his works, and is still a standard
authority upon the subject. His next, and also his
greatest work, which would of itself have been suffi-
cient for any ordinary lifetime, was his Arboretum
et Frtiticetuin Britannicum, in which he gave an
account, with pictorial illustrations, of all the trees,
wild or cultivated, that grow in Great Britain. This
production, which was published in 1838, at his own
risk, was so unsuccessful, that after paying artists
and other persons engaged in it, he found himself in
debt to the amount of ;^lO,ooo to the printer, sta-
tioner, and wood-engraver, while the sale of such a
splendid publication was so slow, that there was no
prospect that it would ever pay its own expenses.

Up to this period Loudon had been one of the
most prolific of authors, while all that he had written
he had written well. Nothing, indeed, could exceed
his indomitable resolution, unless it might be the
philanthropic spirit by which it was animated. In-
dependently of the subjects which we have enume-
rated, he wrote several minor productions, supple-
mented his own works from time to time, and was
a contributor to Brande's Dictionary of Science.
Even, also, while the pressure of these numerous
avocations was at the greatest, he was discharging

the office of editor to four separate periodicals, all
of them established by himself, and which he sup>er-
intended at one and the same time. All this sug-
gests the idea of a frame of iron and a constitution
impervious to human weaknesses and wants, as well
as the most unflinching energy of purpose. But our
wonder is heightened when we find that, during the
greater part of these labours, poor Loudon was an
invalid and a cripple. The rheumatic fever with
which he was attacked in 1806 ended in an anchy-
losed knee, and a contracted left arm. Thus he
continued till 1820, when, while employed in com-
piling the Encyclopedia of Gardening, he had another
severe attack of rheumatism, that compelled him to
have recourse in the following year to Mohammed's
Baths at Brighton. Here he submitted to the rough
process of shampooing; but this remedy, so available
in many cases like his own, was too much for his
feeble bones: his arm broke so close to the shoulder,
that it could not be set in the usual manner ; and in
a subsequent trial, it was again broken, and this time
so effectually, that in 1826 amputation was found
necessary. But a general breaking up of the system
had also been going on, by which the thumb and
two fingers of the left hand had been rendered use-
less, so that he could only use the third and little
finger. Yet though thus so maimed and mutilated
as apparently to be unfit for anything but the sick-
chamber or a death-bed, the whole energy of life
seemed to rally round his heart, and be as ready for
fresh encounters as ever, so that his work went on
unchecked and unabated; and when he could no
longer write or draw, he had recourse to the services
of the draughtsman and amanuensis.

We have already mentioned the ill success of
Loudon's Arboretum Britannicum. This was the
hea\iest blow of all, and tended to accelerate the
disease that terminated in his death ; but still, come
what might, he resolved that to the last he would
be up and doing. Accordingly, as soon as the above-
mentioned work was finished, in 1838, he began the
Suburban Gardener, which was published the same
year, and also his Hortus Lignosus Londonensis; and
in the year following he published his edition of
Repton's Landscape Gardening. In 1840 he under- '
took the editorship of the Gardener's Gazette, and in
1842 he published his Encyclopedia of Trees and
Shrubs. During the same year he finished his Sub-
urban Horticulturalist : and in 1843 appeared his
last work, on Cemeteries. Disease in the lungs had
been meanwhile going on for three months, from
which he endured much suffering, trntU his life and
labours were terminated together on the 14th of
December, 1843, in the sixty-first year of bis age.
Few men have written so much under such depressing
circumstances as John Claudius Loudon, or whose
writings were so well adapted to the purpose for
which they were produced; and while their practical
character and utUity have been universally acknow-
ledged, they are pervaded throughout with an earnest
desire to improve the character and elevate the
standing of those classes whose occupations are con-

nected with gardening and agriculture. Add to this
that "he was a warm friend, and most kind and
affectionate in all his relations of son, husband.

father, and brother, and never hesitated to sacrifice
pecuniary considerations to what he considered his
duty. "

We have already made a passing allusion in this
memoir to Mrs. Loudon, by whose aid he was mate- _
rially benefited when aid was most needed. To her ■
he was married in 1 831, and in her he found a fel- ^
low-student and literar>' co-operator, as well as a
domestic companion and comforter. Her works,

LORD LOVAT JOHN' LOVE.

545

which also were numerous, were chiefly connected
with her husband's favourite departments of garden-
ing and botany ; and these she endeavoured to sim-
plify and recommend to the attention of her own
sex, a labour of love in which she was highly suc-
cessful. She and one daughter sur\ived Mr. Loudon,
of whom she has written an affectionate and truth-
ful biography.

LOVAT, Lord. Sei Fraser (Simon).

LOVE, John, a controversial critic of celebrity,
was bom at Dumbarton in 1695.^ He was the son
of John Love, a bookseller, who, as Chalmers in-
disputably remarks, "like greater dealers in greater
towns, supplied his customers with such books as
their taste required." The son was educated at the
grammar-school of Dumbarton and the uni%-ersity of
Glasgow. Ha\-ing finished his studies, he became
assistant or usher to his old master Mr. David
M 'Alpine, and in 1 720 succeeded him in his humble
dut}'. On the 17th October, 1721, he married
Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. Archibald Campbell, a
surgeon of Glasgow, who had been one of the bailies
of that city. By her he had thirteen children, two
of whom, a clerg].Tnan and an officer in the navy,
were alive when Chalmers wrote his Life of Riid-
di?nan. In 1 733 Mr. Love entered the field of con-
troversy by publishing A nimadversions on the Latin
Grammar lately published by Mr. Robert Trotter,
Schoolmaster of Dumfries, a production chiefly de-
signed for the purpose of defending Ruddiman,
whose grammar had been reflected on by Trotter.
"Like Ruddiman," says Chalmers very aptly, "Love
seems to have been delighted in marriage, or like
him, to have been driven to connubial connections
by his scholastic business, which required female
superintendence." Accordingly, in pursuance of the
disposition so aptly associated with his name, he
married in 1 741, for his second wife, Giles, the
youngest daughter of the Rev. Mr. James Elphin-
ston, minister of Dalkeith, v.ho had died in 1710.
Love was subjected, it would appear, at one period
of his life to a species of religious prosecution, on an
accusation of brewing on Sunday, preferred before
the church judicatories by Mr. Sydserf, minister of
Dumbarton. It was a fearful charge in Sabbath-
lo^nng Scotland, where abstinence from all work on
the first day of the week was so scrupulously obsen'ed;
and had it been substantiated, Love would not only
have lost his situation, but also his respectability in
society. But the e\"il recoiled upon the head of his
over- zeal Otis accuser, and the minister, says Chalmers,
"after a judicial trial, was obliged to make a public
apology, for ha\-ing maliciously accused calumniated
innocence." In October, 1735, ^^ '^^'^ appointed
one of the masters of the high-school of Edin-
burgh; and in 1737, "with the assistance of Ruddi-
man and Robert Hunter, he edited a very handsome
edition of the translation of the Psalms of Buchanan,
which attracted the notice of the Duke of Buccleuch,
and obtained for the editor in 1 739 the rectorship of
the grammar-school of Dalkeith — a situation which
has for a long period been deemed of considerable
importance, and very ably filled, but which would
not now be considered an advancement from that
which Love previously enjoyed. In the following
year he engaged in the controversy about the respec-
tive merits of Johnston and Buchanan as translators
of the Psalms, known by the name of Bellum Gram-
maticale, and already referred to in our memoir of
Arthur Johnston. He was of course the supporter
of the work he had edited. "The conquests which

' Chalmers' Ruddiman. i ^5.

Love had made over Trotter and Lauder," says
Chalmers, "probably gave him a fondness for con-
troversy." In 1749 he published A Vindication of
Mr. George Buchanan, a work levelled at the im-
putations of Camden on the one part, and the reflec-
tions of Ruddiman, his former friend, on the other.
It says much for the candour of Lo%e that Chalmers
allows him to have been actuated by "honest zeal."
The chief subject of discussion was the alleged peni-
tence of Buchanan on his death-bed on account of his
attacks on the character of Queen Mar)-. In July,
1749, in his old age, Ruddiman published an answer,
termed Animadversions on a Late Pamphlet entitled
A Vindication of Mr. George Buchanan. The vener-
able grammarian survived his opponent, who died
on the 20th September, 1750, at the age of fifty-five.
Chalmers admits that "he was certainly an eminent
scholar, an excellent teacher, and a good man."

LOVE, Rev. John, D.D. This profound theo-
logian and eloquent preacher, was bom in Paisley,
on June 4th, 1757. When only ten years of age he
became a student of the university of Glasgow ; and
during the long career of study which he prosecuted
at that ancient seat of learning, he distinguished him-
self by his classical attainments, and his proficiency
in the several departments of mathematics. These
studies he continued to the end of his life; and there
are several yet living who can remember his happy
facility in the quotation of Greek and Roman authors
upon any subject of conversational intercourse. With
the contents of Scripture, however, which formed
his chief study, he was more conversant still; and
even before he was twelve years old he had read the
Bible, according to his own statement, six times over.
A favourite practice, which he continued to the end
of his life, was to write short daily meditations, in
a regular series, upon connected passages of Scrip-
ture. These, as well as his sermons, were written
in short -hand, and therefore imintelligible, until the
key to his alphabet was foimd ; and from this dis-
covery several of his posthumous discourses were pub-
lished, which otherwise would never have seen the
light.

Having finished the appointed course of study at
college, and undergone the usual trials of presbytery,
Mr. Love was licensed as a preacher in 1778, being
then only in his twenty-first year. Soon afterwards
he was employed as assistant by the Rev. Mr. Max-
well, minister of Rutherglen, near Glasgow; in 1782
he was transferred to Greenock, where he officiated
in the same capacity to the Rev. David Turner,
minister of the west or old parish; and here he con-
tinued till the death of Mr. Turner in 17S6. It will
thus be seen that while Mr. Love had no church
patron, or at least an efficient one, he had not that
kind of popular talent which secures the greatest
number of votes among town-councillors or seat-
holders. His indeed was that superior excellence
which can only be appreciated by the judicious few,
and in consequence of a considerable acquaintance-
ship. After leaving Greenock, Mr. Love, toward the
close of 1 786, was called to the ministerial charge of
the Scottish Presbyterian congregation in Artillery
Street, Bishopsgate, London, and here he continued
to labour for nearly twelve years. It was indeed no
inviting field for one of his peculiar talents. His
massive and profound theolog)- — his sententious style
of preaching, in which every sentence was an aphor-
ism— and the very impressive but slow and almost
monotoned voice in which his discourses were de-
livered— were not suited to the church-going citizens
of London, who required a livelier manner and more
buoyant stvle of oratory. From these causes, added

70

546

JOHN LOVE.

to the ignorance of the English about Presbyterian-
ism in general, and the tendency of the Scotch in
London to forsake the church of their fathers, Mr.
Love's place of meeting was but slenderly attended,
while bis name as a preacher was little known be-
yond its walls. One important work, however, was
committed to the hands of Mr. Love, from which,
perhaps, more real usefulness redounded than could
have been derived from mere pulpit popularity. He
was one of those honoured men who rolled away the
reproach from Protestantism, as not being a mission-
arj-, and therefore not a genuine, church of Christ —
a serious charge that had often been brought against
it by the Papists — by his e.xertions and effective aid
in founding the London Missionary Society. This
occurred during the latter part of his residence in
London. Often he afterwards reverted with delight
to the fact of his having written the first circular by
which the originators of this important society were
called together, for the purpose of forming themselves
into a director)-, and organizing their plan of action;
and when the society was embodied, he was very
properly appointed one of its secretaries. One im-
portant duty which he had to discharge in this capa-
city was, to select the fittest agents for missionarj^
enterprise over the newly-opened field of the South
Sea Islands. Not resting satisfied with this onerous
and somewhat critical duty, he endeavoured to qualify
the missionaries for their tr}ing office, by planning
such a series of discourses upon the principal doc-
trines of revelation as he judged would be best fitted
to persuade a primitive, simple-minded people, and
which would ser\-e as models, or at least as sugges-
tions, for the use of the Christian teachers who were
to be sent among them. With this \'iew he ■wTOte
and published a volume, under the title oi Addresses
to the Inlmbitatits of OiaJuite. It was a series of
short discourses upon the chief and simplest points
of Christian theolog}-, and such as were thought best
suited, by their earnest, impassioned style, to be
addressed to the poetical children of nature, seated
beneath the spreading shadow of their cedars, or
around the genial glow of their council-fire. And
eloquent indeed were these strange model discourses,
and such as the Christian world — especially the
young, who devoured them ■with delight and wonder
— have seldom seen within the range of theological
authorship. But little as yet were the South Sea
islanders known, for whose behalf these sermons
were written, and it was soon enough discovered
that they were more prone to eat a missionarj' than
to digest his doctrines. But that such ravening an-
thropophagi should be changed into men, such be-
sotted idolaters into Christians, and the principles of
humanity, civilization, and order be established
among them — and that, too, in the course of a single
generation — was certainly the greatest, as well as the
most encouraging achievement which modern mis-
sionar)' enterprise has yet accomplished. Mr. Love
was permitted to witness the dawn of this bright
morning of promise, after so deep a midnight of
despondency; and he saw his poor Otaheiteans chris-
tianized, although the process had differed from his
plans and anticipations.

In 1798 Mr. Love's official connection with Lon-
don and the Missionary Society terminated, and two
years afterwards he was called to the ministerial
charge of a chapel of ease newly formed in Anderston,
then oneofthesuburbsof Glasgow. He must have felt
it a happy change from the echoes of the lonely walls
in .\rtiller)^ Street, to a populous city, in which his
training for the ministry had commenced, and where
he could find a congenial people by whom his worth
would be fully appreciated. In Glasgow, accord-

ingly, he soon gathered a congregation, by whom he
was enthusiastically beloved, and who rejoiced under
his pastoral charge to the close of his valuable life.
Here also he selected for his friend and chief com-
panion the Rev. Dr. Balfour, of the High Church,
Glasgow — of whom a memoir has been given in this
work — a congenial spirit in learning, talent, piety,
and apostolic zeal. Besides his labours in the pulpit,
to which he brought all his powers of study and close
application, as well as the resources of a singularly
vigorous and richly endowed intellect, Mr. Love heid
the office of secretar}' of the Glasgow Missionarj'
Society, and presided in its chief enterprise, the
establishment of the mission to Caffraria. Notwith-
standing his habitual reserseand dislike of popularity,
his reputation as a scholar and theologian was so
fully acknowledged, that in Xovember, 1815, he
was invated to be one of the candidates for the pro-
fessorship of dignity, at that lime vacant in King's
College, Aberdeen. Mr. Love complied ; but not-
withstanding his fitness for the chair, which was
tested by long trial and examination, the question
was one not so much of ability and learning as of
party feeling; and the Moderates being still in the
ascendant were enabled to return a candidate of their
own election. Soon after\vards Mr. Love was hon-
oured with the degree of Doctor in Di\inity. After
this the quiet unostentatious course of the good man
went on in its wonted tenor, until the cares and
toils of the Caffre mission, already giNing tokens
of those dangers by which it was afterwards all but
overthrown, tasked the sensitive spirit of Dr. Love
for the last four years of his life, until December
17, 1825, when death terminated his anxieties,
in the sixtj--ninth year of his age.

It was as a pulpit orator that Dr. Love was best
kno\\Ti and most highly appreciated in Glasgow,
although his manner in the pulpit was such as sel-
dom wins the popular favour. With little action,
his utterance was slow, his countenance calm and
even stem, and his voice deep and unchanged, ex-
cept in some sudden burst of emotion that lasted
orJy for a moment; — but even as such, there was a
dignit)' in that mode of preaching which reminded
the hearer of an ancient prophet rather than a modem
minister, which compelled attention at the moment,
and furnished matter for subsequent meditation.
Such also was his bearing in everjday life, except
when under some cheerful emotion, and then he
could become the happiest of the gay and wittiest
of the witty. These were glimpses of sunshine all
the more delightful because they were only occa-
sional and unexpected.

From his retiring spirit, that shrunk from popular
distinction, and from the general state of his health,
that agreed best with retirement and tranquOlity, the
authorship of Dr. Love has been limited, compared
with his well-known talents and the wishes of his
many admirers. During his own lifetime, indeed,
he published nothing, as far as is known, except his
Addresses to the People of OtaJwite, and a few sermons.
After his death, however, a careful research among
his papers enabled his friends to give the following
posthumous works to the world — deprived, however,
of that careful correctness which his own re-vising pen
would undoubtedly have bestowed on them: — i. A
reprint of sermons preached by him on various public
occasions; including also his Otaheitean Addresses.
This volume was republished soon after Dr. Love's
death. 2. Two volumes of sermons and lectures,
from his unrevised manuscripts. These were pub-
lished in 1829. 3. In 1838 was published a volume
containing about three hundred of his letters. 4. In
1853 a volume containing thirty-four sermons, which

J

GEORGE LOW JOHN LOWE.

547

he preached in the West Church, Greenock, during
the years 1 784-5. Finally, in 1857-8 were published
in two volumes 8vo, ^"^ Sfcmorials of the Kez\ John
Love, D.D., consisting of Diary, Reminiscences, and
Original Papers. Edited by the Committee intrusted
with the Charge of his Unpublished Papers."

LOW, George, an ingenious naturalist, was born
at Edzel in Forfarshire, in the year 1746. He was
educated at the universities of Aberdeen and St.
Andrews, and afterwards was tutor in the family of
Mr. Graham at .Stromness in Orkney. During his
residence at this place, Mr. (afterwards Sir Joseph)
Banks and Dr. Solander arrived at the island, on
their return from the last voyage of discovery, in
which Captain Cook lost his life; and Mr. Low,
having aquired a taste for natural history, was much
noticed by these distinguished philosophers, and was
requested to accompany them in their excursions
through the Orkneys, and also to the Shetland
Islands, which he accordingly did.

In 1774 he was ordained to the ministerial charge
of the parish of Birsay and Staray, on the mainland
of Orkney, to which he devoted the remainder of
his life, employing his leisure in the study of nature.
Considering the disadvantages of his situation, his
success was highly creditable. Sir Joseph Banks,
with his accustomed zeal for the promotion of science,
introduced him to Mr. Pennant, by whose advice he
engaged to undertake a Fauna Oreadensis and a
Flora Orcadensis. Before these works could be given
to the world, he died, in 1795. The MSS. of the
former work, with his zoological collections, and
the manuscript of a translation of Torfsus' History
of Orkney, executed by Mr. Low, came into the
possession of Mr. George Paton, the eminent anti-
quary, at whose decease they were sold to different
persons. The Fauna was published in 181 3, 4to, by
W. F. Leach, M.D., F.L.S., and forms a very in-
teresting addition to the natural history of the British
Islands. The Flo7-a has not been discovered. A
tour through Orkney and Shetland, containing hints
relative to their ancient, modern, and natural histor)%
was also prepared for the press by this industrious
individual, but, owing to his premature death, was
never published.

LOWE, John, a poet of considerable celebrity,
though the author of only one small lyrical piece
which has acquired popularity, was bom at Kenmore
in the stewartry of Kirkcudljright, in the year 1750.
His father was gardener to Mr. Gordon of Kenmore,
son of the unfortunate Viscount Kenmore; and young
Lowe was reared to the business of a country weaver.
Having, however, a strong desire of rising above his
native lot, he fitted himself by his own exertions for
entering an academical career at the university of
Edinburgh, where his expenses were chiefly defrayed,
it is said, by friends whom he had secured by his
agreeable character and evident talents. While pur-
suing the study of divinity, he was engaged as family
tutor by a country gentleman of his native district,
Mr. ]M'Ghie of Airds. The residence of this gentle-
man, as partly implied by its Celtic appellation, was
situate on a piece of lofty and picturesque gi'ound,
at the confluence of the Dee with the long narrow
lake in which the Ken meets with that river. Lowe,
already addicted to versification, rejoiced with a poet's
ardour in the beautiful scenery of the Airds, amidst
which he constructed an arbour, still called "Lowe's
seat." He here composed a considerable number
of poems, fragments of which are still recollected in
the district; and here also he became attached to one
of the beautiful daughters of his employer, who, it is to

be supposed, must have materially added to the inspir-
ing powers of the scenery. His happy lyric, entitled
Mary^s Dream, but for which, in all probability, he
never would have been heard of beyond his native
district, was written at the Airds, in reference to the
death of a gentleman named Miller, a surgeon, at
sea, who was attached to the sister of his oVn mis-
tress, and perished in the manner described in the
poem.

Of the merits of this remarkable production it
would now be superfluous to speak : it caught at
once the popular favour, and retains it unimpaired to
the present hour, so that we still hear the pathetic
echo of "Mary, weep nae mair for me," in all its
original tenderness. The knowledge of it also has
been more widely spread in consequence of its ap-
pearing both in a Scotch and an English version, the
former commencing with —

"The moon had climb'd the highest hill
Where eagles big aboon the Dee ; "

while the latter less poetically begins with —

"The moon had climb'd the highest hill
That rises o'er the source of Dee ;"

Of course the former version has obtained the prefer-
ence, and is probably the form in which it was ori-
ginally composed. Indeed, it is supposed, with con-
siderable justice, that Lowe had no hand in the
English version, and that the striking excellence of
Marfs Dream obtained for it an English paraphrast,
by which it became as popular in the south as in the
north of our island. Another class of critics, how-
ever, have attempted to solve the difficulty, by sup-
posing that Lowe wrote the song both in Lowland
Scotch and in English.

It is not certain that Lowe, though he seems to
have completed his theological studies, ever became
a licentiate of the Scottish church. In 1773 he was
induced to proceed to America, in order to become
family tutor to a brother of the illustrious Washing-
ton. He subsequently set up a boarding academy
at Fredericksburg in Virginia, which succeeded for
a time, but after\vards failed. Before leaving Scot-
land, he had interchanged pledges of mutual love
with Miss IM'Ghie, and it was understood that their
marriage should take place as soon as he should be
properly settled in life. The lapse of years — distance
— hopelessness, perhaps, of ever reaching the neces-
sary degree of fortune, and not impossibly the inter-
vention of seven years of war between the two coun-
tries, conspired to annul this engagement; and the
parties eventually mamed different individuals in
their respective countries. Lowe is charged by his
biographers with glaring infidelity to his promise;
but the case is too obscurely related to enable us to
join in the censure which he has thus incurred. He
eventually paid his addresses to a Virginian lady, who
rejected them, but whose sister had conceived for
him a violent affection, and whom he afterwards
married, from a sentiment, as he expresses it, of
gratitude. At what time this took place has not
been stated by his biographer;' but it is impossible,
from the account given by that individual, to resist
the impression that it was almost half a lifetime after
his engagement at the Airds. His wife proved
totally unworthy of his affections, and, by driving
him for relief to the bottle, caused his death under
the most miserable circumstances, about the year
1798. This succession of events appears from Mr.
Gillespie's narrative to have been rapid: hence it is
allowable to conjecture that at least twenty years
must have elapsed between his parting with Miss

' The Rev. Mr. Gillespie, minister of Kelso, in Cromek's
Retnains of Nithsdale and Gallmuay Song.

548

JOHN LOWE LORD LYNEDOCH.

M 'Ghie and his unhappy union to another. If such |
was the case, we can hardly see how the most ardent
impressions of youth could have been maintained at j
such a distance, and under the continued depression I
of circumstances on the part of the gentleman, which
is acknowledged by the biographer, and which must '.
have tended so much to make sick the hearts of both ;
parties. - i

A letter from Virginia, from an early friend of the
poet, gave the following particulars respecting his I
death: — "That perceiving his end drawing near, and
wishing to die in peace away from his own wretched
walls, he mounted a sorry palfrey, and rode some
distance to the house of a friend. So much was he
debilitated that scarcely could he alight in the court
and walk into the house. After\vards, however, he
revived a little, and enjoyed some hours of that
vivacity which was peculiar to him. But this was
but the last faint gleams of a setting sun; for on the
third day after his arrival at the house of his friend,
lie breathed his last. He now lies buried near

Fredericksburg, under the shade of two palm-trees;
but not a stone is there on which to write, 'Mary,
weep no more for me.'"

The wretched woman to whom he had been united
made no inquiries after her husband for more than a
month afterwards, when she sent for his horse, which
had been previously sold to defray the expenses of
the funeral.

Lowe is said to have been a very handsome man,
of quick and lively apprehension, and very agreeable
as a companion. His reputation as a poet has the
strange peculiarity of resting on one small ballad.
That, however, has melody, pathos, and imagery of
no common character, and will probably be always
reckoned among the happiest small pieces in the
English language. Some fragments of his other com-
positions are given in Cromek's Remains; but they
do not rise one step above the cold second-rate pas-
toral epics of the period.

LYNEDOCH, Lord. See Gr.\h.\m (Thomas).

END OF VOL. IL

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