1697, Feb
Commenced an inquiry by a commission from the Privy Council into the
celebrated case of Bargarram’s Daughter—namely, Christian Shaw, a
girl of eleven years old, the daughter of John Shaw of Bargarran, in
Renfrewshire. A solemn importance was thus given to circumstances which,
if they took place now, would be slighted by persons in authority, and
scarcely heard of beyond the parish, or at most the county. It was,
however, a case highly characteristic of the age and country in which it
happened.
In the parish of Erskine, on the
south bank of the Clyde, stands Bargarran House, a small old-fashioned
mansion, with some
inferior buildings attached, the whole being
enclosed, after the fashion of a time not long gone by, in a wall capable
of some defence. Here dwelt John Shaw, a man of moderate landed estate,
with his wife and a few young children. His daughter Christian had
as yet attracted no particular attention from her parents or neighbours,
though observed to be a child of lively character and ‘well-inclined.’
One day (August 17, 1696), little Christian having
informed her mother of a petty theft committed by a servant, the woman
broke out upon her with frightful violence, wishing her soul might be
harled through hell, and thrice imprecating the curse of God upon her.
Considering the pious feelings of old and young in that age, we shall see
how such an assault of terrible words might well impress the mind of a
child, to whom all such violences must have been a novelty. The results,
however, were of a kind which could scarcely have been anticipated. Five
days afterwards, when Christian had been a short while in bed, and asleep,
she suddenly started up with a great cry, calling, ‘Help! help!’ and
immediately sprung into the air, in a manner astonishing to her parents
and others who were in the room. Then being put into another bed, she
remained stiff and to appearance insensible for half an hour; after which,
for forty-eight hours, she continued restless, complaining of violent
pains through her whole body, or, if she dozed for a moment, immediately
starting up with the same cry of irrepressible terror, ‘help ! help!’
For eight days the child had fits of
extreme violence, under which she was ‘often so bent and rigid that she
stood like a bow on her feet and neck at once,’ and continued without the
power of speech, except at short intervals, during which she seemed
perfectly well. A doctor and apothecary were brought to her from Paisley;
but their bleedings and other applications had no perceptible effect. By
and by, her troubles assumed a different aspect. She seemed to be
wrestling and fighting with an unseen enemy, and there were risings and
failings of her belly, and strange shakings of her whole body, that struck
the beholders with consternation. She now began, in her fits, to denounce
Catherine Campbell, the woman-servant, and an old woman of evil fame,
named Agnes Naismith, as the cause of her torments, alleging that they
were present in person cutting her side, when in reality they were at a
distance. At this crisis, fully two months after the beginning of her
ailments, her parents took her to Glasgow. to consult an eminent
physician, named Brisbane, regarding her case. He states in his
deposition,’ that at first he thought the child quite well; but after a
few minutes, she announced a coming fit, and did soon after fall into
convulsions, accompanied by heavy groanings and murmurings against two
women named Campbell and Naismith; all of which he thonght ‘reducible to
the effect of a hypochondriac melancholy.’ He gave some medicines suitable
to his conception of the case, and for eight days, during which the girl
remained in Glasgow, she was comparatively well, as well as for eight days
after her return home. Then the fits returned with even increased
violence; she became as stiff as a corpse, without sense or motion; her
tongue would be drawn out of her mouth to a prodigious length, while her
teeth set firmly upon it; at other times it was drawn far back into her
mouth. Her parents set out with her again to Glasgow, that she might be
under the doctor’s care; but as they were going, a new fact presented
itself. She spat or took from her mouth, every now and then, parcels of
hair of different colours, which she declared her two tormentors were
trying to force down her throat. She had also fainting-fits every quarter
of an hour. Dr Brisbane saw her again (November 12), and from that time
for some weeks was frequently with her. He says:
‘I observed her narrowly, and was
confident she had no human correspondent to administer the straw, wool,
cinders, hay, feathers, and such like trash to her; all which, upon
several occasions, I have seen her pull out of her mouth in considerable
quantities, sometimes after several fits, and sometimes after no fit at
all, whilst she was discoursing with
us;
and for the most part she pulled out those things
without being wet in the least; nay, rather as if they had been dried with
care and art; for one time, as I remember, when I was discoursing with
her, she gave me a cinder out of her mouth, not only dry, but hot, much
above the degree of the natural warmth of a human body.’ ‘Were it not,’ he
adds, ‘for the hairs, hay, straw, and other things wholly contrary to
human nature, I should not despair to reduce all the other symptoms to
their proper classes in the catalogue of human diseases.’ Thereafter, as
we are further informed, there were put out of her mouth bones of various
sorts and sizes, small sticks of candle-fir, some stable-dung mingled with
hay, a quantity of fowl’s feathers, a gravel-stone, a whole gall-nat, and
some egg-shells.
Sometimes, during her fits, she
would fall a-reasoning, as it were, with Catherine Campbell about the
course she was pursuing, reading and quoting Scripture to her with much
pertinence, and entreating a return of their old friendship. The command
which she shewed of the language of the Bible struck the bystanders as
wonderful for such a child; but they easily accounted for it. ‘We doubt
not,’ says the narrator of the case, that the Lord did, by his good
spirit, graciously afford her a more than ordinary measure of assistance.’
Before leaving Glasgow for the
second time, she had begun to speak of other persons as among her
tormentors, naming two, Alexander and James Anderson, and describing other
two whose names she did not know.
Returned to Bargarran about the 12th
of December, she was at ease for about a week, and then fell into worse
fits than ever. She now saw the devil in various shapes threatening to
devour her. Her face and body underwent frightful contortions. She would
point to places where her tormentors were standing, wondering why others
did not see them as well as she. One of these ideal tormentors, Agnes
Naismith, came in the body to see the child, spoke kindly, and prayed God
to restore her health; after which Christian always spoke of her as her
defender from the rest Catherine Campbell was of a different spirit. She
could by no means be prevailed on to pray for the child, but cursed her
and all her family, imprecating the devil to let her never grow better,
for all the trouble she had brought upon herself. This woman being soon
after imprisoned, it seemed as if from that time she also disappeared from
among the child’s tormentors. We are carefully informed that in her pocket
was found a ball of hair, which was thrown into the fire, and after that
time the child vomited no more hair.
The devil’s doings at Bargarran
having now effectually roused public attention, the presbytery sent relays
of their members to be present in the house, and lend all possible
spiritual help. One evening, Christian was suddenly carried off with an
unaccountable motion through the chamber and hall, down the long winding
stair, to the outer gate, laughing wildly, while ‘her feet did not touch
the ground, so far as anybody was able to discern.’ She was brought back
in a state of rigidity, and declared when she recovered that she had felt
as one carried in a swing. On the ensuing evening, she was carried off in
the same manner, and borne to the top of the house; thence, as she stated,
by some men and women, down to the outer gate, where, as formerly, she was
found lying like one dead. The design of her bearers, she said, was to
throw her into the well, when the world would believe she had drowned
herself. On a third occasion, she moved in the same unaccountable manner
down to the cellar, when the minister, trying to bring her up again, felt
as if some one were pulling her back out of his arms. On several
occasions, she spoke of things which she had no visible means of knowing,
but which were found to be true, thus manifesting one of the assigned
proofs of possession, and of course further confirming the general belief
regarding her ailments and their cause. She said that some one spoke over
her head, and distinctly told her those things.
The matter having been reported with
full particulars to the Privy Council, the commission before spoken of was
issued, and on the 5th February it came to Bargarran, under the presidency
of Lord Blantyre, who was the principal man in the parish. Catherine
Campbell, Agnes Naismith, a low man called Anderson, and his daughter
Elizabeth, Margaret Pulton, James Lindsay, and a Highland beggar-man, all
of whom had been described as among Christian’s tormentors, were brought
forward and confronted with her; when it was fully seen that, on any of
these persons touching her, she fell into fits, but not when she was
touched by any other person. It is stated that, even when she was muffled
up, she distinguished that it was the Highland beggar who touched her. The
list of the culprits, however, was not yet complete. There was a boy
called Thomas Lindsay, who for a halfpenny would pronounce a charm, and
turn himself about wit liereltins, or contrary to the direction of
the sun, and so stop a plough, and cause the horse to break the yoke. He
was taken up, and speedily confessed being in paction with the devil, and
bearing his marks. At the same time, Elizabeth Anderson confessed that she
had been at several meetings with the devil, and declared her father and
the Highland beggar to have been active instruments for tormenting
Christian Shaw. There had been one particular meeting of witches with the
devil in the orchard of Bargarran, where the plan for the affliction of
the child had been made up. Amongst the delinquents was a woman of rather
superior character, a midwife, commonly called Maggie Lang, together with
her daughter, named Martha Semple. These two women, hearing they were
accused, came to Bargarran, to demonstrate their innocence; nor could
Christian at first accuse Maggie; but after a while, a ball of hair was
found where she had sat, and the afflicted girl declared this to be a
charm which had hitherto imposed silence upon her. Now that the charm was
broken, she readily pronounced that Mrs Lang had been amongst her
tormentors.
In the midst of these proceedings,
by order of the presbytery, a solemn fast was kept in Erskine parish, with
a series of religious services in the church. Christian was present all
day, without making any particular demonstrations.
On the 18th of February—to pursue
the contemporary narration—’ she being in a light-headed fit, said the
devil now appeared to her in the shape of a man; whereupon being struck in
great fear and consternation, she was desired to pray with an audible
voice: "The Lord rebuke thee, Satan!" which trying to do, she presently
lost the power of her speech, her teeth being set, and her tongue drawing
back into her throat; and attempting it again, she was immediately seized
with another severe fit, in which, her eyes being twisted almost round,
she fell down as one dead, struggling with her feet and hands, and,
getting up again suddenly, was hurried violently to and fro through the
room, deaf and blind, yet was speaking to some invisible creature about
her, saying: "With the Lord’s strength, thou shalt neither put straw nor
sticks into my mouth." After this she cried in a pitiful manner: "The bee
hath stung me." Then, presently sitting down, and untying her stockings,
she put her hand to that part which had been nipped or pinched; upon which
the spectators discerned the lively marks of nails, deeply imprinted on
that same part of her leg. When she came to herself, she declared that
something spoke to her as it were over her head, and told her it was Mr M.
in a neighbouring parish (naming the place) that had appeared to her, and
pinched her leg in the likeness of a bee.’
At another time, while speaking with
au unseen tormentor, she asked how she had got those red sleeves; then,
making a plunge along the bed at the supposed witch, she was heard as it
were tearing off a piece of cloth, when presently a piece of red cloth
rent in two was seen in her hands, to the amazement of the bystanders, who
were certain there had been no such cloth in the room before.
On the 28th of March, while the
inquiries of the commission were still going on, Christian Shaw all at
once recovered her usual health; nor did she ever again complain of being
afflicted in this manner.
The case was in due time formally
prepared for trial; and seven persons were brought before an assize at
Paisley, with the Lord Advocate as prosecutor, and an advocate assigned,
according to the custom of Scotland, for the defence of the accused. It
was a new commission which sat in judgment, comprehending, we are told,
several persons not only ‘of honour,’ but ‘of singular knowledge and
experience.’ The witnesses were carefully examined; full time was allowed
to every part of the process, which lasted twenty hours; and six hours
more were spent by the jury in deliberating on their verdict. The crimes
charged were the purciet’s of several children and persons of mature age,
including a minister, and the tormenting of several persons, and
particularly of Bargarran’s daughter. It is alleged by the contemporary
narrator, Francis Cullen, advocate, that all things were carried on ‘with
tenderness and moderation;’ yet the result was that the alleged facts were
found to be fully proved, and a judgment of guilty was given.
It is fitting to remember here, that
the Lord Advocate, Sir James Steuart, in his address to the jury, holds
all those instances of clairvoyance and of flying locomotion which have
been mentioned, as completely proved, and speaks as having no doubt of the
murders and torments afficted by the accused. He insisted strongly on the
devil’s marks which had been found upon their persons; also on the
coincidence between many things alleged by Christian Shaw and what the
witches had confessed. From such records of the trial as we have, it fully
appears that the whole affair was gone about in a reasoning way: the
premises granted, everything done and said was right, as far as correct
logic could make it so.
On the 10th of June, on the Gallow
Green of Paisley, a gibbet and a fire were prepared together. Five
persons, including Maggie Lang, were brought ont and hung for a few
minutes on the one, then cut down and burned in the other. A man called
John Reid would have made a sixth victim, if he had not been fonnd that
morning dead in his cell, hanging to a pin in the wall by his
handkerchief, and believed to have been strangled by the devil. And so
ended the tragedy of Bargarran’s Daughter.
The case has usually, in recent
times, been treated as one in which there were no other elements than a
wicked imposture on her part, and some insane delusions on that of the
confessing victims; but probably in these times, when the phenomena of
mesmerism have forced themselves upon the belief of a large and
respectable portion of society, it will be admitted as more likely that
the maledictions of Campbell threw the child into an abnormal condition,
in which the ordinary beliefs of her age made her Sincerely consider
herself as a victim of diabolic malice. how far she might be tempted to
put on appearances and make allegations, in order to convince others of
what she felt and believed, it would be difficult to say. To those who
regard the whole affair as imposture, an extremely interesting problem is
presented for solution by the original documents, in which the depositions
of witnesses are given—namely, how the fallaciousness of so much, and, to
appearance, so good testimony on pure points of fact, is to he reconciled
with any remaining value in testimony as the verifier of the great bulk of
what we think we know.
Mar
About thirty years before this date, a certain Sir Alexander M’Culloch of
Myreton, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, with two sons, named Godfrey
and John, attracted the attention of the authorities by some frightfully
violent proceedings against a Lady Cardiness and her two sons, William and
Alexander Gordon, for the purpose of getting them extruded from their
lands. Godfrey in time succeeded to the title, and to all the violent
passions of his father; but his property was wholly compromised for the
benefit of his creditors, who declared it to be scarcely sufficient to pay
his debts. Desperate for a subsistence, he attempted, in the late reign,
by ‘insinuations with the Chancellor Perth,’ and putting his son to the
Catholic school in Holyrood Palace, to obtain some favour from the law,
and succeeded so far as to get assigned to him a yearly ailment of five
hundred merks (about £28) out of his lands, being allowed at the same time
to take possession of the family mansion of Bardarroch. From a complaint
brought against him in July 1689 before the Privy Council, it would appear
that he intromitted with the rents of the estate, and did no small amount
of damage to the growing timber; moreover, he attempted to embezzle the
writs of the property, with the design of annihilating the claims of his
creditors. Insufferable as his conduct was, the Council assigned him six
hundred merks of aliment, but only on condition of his immediately leaving
Bardarroch, and giving up the writs of the estate. Yielding in no point to
their decree, he was soon after ordered to be summarily ejected by the
sheriff.
There was a strong, unsubdued Celtic
element in the Kirkcudhright population, and Sir Godfrey M’Culloch reminds
us entirely of a West Highland Cameron or Macdonald of the reign of James
VI. What further embroilments took place between him and his old family
enemies, the Gordons of Cardiness, we do not learn; but certain it is,
that on the 2d of October 1690, he came to Bush o’ Bield, the house of
William Gordon, whom twenty years before he had treated so barbarously,
with the intent of murdering him. Sending a servant in to ask Gordon out
to speak with some one, he no sooner saw the unfortunate man upon his
threshold, than ‘with a bonded gun he did shoot him through the thigh, and
brak the bane thereof to pieces; of which wound William Gordon died within
five or six hours thereafter.’
The homicide made his way to a
foreign country, and thus for some years escaped justice. He afterwards
returned to England, and was little taken notice of. William Stewart of
Castle-Stewart, husband of the murdered Gordon’s daughter, offered to
intercede for a remission in his behalf, if he would give up the papers of
the Cardiness estate; but be did not accept of this offer. Perhaps he
became at length rather too heedless of the vengeance that might be in
store for him. It is stated that, being in Edinburgh, he was so hardy as
to go to church, when a gentleman of Galloway, who had some pecuniary
interest against him, rose, and called out with an air of authority: ‘Shut
the doors—there’s a murderer in the house. When he was apprehended, and
immediately after subjected to a trial before the High Court of
Justiciary, and condemned to be beheaded at the Cross of Edinburgh. The
execution was appointed to take place on the 5th of March 1697; but on the
4th he presented a petition to the Privy Council, in which, while
expressing submission to his sentence, he begged liberty to represent to
their Lordships, ‘that as the petitioner hath been among the most unhappy
of mankind in the whole course of his life, so he hath been singularly
unfortunate in what hath happened to him near the period of it.’ He
thought that ‘nobody had any design upon him after the course of so many
years, and he flattered himself with hopes of life on many considerations,
and specially believing that the only two proving witnesses would not have
been admitted. Being now found guilty, he is exceedingly surprised and
unprepared to die.’ On his petition for delay, the execution was put
forward to the 25th March.
Sir Walter Scott has gravely
published, in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, a strange
story about Sir Godfrey M’Culloch, to the effect that he had made
friendship in early life with an old man of fairyland, by diverting a
drain which emptied itself into the fairies’ chamber of dais; and when he
came to the scaffold on the Castle Hill, this mysterious personage
suddenly came up on a white palfrey, and bore off the condemned man to a
place of safety. There is, however, too much reason to believe that Sir
Godfrey really expiated the murder of William Gordon at the market-cross
of Edinburgh. The fact is recorded in a broadside containing the unhappy
man’s last speech, which has been reprinted in the New Statistical
Account of Scotland. In this paper, he alleged that the murder was
unpremeditated, and that he came to the place where it happened contrary
to his own inclitiation. He denied a rumour which had gone abroad that he
was a Roman Catholic, and recommended his wife and children to God, with a
hope that friends might be stirred up to give them some protection. It has
been stated, however, that he was never married. He left behind him
several illegitimate children, who, with their mother, removed to Ireland
on the death of their father; and there a grandson suffered capital
punishment for robbery about the year
1760.
Mar
The Privy Council had an unpleasant affair upon its hands. Alexander
Brand, late bailie of Edinburgh—a man of enterprise, noted for having
introduced a manufacture of gilt leather hangings—had vented a libel under
the title of Charges and Gratuities for procuring the additional fifteen
hundred pounds of my Tack-duty of Orkney and Zetland, which was the
surplus of the price agreed by the Lords, specifying sums of money,
hangings, or other donatives given to the late Secretary Johnston; the
Marquis of Tweeddale, late Lord High Chancellor; the Duke of Queensberry,
then Lord Drumlaurig; the Earl of Cassius; the Viscount of Teviot, then
Sir Thomas Livingstone; the Lord Basil Hamilton; the Lord Raith, and
others.’ He had, in 1693, along with Sir Thomas Kennedy of Kirkhill and
Sir William Binning, late provosts of Edinburgh, entered into a contract
with the government for five thousand stands of arms, at a pound sterling
each, which, it was alleged, would have allowed them a good profit; yet,
when abroad for the purchase of the arms, he wrote to his partners in the
transaction, that they could not be purchased under twenty-six shillings
the piece; and his associates had induced the Council to agree to this
increased price, the whole affair being, as was alleged, a contrivance for
cheating the governinent. To obtain payment of the extra sum (£500), the
two knights had entered into a contract for giving a bribe of two hundred
and fifty guineas to the Earls of Linlithgow and Breadalbane, ‘besides a
gratuity to James Row, who was to receive the arms.’ But no such sum had
ever been paid to these two nobles, ‘they being persons of that honour and
integrity that they were not capable to be imposed upon that way.’ Yet
Kennedy and Binning had allowed the contract to appear in a legal process
before the Admiralty Court, ‘to the great slander and reproach of the said
two noble persons.’ In short, it appeared that the three contractors had
proceeded upon a supposition of what was necessary for the effecting of
their business with the Privy Council, and while not actually giving any
bribes—at least, so they now acknowledged—had been incautious enough to
let it appear as if they had. For the compound fault of contriving bribery
and defaming the nobles in question, they were cast in heavy fines—Kennedy
in £800, Binning in £300, and Brand in £500, to be imprisoned till payment
was made.
Notwithstanding this result, there
is no room to doubt that it had become a custom for persons doing business
for the government to make ‘donatives’ to the Lords of the Privy Council.
Fountainhall reports a case (November 23, 1693) wherein Lord George
Murray, who had been a partner with Sir Robert M of Barnton in a tack of
the customs in 1681, demurred, amongst other things in their accounts, to
10,000 merks given yearly to the then officers of state. ‘As to the
donatives, the Lords of Session found they had grown considerably from
what was the custom in former years, and that it looked like corruption
and bribery: [they] thought it shameful that the Lords, by
their decreet, should OWU ally
such practice; therefore they
recommended to the president to try what was the perquisite payment in
wine by the tacksmen to every officer of state, and to study to settle
[the parties].'
From the annual accounts of the Convention of
Royal Burghs it appears that fees
or gratuities to public officers with whom they had any dealing were
customary. For example, in 1696, there is entered for consulting with the
king’s advocate anent prisoners, &e., £34, 16s. (Scots) ; to his men, £8,
14s.; to his boy, £1, 8s. Again, to the king’s advocate, for consulting
anent the fishery, bullion, &c., £58; and to his men, £11. 12s. Besides
these sums, £333, 6s. 8d. were paid to the same officer as pension,
and to his men, £60. There were paid in the same year, £11, 12s. to the
chancellor’s servants; £26, 18s. 4d. to the macen of the Council;
and an equal sum to the macers of the Court of Session.
Apr 20
The Quakers of Edinburgh were no better used by the rest of the public
than those of Glasgow. Although notedly, as they alleged, ‘an innocent and
peaceable people,’ yet they could not meet in their own hired house for
worship without being disturbed by riotous men and boys; and these,
instead of being put down, were rather encouraged by the local
authorities. On their complaining to the magistrates of one outrageous
riot, Bailie Halyburton did what in him lay to add to their burden by
taking away the key of their meeting-house, thus compelling them to meet
in the street in front, where ‘they were further exposed to the fury of
ane encouraged rabble.’ They now entreated the Privy Council to ‘find out
some method whereby the petitioners (who live as quiet and peaceable
subjects under a king who loves not that any should be oppressed for
conscience’ sake) may enjoy a free exercise of their consciences, and that
those who disturb them may be discountenanced, reproved, and punished?
This they implore may be speedily done, ‘lest necessity force them to
apply to the king for protection.’
The Council remitted to the
magistrates ‘to consider the said represeutation, and to do therein as
they shall find just and right.'
June 1
St Kilda, a fertile island of five miles’ circumference, placed fifty
miles out from the Hebrides, was occupied by a simple community of about
forty families, who lived upon barley-bread and sea-fowl, with their eggs,
undreaming of a world which they had only heard of by faint reports from a
factor of their landlord ‘Macleod,’ who annually visited them. Of religion
they had only caught a confused notion from a Romish priest who stayed
with them a short time about fifty years ago. It
was
at length thought proper that an orthodox minister should go among these
simple people, and the above is the date of his visit.
‘M. Martin, gentleman,’ who
accompanied the minister, and afterwards published an account of the
island, gives us in his book [A Voyage to St Kilda, &c., by M. Martin,
Gent. 4th ed., 1753.] a number of curious particulars about a personage
whom he calls Roderick the Impostor, who, for some years bypast, had
exercised a religious control over the islanders. He seems to have been,
in reality, one of those persons, such as Mohammed, once
classed as mere deceivers of their
fellow-creatures for selfish purposes, but in whom a more liberal
philosophy has come to see a basis of what, for want of a better term, may
in the meantime be callel cestatieism or hallucination.
Roderick was a handsome,
fair-complexioned man, noted in his early years for feats of strength and
dexterity in climbing, but as ignorant of letters and of the outer world
as any of his companions, having indeed had no opportunities of acquiring
any information which they did not possess. Having, in his eighteenth
year, gone out to fish on a Sunday—an unusual practice—he, on his return
homeward, according to his own account, met a man upon the road, dressed
in a Lowland dress—that is, a cloak and hat; whereupon he fell flat upon
the ground in great disorder. The stranger announced himself as John the
Baptist, come direct from heaven, to communicate through Roderick divine
instructions for the benefit of the people, hitherto lost in ignorance and
error. Roderick pleaded unfitness for the commission imposed upon him; but
the Baptist desired him to be of good cheer, for he would instantly give
him all the necessary powers and qualifications. Returning home, he lost
no time in setting about his mission. he imposed some severe penances upon
the people, particularly a Friday’s fast. ‘He forbade the use of the
Lord’s Prayer, Creed, and Ten Commandments, and in stead of them,
prescribed diabolical forms of his own. His prayers and rhapsodical forms
were often
blended with the name of God, our
blessed Saviour, and the immaculate Virgin, he used the Irish word
Phersichin— that is, verses, which is not known in St Kilda, nor in
the Northwest Isles, except to such as can read the Irish tongue. But what
seemed most remarkable in his obscure prayers was his mentioning ELI, with
the character of our preserver. He used several unintelligible words in
his devotions, of which he could not tell the meaning himself; saying only
that he had received them implicitly from St John the Baptist, and
delivered them before his hearers without any explication.’ ‘This
impostor,’ says Martin, ‘is a poet, and also endowed with that rare
faculty, the second-sight, which makes it the more probable that be was
haunted by a familiar spirit.'
He stated that the Baptist
communicated with him on a small mount, which he called John the
Baptist’s Bush, and which he forthwith fenced off as holy ground,
forbidding all cattle to be pastured on it, under pain of their being
immediately killed. According to his account, every night after he had
assembled the people, he heard a voice without, saying: ‘Come you out,’
whereupon he felt compelled to go forth. Then the Baptist, appearing to
him, told him what he should say to the people at that particular meeting.
He used to express his fear that he could not remember his lesson; but the
saint always said: ‘Go, you have it;’ and so it proved when he came in
among the people, for then he would speak fluently for hours. The people,
awed by his enthusiasm, very generally became obedient to him in most
things, and apparently his influence would have known no restriction, if
he had not taken base advantage of it over the female part of the
community. Here his quasi-sacred character broke down dismally. The three
lambs from one ewe belonging to a person who was his cousin-german,
happened to stray upon the holy mount, and when he refused to sacrifice
them, Roderick denounced upon him the most frightfnl calamities. When the
people saw nothing particular happen in consequence, their veneration for
him experienced a further abatement. Finally, when the minister arrived,
and denounced the whole of his proceedings as imposture, he yielded to the
clamour raised against him, consented to break down the wall round the
Baptist’s Bush, and peaceably submitted to banishment from the island. Mr
Martin brought him to Pabbay island in the Harris group, whence he was
afterwards transferred to the laird’s house of Dunvegan in Skye. He is
said to have there confessed his iniquities, and to have subsequently made
a public recantation of his quasi-divine pretensions before the preshytery
of Skye. [Macaulay's History of St Kilda, 1776, p. 241]
Mr Martin, in his book, stated a
fact which has since been the subject of much discussion—namely, that
whenever the steward and his party, or any other strangers, came to St
Kilda, the whole of the inhabitants were, in a few days, seized with a
severe catarrh. The fact has been doubted; it has been explained on
various hypotheses which were found baseless: visitors have arrived full
of incredulity, and always come away convinced. Such was the case with Mr
Kenneth Macaulay, the author of the amplest and most rational account of
this singular island. He had heard that the steward usually went in
summer, and he thought that the catarrh might be simply an annual
epidemic; but he learned that the steward sometimes came in May, and
sometimes in August, and the disorder never failed to take place a few
days after his arrival, at whatever time he might come, or how often so
ever in a season. A minister’s wife lived three years on the island free
of the susceptibility, but at last became liable to it. Mr Macaulay did
not profess to account for the phenomenon; but he mentions a circumstance
in which it may be possible ultimately to find an explanation. It is, that
not only is a St Kildian’s person disagreeably odoriferous to a stranger,
but ‘a stranger’s company is, for some time, as offensive to them,’ who
complain that ‘they find a difficulty in breathing a light sharp air
when they are near you.’
Apr 20
The Privy Council, in terms of the 27th act of Queen Mary— rather a far
way to go back for authority in such a matter— discharged all printers ‘to
print or reprint any pamphlets, books, or others, relating to the
government, or of immediate public concern, until the same be seen,
revised, and examined by the Earls of Lauderdale and Annandale, the Lord
Advocate, Lord Anstruther, and Sir John Maxwell of Pollock,’ under heavy
penalties.
Jun 17
Margaret Halket, relict of the deceased Mr Henry Erskine, late minister of
Chirnside, petitioned the Privy Couiicil for the stipend of the bypast
half year during which the parish had been vacant, she being ‘left in a
verie low and mean condition, with four fatherless children no way
provided for, and other burdensome circumstances under which the
petitioner is heavily pressed.’ The petition was complied with.
This was the mother of the two
afterwards famous preachers, Ebenezer and Ralph Erskine. The application
of Mrs Erskine is given here as the type of many such, rendered
unavoidable before the present humane arrangements in behalf of the
surviving relatives of the established clergy.
July 13
James Hamilton, keeper of the Canongate Tolbooth, gave in a humble
petition to the Privy Council, setting forth that ‘for a long while
bygone’ he has ‘kept and maintained a great many persons provided for
recruiting the army in Flanders.’ In this last spring, ‘the prisoners
became so tumultuous and rebellious, that they combined together and
assassinat the petitioner’s servants, and wounded them, and took the keys
from them, and destroyed the bread, ale, and brandy that was in the
cellar, to the value of eight pounds sterling.’ ‘Seeing the petitioner’s
due as formerly is two shillings Scots per night for himself, and twelve
pennies Scots for the servants for each person,’ in respect whereof he was
‘liable for ane aliment of twenty merks monthly to the poor, besides the
expense of a great many servants,’ payment was ordered to him of
£837, 17s, for
house-dues for the recruits, during a certain term, and £107, 8s. for
damages done by the mutiny.’
July
In July 1697, in the prospect of a good harvest, the permission to import
grain free of duty was withdrawn. About the same time, a great quantity of
victual which had been imported into Leith, was, on inspection, found to
be unfit to be eaten, and was therefore ordered to be destroyed.
On the 28th of December, the Privy
Council was informed of a cargo of two hundred boils of wheat shipped in
order to be transported to France, and, considering that ‘wheat is not yet
so low as twelve pounds Scots per boll,’ it was proposed by the Lord
Chancellor that it should be stopped; but this the Council thought ‘not
convenient.’
Aug 3
The Master of Kenmure, Craik of Stewarton, and Captain Dalziel, son to the
late Sir Robert Daiziel of Glenae, were accused before the Privy Council
of having met in April last at a place called
Stay-the-
Voyage, near Dumfries, and there drunk the health of the late King
James under the circumlocution of The Old Man
on the other Side of the Water,
as also of drinking confusion to his majesty King
William, these being acts condemned by the late Convention as treasonable.
The Master was absent, but the two other gentlemen were present as
prisoners. The Lords, after hearing evidence, declared the charge not
proven, and caused Craik and Dalziel to be discharged.’
Sep
An Edinburgh tavern-bill of this date—apparently one for supper to a small
party—makes us acquainted with some of the habits of the age. It is as
follows, the sums
being expressed in Scottish money:
SIR JOHN SWINTON TO MRS KENDALL
For broth |
00 : 03 : 00 |
For rost mutton and cutlets |
01 : 16 : 00 |
For on dish of hens |
03 : 00 :
00 |
For harenes |
00 : 05 :
00 |
For allmonds and rasens |
01 : 06 :
00 |
For 3 lb. of confectiones |
07 : 16 :
00 |
For bread and ale |
01 : 00 :
00 |
For 3 pynts of clarite |
06 : 00 :
00 |
For sack |
02 : 16 :
00 |
For oysters fryed
and raw |
03 : 16 :
00 |
For brandie and sugare |
00 : 06 :
00 |
For servants |
02 : 02 :
00 |
Total |
30 : 06 :
00 |
The sum in English money is equal to
£2, 10s. 6½d. One remarkable fact is brought out by the document—namely,
that claret was then charged at twenty pence sterling per quart in a
public-house. This answers to a statement of Morer, in his Short
Account of Scotland, 1702, that the Scots have ‘a thin-bodied claret
at 10d. the mutchkin.’ Burt tells us that when he came to Scotland in
1725, this wine was to be had at one-and-fourpenec a
bottle, but it was
soon after raised to two shillings, although no change had been made upon
the duty. It seems to have continued for some time at this latter price,
as in an account of Mr James Hume to John Hoass, dated at Edinburgh in
1737 and 1739, there are several entries of claret at 2s. per bottle,
while white wine is charged at one shilling per mutchkin (an
English pint).
An Edinburgh dealer advertises
liquors in 1720 at the following
prices: ‘Neat claret wine at 11d., strong at 15d.;
white wine at 12d.; Rherish at 16d.; old Hock at 20d.—all per bottle.’
Cherry sack
was 28d. per pint. The same dealer had English ale at 4d. per
bottle.
Burt, who, as an
Englishman, could not have any general relish for a residence in the
Scotland of that day, owns it to be one of the redeeming circumstances
attending life in our northern region, that there was an abundance of
‘wholesome and agreeable drink’ in the form of French claret, which he
found in every public-house of any note, except in the heart of the
highlands, and sometimes even there.’ For what he here tells us, there is
certainly abundance of support in the traditions of the country. The light
wines of France for the gentlefolk, and twopenny ale for the commonalty,
were the prevalent drinks of Scotland in the period we are now surveying,
while sack, brandy, and punch for the one class, and usquebaugh for the
other, were but little in use.
Comparatively cheap as claret was, it is surprising, considering the
general narrowness of means, how much of it was drunk. In public-houses
and in considerable mansions, it was very common to find it kept on the
tap. A rustic hostel-wife, on getting a hogshead to her house, wonld let
the gentlemen of her neighbourhood know of the event, and they would come
to taste, remain to enjoy, and sometimes not disperse till the barrel was
exhausted. The Laird of Culloden, as we learn from Burt, kept a hogshead
on tap in his hall, ready for the service of all comers; and his accounts
are alleged to shew that his annual consumpt of the article would now cost
upwards of two thousand pounds. A precise statement as to quantity, even
in a single instance, would here obviously be of importance, and
fortunately it can be given. In Arniston House, the country residence of
President Dundas, when Sheriff Cockburn was living there as a boy about
1750, there were sixteen hogsheads of claret used per annum.
Burt
enables us to see how so much of the generous fluid could be disposed of
in one house. He speaks of the hospitality of the Laird of Culloden as
‘almost without bounds. It is the custom of that house,’ says he, ‘at the
first visit or introduction, to take up your freedom by cracking his
nut (as he terms it), that is, a cocoa-shell, which holds a pint
filled with champagne, or such other wine as you shall choose. You may
guess, by the introduction, at the conclusion of the volume. Few go away
sober at any time; and for the greatest part of his guests, in the
conclusion, they cannot go at all.
‘This,’ it is added, ‘he partly brings about by artfully proposing after
the public healths (which always imply bumpers) such private ones as he
knows will pique the interest or inclinations of each particular person of
the company, whose turn it is to take the lead to begin it in a brimmer;
and he himself being always cheerful, and sometimes saying good things,
his guests soon lose their guard, and then—I need say no more.
‘As
the company are one after another disabled, two servants, who are all the
while in waiting, take up the invalids with short poles in their chairs,
as they sit (if not fallen down), and carry them to their beds; and still
the hero holds out.
Mr
Burton, in his Life of President Forbes, states that it was the custom at
Culloden House in the days of John Forbes— Bumper John, he was
called—to prize off the top of each successive cask of claret, and place
it in the corner of the hall, to be emptied in pailfuls. The massive
hall-table, which bore so many carouses, is still preserved as a venerable
relic; and the deep saturation it has received from old libations of
claret, prevents one from distinguishing the deseriptiou of wood of which
it was constructed. Mr Burton found an expenditure of £40 sterling a month
for claret in the accounts of the President.
Oct 6
At an early hour in the morning, seven gentlemen and two servants, all
well armed, might have been seen leaving Inverness by the bridge over the
Ness, and proceeding along the shore of the Moray Firth. Taking post in
the wood of Bunchrew, they waited till they saw two gentlemen with
servants coming in the opposite direction, when they rushed out into the
road with an evidently hostile intent. The leader, seizing one of the
gentlemen with his own hand, called out to his followers to take the other
dead or alive, and immediately, by levelling their pistols at him, they
induced him to give himself up to their mercy. The victorious party then
caused the two gentlemen to dismount and give up their arms, mounted them
on a couple of rough ponies, and rode off with them into the wild country.
This
was entirely a piece of private war, in the style so much in vogue in the
reign of the sixth James, but which had since declined, and was now
approaching its final extinction. The leader of the assailants was Captain
Simon Fraser, otherwise culled the Master of Lovat, the same personage
who, as Lord Lovat, fifty years after, came to a public death on
Tower-hill.
The
father of this gentleman had recently succeeded a grandnephew as Lord
Lovat; but his title to the peerage and estates, although really good, had
been opposed under selfish and reckless views by the Earl of Tullibardine,
son of the Marquis of Athole, and brother of the widow of the late Lovat;
and as this earl chanced to be a secretary of state and the King’s
commissioner to parliament, his opposition was formidable. Tullibardine’s
wish was to establish a daughter of the late lord, a child of eleven years
old, as the heiress, and marry her to one of his own sons. His sons,
however, were boys; so he had to bethink him of a more suitable bridegroom
in the person of Lord Salton, another branch of the house of Fraser.
Meanwhile, Captain Simon, wily as a cat, and as relentless, sought to keep
up his juster interest by similar means. He first tried to get the young
lady into his power by help of a follower named Fraser of Tenechiel; but
Tenechiel took a fit of repentance or terror in the midst of his
enterprise, aud replaced the child in her mother’s keeping. Lord Salton
was then hurried northward to the Dowager Lady Lovat’s house of Castle
Downie, to woo his child-bride, and arrange for her being brought to safer
lodgings in Athole. He went attended by Lord Mungo Murray, brother at once
to the Earl of Tullibardine and the Dowager Lady Lovat. The Master, seeing
no time was to be lost, brought a number of the chief gentlemen of his
clan together at a house belonging to Fraser of Strichen, and had no
difficulty in taking them bound under oaths to raise their followers for
the advancement of his cause. It was by their aid that he had seized on
Lord Salton and Lord Mungo Murray at the wood of Bnnehrew.
Lord
Saiton and his friend were conducted amidst savage shouts and drawn dirks
to the house of Fanellan, and there confined in separate apartments. The
fiery cross was sent off, and the coronach cried round the country, to
bring the faithful Frasers to the help of their young chief. A gallows was
raised before the windows of the imprisoned gentlemen, as a hint of the
decisive measures that might be taken with them. They saw hundreds of the
clansmen arrive at muster on the green, with flags flying and bagpipes
screaming, and heard their chief taking from them oaths of fidelity on
their bare daggers. When five hundred were assembled—a week having now
elapsed since the first assault—the Master put himself at their head, and
went with his prisoners to Castle Downie, which he took into his care
along with its mistress. The child, however, was safe from him, for she
had been already transferred to a refuge in her uncle’s country of Athole.
Fraser was, of course, mortified by her escape; but he wes a man fertile
in expedients. He first dismissed his two prisoners, though not till
Salton had bound himself under a forfeiture of eight thousand pounds to
‘interfere’ no more in his affairs. His plan was now to secure, at least,
the dowager’s portion of the late lord’s means by marrying her. So, too,
he calculated, would he embarrass the powerful Tullibardine in any further
proceedings against himself.
That
night, the lady’s three female attendants were removed from her by armed
men; and one of them, on being brought back afterwards to take off her
ladyship’s clothes, found her sitting in the utmost disorder and distress
on the floor, surrounded by Fraser and his friends, himself trying by
burned feathers to prevent her senses from leaving her, and the others
eudeavouring to divest her of her stays. Robert Monro, minister of
Abertarf then pronounced the words of the marriage-ceremony over her and
the Master of Lovat. As the woman hurried out, she heard the screams of
her mistress above the noise of the bagpipes played in the apartment
adjacent to her bedroom; and when she came back next morning, she found
the lady to appearance out of her judgment, and deprived of the power of
speech. Lady Lovat was at this time a woman of about thirty-five years of
age.
Such
accounts of this outrage as reached the low country excited general
horror, and Tullibardino easily obtained military assistance and letters
of fire and sword against the Master of Lovat and his accomplices. The
Master was not only supported by his father and other clansmen in what he
had done, but even by the Earl of Argyle, who felt as a relative and old
friend of the house, as well as an opponent of Tullibardine. On the
approach of troops, he retired with his reluctant bride to the isle of
Agais, a rough hill surrounded by the waters of the Beauly, where Sir
Robert Peel spent the last summer of his life in an elegant modern villa,
but which was then regarded as a Highland fastness. A herald, who ventured
so far into the Fraser territory to deliver a citation, left the paper on
a cleft stick opposite to the island. Fraser had several skirmishes with
the government troops ; took prisoners, and dismissed them, after exacting
their oaths to harass him no more; and, in short, for a year carried on a
very pretty guerrilla war, everywhere dragging about with him his wretched
wife, whose health completely gave way through exposure, fatigue, and
mental distress. In September 1698, he and nineteen other gentlemen were
tried in absence, and forfaulted for their crimes, which were held as
treasonable—a stretch of authority which has since been severely commented
on. At length, the Master —become, by the death of his father, Lord
Lovat—tired of the troublous life he was leading, and by the advice of
Argyle, went to London to solicit a pardon from the king. Strong influence
being used, the king did remit all charges against him for raising war,
but declined to pardon him for his violence to the Lady Lovat, from fear
of offending Tullibardine. He was so emboldened as to resolve to stand
trial for the alleged forced marriage; but it was to be in the style of an
Earl of Bothwell or an Earl of Caithness in a former age. With a hundred
Frasers at his back, did this singular man make his appearance in
Edinburgh, in the second year before the beginning of the eighteenth
century, to prefer a charge against the Earl of Tullibardine—perhaps the
very last attempt that was made in Scotland to overbear justice. On the
morning, however, of the day when the charge was to be made, his patron,
Argyle, was informed by Lord Aberuchil, one of the judges (a Campbell),
that if Fraser appeared he would find the judges had been corrupted,
and his own destruction would certainly follow. He lost heart, and
fled to England.
Nov 9
Sir Robert Dickson of Son-beg was one of a group of Edinburgh merchants of
this age, who carried on business on a scale much beyond what the general
circumstances of the country would lead us to expect. He at this time gave
in a memorial to the king in London, bearing—’ In the year 1691, I with
some others who did join with me, did engage ourselves to the Lords of
your majesty’s Treasury in Scotland, by a tack of your customs and foreign
excise, by which we did oblige ourselves to pay yearly, for the space of
five years, the sum of twenty thousand three hundred pounds sterling.
Conform to which tack, we continned as taeksmen during all the years
thereof, and did punctually, without demanding the least abatement or
defalcation, make payment of our whole tack-duty, save only the sum of six
hundred pounds, which still remains in my hand unpaid, and which I am most
willing to pay, upon the Lords of the Treasury granting me and my partners
ane general discharge.’ Nevertheless, ‘the Lords of the Treasury have
granted a warrant for seizing of my person, and committing me prisoner
until I make payment of the sum of two thousand and three hundred pounds
sterling more, which they allege to be due to the officers of state for
wines, and which I humbly conceive I and my partners can never be
obliged to pay, it being no part of my contract. And I humbly beg leave to
inform your majesty that, if such a custom be introduced, it will very
much diminish your nnijesty’s revenue; for it is not to be thought that we
nor any other succeeding taeksmen can give such gratification over and
above our tack-duty without a considerable allowance, and this still
prejudges your majesty’s interest. [Sir Robert seems to mean that, if
farmers of revenue have to give gratuities to officers of state, these
must be deducted from the sum agreed to be paid to his majesty.] They were
so forward in the prosecution of the said warrant, that I was neeessitat
to leave the kingdom, and come here and make my application to your
majesty.’ The memorial finally craved of the king that he would remit ‘
the dctermination of the said wines’ to the Lords of Session.
The
Lords of the Privy Council had, of course, the usual dislike of deputies
and commissions for seeing appeals taken against their decisions to the
principal authority, and they embraced the first opportnnity of laying
hold of the customs tacksman and putting him up in the Tolbooth. There he
did not perhaps change his mind as to his non-liability in justice for two
thousand three hundred pounds for presents of wine to the officers of
state in connection with the farming or tack of the customs, being a good
ten per cent, upon the whole transaction; but he probably soon became
sensible that the Privy Council of Scotland was not a body he could safely
contend with. The Lord Advocate speedily commenced a process against him,
on the gronnd of his memorial to the king falling under the statute of
King James V. for severe punishment to those who murmur any judge
spiritual or temporal, and prove not the same; and on this charge he was
brought before the Council (1st of February 1698). It was shewn that the
charge for gratuities was ‘according to use and wont,’ and that the
memorial was a high misdemeanour against their lordships; therefore
inferring a severe punishment. As might have been expected, Sir Robert was
glad to submit, and on his knee to crave pardon of their lordships, who
thereupon discharged him.’
The
reader, who has just seen some other Edinburgh merchants punished for
imputing to state-officers the possibility of their being bribed with
money, will probably smile when he sees another in trouble so soon after,
for remonstrating against the necessity he had been under of actually
giving them bribes.
It had
occurred to Mr Charles Ritchie, minister of the gospel, to be asked by
Lieutenant Whitehead, of Colonel Sir John Hill’s regiment at Fort-William,
to join him in marriage with the colonel’s daughter, and the ceremony was
performed in the presence of several of the officers of the regiment, the
minister professing to know of no impediment to the union of the young
couple. For this fact, Mr Charles had been carried to Edinburgh, and put
up in the Tolbooth, where he languished without trial for several months.
He now petitioned for release or banishment, stating that he had been kept
in jail all this time ‘without any subsistence,’ and ‘is reduced to the
greatest extremity, not only for want of any mean of subsistence, but also
by want of any measure of health.’
The
Council, viewing his consent to banishment, granted him that boon, he
enacting himself bound to depart ‘furth of the kingdom’ before the 1st of
February, and never to return without his majesty’s or the Council’s
warrant to that effect.’
Throughout this year, there were protracted legal proceedings before the
Privy Council, between Blair of Balthayock, in Perthshire, and Carnegie of
Finhaven, in Forfarshire, in consequence of the latter having brought on a
marriage between his daughter and a young minor, his pupil, Blair of
Kinfauns, the relative of Balthayock. The affair ended in a condemnation
of Finhaven and a fine of one hundred and fifty pounds, to be paid to
Balthayock for his expenses in the action.
On the
20th September 1703, by which time Balthayock was dead, Finhaven presented
a petition to the Privy Council, setting forth that he had not submitted
to the sentence, but placed the sum of the fine in consignment, and
thereupon was liberated. Balthayock had never called for the suspension;
her majesty’s late gracious indemnity had discharged the fine, ‘the cause
of which,’ he alleged, ‘was natural and ordinary, and the marriage every
way suitable.’ There might be demur to the last particular, as young
Kinfauns, when led into the marriage with Carnegie’s daughter, was only a
boy. Nevertheless, the Council now ordained the money to be rendered back
to the petitioner. |