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IN October 1756, John
Home had been taken by Lord Milton's family to Inverary, to be
introduced to the Duke, who was much taken with his liveliness and
gentlemanlike manners. The Duke's good opinion made Milton adhere
more firmly to him, and assist in bringing on his play in the end of
that season.
It was in the end of
this year, 1756, that Douglas was first acted in Edinburgh. Mr. Home
had been unsuccessful in London the year before, but he was well
with Sir Gilbert Elliot, Mr. Oswald of Dunnikier, and had the favour
and friendship of Lord Milton and all his family; and it was at last
agreed among them that, since Garrick could not yet be prevailed on
to get Douglas acted, it should be brought on here; for if it
succeeded in the Edinburgh theatre, then Garrick could resist no
longer. [The new play is thus modestly announced in the Evening
Courant of Saturday, 4th December 1756. "A new Tragedy called
Douglas, written by an ingenious gentleman of this country, is now
in rehearsal at the Theatre, and will be performed as speedily as
possible. The expectations of the public from the performance are in
proportion to the known talent and ability of the author, whose
modest merit would have suppressed a Dramatick work which we think
by the concurrent testimony of many gentlemen of taste and
literature will be an honour to the country."
There happened to be
a pretty good set of players; for Digges, whose relations had got
him debarred from the London theatres, ["It has generally been
considered that he was the natural son of the Hon. Elizabeth West,
who in 1724 married Thomas Digges, Esq., of Chilham Castle, Kent.
But there are no grounds for supposing that Digges was born out of
wedlock. The report very likely arose from his mother's relatives
not wishing to be connected with an actor."—Dibdin's History of
Edinburgh Stage.] had come down here, and performed many principal
parts with success. He was a very handsome young man at that time,
with a genteel address. He had drunk tea at Mally Campbell's, in
Glasgow College, when he was an ensign in the year 1745. I was
there, and thought him very agreeable. He was, however, a great
profligate and spendthrift; and poltroon, I'm afraid, into the
bargain. He had been on the stage for some time, having been obliged
to leave the army. Mrs. Ward turned out an exceeding good Lady
Randolph; Lowe performed Glenalvon well; Mr. Haymen the Old
Shepherd, and Digges himself young Douglas. I attended two
rehearsals with our author, and Lord Elibank, and Dr. Ferguson, and
David Hume, and was truly astonished at the readiness with which
Mrs. Ward conceived the Lady's character, and how happily she
delivered it. To be near Digges's lodgings in the Canongate, where
the first rehearsals were performed, the gentlemen mentioned, with
two or three more, dined together at a tavern in the Abbey two or
three times, where pork griskins being a favourite dish, this was
called the Griskin Club, and excited much curiosity, as everything
did in which certain people were concerned.
The play had
unbounded success for a great many nights in Edinburgh, and was
attended by all the literati and most of the judges, who, except one
or two, had not been in use to attend the theatre. The town in
general was in an uproar of exultation ["I have a perfect
recollection of the strong sensation that Douglas excited among its
[Edinburgh] inhabitants. The men talked of the rehearsals; the
ladies repeated what they had heard of the story. Some had procured
as a great favour, copies of the most striking passages which they
recited at the earnest request of the company. I was present at the
representation; the applause was enthusiastic, but a better
criticism of its merits was the tears of the audience which the
tender part of the drama drew forth unsparingly."—Mackenzie's Life
of Home, vol. i.] that a Scotchman had written a tragedy of the
first rate, and that its merit was first submitted to their
judgment. There were a few opposers, however, among those who
pretended to taste and literature, who endeavoured to cry down the
performance in libellous pamphlets and ballads [In Notes and
Queries, 1866, will be found a reprint of one of the ballads—a
parody on "Gil Morice."] (for they durst not attempt to oppose it in
the theatre itself), and were openly countenanced by Robert Dundas
of Arniston, [Afterwards second Lord President Dundas.] at that time
Lord Advocate, and all his minions and expect-ants. The High-flying
set were unanimous against it, as they thought it a sin for a
clergyman to write any play, let it be ever so moral in its
tendency. Several ballads and pamphlets were published on our side
in answer to the scurrilities against us, one of which was written
by Adam Ferguson, and another by myself. Ferguson's was mild and
temperate; and, besides other arguments, supported the lawfulness
and use of dramatic writing from the example of Scripture, which he
exhibited in the story of Joseph and his brethren, as having truly
the effect of a dramatic composition. This was much read among the
grave and sober-minded, and converted some, and confirmed many in
their belief of the usefulness of the stage. line was of such a
different nature that many people read it at first as intended to
ridicule the performance, and bring it into contempt, for it was
entitled "An Argument to prove that the Tragedy of Douglas ought to
be publicly burnt by the Hands of the Hangman." The zeal and
violence of the Presbytery of Edinburgh, who had made enactments and
declarations to be read in the pulpit, provoked me to write this
pamphlet, which, in the ironical manner of Swift, contained a severe
satire on all our opponents. This was so well concealed, however,
that the pamphlet being published when I was at Dumfries, about the
end of January, visiting Provost Bell, who was on his deathbed, some
copies arrived there by the carriers, which being opened and read by
my sister and aunt when I was abroad, they conceived it to be
serious, and that the tragedy would be quite undone, till Mr.
Stewart, the Comptroller of the Customs, who was a man of sense and
reading, came in, and who soon undeceived them, and convinced them
that Douglas was triumphant. This pamphlet had a great effect by
elating our friends, and perhaps more in exasperating our enemies;
which was by no means softened by Lord Elibank and David Hume, etc.,
running about and crying it up as the first performance the world
had seen for half a century.
What I really valued
myself most upon, however, was half a sheet, which I penned very
suddenly. Digges rode out one forenoon to me, saying that he had
come by Mr. Home's desire to inform me that all the town had seen
the play, and that it would run no longer, unless some contrivance
was fallen upon to make the lower orders of tradesmen and
apprentices come to the playhouse. After hearing several ways of
raising the curiosity of the lower orders, I desired him to take a
walk for half an hour, and look at the view from Inveresk
churchyard, which he did; and, in the mean time, I drew up what I
entitled "A full and true History of the Bloody Tragedy of Douglas,
as it is now to be seen acting in the Theatre at the Canongate."
This was cried about the streets next day, and filled the house for
two nights more.
I had attended the
playhouse, not on the first or second, but on the third night of the
performance, being well aware that all the fanatics and some other
enemies would be on the watch, and make all the advantage they
possibly could against me. But six or seven friends of the author,
clergymen from the Merse, having attended, reproached me for my
cowardice; and above all, the author himself and some female friends
of his having heated me by their up-braidings, I went on the third
night, and having taken charge of the ladies, I drew on myself all
the clamours of tongues and violence of prosecution which I
afterwards underwent. I believe I have already mentioned that Dr.
Patrick Cuming having become jealous of William Robertson and John
Home and myself on account of our intimacy with Lord Milton, and
observing his active zeal about the tragedy of Douglas, took it into
his head that he could blow us up and destroy our popularity, and
consequently disgust Lord Milton with us. Very warmly, with all the
friends he could get to follow him—particularly Hyndman his
second—he joined with Webster and his party in doing everything they
could to depreciate the tragedy of Douglas, and disgrace all its
partisans. With this view, besides the Act of the Presbytery of
Edinburgh, which was read in all the churches, and that of the
Presbytery of Glasgow, who followed them, they had decoyed Mr.
Thomas Whyte, minister of Liberton, an honest but a quiet man, to
submit to a six weeks' suspension for his having attended the
tragedy of Douglas, which he had confessed he had done. [Whyte owed
the mitigated sentence to his plea, that, though he attended, he
concealed himself as well as he could to avoid giving offence.—J. H.
B.] This they had contrived as an example for prosecuting me, and at
least get ting a similar sentence pronounced against me by the
Presbytery of Dalkeith. On returning from Dumfries, in the second
week of February 1757, I was surprised not only to find the amazing
hue and cry that had been raised against Douglas, but all the train
that had been laid against me, and a summons to attend the
Presbytery, to answer for my conduct, on the 1st day of March.
On deliberating about
this affair, with all the knowledge I had of the laws of the Church
and the confidence I had in the goodwill of my parish, I took a firm
resolution not to submit to what I saw the Presbytery intended, but
to stand my ground on a firm opinion that my offence was not a
foundation for a libel, but, if anything at all, a mere impropriety
or offence against decorum, which ought to be done at privy censures
by an admonition. This ground I took, and never departed from it;
but I, at the same time, resolved to mount my horse, and visit every
member of Presbytery, especially my opponents, and, by a free
confession, endeavour to bring them over to my opinion. They
received me differently—some with a contemptible dissimulation, and
others with a provoking reserve and haughtiness. I saw that they had
the majority of the Presbytery on their side, and that the cabal was
firm, and that no submission on my part would turn them aside from
their purpose. This confirmed my resolution not to yield, but to run
every risk rather than furnish an example of tame submission, not
merely to a fanatical, but an illegal exertion of power, which would
have stamped disgrace on the Church of Scotland, kept the younger
clergy for half a century longer in the trammels of bigotry or
hypocrisy, and debarred every generous spirit from entering into
orders. The sequel of the story is pretty fully and correctly stated
in the Scots Magazine for 1757, to which I shall only add a few
particulars, which were less known.
Joseph 1 i'Cormick,
at this time tutor to young Mr. Hepburn of Clarkington, and
afterwards Principal of St. Andrews United Colleges, had entered on
trials before the Presbytery of Dalkeith, and had two or three times
attended the tragedy of Douglas. This he told them himself, which
threw them into a dilemma, out of which they did not know how to
escape. To take no notice of his having attended the theatre, while
they were prosecuting me, was a very glaring inconsistency. On the
other hand, to send him out as a probationer, with the slur of an
ecclesiastical censure on his character, was injustice to the young
man, and might disoblige his friends. So reasoned the Jesuits of
Dalkeith Presbytery. M'Cormick himself showed them the way out of
this snare into which their zeal and hypocrisy had led them. After
allowing them to flounce about in it for a quarter of an hour (as he
told them afterwards with infinite humour), he represented that his
pupil and he, having some time before gone into their lodgings for
the remainder of the season, he would be much obliged to the
Presbytery of Dalkeith if they would transfer him to the Presbytery
of Edinburgh to take the remainder of his trials. With this proposal
they very cheerfully closed, whilst M'Cormick inwardly laughed (for
he was a laughing philosopher) at their profligate hypocrisy.
It is proper to
mention here that during the course of this trial I received several
anonymous letters from a person deservedly high in reputation in the
Church for learning, and ability, and liberality of sentiment—the
late Dr. Robert Wallace [Before the production of Douglas upon the
stage, the Edinburgh Presbytery was so zealous in its efforts to
suppress the theatre "that the brethren resolved to prosecute the
Actors upon the Vagrant Act at their own expense." Dr. Wallace, who
had recently come to Edinburgh, opposed this resolution and pointed
out that "a well regulated stage might be made a school of morals."]
—which supported me in my resolution, and gave me the soundest
advice with respect to the management of my cause. I had received
two of those letters before I knew from whence they came, when, on
showing them to my father, he knew the hand, as the Doctor and he
had been at college together. This circumstance prevented my father
from wavering, to which he was liable, and even strengthened my own
mind.
It is necessary,
likewise, to advert here to the conduct of Robert Dundas of Arniston,
at that time King's Advocate, as it accounts for that animosity
which arose against him among my friends of the Moderate party, and
the success of certain satirical ballads and pamphlets which were
published some years after. This was his decided opposition to the
tragedy of Douglas, which was perfectly known from his own manner of
talking—though more cautious than that of his enemies, who opened
loud upon Home and his tragedy—and likewise from this circumstance,
that Thomas Turnbull, his friend, who took my side in the
Presbytery, being influenced by his brother-in-law, Dr. Wallace, was
ever after out of favour at Arniston; and what was more, Dr.
Wallace, who was of the Lord Advocate's political party, incurred
his displeasure so much, that, during the remainder of his own life,
George Wallace, advocate, who was under the protection of the family
of Arniston, was totally neglected. [George Wallace, author of a
folio volume—the first of an indefinite series never
completed—called A System of the Principles of the Law of Scotland,
and of a book on The Nature and Descent of certain Peerages
connected with the Kingdom of Scotland. As to his father, see above,
p. 251.—J. H. B.] This piece of injustice was not explained till
after his death, when his son Robert, [Afterwards Lord Chief-Baron
Dundas of the Court of Exchequer.] of the most amiable and liberal
mind, gave him [Wallace] a judge's place in the commissariat of
Edinburgh. It was farther proved by the unseasonable application of
my friend, Mr. Baron Grant, who was his political friend and
companion, to allay the heat of the Presbytery of Dalkeith, and
induce them to withdraw their prosecution, when a word from him
would have done. This conduct of Dundas might in part be imputed to
his want of taste and discernment in what related to the
belles-lettres, and to a certain violence of temper, which could
endure no one that did not bend to him ; or to his jealousy of Sir
G. Elliot and Andrew Pringle, who were our zealous friends; or his
hatred of Lord Milton, who so warmly patronised John Home. It was
amusing to observe, during the course of the summer, when Wilkie's
Epigoniad appeared, how loud the retainers of the house of Arniston
were in its praise, saying they knew how to distinguish between good
and bad poetry; and now they had got something to commend.
Cuming, Webster, and
Hyndman, and a fiery man at Leith, whose name I forget, were the
committee who drew up the libel. Webster, who had no bowels, and who
could do mischief with the joy of an ape, suggested all the
circumstances of aggravation, and was quite delighted when he got
his colleagues of the committee to insert such circumstances as my
eating and drinking with Sarah Ward, and taking my place in the
playhouse by turning some gentlemen out of their seats, and
committing a riot, etc. ["The libel" is the name of the document or
writ by which, in Scotland, a clergyman, charged by an
ecclesiastical court with an offence, is brought before his accusers
for trial and judgment. The term is taken from the Roman lihelli
accusatorii. Of the libel against Carlyle, which is long, and well
supplied with the usual technicalities, the following specimens will
perhaps be considered sufficient: "On the eighth day of December, in
the year seventeen hundred and fifty-six, or upon one or other of
the days of November or October seventeen hundred and fifty-six, or
upon one or other of the days of January seventeen hundred and
fifty-seven years, he, the said Mr. Alexander Carlyle, did, without
necessity, keep company, familiarly converse, and eat and drink with
West Diggs (one of the actors on the unlicensed stage or theatre at
the head of the Canongate of Edinburgh, commonly called the
Concert-hall), in the house of Henry Thomson, vintner in the Abbey,
near to the Palace of Holyrood House, or in some other house or
tavern within the city or suburbs of Edinburgh, or Canongate, or
said Abbey, or Leith; at least he, the said Mr. Alexander Carlyle,
did, without necessity, at the time or times, place or places above
libelled, converse in a familiar manner with the said West Diggs, or
with Miss Sarah Ward, an actress on the said theatre, or with some
other of the persons who are in the course of acting plays in the
said theatre—persons that do not reside in his parish, and who, by
their profession, and in the eye of the law, are of bad fame, and
who cannot obtain from any minister a testimonial of their moral
character . . . and he, the said Mr. Alexander Carlyle, did not only
appear publicly in the said unlicensed theatre, but took possession
of a box, or a place in one of the boxes, of the said house, in a
disorderly way, and turned some gentlemen out of it in a forcible
manner, and did there witness the acting or representation of the
foresaid tragedy called Douglas, when acted for hire or reward, in
which the name of God was profaned or taken in vain by mock prayers
and tremendous oaths or expressions, such as—' by the blood of the
cross,' and `the wounds of Him who died for us on the accursed
tree.' "—J. H. B.]
At a very full
meeting of my friends in Boyd's large room, in the Canongate, the
night before the Synod met, I proposed Dr. Dick, who had recently
been admitted a minister in Edinburgh, for the Moderator's chair. I
had prepared my friends beforehand for this proposal, and was
induced to do it for several reasons. One was to exclude Robertson,
whose speaking would be of more consequence if not in the chair.
Another was to show my friend Dick to the rest, and to make them
confidential with him, and to fix so able an assistant in our party.
He was accordingly elected without opposition, and performed his
duty with the utmost spirit and manhood; for, besides preserving
general good order, he, with uncommon decision and readiness,
severely rebuked Hyndman when he was very offensive. The lachite of
Hyndman's mind, which was well known to Dick and me, made him submit
to this rebuke from the chair, though, in reality, lie was not out
of order. What a pity it was that Robertson afterwards lost this man
in the manner I shall afterwards mention!
It was remarked that
there were only three of a majority in the Synod for the sentence
which my friends had advised, assisted by the very good sense of
Professor Robert Hamilton, [Professor of Divinity 1754-1779, son of
Principal Hamilton.] and his intricate and embarrassed expression,
which concealed while it palliated—and that two of those three were
John Home, the author, and my father; but neither of their votes
could have been rejected, and the moderator's casting-vote would
have been with us.
My speech in my own
defence in the Synod, which I drew up rather in the form of a
remonstrance than an argument, leaving that to Robertson and my
other friends, made a very good impression on the audience. John
Dalrymple, junior of Cranstoun, was my advocate at the bar, and did
justice to the cause he had voluntarily undertaken, which, while it
served me effectually, gave him the first opportunity he had of
displaying his talents before a popular assembly. Robertson's was a
speech of great address, and had a good effect; but none was better
than that of Andrew Pringle, Esq., the Solicitor, who, I think, was
the most eloquent of all the Scottish bar in my time. The Presbytery
thought fit to appeal. When it came to the Assembly, the sentence of
the Synod was ably defended, and as a proof that the heat and
animosity raised against the tragedy of Douglas and its supporters
was artificial and local, the sentence of the Synod was affirmed by
117 to 39. When it was over, Primrose, one of my warmest opposers,
turned to me, and, shaking hands, "I wish you joy," said he, "of
this sentence in your favour; and if you hereafter choose to go to
every play that is acted, I shall take no notice."
Next day, on a
proposal which was seconded by George Dempster, my firm friend, the
Assembly passed an Act declaratory, forbidding the clergy to
countenance the theatre. But Primrose was in the right, for manners
are stronger than laws; and this Act, which was made on recent
provocation, was the only Act of the Church of Scotland against the
theatre —so was it totally neglected. Although the clergy in
Edinburgh and its neighbourhood had abstained from the theatre
because it gave offence, yet the more remote clergymen, when
occasionally in town, had almost universally attended the playhouse;
and now that the subject had been solemnly discussed, and all men
were convinced that the violent proceedings they had witnessed were
the effects of bigotry or jealousy, mixed with party-spirit and
cabal, the more distant clergy returned to their usual amusement in
the theatre when occasionally in town. It is remarkable, that in the
year 1784, when the great actress Mrs. Siddons first appeared in
Edinburgh, during the sitting of the General Assembly, that court
was obliged to fix all its important business for the alternate days
when she did not act, as all the younger members, clergy as well as
laity, took their stations in the theatre on those days by three in
the afternoon. Drs. Robertson and Blair, though they both visited
this great actress in private, often regretted to me that they had
not seized the opportunity which was given them, by her superior
talents and unexceptionable character, of going openly to the
theatre, which would have put an end to all future animadversions on
the subject. This conduct of theirs was keeping the reserve of their
own imaginary importance to the last ; and their regretting it was
very just, for by that time they got no credit for their abstinence,
and the struggle between the liberal and the restrained and affected
manners of the clergy had been long at an end, by my having finally
stood my ground, and been so well supported by so great a majority
in the Church.
Of the many exertions
I and my friends have made for the credit and interest of the clergy
of the Church of Scotland, there was none more meritorious or of
better effects than this. The laws of the Church were sufficiently
strict to prevent persons of conduct really criminal from entering
into it ; and it was of great importance to discriminate the
artificial virtues and vices, formed by ignorance and superstition,
from those that are real, lest the continuance of such a bar should
have given check to the rising liberality of the young scholars, and
prevented those of better birth or more ingenious minds from
entering into the profession.
One of the chief
actors in this farce suffered most for the duplicity of his conduct,
for he who was at the head of the Moderate party, through jealousy
or bad temper, having with some of his friends headed the party
against the tragedy of Douglas, his followers in the Highlands and
remoter parts, of the Moderate party, were so much offended with his
hypocritical conduct, as they called it, that they left him ever
after, and joined with those whom he had taken so much pain to
disgrace, whilst he and the other old leaders themselves united with
their former opponents. [It was soon after this that the leadership
of the Church passed from Cuming to Robertson.—J. H. B.]
Mr. Alexander
Wedderburn, afterwards Lord Chancellor and Earl of Roslyn, not
having come down time enough to speak or vote in the cause (by
design or not is more than I know), but appearing on the day after,
took an opportunity to give Peter Cuming a very complete dressing.
Peter was chaplain to Lord Grange for some years before he was
settled at Kirknewton, and after my father at Lochmaben, from whence
he was brought to Edinburgh.
With respect to
Webster, best known at that time by the designation of Dr. Bonum
Magnum, his Proteus-like character seldom lost by any transaction,
and in this case he was only acting his natural part, which was that
of running down all indecencies in clergymen but those of the table,
and doing mischief, like a monkey, for its own satisfaction.
One event was curious
in the sequel. Mr. John Home, who was the author of the tragedy, and
of all the mischief consequent upon it—while his Presbytery of
Haddington had been from time to time obstructed in their designs by
the good management of Stedman, Robertson, and Bannatine, and were
now preparing in earnest to carry on a prosecution against him—on
the 7th of June that year gave in a demission of his office, and
withdrew from the Church, without the least animadversion on his
conduct, which threw complete ridicule on the opposite party, and
made the flame which had been raised against me, appear hypocritical
and odious to the last degree.
Mr. Home, after the
great success of his tragedy of Douglas in Edinburgh, went to London
early in 1757, and had his tragedy acted in Covent Garden [Covent
Garden Theatre was at that time under the management of Rich.] (for
Garrick, though now his friend, could not possibly let it be
performed in his theatre after having pronounced it unfit for the
stage), where it had great success. This tragedy still maintains its
ground, has been more frequently acted, and is more popular, than
any tragedy in the English language.
After John Home
resigned his charge, he and Adam Ferguson retired to a lodging at
Braid for three months to study, where they were very busy. During
that time, Mrs. Kinloch of Gilmerton was brought to bed of her
eighth child, and died immediately after. This was a very great loss
to her family of five sons and three daughters, as her being
withdrawn from the care of their education accounts better for the
misconduct and misery of four of her sons, than the general belief
of the country that the house of Gilmerton could never thrive after
the injustice done to their eldest son by Sir Francis and his wife
and their son David, who was involved in their guilt, and was made
heir to the estate instead of his brother. These superstitious
notions, however ill founded, may sometimes, perhaps, check the
doing of atrocious deeds. But what shall we say when Sir Francis,
who succeeded his father Sir David, survived him only a few days,
though he was the most able, the most ingenious, the most worthy and
virtuous young man of the whole county to which he belonged, and
died by fratricide—a crime rare everywhere, and almost unknown in
this country. [Sir Archibald Kinloch was brought to trial in 1995
for the murder of his elder brother Sir Francis, whom he shot with a
pistol in the family mansion of Gilmerton. The verdict of the jury
sustained a plea of insanity. See State Trials, xxv. 891.] No
greater misfortune can befall any family, when children are in their
infancy, than the loss of a mother of good sense and dignity of
manners.
Home being very busy
with some of his dramatic works, and not having leisure to attend
Sir David in his affliction, which was sincere, applied to me to
make an excursion with him into the north of England for a week or
two to amuse him. I consented, and when I went to Gilmerton by
concert, I found that the baronet had conjoined two other gentlemen
to the party—my friend Mr. Baron Grant, and Mr. Montgomery,
afterwards Chief-Baron and Sir James, who was my friend ever after.
Those two gentlemen were on horseback, and Sir David and I in his
post-chaise, a vehicle which had but recently been brought into
Scotland, as our turnpike roads were but in their infancy. We went
no farther than Sir John Hall's, at Dunglass, the first day ; and as
we pretended to be inquiring into the state of husbandry, we made
very short journeys, turning aside to see anything curious in the
mode of improvement of land that fell in our way, sometimes staying
all night in inns, and sometimes in gentlemen's houses, as they fell
in our way; for Sir David was well known to many of the
Northumbrians for his hospitality and skill in cattle. We went no
farther than Newcastle and its environs, and returned after a
fortnight's very agreeable amusement. On this expedition I made some
very agreeable acquaintance, of which I afterwards availed
myself,—Ralph Carr, an eminent merchant, still alive (August 1804),
and his brother-in-law Mr. Withrington, styled "the honest attorney
of the north," and his son John, an accomplished young man, who died
a few years ago, and was the representative of the ancient family of
that name.
Some time this
summer, after a convivial meeting, Dr. Wight and I were left alone
for an hour or two with Alexander Wedderburn, who opened himself to
us as much as he was capable of doing to anybody, and the impression
he left corresponded with the character he had among his intimates.
It was in the end of
this year that I was introduced to Archibald, Duke of Argyle, who
usually passed some days at Brunstane, Lord Milton's seat, as he
went to Inverary and returned. It was on his way back to London that
I was sent for one Sunday morning to come to Brunstane to dine that
day with the Duke. That I could not do, as I had to do duty in my
own church in the afternoon, and dinner in those days was at two
o'clock. I went up in the evening, when the Duke was taking his nap
as usual, in an elbow-chair, with a black silk cap over his eyes.
There was no company but Lord and Lady Milton, Mr. Fletcher, and the
young ladies, with William Alstone, who was a confidential and
political secretary of Milton's.
After a little, I
observed the Duke lift up his cap, and seeing a stranger in the
room, he pulled it over his eyes again, and beckoned Miss Fletcher
to him, who told him who I was. In a little while he got up, and
advancing to me, and taking me by the hand, said he "was glad to see
me, but that, between sleeping and waking, he had taken me for his
cousin, the Earl of Home, who I still think you resemble; but that
could not be, for I know that he is at Gibraltar." When we returned
to our seats, Mally Fletcher whispered me that my bread was baken,
for that Lord Home was one of his greatest favourites. This I
laughed at, for the old gentleman had said that as an apology for
his having done what he might think not quite polite in calling
Mally Fletcher to him, and not taking any notice of me for a minute
or two afterwards. The good opinion of that family was enough to
secure me a favourable reception at first, and I knew he would not
like me worse for having stood a battle with, and beat, the
Highflyers of our Church, whom he abhorred ; for he was not so
accessible to Peter Cuming as Lord Milton was, whom he tried to
persuade that his having joined the other party was out of
tenderness to me, for it was the intention of the Highflyers to
depose me if he had not moderated their counsels. But I had a friend
behind the curtain in his daughter, Miss Betty, whom he used to take
out in the coach with him alone, to settle his mind when he was in
any doubt or perplexity ; for, like all other ministers, he was
surrounded with intrigue and deceit. Ferguson was, besides, now come
into favour with him, for his dignified and sententious manner of
talking had pleased him no less than John Home's pleasantry and
unveiled flattery. Milton had a mind sufficiently acute to
comprehend Ferguson's profound speculations, though his own forte
did not lie in any kind of philosophy, but the knowledge of men, and
the management of them, while Ferguson was his admiring scholar in
those articles. He had been much teased about the tragedy of
Douglas, for Cuming had still access to him at certain hours by the
political back-door from Gray's Close, and had alarmed him much,
especially immediately after the publication of my pamphlet, An
Argument, etc., which had irritated the wild brethren so much, said
Peter, that he could not answer for what mischief might follow. When
he had been by such means kept in a very frightful humour, he came
up into the drawing-room, where David Hume was, with John and
Ferguson and myself ; on David's saying something, with his usual
good-humour, to smooth his wrinkly brow, Milton turned to him with
great asperity, and said that he had better hold his peace on the
subject, for it was owing to him, and keeping company with him, that
such a clamour was raised. David made no reply, but soon after took
his hat and cane, and left the room, never more to enter the house,
which he never did, though much pains was taken afterwards, for
Milton soon repented, and David would have returned, but Betty
Fletcher opposed it, rather foregoing his company at their house
than suffer him to degrade himself—such was the generous spirit of
that young lady. Had it not been for Ferguson and her, John Home and
I would have been expelled also.
Early in the year
1758 my favourite in the house of Brunstane changed her name, for on
the 6th of February she was married to Captain John Wedderburn of
Gosford, much to the satisfaction of Lord Milton and all her
friends, as he was a man of superior character, had then a good
fortune and the prospect of a better, which was fulfilled not long
afterwards when he succeeded to the title and estate of Pitferran by
the name of Sir John Halkett. As I was frequently at Brunstane about
this time, I became the confidant of both the parties, and the bride
was desirous to have me to tie the nuptial knot. But this failed
through Lord Milton's love of order, which made him employ the
parish minister, Bennet of Duddingston. This she wrote me with much
regret on the morning of her marriage ; but added, that as on that
day she would become mistress of a house of her own, she insisted
that I should meet her there, and receive her when she entered the
house of Gosford.
About the end of
February or beginning of March this year, I went to London with my
eldest sister, Margaret, to get her married with Dr. Dickson, M.D.
It is to be noted that we could get no four-wheeled chaise till we
came to Durham, those conveyances being then only in their
infancy,—the two-wheeled close chaise, which had been used for some
time, and was called an Italian chaise, having been found very
inconvenient. Turnpike roads were only in their commencement in the
north. Dr. Dickson, with a friend, met us at Stilton. We arrived
safe at my aunt Lyon's in New Bond Street, she being then alive, as
well as her sister, Mrs. Paterson. To the proper celebration of the
marriage there were three things wanting—a licence, a parson, and a
best maid. In the last, the Honourable Miss Nelly Murray, Lord
Elibank's sister, afterwards Lady Stewart, and still alive in
September 1804, offered her services, which did us honour, and
pleased my two aunts very much, especially Mrs. Lyon, whose head was
constantly swimming with vanity, which even her uncommon misfortune,
after having fulfilled the utmost wish of ambition, had not cured. A
licence was easily bought at Doctors' Commons, and Dr. John Blair,
afterwards a prebend of Westminster, my particular friend, was
easily prevailed with to secure the use of a church and perform the
ceremony. This business being put successfully over, and having seen
my sister and her husband into lodgings in the city till their house
was ready, I took up my abode at my aunts', and occasionally at John
Home's lodging in South Audley Street, which he had taken to be near
Lord Bute, who had become his great friend and patron, having
introduced him to the Prince of Wales, who had settled on him a
pension of zoo per annum. |
