succeeded his
brother in the three kingdoms (February 6, 1685), at a mature period of
life, being fifty-three years of age. While reckoning as James II. in
England and Ireland, he was the seventh of the name in Scotland.
The transition from the one sovereign to the other was
very much like that from James VI. to Charles I. It was in each case from
a man of lax principle to one who carried principle to obstinacy. It was
also in each case a change from that easy good-nature which gets through
difficulties, to a certain severity of temper which does not so much
subdue difficulties as it makes them. If James could have kept his
religion out of sight, there was enough of loyalty in the nation to have
carried him to the end of a prosperous reign; he might have even completed
his brother’s designs for rendering the English crown absolute. But he was
too earnest a Catholic to give his subjects a pretext for forgetting the
fact, or to allow of their winking at his assaults upon their liberties.
The Duke of Monmouth, who had set up some pretensions
to the crown as a legitimate son of Charles II., now resided in exile at
Brussels. He had ingratiated himself with the dissenters in England, and
hoped by their assistance to dethrone the new monarch. He formed a design,
in concert with the Earl of Argyle, for an invasion of the island. The
latter nobleman set sail in May, and, after touching at the Orkneys,
descended upon the west of Scotland, where he was joined by two thousand
five hundred of his clan. A boat’s crew whom he sent on shore at Orkney
being taken prisoners, gave information of his design, and the bishop of
that diocese immediately carried the intelligence to Edinburgh. The
militia of the kingdom was called out. The gentlemen of Argyle’s clan were
seized and brought to the capital. The earl, finding all his prospects
blighted, made a hesitating and timid advance towards Glasgow, where he
hoped, but vainly, to be joined by the persecuted people of the
west. The government forces advancing on every hand to meet him, his
troops melted away; and after pursuing a solitary flight for a little way
in disguise, he was taken prisoner at Inchinnan in Renfrewshire, and
transported to Edinburgh, where he was immediately executed upon his
former sentence (June 30, 1685).
The expedition which Monmouth conducted to the west of
England was equally unfortunate, and that nobleman being seized under
similar circumstances, was also executed. The exasperations, terrors, and
anxieties which the sovereign had endured, first from the endeavours of
the Whig party to exclude him from the throne, and latterly from these two
rebellions, revenged themselves in seventies which have fixed an indelible
stigma upon his name. Under the Chief-justice Jeffries, hundreds of
Monmouth’s followers, and even some wholly innocent, were summarily
condemned and executed. It became a ‘killing time’ with the poor
Presbyterians of the west of Scotland, many of whom were seized and shot
dead in the fields. Everywhere men were reduced to silence; but at the
same time, much of their respect and affection was lost.
From the commencement of his reign, James took no pains
to conceal his religion. Encouraged by the suppressed rebellions and the
stillness which everywhere prevailed, he now thought he might safely
commence a series of measures for restoring the Catholic faith in his
dominions: As the law stood, no papist could hold any office in the state.
They were excluded, in both kingdoms, by a test oath, abjuring the errors
of popery. Early in 1686, James endeavoured to get an act passed in both
parliaments for dispensing with this oath, so that he might be enabled to
introduce men of his own religion into all places of trust, which he
judged to be the best way of proselytising the people at large. But to his
surprise, the same parliaments which had already declared his temporal
power to be nearly absolute, refused to yield to him on the subject of
religion. Neither entreaties nor threats could prevail upon them to pass
the necessary acts. In Scotland, the Duke of Queensberry, Sir George
Mackenzie, and other statesmen, who had hitherto been the readiest to
yield him obedience in all his most unpopular measures, submitted rather
to be displaced than to surrender up the religion along with the liberties
of the nation.
When he found that the parliaments would not yield to
him, he dissolved them, and, pretending that he had only asked their
consent out of courtesy, assumed to himself the right of dispensing with
the test. This was establishing a power in the crown to subvert any act of
parliament, and consequently no law could henceforth stand against the
royal pleasure. If it had been assumed upon a temporal point, it is not
probable that any resistance would have been made; for the right of the
king to do as he pleased, and the illegality of all opposition to his will
on the part of the people, were principles now very generally conceded.
But it concerned the existence of the Church of England, and the religious
prepossessions of the great majority of the people. There was therefore an
almost universal spirit of resistance.
In order to give his measures an appearance of fairness
and put them on a sufficiently broad ground, he granted a toleration to
all kinds of dissenters from the Established Church. Affecting to have
long been convinced that ‘conscience ought not to be constrained nor
people forced in matters in religion;’ that all attempts of the kind were
detrimental to the social economy and the interests of government, leading
only to ‘animosities, name-factions, and sometimes to sacrilege and
treason;’ he, by proclamations in the first six months of 1687, discharged
all existing laws against dissenters in both sections of Britain, with
certain moderate reservations, making it practicable for Presbyterians in
Scotland to set up chapels for their own worship. This was a most
remarkable step for a British sovereign to take. First, it openly assumed
a right of the monarch, by his ‘absolute power ‘—for
such was the phrase he used—to overrule the acts of parliament. Next, it
gave ‘a degree and amount of toleration, beyond what any class of
religionists was quite prepared to sanction. Therefore it was at once
unconstitutional and over-liberal. Obvious as the royal motives were,
there was a general expression of satisfaction with the measure among the
English dissenters, while a considerable meeting of Presbyterian clergy in
Scotland sent an address of thanks, with a promise of ‘entire loyalty in
doctrine and practice’ for the future. But everywhere, the established
clergy and the great bulk of the respectable middle classes, adherents of
episcopalian protestantism, were alarmed and alienated, judging the
movement to be, as it undoubtedly was, designed as a step towards the
return of popery.
In the height of his power, James had deprived the
boroughs of both kingdoms of their charters, and granted new ones, in
which he was left the power of nominating the magistracies. He took
advantage of this liberty to put Catholics into every kind of burgal
office. He also attempted to get men of the same religion introduced into
the chief seats in the universities.
What rendered these events the more alarming to the
nation was the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by the king of France, in
consequence of which the Protestants of that kingdom were subjected to a
cruel persecution at the hands of their Catholic brethren. The people of
Great Britain received about fifty thousand of these innocent persons
under their protection; and as they were scattered over the whole country,
they everywhere served as living proofs of Romish intolerance and cruelty.
The British saw that if the king were not resisted in his endeavours to
introduce popery, they would soon be groaning in hopeless subjection to a
small dominant party, if not driven, like the French Protestants, far from
their homes and native seats of industry, to wander like beggars over the
earth.
The king had commanded the clergy to read in their
pulpits his edict of universal toleration. Several of the English bishops,
alter ascertaining that the whole body almost to a man would support them,
presented a petition to the king, in which they respectfully excused
themselves from obeying his command. For this they were thrown into the
Tower, and brought to trial, but, to the great joy of the nation,
acquitted.
At this time (June 1688), the birth of a son to. the
king threw the nation into a state of extreme anxiety for the ultimate
interests of the Protestant religion. It is to be observed that, if this
prince had not come into the world, the crown would have fallen, in the
course of time, to the king’s daughter Mary, who, for some years, had been
married to the Prince of Orange. This lady being a Protestant, and the
king being now advanced in life, the people had hitherto cherished a
prospect of seeing the Protestant faith eventually secured under her sway.
But now the Protestant line was excluded, and with it all hope was at an
end. To add to the general dissatisfaction, there was some cause to
suspect that the child was a spurious one, brought forward for the purpose
of keeping up a popish line of succession.
The concurrence of all these circumstances brought the
nation to such a uniformity of sentiment as had not been witnessed for
fifty years. While the old enemies of the dynasty remained as they had
always been, its best Mends and supporters were now disaffected and thrown
into alarm. Tories as well as Whip, church zealots as well as dissenters,
were become impressed with the idea that some extraordinary measure was
necessary to save the nation from popery, if not from slavery.
The people of all orders tuned their eyes to William
Prince of Orange, who had long taken a lead in opposing the arrogant
continental policy of the French monarch, and whose court had for some
years been a resort of British malcontents. The prince himself was
strongly inclined, for reasons of general policy as well as of personal
ambition, to attempt a revolution in England. Being invited by a great
number of influential persons, of both sides in politics, including some
of the clergy, he no longer hesitated to make preparations for an
invasion. In October he set sail with an army of about sixteen thousand
men, and on the 5th of November cast anchor in Torbay, in Devonshire,
while the king’s fleet lay wind-bound at Harwich. James had surrounded
himself with a standing army; but, as generally happens in such crises, it
partook of the almost universal feeling of the people, and was not to be
depended on. Even with the assistance of a less scrupulous force from
Scotland, be could hardly venture to risk an engagement with the prince,
to whose standard a great number of the nobility had already resorted. He
therefore retired before the advancing army to London, and was immediately
deserted by all his principal counsellors, and even by his younger
daughter, the Princess Anne. Feeling no support around him, he first
despatched the queen and her infant to France, and then prepared to
follow. In the disguise of a servant, he escaped down the river to
Feversham, but being there seized by the populace as a popish refugee, he
was brought back to London. It was found, however, that the government
could not be settled on a proper footing while he remained in the country;
and he was therefore permitted once more to depart (December 23, 1688). He
left the kingdom in the belief that the people could not do without him,
and would call him back in triumph; but, in reality, nothing could have
been more agreeable to them than his departure.
In Scotland, the Privy Council and Established Church
were left by the departure of the king an isolated power in the midst of a
people generally indisposed to give them support. There was an
irrepressible popular eagerness to break out against such popish
establishments as the king had set up—to attack and extrude the more
obnoxious of the clergy, and to take some vengeance upon the more noted
instruments of the late arbitrary power, as the Chancellor Perth and
Graham of Claverhouse, whom James had lately created Viscount Dundee. The
populace did lose no time in rising against the popishly furnished
chapel-royal at Holyrood and a Catholic printing-office which had been
placed in its neighbourhood; and after a struggle with the armed guards,
both places were pillaged and ruined. The Chancellor Perth, who had
incurred peculiar odium from turning papist, was seized in the act of
flight and thrown into a vile prison. In the west country, the populace
rabbled out two hundred of the parochial clergy, not treating them
over-gently, yet after all, using less roughness than might perhaps have
been expected. In the other parts of Scotland, where prelacy had won some
favour or been quietly endured, no particular movement took place.
In January 1689, about a hundred Scottish noblemen and
gentlemen assembled at Whitehall, and, having previously ascertained the
disposition of their countrymen, resolved to follow the example of
England, by offering the supreme management of their affairs to the Prince
of Orange. A Convention was consequently appointed by the prince to meet
at Edinburgh on the 14th of March. This assembly, which was elected by the
people at large, excluding only the Catholics, experienced at first some
embarrassment from the adherents of King James. The Duke of Gordon still
held the castle in that interest, and was able, if he pleased, to bombard
the Parliament House with his cannon. The Viscount Dundee was also in
Edinburgh with a number of his dragoons, and every day attended the
assembly. On the other hand, an immense number of the westland Wings, or
Cameronians—as they were called from one of their ministers— had flocked
to the city, where they were concealed in garrets and cellars. Dundee,
when he saw that there was a majority of the Convention hostile to his old
master, concerted with the Earl of Mar and Marquis of Athole a plan for
holding a counter... Convention at Stirling, after the manner of the
royalist parliament held at Oxford by Charles I. In the expectation that
his friends would have been ready to accompany him, he brought out his
troop of dragoons to the street; but finding their minds somewhat changed,
he was obliged to take his departure by himself, as the parading of armed
men so near the Parliament House would have subjected him to a charge of
treason. He therefore rode out of the city with only a small squadron, and
clambering up the Castle-rock, held a conference with the Duke of Gordon
at a postern, where it was resolved upon between them that he should go to
raise the Highland clans for King James, while his Grace should continue
to hold out the Castle.
The liberal members of the Convention took advantage of
this movement to summon the people to arms for their protection, and they
were instantly surrounded by hundreds of armed Cameronians, who completely
overawed the adherents of the late government. The Convention then
declared King James to have forfeited the crown, by his attempts to
overcome the religion and liberties of his subjects. The sovereignty of
Scotland was settled, like that of England, upon the next Protestant
heirs, the Prince and Princess of Orange, who were accordingly proclaimed
at Edinburgh on the 11th of April.
It is not necessary here to detail the efforts
made by King James to recover possession of Ireland—ending in his
overthrow at the Boyne—or the gallant stand made for him in the spring of
1689 by the Duke of Gordon in Edinburgh Castle, and by Lord Dundee in the
Highlands of Perthshire. By the death of the latter at the battle of
Killiecrankie (July 27), all formidable opposition to the new settlement
came to an end. It is understood that, if circumstances would have
permitted, King William would have rather continued to maintain the
Episcopal Church in Scotland than establish any other. Finding, however,
that the bishops remained faithful to King James, he was compelled to take
the Presbyterians under his protection. The Convention, changed by the
royal mandate into a Parliament, proceeded in July to abolish prelacy in
the Church, and to establish the moderate Presbyterianism which still
exists. All the clergy formerly in possession of churches were permitted
to retain them, if they felt disposed to accede to the new system, and
take the oaths to government. The Solemn League and Covenant, though still
supported by a party, was overlooked. The clergy were deprived of the
power of inflicting a civil punishment by means of excommunication.
General Assemblies and other Church courts were restored, with independent
powers in ecclesiastical matters, and, the act of supremacy being
abolished, Christ was understood to reign as formerly over the
church. The clergy, however, tacitly admitted the king to be their patron
and nursing father; and while the moderator of the assemblies convened and
dissolved them in the name of Christ, the king’s commissioner, or
representative, was also allowed to do the same in the name of the
sovereign. Thus at length, by one of those compromises which sometimes
follow the exhaustion of passion, a sort of middle way was found, in which
the religious prepossessions of the great bulk of the people could rest in
peace, while still the reasonable powers of the state were not dangerously
interfered with. So did the great troubles of the seventeenth century come
to an end, and allow the genius of the nation at length to give a due
share of its energies to that material prosperity which had so long been
repressed. The course of Scotland since, under its moderate church and
zealous dissenting communions, its useful parish schools, and mild
government; the advance of the country in population, in the culture of
its soil, in every branch of honourable industry, and in the paths of
science and literature; these might well form the subjects of another work
equal in extent to the present.
1685, Feb 26
The curious book, entitled 'Satan’s Invisible World Discovered, by
Mr George Sinclair, late professor of philosophy at the college of
Glasgow,’ was endowed by the Lords of the Privy Council with a copyright
of eleven years; all persons whatsoever being prohibited ‘from printing,
reprinting, or importing into this kingdom, any copies of the said book,’
during that space of time. This little volume, which was often reprinted
during the eighteenth century, and so lately as 1814, contains, in the
language of its own title-page, a ‘Choice Collection of Modern Relations,
proving evidently against the Atheists of this present age, that
there are Devils, Spirits, Witches, and Apparitions, from authentic
records and attestations of witnesses of undoubted veracity.’
To maintain the efficacy of witchcraft and the reality
of spirits and apparitions was at that time a part of the external
Christianity of the country, and it was a recognised part of ‘atheism,’ as
all freedom of judgment was then called, to entertain a doubt about
either. The work of Mr George Sinclair was an example of a series in which
the popular beliefs on these subjects were defended as essential to
orthodoxy. One of the most remarkable of these treatises was the
Antidote against Atheism, published by Dr Henry More in 1655; in which
we find, first, a most ingenious, and, for the age, well-informed
exposition of the arguments for a God from the remarkable adaptations and
provisions seen, throughout animated nature—next, and in close connection,
a deduction of theism and providence from examples of bewitched persons,
ghosts, vampires, guardian genii, &c. The heading of one of his chapters
is: ‘That the evasions of Atheists against Apparitions are so weak and
silly, that it is an evident argument that they are convinced in their own
judgment of the truth of these kinds of phenomena, which forces them to
answer as well as they can, though they be so ill provided.’ Not less
remarkable was the Saducismus Triumphatus of Joseph Glanvil,
printed in 1681; in which are presented many narratives regarding both
witches and spirits, including the celebrated one of the Drummer of
Tedworth, all evidently deemed as necessary by the author for the
overthrow and refutation of one of the prevalent forms of infidelity. It
is equally worthy of notice, that when John Webster, ‘practitioner in
physic,’ ventured before the world in 1677 with his book, The
Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft, in which he threw ridicule on the
whole popular code of ideas regarding the doings of witches, his greatest
solicitude was to guard himself against the imputation of being one who
treated lightly anything of the nature of scriptural evidence.
Mar 3
Robert Mean, of the Letter-office, had written a report to London, to the
effect that the westland people were again in arms, and the king’s forces
marching against them. Lord Livingstone consequently posted down from
London, to take command of the forces. When his lordship arrived and found
the report false, he made a complaint against Robert, who was consequently
imprisoned for his indiscretion, being not the first or second time he had
been in trouble for similar offences. Colonel Worden, a friend of the new
king, felt that it was hard to make Mean suffer where his intention was so
good; so he procured a royal letter in favour of the postmaster. On a
penitent petition, Robert was liberated, and allowed to resume his office,
but with a warning ‘that if he shall be found in any fault of his office
hereafter, he shall be severely punished therefor.’—Foun. P. C. R.
Apr 8
The Duke of Queensberry, the Earl of Perth, and the Archbishop of St
Andrews, arrived in Edinburgh from London, ‘having been only eight days by
the way.’ —Foun.
This must have appeared as rapid travelling in those
days, for, twelve years later, the stage-coach from York to London spent
the whole lawful days of a week upon its journey. This fact we learn from
a passage in the diary of George Home of Kimmerghame, in Berwickshire,
where the following statement is made: ‘Thursday, October 21 [1697], Sir
John Home of Blackadder set out post for London, at two o’clock. It
afterwards appears that he tired of posting [as slow], and [for
expedition, doubtless] got into the stage-coach at York on Monday the
25th, and was expected to reach London in it on Saturday the 30th.’
Apr 16
The equestrian statue of Charles II., which had cost £1000, though only
formed of lead, was set up in the Parliament Close, Edinburgh. ‘The vulgar
people, who had never seen the like before, were much amazed at it. Some
compared it to Nebuchadnezzar’s image, which all fell down and worshipped,
and others foolishly to the pale horse in the Revelations, and he that sat
thereon was death.’—Foun.
Apr
Sir Alexander Forbes of Tolquhoun, in Aberdeenshire, having
‘entertained in his house Alexander Ogilvie of
Forglen, Sir John Falconer, and Lord Pitmedden, missed immediately after
two mazer cups on which he set great value. He wrote to Ogilvie,
mentioning the fact of the cups being missed, and asking if he could tell
anything about them. Ogilvie, though feeling that this was scarcely civil,
returned a friendly answer, assuring Sir Alexander that he had never even
seen the cups, and knew absolutely nothing directly or indirectly about
them. Hereupon Sir Alexander replied apologetically, and for some years he
conducted himself in the most friendly way towards Ogilvie, as if to make
up for his former incivility.
Afterwards, on Ogilvie refusing to take part with him
in some quarrels with a third party, Sir Alexander appeared to conceive a
malicious feeling towards him. To wreak this out, he raised an action
against him in the Court of Session, on the allegation that he had
fraudulently abstracted the fore-mentioned cups. ‘And when the case was
called, Tolquhoun had the confidence to appear personally at the bar and
own and countenance the same, and crave [Ogilvie’s] oath of calumny anent
that defamatory libel.’ After Ogilvie had thus acquitted himself,
Tolquhoun craved permission to enter on a proof of the libel by witnesses;
which the lords assented to. While the matter was pending, Tolquhoun
frequently upbraided Ogilvie with the terms cup-stealer and
cup-cheater: nor did he hesitate to resort to legal quirks for keeping
the charge as long as possible over the head of the accused. At length,
the case came on, and, being found wholly without sound evidence, was
pronounced to be altogether founded in malice.
Apr 30
A subsequent process by Forglen against Tolquhoun for oppression and
defamation was undefended by the latter, and ended in his being amerced in
twenty thousand merks Scots, whereof one-half was adjudged to the
aggrieved party.—P. C. R..
June
A dog being stolen out of the house of the Earl of Morton in Peebles, it
chanced that the Earl’s son, the Hon. George Douglas, soon after observed
the animal following the Laird of Chatto on the High Street of Edinburgh.
On Douglas claiming it, the Laird of Chatto very civilly gave it up. Some
days after, as Douglas was walking the street, followed by the dog, John
Corsehill, a footman of Chatto, came up and attempted to take the animal
into his possession, doubtless believing that it was his master’s
property. Douglas bade him forbear, as the dog was his; but John Corsehill,
not being satisfied, gave him some foul language, and when Douglas soon
after returned along the street, Corsehill renewed his attempt; whereupon
Douglas called him a rascal, to which the lackey responded in the same
terms. ‘Which being such an indignity to any gentleman, [Douglas] did step
back, and make to his sword; but before he got it drawn, the footman did
hit him twice with a cudgel over the head, and did continue violently to
assault him, [Douglas] still retiring, and with his sword warding the
blows; but the footman was so furious, that he run himself upon the point
of the sword, and so was killed.’
The excuse of Douglas for this unhappy chance was, that
Corsehill had been the first aggressor, and that ‘no gentleman could
endure publicly to be called a rascal without resentment.’ He protested
that he had only acted in self-defence.—P. C. R.
Another, though less fatal quarrel took place soon
after, in consequence of a similar circumstance. Captain Scott, of the
King’s Guard, having lost his dog in the college of Edinburgh, adopted the
belief that it had been appropriated by Mr Gregory, the professor of
mathematics. On this notion he acted so far as to fall upon the learned
gownsman and give him a hearty beating. The other professors took up the
case, and on their complaint to the Chancellor, Scott was compelled to
crave pardon.—Foun. Dec.
July 7
Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree, an associate in Argyle’s expedition, and a
forfaulted traitor, was taken in a relative’s house in Renfrewshire at the
end of June, and was on the 3d July, with his son and another traitor,
brought into Edinburgh, ‘bound and bareheaded, by the hangman.’ On the day
noted in the margin, the English packet coming to Edinburgh was known to
have been twice stopped and robbed near Alnwick. It was conjectured at the
time that this might be done by some of Sir John Cochrane’s friends, ‘lest
there should have been any warrant from the king by these packets to have
execute him; that so the Earl of Arran might have leisure to inform the
king what Sir John could discover, and so obtain a countermand.’—Foun.
There were other conjectures on the subject; but no one could have
surmised that the robber of the packet was Sir John’s daughter Grizzel,
disguised in men’s clothes, as was long after ascertained to be the case.
Sir John obtained a pardon from the king, and lived to be Earl of
Dundonald. The heroine Grizzel was married to John Kerr of Morriston, in
Berwickshire.
Aug
‘Sir George Drummond, provost of Edinburgh, breaks and runs to the Abbey
for debt, the first provost that, during his office, has broke in
Edinburgh.’—Foun. A week or two after, in consequence of some
objectionable matters being thrown over the windows of Patrick Graham,
captain of the Town-guard, whereby some gentlemen’s clothes were spoiled,
a trivial riot took place at the guard-house. The Lord Chancellor, Earl of
Perth, who of course was bound to do what he could for a Drummond, took
advantage of this petty affair to get a protection to the bankrupt
provost, to enable him to appear and defend the town. Thus be was ‘brought
to the street again.’
Sep
George Scott of Pitlochie had some claims upon the public in compensation
for certain manuscripts originally belonging to his father, Sir John Scott
of Scotstarvet, which he had surrendered to the Court of Session. Sir John
had written a curious book, entitled an Account of
the Staggering State of Scots Statesmen, in which, with
irrepressible marks of gusto, he detailed the misfortunes which had
befallen the persons and families of most of those who had taken a lead in
public affairs or borne office during the preceding century. Now the usual
destiny had overtaken his own son, who was fallen into poverty, and
somewhat at a shift for a living. For some time, he besieged the Privy
Council for help or patronage, and was at length gratified with a very
peculiar gift. About two hundred westland peasants had been taken up for
various acts of recusancy, and, for safety on the approach of Argyle, they
were gathered out of the prisons, driven off like a flock of sheep to the
east side of the Wand, and huddled into a vault of Dunnottar Castle, where
they lived for a few weeks in circumstances of privation, as to food, air,
water, and general accommodation, truly piteous. Hearing of their sad
state, and relenting somewhat, the Council caused these poor people to be
brought to Leith. It was hoped, perhaps, that they would now make such
submissions as might warrant their liberation; and some did thus work
themselves free. But the greater number positively refused to take the
oath of allegiance, ‘as embodied with the supremacy,’ as they would thus
be rejecting Christ from ‘the rule in his own house,’ as well as over
their own consciences.
Pitlochie, who was himself a vexed Presbyterian, being
now in contemplation of a settlement in the colony of East Jersey, and in
want of labourers or bondsmen for the culture of his lands, petitioned the
Council for a consignment of these tender conscienced men, and nearly a
hundred, who had been condemned to banishment, were at once ‘gifted’ to
him. He freighted a Newcastle ship to carry them, and the vessel sailed
front Leith roads, carrying with her a number of ‘dyvours and broken men’
besides the Covenanters. It was a most disastrous voyage.
Partly perhaps because of the reduced and sickly state
of many of the prisoners at starting, but more through deficiency of
healthful food, and the want of air and comfort, a violent fever broke out
in the ship before she had cleared the Land’s End. It soon assumed a
malignant type, and scarcely any individual on board escaped. The whole
crew excepting the captain and boatswain died; Pitlochie himself and his
lady also sunk under the disease. Three or four dead were thrown overboard
every day. ‘Notwithstanding of this raging sickness, much severity was
used towards the prisoners at sea by the master of the ship and others:
those under deck were not allowed to go about worship by themselves, and
when they essayed it, the captain would throw down great planks of timber
upon them to disturb them, and sometimes to the danger of their lives.’
Fifteen long weeks were spent by this pest-ship before
she arrived at her destination; and in that time seventy had perished! The
remainder were so reduced in strength as to be scarcely able to go ashore.
The people at the place where they landed, ‘not: having the gospel among
them,’ were indifferent to the fate of the Scottish Presbyterians. But at
a place a few miles inland, where there was a minister and a congregation,
they were received with great kindness. They then became the subject of a
singular litigation, a Mr Johnston, the son-in-law and heir of Pitlochie,
suing them for their value as bond-servants. A jury found that there was
no indenture between Pitlochie and them, but that they were shipped
against their will; therefore Mr Johnston had no control over them. A good
many of them are said to have died within a short space of time in the
plantations; the rest returned to their native country at the Revolution.
Such was the sad story of Pitlochie’s voyage—P. C. R. Foun.
Oct
Robert Pringle of Clifton, a considerable gentleman of Roxburghshire, was
lately dead, leaving one child, Jonet Pringle, now about twenty years of
age, as heir to the bulk of his property, while his brother Andrew
succeeded as heir of provision. It was obviously desirable for the general
interest of the family, that the two branches should be re-united, and
when any interest of this sort existed, objections of a natural and moral
kind seldom stood long in the way. Andrew Pringle’s eldest son was only
thirteen; therefore, if suitable at all as a match for his fair cousin, he
was certainly not suitable yet. But then there was a tribe of
Murrays of Livingstone, the relations of Jonet’s mother, who anxiously
desired to have the disposal of her. Already Lieutenant George Murray, of
the King’s Guard, was alive to his prospective interests in the matter.
How to countermine him? The young lady vanished from society; much reason
to suppose it was by the prompting and assistance of her uncle Andrew.
Lieutenant Murray obtained from the Privy Council an order against Andrew
Pringle to produce his niece; but he cleared himself by oath of the charge
of having been concerned in putting her away. Murray urged that she should
be exhibited—as her relation he had an interest in seeing this done—and
Andrew Pringle, who had not acted very well towards his deceased brother,
was ill fitted to take a charge of the niece. Mr Pringle was ordered, on
pain of a fine of ten thousand merks, to bring forward his niece before
the 5th of November, and, to make sure of him, he was put into prison. It
was, however, soon ascertained that the young lady had gone over the
Border with her boy-cousin, and been married to him by a regular English
clergyman!
In these circumstances, it became needless for the
lieutenant to go forward with his case against Mr Pringle. A contract was
made between him and Pringle, whereby for seven thousand merks he agreed
to withdraw all opposition. All offence to the laws of the country by so
improper a marriage was soon after effaced by a fine of five hundred merks
imposed on the young couple.—Foun.
Oct 20
At a meeting of the synod of Edinburgh, there was a report from the
presbytery of Haddington on the case of a poor man, the gardener of Sir
John Seton of Garmilton, who, having turned Catholic, had become in their
opinion liable to a sentence of excommunication. But such processes had
now become a matter of some delicacy, as the king might thereby be
offended. The bishop, in some terror, signed the warrant for going on with
the process against the gardener, and, lest the act should appear a strong
one, he tried to soften it by professing to his clergy to have little fear
of popery, as the king had promised to protect the Protestant religion. A
few weeks after, a letter came down from the king, forbidding the church
authorities to go on with the excommunication of the gardener. With what
grim smiles would the westland Whigs hear of this transaction!—Foun.
Dec 17
In the course of our perquisitions into domestic matters in Scotland, the
first trace that is found of any effort at a systematic education of young
ladies in elegant accomplishments, occurs in a petition of Isobel Cumming
to the Privy Council at this date. She was a widow and a stranger, who had
been invited some years before to come to Edinburgh, ‘where she conceived
the centre of virtue to be in this kingdom,’ in order to instruct young
gentlewomen ‘in all sorts of needlework, playing, singing, and in several
other excellent pieces of work, becoming ladies of honour.’ In this useful
course of life, she had received much encouragement, and she was going on
continually ‘improving herself for the advantage of young ladies of
quality.’ Now, however, she was beset by a serious obstruction, in an
order to quarter a certain number of soldiers in her house. She petitioned
for an immunity from this branch of citizenly duty, and the lords—who,
as oftener than once remarked, seem never to have been deficient in
Christian-like feeling in matters apart from Christianity—immediately
granted her request.—P. C. R.
1686, Jan 31
After what we have seen of the hardness of general feeling towards the
Catholic religion during the last hundred years, it may be well understood
that the fitting up of a popish chapel, college, and printing-office in
Holyrood Palace would be regarded with no resigned feelings by the
multitude, whatever might be the views of state-councillors, under a sense
of delicacy or deference towards the king. At the ‘skailing’ of the chapel
one day, some of the populace threw dirt and called names to the
worshippers, and one of the offenders, ‘a baxter lad,’ was consequently
whipped through the Canongate. On the youth being rescued by the mob, the
guards were called in, and a woman and two men were shot. ‘Then all were
commanded off the streets, and all ordained to hang out bowets [lanterns];
and some being apprehended, the next day a woman and two men were
scourged. . . guarded all the way betwixt two
files of musketeers and pikemen, for fear of being deforced again.’
Afterwards, a drummer who said he could find it in his heart to run his
sword through all papists, was shot; and one Keith, a fencing-master, who
spoke some sentences in a jovial company approving of the tumult, saying,
‘if the trades lads would fall upon the Town-guard, he would secure
Captain Patrick Graham,’ was tried, condemned, and hanged, ‘dying piously
in much composure.’—Foun.
Such were the symptoms of popular feeling which heralded the
Revolution.
Feb 16
The Archbishop of St Andrews and Bishop of Edinburgh ‘departed for
London, ‘in the retour coach which had, the week before, brought
down the Marquis of Athole and Sir William Bruce from thence.’ —Foun.
Apr
‘Two charlatans came to Edinburgh, with recommendations from his majesty,
called Doctor Reid and Salvator Moscow, from Sicily.’ They ‘erected
stages, and in their printed papers did brag of admirable cures, as
sixty-four blind persons restored to sight, who had never seen from their
birth, with many other extravagant undertakings.’—Foun.
June 14
The parliament passed an act to encourage Mr John Adair, to proceed with a
design he had formed and in part executed, for producing serviceable maps
of the counties of Scotland, and a hydrographical description of its
sea-coasts for the use of mariners. It was arranged to remunerate Adair by
a small tax on tonnage. He accordingly proceeded with his work, obtained
mathematical instruments to the value of £100 from abroad, brought one
Maxon an engraver from Holland at a cost of £70, and ‘did truly survey,
navigate, and delineate the coast from Sunderland Point in England to
Buchan-ness, in eight large maps, including the rivers and firths of Forth
and Tay, likewise the Firth of Clyde on the west sea in one large map;
upon which he bestowed (having ordinarily paid 20s. sterling per diem
for boats) £200 sterling.’
At a time when, even in England, Flamstead’s salary of
a hundred a year was often in arrears, it was not to be expected that any
government patronage to science in Scotland should be effectively carried
out. It appears that the tonnage-rate assigned to Adair proved, from one
cause and another, unproductive, and he was left with the work on his
hands, seriously embarrassed by his expenses, and unable to publish what
he had executed. About 1691, an effort was made to get the maps engraved
and published by a subscription at one pound per copy; but of seven
hundred subscribers required, no more than a hundred could be procured—so
few were then the individuals possessing the union of taste, public
spirit, and means necessary to make them encourage such a project. At
length, in 1694, on Adair’s petition, the Privy Council made some
arrangements for supplying him with funds, and he was commissioned to go
on with his labours. It was at the same time made an instruction to him
that, while conducting his surveys, he should obtain information regarding
the natural curiosities of the country, and also its antiquities. Among
the former were mentioned, clays and marls dug from the ground, and
crystals, flints, and ‘figured stones, having the shapes of plants,
shells, animals, &c.’—such being the conception of that age regarding
those fossils in which the
geologist now sees the actual remains of the organisms of the earlier
epochs of creation! The funds, derived from a tonnage-rate, seem to have
come in very slowly and in inadequate amount. Adair nevertheless, had a
hired vessel for a succession of summers along the western coast, and in
1703 he was able to bring out a volume in folio, containing maps of the
east coast, with letter-press descriptions. He described himself next year
as having received £1800 sterling to account, while about £500 remained
due. He adds that, even if that balance were paid, he would have no profit
for his own trouble, or anything to reimburse him for what he had spent in
the support of his numerous family while absent on his surveys.
Owing to the difficulty of obtaining the needful funds,
the remainder of Adair’s work, though in a state of forwardness, was never
presented to the world. It appears that he died in London towards the
close of 1722, probably in reduced circumstances. His wife was next year
honoured with a pension of £40.
A man of kindred talents was endeavouring at the same
time with Adair to produce a work which was calculated to reflect some
honour on the country. We refer to John Slezer, a German or Dutchman, who
had come to our northern land in 1669, and been patronised by several of
the nobility, who by and by procured for him a commission as engineer in
an artillery corps. He was afterwards encouraged by Charles II., the Duke
of York, and other great personages, to undertake a work descriptive of
Scotland; and the first result appeared in 1693, in a folio entitled
Theatrum Scotits, containing fifty-seven views of palaces and
noblemen’s seats. The country was vain enough to desire to see such a work
executed, but too poor to give it a remunerative sale. Yet Slezer
struggled on to complete it by other volumes. The Scottish parliament, on
his petition, made some arrangements to assist him with money, but they
were attended with little good effect. Two volumes of additional drawings,
therefore, remained for years unengraved, or at least unready for
publication; and the poor author had to betake himself to the sanctuary of
Holyroodhouse, where he and his talents lay useless for thirteen years,
while his family lived miserably in the city. Here he died in November
1717, leaving debts to the amount of £2249, and claims on the government
to a nearly equal amount.’
June and July
‘In the year 1686,’ says Patrick Walker, ‘especially in the months of June
and July, about Crossford, two miles below Lanark, especially at the Mains
on the water of Clyde, many people gathered together for several
afternoons, where there were showers of bonnets, hats, guns, and swords,
which covered the trees and ground; companies of men in arms marching
along the water-side; companies meeting companies all through other, and
then all falling to the ground, and disappearing, and other companies
appearing the same way. I went there three afternoons together, and, as I
could observe, there were two of the people that were together saw, and a
third that saw not; and though I could see nothing, yet
there was such a fright and trembling upon those that did see, that was
discernible to all from those that saw not. There was a gentleman standing
next to me who spoke as too many gentlemen and others speak. He said: "A
pack of damned witches and warlocks that have the second-sight! De’il haet
do I see!" And immediately there was a discernible change in his
countenance, with as much fear and trembling as any woman I saw there; who
cried out: "Oh, all ye that do not see, say nothing; for I persuade you it
is matter of fact, and discernible to all that is not stone-blind!" Those
that did see, told what works the guns had, and there length and wideness;
and what handles the swords had, whether small, or three-barred, or
Highland guards; and the closing knots of the bonnets, black and blue; and
these who did see them there, wherever they went abroad, saw a bonnet and
a sword drop by the way.’
The explanation of this kind of marvel has already been
given under 1668. In the present instance, the subjective character of the
phenomenon is borne out by what Walker tells of some, including himself,
not being able to see anything, and of a gentleman suddenly becoming
sensible of the vision.
Honest Patrick acknowledges having been afterwards much
twitted and laughed at by ‘learned critics,’ and even ‘young ministers and
expectants,’ about his report of the Crossford visions, on the score of.
his having been himself present, without witnessing the alleged prodigy.
He admits that he was there three days, and saw nothing, but goes
on: ‘Will these wild-ass colts tell me what stopped the eyes of the long
clear-sighted Balaam, that saw a star arise out of Jacob,
. . . . yet saw not the angel standing with a
drawn sword in his hand, and his dull ass saw him, and stopped three
times? And what stopped the eyes of the men that were with Daniel, at the
river Hiddekel, when he saw the vision, but they saw not, but greatly
quaked? And what stopped the ears of Paul’s companions in wickedness,
going the devil’s errand to Damascus, that saw the light and made them
fall to the ground, but heard not the words of the voice that spake to
him? And what stopped the ears and eyes of the captain of the Castle of
Edinburgh, who was alarmed three times at night, while the sentinels were
with him; but when they were sent off, he both saw and heard the different
beating of drums, both English and Scots, in that strange apparition in
the year 1650, before the English came to it?’
‘This winter, there happened three fires at Edinburgh,
and all on the Sabbath-day, to signify God’s displeasure at the
profanation of his day.’ And yet ‘there is no certain conclusion can be
drawn from these providential accidents, for a few would draw just the
contrary conclusion—that God was dissatisfied with our worshipping him on
that day: so these providences may be variously interpreted.’—Foun.
1687, Jan 13
One Reid, a mountebank, was at this time practising in Edinburgh. He was
popishly inclined, and actually, four days after this date, was received
into the Catholic church with one of his blackamoors; which, Fountainhall
tells us, was ‘a great trophy’ to the popish party, now in the ascendency.
On the date here noted, Reid had Scott of Harden and his lady in court
‘for stealing away from him a little girl called the Tumbling Lassie,
who danced upon his stage; she danced in all shapes, and, to make her
supple, he daily oiled all her joints; and he claimed damages, and
produced a contract, where he had bought her from her mother for £30
Scots. But,’ adds Fountainhall, ‘we have no slaves in Scotland, and
mothers cannot sell their bairns; and physicians attested the employment
of tumbling would bruise all her bowels and kill her; and her joints were
now grown stiff, and she declined to return.’ The mountebank, though
favoured by the chancellor on account of his popery, lost his cause.—Eoun.
Dec.
May 1
Being Sunday, a young woman of noted piety, Janet Fraser by name, the
daughter of a weaver in the parish of Closeburn, Dnmfriesshire, had gone
out to the fields with a young female companion, and sat down to read the
Bible not far from her father’s house. Feeling thirsty, she went to the
river-side (the Nith) to get a drink, leaving her Bible open at the place
where she had been reading, which presented the verses of the 34th chapter
of Isaiah, beginning—’ My sword shall be bathed in heaven: behold, it
shall come down upon Idumea, and upon the people of my curse, to
judgment,’ &c. On returning, she found a patch of something like blood
covering this very text. In great surprise, she carried the book home,
where a young man tasted the substance with his tongue, and found it of a
saltless or insipid flavour. On the two succeeding Sundays, while the same
girl was reading her Bible in the open air, similar blotches of matter,
like blood, fell upon the leaves. She did not perceive it in the act of
falling till it was about an inch from the book. ‘It is not blood, for it
is as tough as glue, and will not be scraped off by a knife, as blood
will; but it is so like blood, as none can discern any difference by the
colour.’
Showers of blood are amongst the familiar prodigies by
which mankind were alarmed in days of ignorance and superstition. A writer
of our time remarks that it is most probable ‘that these bloody waters
were never seen falling, but that people, seeing the standing
waters blood-coloured, were assured, from their not knowing how else it
should happen, that it had rained blood into them. ‘Swammerdam,’ he goes
on to say, ‘relates that, one morning in 1670, great excitement was
created in the Hague, by a report that the lakes and ditches about the
city were found to be full of blood. A certain physician went down to one
of the canals, and taking home a quantity of this blood-coloured water,
examined it with the microscope, and found that the water was water still,
and had not at all changed its colour, but that it was full of prodigious
swarms of small red animals, all alive, and very nimble in their motions,
the colour and prodigious numbers of which gave a reddish tinge to the
whole body of the water in which they lived. The animals which thus colour
the water of lakes and ponds are the pulices arborescentes of
Swammerdam, or the water-fleas with branched horns. These creatures are of
a reddish-yellow or flame-colour. They live about the sides of ditches,
under weeds, and amongst the mud; and are therefore the less visible,
except at a certain time, which is the beginning or end of June. It is at
this time that these little animals leave their recesses to float about
the water, and meet for the propagation of their species; and by this
means they become visible in the colour which they give the water. The
colour in question is visible, more or less, in one part or other of
almost all standing waters at this season; and it is always at the same
season that the bloody waters have alarmed the ignorant.’—Encyc. Brit.,
7th ed., xix. 59. If we can suppose some quantity of the water so
discoloured to be carried up by a whirlwind, transported along, and
afterwards allowed to fall, such a fact as the depositing of blood-like
stains on Janet Fraser’s Bible might be accounted for.
Medieval history is full of stories of blood being
found on or in the host, and of dismal misinterpretations of the
phenomenon being accepted. Several massacres of Jews have arisen from this
cause alone. Modern science sees the matter in its true light. In 1848, Dr
Eckhard, of Berlin, when attending a case of cholera, found potatoes and
bread within the house spotted with a red colouring matter, which, being
forwarded to Ehrenberg, was found by him to be due to the presence of an
animalcule, to which he gave the name of the Monas Prodigiosa. It
was found that other pieces of bread could be inoculated with this matter.
It is curious to reflect that, if Ehrenberg had been present to examine a
certain spotted host in Frankfort in 1296, and supposing his rational
explanations to be received, the lives of ten thousand unhappy descendants
of Abraham might have been saved.
July 6
In compliance with ‘a general outcry and complaint’ from the public, the
magistrates of Edinburgh called up the butchers and vintners, and fined
them for extortion. It was in vain that these men set forth that there was
no rule or law broken, and that when they bought dear they must sell dear.
It was held as a sufficient answer to the butchers, that they did exact
large profits, besides using sundry arts to pass off their meat as better
than it was, and they reqrated the market by taking all the parks
and enclosures about Edinburgh, so as to prevent any from ‘furnishing’ but
themselves. It was alleged of the vintners, that they exacted for a
prepared fowl triple what it cost in the market; they sold bread purposely
made small; they charged twenty-four pence for the pound of sugar, while
the cost to themselves was eightpence, ‘and even so in the measure of
tobacco.’—Foun.
Though the butchers formed one of the fourteen
incorporated trades of Edinburgh, their business was of a limited
description, and indeed continued so till a comparatively recent time,
owing to the generally prevalent use of meat salted at Martinmas, a
practice rendered unavoidable by the scarcity of winter fodder for cattle
before the days of turnip husbandry. Of the animals used, cattle formed
but a small proportion. John Strachan, a ‘fleshcady’ or market-porter, who
died in 1791 in the 105th year of his age, remembered the time—not long
after that now under our attention—’ when no flesher would venture to kill
any beast [that is, bullock] till all the different parts were bespoken.'
It may also be remarked that Pennant, in his Tour in Scotland,
1772, tells us that ‘the gentleman is now living who first introduced
stall-fed beef into Perth.’ He adds, with strict truth: ‘Before that time
the greater part of Scotland lived on salt meat throughout the winter, as
the natives of the Hebrides do at present, and as the English did in the
feudal times.’
A truer remedy for the alleged extortions of the
butchers was soon after hit upon by the Privy Council, in allowing meat to
be brought into town by ‘landward men’ not of the corporation. ‘Some,’
adds Fountainhall timidly, ‘think that all [should be] permitted to bring
in bread every day,’ being the same case with that of the maltmen, who
were forbidden to form a deacoury.
Nov 24
The usual rule of the government in the two last reigns against unlicensed
printing, was now very rigorously enforced, in order to prevent the issue
of controversial pamphlets against the Catholic religion. James Glen,
bookseller in Edinburgh, was imprisoned by an order from the Chancellor,
for publishing a brochure called The Root of Romish Ceremonies,
designed ‘to prove popery to be only paganism revived.’ It was a
remarkable step for the government to take, while an uncontrolled popish
printer was at constant work in the palace. Perhaps Lord Perth, who had
become a Catholic (some say to please his wife, some to please the king,
no one to please himself), felt sore at a lion mot of Glen, which
Fountainhall has thought worthy of being preserved. The Council having
(January 1686) issued an edict against the selling of books reflecting on
popery, and their macer having brought this to Glen amongst others, he
quietly remarked that ‘there was a book in his shop which condemned popery
very directly—namely, the Bible—might he sell that?
1688, Jan
At this time, so unpropitious to literature, an attempt was made to
establish a periodical work of a kind which we only expect to see arising
when the affairs of the learned republic are at a comparatively advanced
stage. Mr John Cockburn, minister at Ormiston, in Haddingtonshire, printed
the first number of a work containing ‘the monthly transactions and an
account of books out of the Universal Bibliotheque and others! The
Chancellor, finding in it some passages reflecting on the Roman Catholic
Church, at once suppressed the publication.— Foun. Dec.
Jan 19
Copious periwigs, with curls flowing down to the shoulders, were now in
vogue, both at home and abroad. There being an active exportation of hair
for the foreign peruke-makers, the article was found to have become dear,
and the native artists began to complain. On their petition, the Privy
Council forbade the exporting of hair.—Foun.
It may give some idea of circumstances attending this
fashion, that at a date not long subsequent to the period under our
attention, a female living in a town in the south of Scotland was
accustomed to dispose of her crop of yellow hair to a travelling
merchant at fixed intervals, and always got a guinea for it.
Feb
Sir James Stanfield was one of the English manufacturers who had been
induced to settle and practise their art at Newmills, in Haddingtonshire,
in order that Scotch money should not need to be sent away for
English-made goods. This respectable man was afflicted with a profligate
eldest son, whom he at length saw fit to disinherit. He had become
melancholy, probably in consequence of domestic troubles, and on a certain
day in November, he was found drowned in a pool of water near his own
house. It was debated whether he had been murdered or had drowned himself;
and it was noted that the widow and son contended for the latter view of
the case, and accordingly, without further ado, took measures for having
the body immediately buried. A suspicion, however, arose that Sir James
had met with foul play, and two surgeons were sent by the authorities in
Edinburgh, to examine the body and report.
The corpse was raised from the grave, after it had lain
there two days; and the surgeons, having made an incision near the neck,
became convinced that death had been induced by strangulation; so that the
supposition of suicide was set aside. This inspection took place in the
church. After the cut had been sewed up, and the body washed, and put into
clean linen, James Row, a merchant of Edinburgh, and Philip Stanfield,
eldest son of the deceased, took it up, one on each side, to deposit it in
the coffin, when, behold, an effusion of blood was observed to take place
on the side sustained by the son, so as to defile his hands. He instantly
let the body fall, with the exclamation, ‘Lord, have mercy on me!’ and
rushed, horror-struck, into the precentor’s desk, where he lay for some
time groaning and in great agitation, utterly refusing to touch the corpse
again. This incident was at once accepted in the light of a revelation of
the young man’s guilt as his father’s murderer; and he was therefore taken
into custody and brought to Edinburgh for trial.
The trial took place on the 7th of February, but
brought out little evidence worthy of attention. Nevertheless, on the
strength of the bleeding, and of his being known to have cursed his
father, the unfortunate young man was found guilty, and sentenced to
death, with sundry aggravations of punishment.
By pretending an inclination to turn papist, he got a
brief respite, but, on the 24th of the month, was hanged, protesting his
innocence to the last, and finally dying Protestant. By reason of a slip
of the rope, he came down till his knees rested on the scaffold, and it
was necessary to use more direct means of strangulation. Then his tongue
was cut out, as a retribution for the cursing of his father, and his hand
hacked off and sent to be put up on the east port of Haddington, as a
memorial of the murder. The body was hung up in chains, but after a few
days was stolen away, and found lying in a ditch among water. It was hung
up again, but a second time taken down. Both in the strangulation on the
scaffold and the being found in a ditch among water, the superstitious
remarked something like a providential notice of the facts of the murder
of which he was assumedly guilty.
It will be acknowledged that, in the circumstances
related, there is not a particle of valid evidence against the young man.
The surgeon’s opinion as to the fact of strangulation is not entitled to
much regard; but, granting its solidity, it does not prove the guilt of
the accused. The horror of the young man on seeing his father’s blood,
might be referred to painful recollections of that profligate conduct
which he knew had distressed his parent and brought his gray hairs with
sorrow to the grave—especially when we reflect that Stanfield would
himself be impressed with the superstitious feelings of the age, and might
accept the haemorrhage as an accusation by heaven on account of the
concern his conduct had had in shortening the life of his father. The
whole case seems to be a lively illustration of the effect of
superstitious feelings in blinding justice.
Mar 6
The Privy Council considered a legal case about a very small matter. The
beautiful lake of Duddingston, under the southeast front of Arthur’s Seat,
and adjoining to the royal park of Holyrood, had been graced by the late
Duke of Lauderdale with a few swans. His too clever duchess—who had for
years been carrying on terrible legal wars with his heirs—deemed herself
entitled to take out five of these birds at her own pleasure. Sir James
Dick, the proprietor of the lake, determined to recover the swans; so he
caught three of them, and broke a lockfast place in order to get the
remaining two; and then placed them all once more upon the loch. Hereupon
the duchess raised a process, which was now decided in her favour, on the
ground that the birds had been brought to the loch by the late duke, and
that Sir James’s tolerance of them there did not make them his. The
baronet, indignant at being thus balked, turned all the rest of the swans
off his lake; but here he was met by the Duke of Hamilton, heritable
keeper of the palace, alleging that, as the lake bounded the royal park,
the wild animals upon it belonged to him. So he caused the swans to be
once again restored to their haunt.—Foun.
Dec.
